With his fluffy arms wrapped around me, I grin up at him and say, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah. Anyone who gets dressed up in a gorilla costume and dances around an office to show his girl how much she means to him has got to be at least a little cray-cray.”
“Or a little in love,” Margie offers excitedly.
Nick tilts his head to look at her. “You’re right,” he replies before he turns back to me with soft eyes. “Or a little in love.”
It’s disconcerting, to say the least. As I blink up at him, my heart begins to hammer. I open my mouth to reply, but I’m too thrown to form any actual words.
Don’t get me wrong, the sane part of me knows Nick hasn’t just proclaimed genuine love for me in front of Margie and the rest of the office. I’m not that deluded. But there’s something in the way he’s looking at me, perhaps the softness in his eyes, that has me backing out of his embrace, the light humored feeling from before morphing into something else entirely. Something new and exciting and scary and very, very confusing.
“Right. Yes. Well,” I mutter.
“You okay there, champ?” Nick asks me, his brows knitted together as his smile drops a fraction.
“I’m fine,” I manage. I swallow down an unexpected lump that’s formed in my throat. “It’s just…I guess I’ve never had a pink gorilla in love with me before, that’s all.”
People around us laugh, and I join in to show just how funny and completely not confusing this moment is. Because it’s not.
Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.
“Good work, Nick,” one of the guys from Finance says as he claps his hand on Nick’s back. “Do you do birthdays and anniversaries, too?”
“Sure, why not?” he replies easily. “Off-season only, of course. This is a special one-off performance.”
The Finance guy chuckles. He turns to me and says, “You’ve sure got this guy well and truly wrapped around your finger, Erin.”
An image of a miniature Nick as a pink gorilla twisted around one of my fingers flashes before my eyes, and a bubble of laughter rises inside me. It’s my nerves, it’s the weirdness of the situation, and it’s the new and scary feelings for Nick rolling through me, all wrapped up in one maniacal laugh.
After a moment, in which Nick shoots me a perplexed look, he joins in, followed by the guy from Finance, Margie, and my other workmates. I’m sure none of them get what I’m laughing at, which would be totally understandable, because I don’t know what I’m laughing at, either.
All I know is that laughing is a whole lot more comfortable than the confusing, new feelings growing inside.
I’ve got feelings for Nick.
The show finally over, the guy from Finance claps Nick on the back once more before leaving, and my assembled co-workers peel away.
I paste on an I’m-just-normal-old-Erin smile and say, “This sure beats flowers and heart-shaped chocolates.”
“It’s all part of my wooing you,” he replies with a wink. “I hope it’s working.”
Too well. “Oh, I…ah…yes, it is. Thank you for wooing me,” I mumble.
I’m thanking him for fake wooing me?
He puts his hand on my shoulder, lowers his voice so only I can hear. “I also thought you could do with some cheering up, you know, after what we talked about in the car.”
Mom.
My heart contracts, and suddenly I feel bad for thinking anything negative about Nick and the whole romantic gifts thing. He’s a genuinely nice person, and he knows I’ve been going through a lot.
“You’re, ah, you’re very sweet. Th-thanks.” As my ability to form coherent speech evades me, things begin to zing around my body at his touch. Which is beyond weird, because not only is the guy still dressed as an oversized pink gorilla but because this is Nick, my fake boyfriend, the guy who needs me to help him get his image back on track. That’s the deal. He gets what he needs, and I get what I need. End of story.
But—and there’s most definitely a “but” here—maybe there’s something else going on. Maybe I’m reading way too much into this, and maybe I’ll look back on today and ask myself what the heck was I thinking, but maybe, just maybe, Nick feels it, too. Maybe Nick has developed feelings for me the way I have for him. Maybe the chocolates and the flowers and the gorilla-gram are all totally genuine.
My heartrate kicks up a notch or ten at the prospect.
I shoot him a sideways look. No way. This has got to be all part of the ruse, of making everyone believe in Nerick.
