As if reading her sex-deprived mind, Brody moved closer. He stretched his arm along the back of the seat and let his fingers rest on her bare shoulder. It was the smallest of contact, a light brush against her skin, but her senses were so heightened, he might as well have reached right between her legs. And then his long fingers began to move, stroking her skin in small, measured movements that echoed through her core. Sweet Jesus. A whisper of a sound vibrated in the back of her throat and she stilled. What the hell, did she just purr?
Her eyes shot to Brody, who was thankfully too focused on their destination to take notice of her sudden feline tendency.
“We’re here,” he said as the limo rolled to a stop.
Rebecca ducked her head, peering out the window. Stone columns soared above her, spanning the length of the stadium that served as home to the Chicago Bears. “We’re having dinner at Soldier Field?”
A proud grin spread across Brody’s face. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t worry,” he said as he climbed out of the car and held out his hand. “We won’t be dining at one of the hot dog stands.”
He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward a door he indicated was the players’ entrance. “I have a little surprise for you,” he said.
Rebecca lifted a brow. A surprise? Excitement bubbled inside her as they passed through the double doors. She’d only been to the stadium once, for a Taylor Swift concert, and while at the moment the place wasn’t brimming with 60,000 screaming fans, being in areas of the venue normally closed to the public still had a “backstage” feel. But over the next hour, her enthusiasm began to wane. They started in the front office, then proceeded to the press box before he took her to the “main event”—a private tour of the locker room. So much for romance, she thought as he led her through the vast showers. He might as well have turned on one of the faucets and set the water to ice cold. Would have had the same effect. Instead of being swept off her feet, it was like she was interviewing him for ESPN.
When they were finished in the locker room, Brody led her to a candlelit dinner on a platform overlooking the field. Rebecca had watched Bears games once or twice before, or at least been in the room while Cole was watching, so she knew from experience this was the platform the announcers used when delivering their reports.
Brody pulled out Rebecca’s chair and waited until she was settled before hitting a small remote control on the table. Across the field, the jumbotron sprang to life with a Brody Dixon highlight reel. Her mouth gaped open. Was he serious? She stole a peek at him out of the corner of her eye. Judging by the look on his face, he absolutely was.
And here she thought resisting his charms was going to be difficult. If anything, the more time she spent with Brody in the stadium, the less inclined she was to spend time with him in bed. In fact, when dessert was finally served, she scarfed it down if for no other reason than to hasten the end of what had turned out to be a disaster of epic proportions.
But as they exited the stadium, it became clear Brody wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. He nodded to the row of white tents that had been set up in the park between the stadium and the Field Museum. “Wonder what all that’s about?”
“It’s a carnival,” Rebecca said. She’d read about the event online earlier that day. “They’re raising funds for the new dinosaur exhibit.”
“I used to love dinosaurs when I was a kid.” He looked at her and smiled. “Wanna check it out?” The expression on his face as he waited for her reply was unlike any she’d ever seen on him before. Gone was the guy with the cheesy pickup lines and over-the-top gestures, and in his place was a man who looked warm and genuine in his unguarded enthusiasm.
A moment ago, Rebecca couldn’t wait to get home. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was the music of the carnival rides or the smell of cotton candy that wafted in on a warm breeze. Or maybe it was the childlike gleam in Brody’s eyes. But for some reason, she found herself wanting to say yes.
“Well?” He dipped his knees to look her in the eye.
She nodded.
Brody clapped his hands together. “Hot damn!”
“But only if you buy me a funnel cake,” she said. It had been years since she’d had one of those, and even though she’d just polished off a creme brûlée, the thought of fried dough covered in powdered sugar had her mouth watering.
“Fine.” He winked. “But only if you share.”
She didn’t have to wait long as there was a concession stand just inside the gate. Brody being recognized by fans didn’t take long either. He and Rebecca were tearing apart clumps of doughy goodness when a group of teenage girls approached.
“Excuse me,” one of them said. She looked to be about fourteen. “Would you mind taking a selfie with us?”
“Sure thing.” Brody wiped his hands on one of the napkins then glanced around for a trash can.
“Let me,” Rebecca said. She took it from him, then stepped aside with the trash and the remnants of their funnel cake.
Brody stood in the center of the group, his arms encompassing all four of the girls as they squeezed in close for a photo. “No embarrassing filters,” he teased when they were done. “I don’t want to see a shot of me with a kitten face floating around tomorrow.”
The girls erupted in a fit of giggles as they walked away.
“Does that happen a lot?” Rebecca asked.
“Sometimes.” Brody shrugged. “But I don’t mind. Fans are the reason I get to do what I love.” He looked down at Rebecca’s full hands. “Here, let me take those. Unless you want the last bite?”
Rebecca smiled. “All yours.”
