CHAPTER 22
MAPLE
“Perfect, just like that,” Gretchen says as I stand in front of Graydon in my football gear while he towers over me in his. “Got it.”
She finishes taking the picture and then nods for us to follow her. We’re between sessions at training camp, after a grueling morning of more freaking cones. If I never see another cone after this, I’ll be the happiest woman alive.
We follow her to the side of the field and take off our helmets.
French braiding my hair on training camp days is the best way to go, because it keeps my hair from getting crazy under the helmet and prevents any sort of tangle situation. But God, does it hurt, even if my wrist is getting stronger.
“The popularity of Flock and Tackle has surged. All major sports media are picking it up and sharing it all over their socials. Everyone is talking about it. The team has seen an uptick in ticket sales and especially merch. They’re thrilled.
And since we’re closing out our second week of training camp with a fundraiser tonight for the zoo, we thought it would be a great opportunity to possibly…
allude to more than just a friendship between the two of you.
I don’t want to fully hard-launch a relationship, but I think giving the media just a little more intrigue will be good. ”
Graydon tenses behind me. “What exactly does that entail?”
“Well, we’ve pretty much edged everyone about the relationship between the two of you, and we thought it would be a great chance for you to be seen holding hands at the event, giving everyone a little more than what we’ve been showing them.”
I mean, that shouldn’t be too hard. He held my hand last week when we went to get tacos.
“No interviews,” Graydon snaps behind me.
“No interviews,” Gretchen confirms. “This is just a photo opportunity. We’ll have a few inside shots, nothing staged, almost like the paparazzi took them, and then we’ll have them leaked.”
I turn to look up at Graydon because this is way out of my wheelhouse. His jaw is tight as he mulls it over. “Leaked to who?”
“Sports outlets only,” Gretchen answers.
“What will be the narrative?”
“We’re still working on the copy, but once we have it, we’ll send it to you for approval.”
What the heck are they even talking about?
“And the protocol for any backlash,” he asks.
“There won’t be any backlash.”
“Gretchen,” Graydon snaps and leans forward, his chest pressing to my back. “You and I both know there will be backlash, so don’t tell me there won’t be. I want a protocol for how to protect her if that happens.”
Gretchen mulls it over. I can see in her eyes that she won’t care about any backlash because her top priority isn’t protecting me but rather protecting the goal—to make the Foghorns shine. And as much as that sucks, I accept it, because I knew that going into this.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I can handle whatever backlash there is. Just make sure everything works out for Graydon.”
“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, turning toward me. “Absolutely not.”
“She has a point,” Gretchen says, and I knew it. I could see her hesitation when he asked for a protocol to protect me.
“She does not have a fucking point,” he seethes. “There is no way I’m going to let her just drown if this goes bad.”
“It won’t,” I say with conviction. “We have people eating out of our hands with Flock and Tackle. It will be fine.”
“Yeah, and once we confirm what people are thinking, the trolls are going to surface from the dark parts of the internet and tear you apart.”
“Let them,” I say casually. “I have nothing to worry about. I know who I am, and I’m good with who I am. If people have a problem with that, then that’s their issue, not mine.”
“Then it’s settled.” Gretchen smiles. “I’ll have hair and makeup meet you at your place again. And we’re sending over a dress as well. You can get out of work a few hours early, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.” She looks at her watch. “Well, I should be going—”
“Hold on, we’re not done here,” Graydon says. “I want a protocol, Gretchen, or I’m not fucking going.”
She sighs heavily. “Graydon, this isn’t—”
“I’m not fucking around.” He sticks his helmet on his head and points at her. “I want a protocol sent to me before the event or I’m not going.” He latches his chin strap and is about to take off before turning toward me. “There should be a link waiting for you to get a ride to the zoo.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, and then he takes off, making powerful strides toward the defense.
“I’ve never met someone more stubborn in my entire life,” Gretchen mutters while shaking her head and staring down at her phone.
When she looks up, she says, “Looks like I’ll be putting together a protocol, just what I want to do on a freaking Friday.
” She then looks me up and down and asks, “How are you with wearing yellow?”
“Fine,” I answer.
“Okay, I’ll let the girls know.”
Then, with that, she takes off.
Well, looks like we’re going public. Better get ready, because even though I said I could handle the heat, I need to mentally prepare. I know just how critical the internet can be.
Time to put on the armor and prepare for battle.
“Thank you,” I say as I pat down the slinky yellow dress that the makeup artist helped me slip on. It’s a halter-top dress with no back whatsoever, the material sliding around just above my ass, exposing my entire back, which was something I was not expecting.
And there were no other options. This was it. There is one single thin strap that extends from one end to the other near my bra line that helps hug the top to my chest with its built-in bra. But the silky material is not forgiving in the slightest, leaving me completely bare under the garment.
“This is gorgeous on you,” the makeup artist says as I turn and look in the full-length mirror, taking in the mermaid silhouette, the buttery color, and the way it hugs every single one of my curves.
I turn to the side, checking out the back and how the fabric rests against my butt, curving along it until the fabric loosely hangs.
Okay, yeah, this dress is something else. Nothing I would ever have picked out for myself, but now that it’s on, it makes me feel…special.
Beautiful.
They styled my hair loosely today by pulling it to the side to show off the slope of my neck. And they went minimal on my makeup once again, just using a heavy dose of mascara to make my eyes pop.
“Are you good? Do you need anything else?” she asks as she moves toward my door.