Ed appears at my desk. “Nice job, Nick,” he says, peering over his reading glasses. “You’ve clearly got a sparkling career in entertainment ahead of you once your sporting career is over.”
“Thanks. I think.” Nick gives a sardonic grin.
Ed laughs. “You two all set for tomorrow night?”
“The Kickoff Party? Yeah, although I don’t think I’ll wear this,” Nick says, his hands out at his sides.
“You should,” Margie says from her desk, clearly eavesdropping. “You’re totally rocking the primate look. Hey, if you can get a matching one, Erin, I’m sure you’d be the talking point of the night.”
I roll my eyes at Margie as Nick slinks a fluffy arm around my middle. I’ve got to work hard at appearing as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. That it’s not stirring up a hundred different emotions for me.
Nick gives me a squeeze. “Actually, Erin’s made the dress she’s going to wear at the party.”
“You sew?” Ed asks, and I nod.
“She’s really good at it, Ed,” Margie says, her ears clearly flapping like Dumbo back there. “She makes all her outfits. Don’t you, Erin?”
“Guilty,” I reply.
Ed gives me an approving look. “Hidden talents, eh, Erin?”
“Something like that,” I reply.
“Well, we’ll look forward to seeing you together,” Ed says. “I can see you out, if you like, Nick?”
Nick glances at me, and I give him what I hope is an everything’s-fine-and-we’re-just-friends-and-I-forgot-that-for-a-moment-but-now-I’m-totally-back-on-track smile. Although, if he doesn’t work out what my smile is trying to say, no one could blame him. That’s a pretty complicated message for one small smile.
“See you tomorrow,” I say as he turns to leave. “And Nick? Thanks.”
He winks. “Anything for my girl.”
Once he’s gone, I slump onto my seat, my hands clasped in my lap, my mind racing. I want to believe that what I’m feeling is simply temporary insanity brought on by gorilla-gram. I want to believe that what Nick just did for me is merely part of pretending we’re together. Oh, that would be so easy. But I know, deep inside, it’s not. I know it’s something so much more. As I think of Nick’s smiling face, of the way he made a total fool of himself just now, of the way his arm felt wrapped around my middle, I know what I feel is real. I want to be with Nick. I want our relationship to be real, not fake.
And I think he feels it, too.
I lean forward, rest my elbows on my desk, and let out a heavy sigh. How can I have let this happen? I went into this thing with my eyes wide open. I had my reason, and it certainly had nothing to do with wanting to be with Nick. What’s more, I knew what sort of man he is: a good-time guy, the Wild Boy of Rugby, a guy half the population of the country is in love with. Sure, I might have seen a different side to him now, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re only in this thing together to get his image back on track. Whether he feels something for me or not doesn’t change any of that.
If Braydon taught me anything, it’s not to fall for a guy like Nick. Confidence, good looks, talent, and fame are a potent concoction that can go to someone’s head, and Nick has all those qualities in spades. Just like Braydon did. And just like Braydon, Nick could so easily break my heart.
What am I going to do?
Chapter 13
“How do I look?” I ask as I step into Darcy’s room. I’m dre
ssed and ready for the Hawks season Kickoff Party tonight. My hair is loose and falls in soft curls over my shoulders, my makeup is done, and I’m wearing the black dress Nick liked.
Darcy looks up from her Kindle, and her jaw drops open. “You look like Cinderella, only way more chic and sexy.”
I smile at her. “That and no pumpkin for a carriage or rats for footmen.”
She laughs. “I hope not, for your sake. Although, a fairy godmother could come in handy around here.” She eyes the pile of unfolded laundry in a basket on the floor.
“Give me a twirl.”
I do as instructed because this dress is made to twirl. I know, I made it. I based the design on something I once saw my petite-sized soul sister Reese Witherspoon wear on the red carpet. With a full skirt that falls just below the knee, it’s nipped in at the waist with a very complimentary heart-shaped neckline and thick straps. Made of silk, it swooshes and sways with every movement, making me feel like, well, a chic and sexy Cinderella.