He popped the last of the funnel cake into his mouth then tossed the plate and napkins in a nearby trash can. But when he rejoined Rebecca, something over her shoulder caught his eye. She turned, following his gaze to where a group of young boys stood in front of one of the carnival rides.
“Sorry, dude,” the attendant told one of them. He pointed to a sign with a picture of a clown holding out his arm as a measuring guide. “Gotta be that tall to ride.”
The little boy looked heartbroken, something that wasn’t being helped one bit by the teasing he was receiving from the other kids.
“One sec,” Brody said. Rebecca watched as he strolled over to the group. “You know,” he said in a voice that was loud enough to attract their attention. “Most of the tallest guys I know didn’t shoot up until age fifteen or even sixteen.”
The boys’ heads turned as one. Judging by the looks on their faces, the little punks were ready to talk back to the adult who dared speak to them. But then they saw the adult in question, and their smart mouths merely gaped open in shock.
“Take me, for example. When I was your age, I was the shortest kid in the class.” He held out his hand to the smallest boy. “Hey buddy, I’m Brody.”
The little guy shook Brody’s hand but didn’t say a word.
“What’s your name?”
“Um, Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Brody rubbed his jaw as though an idea were taking shape. “Hey, think you could do me a solid?”
Still in somewhat of a trance, the boy merely nodded.
“Cool, ’cause I just moved to town and I don’t know many people yet.”
The boy nodded again.
“And seeing as how I’m the newest guy on the team, it’s my job to find the water boys for the first game.”
New or not, Rebecca doubted that the responsibility for finding sideline staff fell to the team’s quarterback, but she knew where he was going with it, and the gesture was amazingly sweet.
“You wouldn’t by any chance be free the last Sunday in September, would you?”
The boy nodded again as his friends looked on in complete and utter shock.
“That’s great,” Brody said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Now I can focus on getting ready for the season.” He dug into his back pocket for his wallet and took out a small white card. “This has my phone nu
mber on it.” He pulled the card back and narrowed his eyes. “Can I trust you not to share it with anyone?”
The kid straightened. “Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon. You have my word.”
“You’re a good man, Sam.” He handed the boy his card and gave him a fist bump before walking back over to Rebecca.
“Were you really the shortest kid in the class?” she asked as they strolled away from the still shell-shocked boys.
“Maybe not the shortest.” Brody cracked half a smile. “But close enough.”
“That was really sweet.”
“You sound surprised.”
How could she not be? Brody Dixon was a total contradiction. On the one hand, he was a smooth operator who spouted cheesy lines and played a highlight reel to try to impress a woman. And on the other, he was this big softie who posed for silly pictures and went out of his way to help a little kid who was being bullied. Rebecca studied him as she took a moment to consider all that had transpired that evening. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
“It’s just…” She struggled to find the right words. “It was just a far cry from—” She gestured toward the stadium that loomed behind them in the distance. “All that.”
Brody frowned. “You didn’t like the tour?”
Rebecca snorted. It was a most unladylike sound, but at the moment, she didn’t really care. “For a super fan on a Saturday afternoon? Maybe. But as a date on a Saturday night?”
“That was the Brody Special.” He actually looked a bit wounded.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “So, what, you do this with all the girls? Wow, don’t I feel special,” she said, accenting the last word with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
“It’s not like that,” Brody said.
Rebecca raised one skeptical brow.
“Okay,” Brody said. Now he was laughing as well. “Maybe it was like that. But to be fair, it’s the first time I’ve done it at this stadium.”
“Now I feel much better,” she deadpanned.
He smiled and shook his head. “Always busting my balls, aren’t you?”
“You just make it so darn easy. I mean, taking a girl to a football stadium for dinner? Who does that?”
“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before, so I figured you would enjoy it. And besides, I kind of assumed you were a bit of a tomboy.”
Instinctively, her hand flew to her short hair. She hadn’t always worn it that way, but when she was faced with the prospect of having it fall out, she’d taken matters into her own hands and shaved her head. Now she was just used to the convenience of having her brown waves cropped close to her face. Still, what the hell did hairstyle have to do with hobbies?
“I might not be a homecoming queen, but I’m most certainly not a tomboy.”
He winced. “You know about that?”
Rebecca gave a tight nod. “Saw the promo on television.” Before last week, she had no idea who Brody Dixon was, and now he seemed to be everywhere. She’d even seen him on the side of a bus that morning, but something inside her didn’t want to tell him about that for fear that if she did, his head would grow to the size…well, to the size of the one on the side of the bus.
“Believe me, being on that show was not my idea.”
“Whose was it?”
“My publicist, mainly,” he said. “But my agent was totally on board. They thought my image needed rehabilitation.” He accented the last word with air quotes. The gesture made him look about the same age as the boys he’d just been talking to, but something about it was incredibly endearing as well. She was starting to suspect that deep down, Brody was a good guy. He just needed to get out of his own way.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said as they started to walk farther into the maze of tents.
