by Alexa Martin
“Oh my god!” Her eyes widen. “You’re the girl that works at HERS! The one who’s dating Gavin Pope!”
Oh crap.
“No. That’s not me,” I say, but the words come out too fast to sound anything but defensive and full of shit.
“It is! I was there the other night when you got into the argument with a really pretty, bitchy lady. I posted a video of it on YouTube. It’s already up to almost five thousand views!”
“Congratulations?” Does she want a cookie?
I haven’t watched the video, but like I guessed, it was uploaded before my head hit the pillow that night. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Freaking Madison. Still causing me problems even when she’s not around.
“No fuckin’ way. You’re the girl?” Horsehead says, coming way too close.
“Damn,” Creeper One says, sounding a thousand times creepier than he did before. His heavy, drunk eyes linger across my chest. “You are pretty hot.”
“Not that hot,” Horsehead says, his eyes narrowed on me, cheeks red with anger. “You’re the reason we’re out of the fucking playoffs! All because you can’t keep your fuckin’ legs closed.”
The girl across from me stares with wide eyes, listening to the two dirtbags hovering over me. She mouths a silent I’m sorry my way, but it doesn’t make me feel any better . . . or safer for that matter.
Before they can say too much more, the train begins to slow for my stop. I zip my jacket back up, grab my purse, and stand. As soon as the doors open, I’m booking it. But as I’m waiting, sour, hot breath is at my ear and a very unwelcome hand is trailing its way down the back of my jacket.
“What do you say? Wanna slum it for a bit? I’m guessing since you had to catch a ride on the train with the rest of us, you and Pope are finished.”
I gather all of the strength I’m not feeling at the moment and turn toward the drunk guy currently invading my space. “Get your hands off of me right now.” I spit out the words, but instead of him backing off, he seems entertained. My attempt at calling him off has accomplished the opposite.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers in my ear, even closer than before. “I like when they get a little feisty. Doug likes it too.”
I have to fight back the wave of nausea that rolls over me. Doug (I guess is his name) is on my left, so close his hat is hitting me in the head with every bump we go over. His angry glare feels like it’s burning a hole in my head. On my right, whoever this guy is, is getting closer with every second that passes. His nose is touching my ear, and his hand is approaching the bottom of my jacket.
But just as his hand is about to make contact with the thin leggings covering my butt, the train doors start to open. Before they open all the way, I jump out and break into a full-blown sprint, dodging the other people exiting at the same time. I look over my shoulder and see both Doug and whatever-his-name are running after me. Thankfully, unlike the dark night months ago, the sun is still out and I feel confident in my ability to outrun these guys. I turn the corner off of the platform and run smack-dab into a brick wall. Except this wall has hands and they grab my waist, steadying me on my feet.
I look up to see who I ran into, fully prepared to scream bloody murder, when I look into the concerned, blue eyes of Gavin Pope.
The moment his arms wrap around me, the adrenaline I was running on flees, and I have to choke back the urge to vomit.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Where are they?”
I turn in his arms, searching the crowd until I see both men turn the corner, still running as fast as they can. Sardonic smiles twist across their creepy faces when they see me, until a second later, they notice the large figure behind me.
“What the fuck?” Gavin growls.
“Shit, man. I’m sorry. We didn’t realize she was still yours,” the chubby guy says between heavy breaths.
“She’s not mine, you sick fuck. She’s not some piece of fucking property you only respect because she belongs to another man. You respect her because she’s a fucking woman who deserves to take a train home without being harassed by assholes like you.”
“Calm down, man,” Horsehead says with his hands in front of his chest. “We didn’t mean anything by it. We were just having a little fun. Weren’t we, sweetheart?” He directs the end of his statement to me.
“Don’t call me sweetheart, asshole.” I pull out of Gavin’s arm, feeling way too pissed to be scared anymore, and I’m sure having Gavin at my back doesn’t hurt. “No. We were not having a little fun when that asshole wouldn’t take his hand off me and you both chased me down.”
“Don’t be like . . .” he starts to say but stops when he sees Donny approach us with two uniformed officers. I watch with glee as the drunk haze they’re in starts to clear and the color drains from their faces.
“Gentlemen. It’s seems we have a problem here,” says the very handsome African American officer.
“Yes,” Gavin says from behind me, his angry voice sending shivers down my spine. “We most definitely do.”
“We’re already starting to draw a crowd, Mr. Pope.” The officer motions toward the crowd forming a circle around us with their cell phones up. “Would you mind if my partner took them in and we went someplace more private to get the details?”
“I’d appreciate that, Officer . . .”
“Officer Graham.” He reaches his hand out toward Gavin.
“Officer Graham. Thank you.” Gavin returns his handshake. “My car is around the corner if you’d like to follow us to my place.”
“Sounds good, Mr. Pope.”
Without exchanging any more words, Gavin, Donny, and I walk to Gavin’s truck. Donny climbs into the back seat and we sit quietly listening to sports talk. Well . . . I don’t listen. I stare out the window thinking of every worst-case-scenario ending to what just happened. I also start budgeting in my head because I’m pretty sure this marks the end of my time on public transportation.