“No, I think I’m good. Thank you again for everything.”
“Of course.” She winks. “Have fun.”
She grabs all of her things and heads out the front door. I go back to the full-length mirror and check myself out one more time. If they wanted to make an impact for the “unveiling” today, then they sure did it with this dress.
I move to the bathroom, where I swirl some mouthwash in my mouth one more time, adjust my lipstick, and then turn toward the living room, picking up my clutch just as there’s a knock on my door.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of Graydon seeing me in this dress. Not that I should care, but the last week has been…different.
He hasn’t been as moody.
We’ve texted almost every night, just simple texts, nothing that lasted until the wee hours of the morning, but just a quick joke here and there. Or a picture from him. And when we have been at the zoo and training camp, everything has felt seamless, like we’re finally finding a rhythm.
It’s made my attachment toward him grow, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
From the way my stomach’s tying up in knots with nerves, I’m going to guess maybe a bad thing because I can’t…God, I can’t be developing feelings for him, right?
That would be insane.
He’s…he’s way out of my league.
He’s closed off.
He doesn’t date. He’s made that very clear.
And he’s almost an impenetrable wall, never letting his facade slip, never letting anyone in.
He’s not the type of person I should gravitate toward.
Not even close.
Shaking off my thoughts, I take a deep breath and then move to the front door, where I open it to a foreboding and serious-looking man.
His hair is styled in his classic fauxhawk, the light scruff on his jaw emphasizing the sharp angles of his face, while the black-on-black three-piece suit he’s wearing just adds to the mystery and darkness this man carries in his soul.
“Hello,” I say, feeling shy as his eyes rake over me, making my nipples hard from his blatant perusal.
His brow angles down and his tongue quickly wets his lips like he just spotted his prey and he’s about to attack.
It’s a heady feeling, and I can’t recall ever having someone look at me the way he is right now.
He doesn’t say anything as silence falls between us, his eyes moving over my chest, where my nipples are pressing against the thin fabric, then up to my neck, and right into my blue gaze.
“Um, you look nice,” I offer, trying not to fidget under his examination.
“They, uh, they provided me with this dress. A little more revealing than I would have picked, but you know, here we are.” I turn to the side to show him the back, and I watch as his eyes grow even darker from the sight of my bare skin.
“Yeah, I think any lower and my ass would be showing.” I nervously laugh and then turn back around.
“So yeah, yay for fundraisers.” I swallow hard.
“And, uh, and unveiling our relationship. That’s, that’s going to be fun—Oh hey, did you get the protocol?
Well, I guess since you’re here, you did, and that you approved it, so that’s good.
” I twist my lips to the side, my upper lip starting to sweat from the pressure of his gaze.
“God, please say something? Do you want me to change? I’m sorry my nipples are hard.
I can just…I can rub them in the car to—”
“Stop talking,” he grunts.
“Right, yup. I can see how I’m making it worse.” I gesture to the hall. “Shall we go?”
His tongue runs over his teeth before he steps aside, making room for me to shut the door and lock up.
And I do just that, my hand shaky as I try to fit the key in the lock.
What I wouldn’t give to know exactly what he’s thinking at this moment.
Does he hate the dress?
Does he think I look ridiculous?
Is he dreading tonight?
Ashamed to have me on his arm?
All the worst-case scenarios are running through my head as I struggle to get the key in the lock.
I’m seconds from just throwing the key down the hall and calling it quits when he moves in behind me, his chest to my bare back, and smooths his hand over mine, helping me with the key.
I gulp as he assists in twisting the lock, then pulls the key out.
He takes my clutch from my hand and deposits the key inside before closing it and holding it, as if it’s his own.
Then he takes my hand in his and guides me down the hallway, my mouth slightly agape in shock while I trail him out the front door to… not his truck.
I pause and ask, “What’s that?”
“Gretchen didn’t want me pulling up to the event in my truck, so she made me rent this.”
A black Range Rover is parked on the street, making my lip curl up.
“That is so not you.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters. After moving to the passenger side of the SUV, he opens the door and helps me inside.
He doesn’t buckle me in this time, but then again, I think it’s because he can’t really fit inside without bumping around.
The man is a giant. But he waits for me to buckle up before handing me my clutch and shutting my door.
When he gets in on his side of the car, he slides in the best that he can and adjusts to make the most of the space.
I smirk, holding back my chuckle because he looks so freaking uncomfortable.
He glances in my direction. “Don’t fucking say a thing.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I could see it all over your face.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I say, chuckling now.
“Sure,” he answers with an eye roll, then pulls out onto the road.
He heads down the street, his eyes fixed on the road in front of us as the faint sound of the Lumineers plays in the background. His body seems to relax, and then, to my utter surprise, his hand moves over the console and smooths over my leg.
A twinge of shock makes a bolt of lust fly up my leg as I stare down at his massive hand curving around the shape of my leg, the telltale sign of being claimed.
But is he claiming me?
No, he can’t be.
He’s just…he’s practicing. That’s what it is. He’s practicing because it has to be like this when we’re together now. More affection.
So because it’s a moment I can’t let pass me by, I take my phone from my clutch and snap a picture of his hand on my thigh.
Something I can post a little later, once everything is announced.
Until then, the picture will just burn a hole in my phone, and his hand will burn a lustful hole in my soul. It has been a long time since I had sex, and most days, I don’t really think about it.
But Graydon’s hand on my leg? Yep. Now I’m thinking about it. Dear God.