“Gorgeous,” Darcy pronounces. “Everyone is going to want to know who designed your dress.”
I feel a little flip of nerves. “I hope so. I checked my emails a moment ago, and the logo is done. It looks amazing! I’ll upload it to my site, and then we can go live.”
“Let me see.”
I reach for my laptop, pull up the image, and stand nervously by as Darcy inspects it.
“Classy, babe. Totally perfect.”
I beam at her. “It is, right?”
“Upload it now and go live.”
Adrenaline zips through me. “Okay.” I tap on my keyboard and then pause, my finger hovering over the key, ready to click. “This is big.”
“Wait!”
I almost jump out of my dress. “What? Why?”
“I want to record your big moment.” She picks her phone up from her bed. Pointing it at me, she says, “Okay, say something.”
“Like what?”
“Like how this is the culmination of your lifelong dream. How you couldn’t have done it without your amazing BFF Darcy Evans. That kind of thing.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Okay. Ready.”
Darcy nods at me, and I begin.
“This is it. The moment the Erin Andrews Designs site goes live for the very first time.” I press the key on my keyboard and watch as the little wheel circles around for a moment before a message flashes up on my screen. Congratulations! Your website is now live! I look up at Darcy and say, “We have lift-off.”
She lowers the phone and pulls me in for a hug. “Girl, you are on your way.”
“I hope so.”
“Let me take a photo of you in that dress. I’ll tag you and add your web address.”
“Awesome! Thanks,” I pull a one-hand-on-hip pose and smile as Darcy snaps a few shots.
“What’s your hashtag again?”
“#ErinAndrews. It’s not rocket science, babe.”
She taps on her phone and then looks back up at me. “Done,” she says.
The door buzzes, and a shot of nerves and excitement whizzes through me. I tell myself it’s because tonight is a big night in the Hawks calendar, and Nick and I are going to be on display as a couple for the first time in a big, official way. I know it’s a whole lot more than that. I haven’t seen him since yesterday’s gorilla-gram, and my feelings for him have grown and grown.
I push the button to unlock the front door, dash into my room to collect my purse, and do a last-minute check of my reflection in the hallway mirror as Darcy materializes beside me.
“That must be Nick,” she says.
“Yup.” A fresh wave of nerves floods over me.
She beams at me. “You got this. Just remember, mention Erin Andrews Designs at every turn and get photographed as much as possible. This is your big moment to get your name out there.”
I give a firm nod. “Got it.”
There’s a knock at the door, and I take a deep, steadying breath before I pull it open to see Nick standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in a black tux, his crisp white shirt showing off his olive complexion, his lips curved into an easy smile. My belly gives an involuntary flip, my heart contracting in my chest.
“Hi,” I say as he beams at me.
“Hi,” he replies, his eyes skimming over me. “You look—”
I smile shyly, my belly flip-flopping like crazy. “You, too.”
“The dress…works.”
“Thanks.”
“I guess we should—”
“Yeah. We should.”
Darcy, who I had completely forgotten was with us in the hallway because I was so focused on Nick, breaks the moment. “Well, you two kids have a great night, now, and remember the midnight curfew, Cinderella.”
“Curfew?” I ask.
“Just kidding,” she laughs.
“See you later, Darce.”
Nick stands back for me to walk through the doorway. “After you.”
“Such a gentleman,” I tease as I breeze past him.
“You know it,” he replies.
In the elevator we stand in silence, sharing occasional smiles.
“You really do look beautiful tonight, Ernie.”
“And you look like a Hollywood star.”
He chuckles. “You’re just used to seeing me in sportswear.”
“Yes, that’ll be it. It’s not that you look good or anything.” My tone has more than a touch of sarcasm.
The doors slide open, and we walk through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.