“This is stupid. Those guys were assholes, but they didn’t get crazy until the lady mentioned the video and outed me as your girlfriend.” I break the silence, still pissed about how everything went down.
“What video?” Gavin asks.
Oopsies.
“Some video from work.” That’s only a half lie and I’ve never watched the video, it’d be irresponsible of me to say any more.
“It’s a video of Madison losing her fuckin’ shit the way she always does while Marlee’s at work.” Donny fills in the blanks for Gavin. “They named it ‘Gavin Pope’s Girl’s No Nun.’ Fuckin’ brilliant.”
“What?” Gavin looks to me for an answer even though I’m not the one who told him.
“Thanks a lot, friend.” I turn and glare at Donny, but he doesn’t care.
“Again,” Gavin says. “What?”
“I don’t even know. I’ve never watched it.” I tell Gavin the truth and hope he’ll drop it.
“I have.” Donny pipes in . . . again. “I was going to show it to you later, but what better time than the present?” He passes his phone to Gavin, and I can hear my voice before he even looks at it.
“You know what, Donny?” I put my knees on the seats and turn around to look at him.
“What?” he asks, but he knows what I’m going to say.
“I really don’t like you.”
“Stop lying.” He takes a sip of the beer he snuck out of the stadium. “I love you, you love me, it’s like fuckin’ Barney in this car.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and plop back on the seat.
“I can’t believe neither of you told me about this video,” Gavin says, but never takes his eyes off of the screen.
The next ten minutes are the slowest, most awkward ten minutes of my life, and I learn how god-awful my voice is. At least, how bad it is when I sound like a hysterical freaking maniac. All I was missing w
as the smeared red lipstick and the purple hair and I was the freaking Joker. Not a good look.
When it ends, Gavin passes Donny back his phone without muttering a word.
I don’t take it as a good sign.
He reaches for his phone in the cup holder and starts dialing.
I still don’t have the best feeling.
Then he starts speaking.
“Madison? I’ve been better. You know what? No. You’re fired.”
Oh shit. Now I know I’m screwed.
“No, Madison. Marlee didn’t tell me anything. You did. I watched the video from HERS. The shit you said? The vile shit that left your mouth after you brought up my fucking family? Yeah, I have no room for that in my life. You want to run around, disrespecting the woman I love, then you should’ve been prepared for this.”
“Gavin!” I yell after he pushes the end button. “What did you just do?”
My eyes are in danger of popping out my head, and I’m having a hard time hearing over the sound of my heartbeat racing in my ears.
“I fired Madison. What the fuck did you think I’d do after I heard the shit she said to you? Fuck!” He punches the steering wheel so hard, the horn goes off. “Why’d you hide that from me?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this!” I throw my hands in the air. “I told you before we started dating I don’t want you fighting my battles for me. I don’t want you to fire Madison because of me! I can take care of it on my own.”
“Not everything’s about you, Marlee! Did you ever think about that? That I wouldn’t want a person like that working for me? That I wouldn’t want someone who treats the person I love like fucking garbage around me?” His nostrils are flaring, and the vein in his neck is throbbing. “I know you can fight for yourself, and I’ve been pretty damn good about letting you. Now it’s time for you to let me fight my battles.”
A knock on the window pulls my attention from a heavily breathing Gavin to Officer Graham, who’s standing at the driver’s window.
Gavin takes a second to collect himself and then rolls down the window. As if his freak-out never happened, he smiles at the officer and gives him his address before putting the truck in gear and driving the last few blocks to his place in silence.
But right before he pulls into his garage, he reaches over the center console and laces our fingers together.
And with the one sweet, simple gesture, I know we’re going to be fine.
Thirty-two
“Rise and shine, babe.”
I hate perky morning Gavin. It’s hasn’t even been a week since the season, but I thought he’d take this time to sleep until noon like normal adult humans with no daily commitments. Wrong. If it wasn’t for his lips trailing down my neck and his beard tickling my chest, I’d be way pissed.
But they are. So, instead, I’m just super turned on.
Hot guy superpowers . . . turning anger into lust with a brush of the lips.
“The season’s over. You have no reason to wake up early. Sleep, you freak.” Some of the words are accidentally more moan than not. Moaning does not help your case if you’re wondering.
“Come on. It’s vacation day.” He nips at my earlobe.
Dammit.
Ear biting and vacations? Those are my biggest weaknesses.
I pop out of bed faster than I think I ever have at the reminder of what we’re doing today. I’m in nothing but undies, my hair is a disaster, and my lips are still swollen from the night before, but the way Gavin’s gaze travels slowly down my body, you’d think I was red carpet ready.
“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts.” His voice is much deeper than it was only moments prior.
“Love you.” It’s all I can say when he tells me these things, when he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the entire world worth living for, when he reminds me with one small gesture what I missed out on for so long and how lucky I am to have found it. Even if for only a little while.
Sorry.
The skeptic in me is still alive and well.
