Keeley
six
Good God, they were both gorgeous. It was unfair for two people to be so blessedly beautiful.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them as Minns ushered Miller and his husband away.
They’d done the rounds, Minns introducing them to all the partners and girlfriends.
A crowd gathered around them—apparently the entire guest list had no chill—and I watched as their party dropped down a person.
For a superstar who constantly had eyes on him, Spencer was good at disappearing.
Miller seemed to lap it up, holding the crowd’s attention, while Spencer stood alone in a darkened part of the backyard.
“Cleo, do you mind watching Hannah for a minute?” I asked, smoothing a corner of the blanket she was fast asleep under. “I need a drink.”
“Of course not. Go for it.” She waved me off, and I eased myself up off the picnic rug and headed over to the coolers filled with cans and bottles. I snagged a couple of sodas and headed over to Spencer.
“I thought you could use this,” I said and handed him the can. “I wasn’t sure what you drank, but I figured soda was safe.”
“You didn’t need to get me anything, but ta.” He cracked it open and took a long swallow before fiddling with the tab. “Appreciate it.”
“I don’t want to crowd you if you needed some time away from everyone.
These events don’t usually turn into packs of rabid fans, but apparently, they do when you two are here.
” I frowned and couldn’t help but wonder how often he was the center of a crowd he didn’t want to be in.
I hated that he might be afraid of what could happen.
I gestured to our small group. “We’re pretty laid-back.
You’re welcome to join us if you’d like—”
“I would, but—”
I held up my hand in a stopping gesture and said, “It’s okay, no need for an explanation. I just wanted to get you a drink in case you were thirsty and extend the invitation for you to join us if you wanted. I’ll leave you in peace.” I backed up a step but stopped when Spencer spoke again.
“Despite what you might think, I’m not the most extroverted person. I don’t really like anything more than one-on-one conversation. Texas wanted me here tonight, and I wanted to come and support him, but I could happily have stayed home and ordered takeaway.”
His confession hit home, and a pang of sympathy shot through me.
I doubted whether he’d ever experience “normal” again, and that was a tragedy for him.
I should leave him alone, but his half shrug, half smile had me pausing.
Instead of leaving, I leaned against the glass balustrade and looked out at the view.
The city sprawled below us, thousands of lights spread out in a carpet all the way to the Pacific.
Above us, the sky had turned overcast, pockets of diamond-like lights breaking through gaps in the cloud cover.
I’d been here before on a clear night, and it was stunning. It took my breath away every time.
“What’s your pick?” I asked after a moment of silence. He cocked his head in question, and I clarified, “For delivery. What would you have ordered?”
“The only food I’ve had so far here is Thai and room service from the hotel our apartment is in, so, basically anything? But I’d kill for a decent meat pie.”
I blinked, my brows hiked up. “Have the two of you been surviving on room service this whole time?” Miller needed to eat better food than takeout and club sandwiches from the hotel kitchen. Surely he knew that.
“Nah, Texas has his meals planned and catered. He offered to order the same for me—I’ve been winging it since I got here—but if I never eat, smell, or see grilled chicken and broccoli again, it’ll be too soon. There’s no way I’m eating that shit.”
I chuckled. “Ew. I don’t blame you. Reheated broccoli is disgusting. Actually, broccoli is disgusting full stop.”
“Right? It’s fuckin’ gross.” He shuddered and grimaced in disgust, and I grinned at the sight.
“I’ll have you over for some empanadas. No broccoli in sight,” I offered, then realized Spencer had come here for some peace and quiet, and I was hitting him up for dinner.
That was just me—growing up, my house was always filled with people visiting.
Mom was a social butterfly and even though we didn’t have much, we oftentimes had friends and neighbors over.
Looking back, they probably brought more food than Mom cooked, helping to feed the both of us.
But sharing a meal with our friends and neighbors had become second nature to me.
Spencer didn’t know that, though. Food was something I freely offered and was as much of a welcome as a friendly hello, but inviting them over was probably crossing the line.
It seemed almost intimate. Oh God, was I flirting with him?
No, definitely not. He was married. There was no way.
“I, ah… I mean…”
He stepped closer, standing so our shoulders were touching, and grinned.
My words died. It wasn’t one of those sweet, cheeky smiles.