“I’m driving tonight,” he announces as we reach his truck. “No drinking for the reformed Nick Zachary.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean I can’t have a glass of champagne, because I need my reward. It took me almost two hours to look like this.” He opens the passenger door, and I giggle. “You’re pulling out all the stops tonight, aren’t you?”
He gives a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows. “Anything for my girlfriend.” He climbs in his side. “I am allowed to be nice to you. It’s not all about Project Bird, you know.”
“Project Weka, because they’re sneaky,” I correct.
He turns to face me. “Whatever it’s called. I like you, Erin, and I want to do nice things for you.”
I bite down on my lip. “You do?” I reply, embarrassed that my voice is suddenly breathless.
His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze locked on mine. “I do.”
My heart hammers, and things begin to flutter in my belly. Nick likes me. He likes me! My smile threatens to take over my whole face as unadulterated joy rushes through me. I knew there was truth in his touch, in the way he looked at me, in the way he shared himself with me. That gorilla-gram wasn’t just for show. It was because he genuinely likes me.
And then it hits me afresh. All my reservations, all the reasons not to let myself fall. I dig my nails into my palms. He’s the Wild Boy of Rugby, a different girl every night of the week. Liking me means nothing. I’m a passing fancy, a flash in the pan with a hundred girls lined up to take my place.
I clear my throat and say brightly, “Well, now that you like me, we can fool everyone all the better.”
Something passes across his face. “Right. Got it.” He presses his lips into a line before he says, “I guess we should get out there.”
“I guess we should.”
He pulls the truck out of its parking space and joins the stream of traffic. It doesn’t take long for us to get downtown, and we chat easily about our day as we zip along.
After waiting in a crawling line of traffic outside the venue, Nick pulls the car up out front, and a valet in a red jacket immediately arrives by his door. I turn to see another valet standing at my door, ready to open it, and I can hear the sounds of the gathered crowd cheering outside.
Nick places his hand on mine, and I fight my instinct to curl my fingers through his. “You ready for this?” he asks.
I look out the window at the red carpet stretching along the ground, the crowds of peo
ple, the press, and other rugby pros with their partners. “I think so.”
“Everyone is going to know your name after tonight.”
My belly twists. “That’s the whole idea, right? Operation Fix Nick’s Reputation is a go, and I’m the girl for the job.”
He laughs as he gives my hand a final squeeze. “I guess.” He pushes his door open and immediately the valet on my side opens mine. The muffled sounds of the crowd amps right up, and lights flash around me in seizure-provoking bursts.
Nerves shredding me, I step out onto the curb, and Nick arrives at my side. He envelops my hand with his and shoots me an encouraging smile. “You got this.”
We walk hand in hand down the carpet as people call Nick’s name. He turns and places an arm possessively around my waist, and we pose as the loved-up couple we’re meant to be. I feel my anxiety slip away and even begin to enjoy the experience. It’s not every day you get to dress up and have your photograph taken on the arm of a sports hero.
“This is Erin Andrews, my girlfriend,” Nick announces to a surge of interest from the crowd.
“You make a cute couple,” a woman in the front row says.
“We think so,” Nick replies as he beams down at me, his eyes soft and loving.
I swallow a rising lump in my throat.
“How’d you meet?” someone else calls out.
“Through work,” I reply, my confidence bolstered. “I work for the Hawks, only I don’t spend quite as much time running around with a ball in my hands as Nick does.”
“Or at all,” Nick adds, and people laugh.
“Can I get a selfie with you, Nick?” a boy of about eleven asks.
“Sure!” He takes the kid’s phone and leans down to pose with him.
I wait as he poses for selfies with a bunch of other fans, feeling thoroughly self-conscious until someone calls out, “Hey, Nick’s girlfriend. What’s your name again?”
I turn and smile in the direction the voice came from and say, “I’m Erin Andrews.”
The flashes continue, and I don’t know which way to look. I turn one way and pop a cute pose then another, but the flashes are coming from all around me. I’m not even sure if they’re photographing me or not, so I stand there, trying to look like I belong and feeling anything but.
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