“Take a shower, get dressed, then meet me downstairs. Our driver will be here soon, and I have everything scheduled down to the minute.”
“Then I hope you scheduled an extra hour for incidentals.”
“Why do you think you’re already awake? I didn’t deploy the ear biting for no reason.” He swats at my butt as I turn toward the bathroom.
“So . . . does this mean you won’t be joining me in the shower?” I call over my shoulder, exaggerating the sway of my hips. “I hope I don’t get lonely.”
“Dammit, you evil seductress.” His footsteps quicken behind me. Before I get the chance to run, he has me tossed over his shoulder and is biting my ass.
“And don’t you forget it,” I tell his butt, which I’m eye level with.
* * *
• • •
LUCKY FOR ME, Gavin implements a very generous buffer time.
After we finish breakfast, I grab my jacket, boots, and purse. Gavin grabs our luggage, and then we head out the door. I’d packed winter things—which was Gavin’s only hint.
Waiting in front of his place is a black town car. #ClassyWithaC
The second we step outside into the deceivingly sunny, cold air, the driver, an older man in a suit, hops out of the car to retrieve our luggage. I let him take mine, but Gavin puts his away himself. I hope wherever we’re going is slightly warmer than here.
When we arrive at the small airport, instead of the long lines and the mindless waiting at the gate like I’m used to, we’re checked right in, ushered through security, and guided straight to our plane.
Read that again.
Our. Plane.
WHAT?!
I mean, I’ve flown first class a few times, but never, ever have I flown private. I’ve always said I didn’t want to fly on a small plane, but that’s before I stepped foot on this one. Because let me tell you, quality over quantity, my friends.
When we walk on board the charter plane, the pilot, Asher; copilot, Cory; and flight attendant, Giana are all waiting to introduce themselves. It’s all very formal and intimidating. #FirstWorldProblems
Once we’re in the air, Giana brings us our lunch menus.
Yeah, lunch menus. As in more than a bag of stale pretzels.
“Can I have the chicken Caesar salad, light on the dressing, heavy on the champagne refills, please?” Just because the plane is fancy doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the fact that we’re floating in the air, testing the limits of gravity, teetering on the edge of a death dive to the earth beneath us.
Not that I’m dramatic or anything.
“Of course, ma’am.” Ma’am? How old does she think I am? “And for you, Mr. Pope?”
“I’ll have the stuffed chicken, please.”
“Perfect. I’ll get that right to you,” she says and I swear, when she does, her voice drops three octaves and her blouse unbuttons itself.
Gavin drops his hand to my knee and gets my attention. “Are you excited to find out where we’re going?”
“Was that a rhetorical question? Because duh. I’m dying here!” And I’m a little bit tipsy.
“I can’t wait until you see.” He pulls my legs into his lap and slips my boots off one at a time. Then his million-dollar hands massage my feet.
My head falls back and an exaggerated, champagne-emboldened moan slips out. “Holy moly. No wonder you have those things insured. It’s like magic flows from your fingertips.”
“I’m glad you like them, because they love touching you.”
“Stop right now. I cannot handle getting caught in the middle of dirty talk by a stranger.” I’m gonna need a lot more champagne before I can handle that much humiliation.
“When you pay for a private plane, the main thing you’re paying for is privacy. Just say the word
and I can have Giana sitting in the cockpit with Asher and Cory.”
“The word.” No time like the present to join the mile-high club, right?
Apparently Gavin agrees because instead of just pushing the call button for Giana to come to us, he sprints to the front of the plane where she’s sitting. I watch them talk for about half a second before I realize that even though she will respect our wish for privacy, she’s still going to know what we’re doing. And with that knowledge, the ability to look her in the eyes ever again opens the emergency exit and jumps out of the plane.
My libido, however, stays firmly in place. An hour of awkwardness is well worth the price for any amount of time with Gavin’s hands on me . . . and anybody who disagrees is a dirty liar.
I don’t allow my gaze to return to the front of the plane until I hear Gavin thank Giana and the cockpit door closes. Gavin saunters—yes, saunters—toward me with an open bottle of champagne in one hand, an eye mask in the other, and a look of mischief on his face that makes my insides quiver.
“You want to get drunk and get some beauty sleep? That’s a way better idea than what I thought you were talking about,” I say, and a growl slips from the back of his throat. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the smile that’s threatening to take over my face from breaking free.
I love giving him a hard time because when I do, he feels the need to defend his manhood. And let me tell you, the only thing better than imagining what Gavin has planned for me is hearing him lay it all out, word for dirty word.
“Sleep is the last thing you’re about to get.” He places the champagne and mask on the table and turns to face me.
I don’t even have time to formulate a smart-ass response before his large hand is on the back of my neck, gently pulling my face toward his as he drops to his knees in front of me. His free hand falls to my thigh and starts to follow the upward path of the seam on my leggings. My heart rate increases and my breathing becomes louder with every inch they travel, doing nothing to mask the anticipation coursing through my body. His fingers are so close to being where I want them most when I become vaguely aware of his breath against my neck.