No, this was wicked. Every nerve ending in my body lit up, screaming at me to take notice of him.
The joke was on them, though—I couldn’t look away.
He was sex incarnate. He oozed pheromones that were as addictive as a drug.
There was something about him that had me locked into his orbit, wanting to get near him and drop to my knees.
It wasn’t that he was famous. I didn’t care about that—I worked with a bunch of famous hockey players and called an author storming bestseller lists around the world and a Hollywood A-lister my friends. But Spencer… wow. He was wow.
“I’d love that,” he rasped. Oh God, that voice. Deep and seductive. Intimate.
Spencer reached for my still-unopened can.
His fingers brushed mine, and a shiver ran through me, the kind that made me all squirrely and squirmy inside.
I sucked in a breath and watched as those long fingers popped the top with ease.
He handed it back to me, and his touch lingered.
Our connection was electric. Sparks snapped between us, and my body lit up. I wanted to kiss him.
I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that too.
But I wasn’t flirting.
He wasn’t either.
He was just being a gentleman. He didn’t want me to break a nail.
No, seriously.
I definitely wasn’t flirting.
Not even a little bit.
Just then Coach clanged the cowbell and called out, “All right, y’all. Food’s up.”
The thread connecting us snapped. I sucked in a breath. Disappointment and relief crashed into me.
“You should—” I gestured to the line already forming and looked over my shoulder toward the blanket we’d been sitting on. Cleo sat there alone with Hannah. “—and I’d better rescue Cleo so she can eat.”
“You’re not having anything?”
“I’ll get a plate once Cleo has hers. She’s watching my daughter for me.”
“Okay.” He touched the small of my back and gestured for me to go first.
When he didn’t move his hand as we started walking, I wanted to melt into him. He was only a few inches taller than my five foot nine, but he was larger than life. I loved the way he seemed to tower over me, making me feel petite.
No flirting.
Absolutely.
No.
Flirting.
“I’ll, ah… catch you around.” I huffed out a laugh, and heat crawled up my throat to my face at the way I couldn’t even string a sentence together in his presence. Thank goodness for the darkness. My cheeks were hot; I bet was glowing red.
“You will,” he promised, and I resisted the urge to ask when.
Barely.
I hurried over to Cleo, still hot and bothered, and sat down. “Why don’t you go and get some food?” I suggested.
“It’s all good. Joey and Becks are bringing me a plate. You go eat.”
I looked up toward the end of the line and watched as Spencer joined it, followed a moment later by his husband. Miller wrapped his arms around Spencer’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. My heart beat harder and my mouth watered. They were so absolutely, devastatingly handsome.
“I’ll wait a few minutes,” I choked out.
Barely two minutes later, I had a plate of brisket, steak, baked potato, and slaw in front of me, and Miller and Spencer were bracketing me.
We were tightly packed on the blankets, our whole group sitting down to eat, and they had no hesitation in cozying up with me.
My arousal was on a state of high alert just having them there.
Miller took a bite of brisket and moaned.
It was obscene, like some dirty fantasy come to life.
I could have closed my eyes and imagined him in the throes of an orgasm without even trying.
He swallowed and stuffed another forkful into his mouth, then moaned again.
I closed my eyes, trying to shake the image from my mind’s eye.
It only made things worse. Fantasies lit up behind my closed eyelids of them kissing and touching each other, shirtless.
I inhaled slowly. Miller’s fresh citrusy scent and Spencer’s leather and chocolate filled my lungs. I held my breath, wanting to keep them there for just a moment, to stay in this fantasy.
“Sweet Baby Jesus,” he groaned, and I watched as he spoke to the meat on his fork. “I’ve missed you so much, barbecue.”
Spencer leaned in, his voice tickling the skin below my ear. “Texas is deprived. This is what too much broccoli does to a person.”
I couldn’t help my bark of laughter. Hannah lifted her feet up in fright, her whole body going tense.
She sucked in a wobbly breath, her tears still fresh after crying for so long before she fell asleep, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.
I slapped my hand over my mouth and rested my hand on her tummy, soothing her.
“Shh,” I laughed. “It’s okay. Sorry, sweet girl. Mamá didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s bloody good,” Spencer agreed and reached for Miller’s shoulder. But now he was wrapped around me so he could touch his husband. I tensed, trying not to let their warmth melt me into a puddle of goo.