She narrowed her eyes. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you want to ask.”
Brody chuckled and shook his head. “Can anything be simple with you?
“Says the man who served dinner by the light of a jumbotron.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll ask, and you can decline to answer. How’s that?”
She smiled. “Better.”
“What was on your paper?”
“My paper?” Rebecca was so busy watching the Zipper slingshot screaming teens around its oblong track that her brain didn’t connect the dots until it was too late.
“The one from the game,” he said, causing her steps to falter. “What was your wager?”
Chapter Nine
Rebecca had never planned on revealing the wager she’d impulsively scribbled on a napkin after one—make that five—too many tequilas. She knew she could refuse to answer, but she also knew his curiosity, not to mention his persistence, would only grow tenfold if she didn’t. Plus, denying him the information yet again would undoubtedly give him the idea it was something incredibly outlandish. Maybe even sexual. So as much as she’d enjoyed frustrating the hell out of him that night, it was time to put him out of his misery.
Didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.
She took a deep breath. “I asked you out.”
“Really?” His brows shot up along with his voice. Once he was over the initial shock, a smug grin formed on his lips. “So, we both won.”
“Modest, aren’t you?”
He ignored the dig and instead pointed out the obvious. “Well, you’re out with me, aren’t you?”
“Mmm-hmm, for the Brody Special,” she teased, using the name he’d given their evening. “But as memorable as this was, I’d had a different date in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“My friends Cassie and Hank—”
“The redhead and the prince?”
She nodded. “They’re getting married next year, and even though there are all kinds of official events that the palace is planning—balls and parades and stuff we usually only see on TV—they also want to have an engagement party in the States. Here in Chicago, actually. It will still be a formal event since, well, he’s a prince, but they want it to be personal, you know? So, they thought having someone who knew them plan it would make that easier.” All at once, she realized she had been talking in one giant stream without ever pausing to take a breath. That was always the case when she was excited or nervous about something, and since in that particular instance she was both, her chatter was at warp speed.
Brody finished her thought. “And they asked you?”
She drew a deep breath in through her nose. “Yes.”
“That’s awesome! Should be great for business.”
“I would do it for them even if nobody ever knew. In fact, I told them I didn’t want to be paid, that it was my gift to them, but they insisted.” She thought about ending her story there, but she was in this far, might as well finish it. “They insisted on something else too.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to bring a date.” She cringed.
“Can’t imagine that would be a tall order for someone like you.”
“Was that a crack about my height?”
Brody laughed. “No, although now that you mention it, you are about as big as a minute.”
“I’m stronger than I look.” She cut her eyes at him and lifted a brow. “Care to find out?”
He stopped walking and held up his hands. “All I meant was, I doubt someone as pretty as you would have trouble finding a date.” His words were simple and straightforward and caused a warm blush to spread across her cheeks.
“You’re kinda sweet when you’re not trying so hard, you know that?” For all his clichés and cheesy lines, Brody Dixon was his most devastating when he was just being himself.
“Well, it’s true.”
“While I appreciate the ego boost, the only men I meet are already engaged to someone else.”
“Hmm, guess it wouldn’t do too well for business if you started dating clients.”
She laughed. “Worked out okay for J. Lo.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“The Wedding Planner?”
“Never saw it.”
“It’s a romantic comedy.” She was about to say it was the kind most men got corralled into watching by the women in their life, when it occurred to her that a guy like Brody was probably used to calling all the shots on dates, and something told her there were never chick flicks on the jumbotron or anywhere else. “Never mind.” She was more than ready to change the subject when a row of arcade games at the end of the pier caught her eye.
Rebecca spun on her heel to face him. “I want a rematch.”
A confident grin spread across Brody’s face. “All right, but this one is double or nothing.”
“Double or nothing?”
“You win, I will be your date, plus you get one more wish.”
“What are you, a genie?”
He ignored her teasing and pressed on. “And if I win, I get two wishes.”
“That’s not how double or nothing works.”
“Are you in or not?” he asked, still unfazed.
Rebecca’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as she considered his proposition. “In.”
“Great. Now all we need is a deck of cards.”
Rebecca laughed. “I wasn’t challenging you to play poker.”
Brody frowned. “Then what?”
“Darts,” she said, nodding to the booth where whitewashed boards were covered with small, colorful balloons. “Three tosses. Most balloons popped wins.”
“You do know I make my living with this arm, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I’ll take my chances.”
Brody reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “All right,” he chuckled. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He handed a ten-dollar bill to the attendant. The man took the cash, shoving it into the front pocket of his red apron without ever taking his eyes off Brody. After a few awkward moments, it was clear he’d forgotten all about the darts. “Could we have a few?” Brody asked.
Save the Date (Wild Wedding Series Book 3) Page 10