Chapter 13
FIFI
Istep away from Trick, closer to Darcy, hands on my hips. “Girl, really?” My face flames, but not embarrassment, more in anger, which is something so foreign to me I can’t even think what to say next.
Not even when Darcy grins and looks Trick over like he’s a Chippendale candidate—which he so could be, but he’s not, and I have to squelch my impulse to throw myself in front of him like a towel to hide whatever he’s showing that makes her look like she’s about to drool.
“Can’t you see he’s too stuck on Fifi to wolf around like he used to?” Nina says. I know she’s trying to support me, but her reference to his past wolfing around doesn’t help the sudden jealous streak that flashes like a hot green lightning bolt.
Ricci says, “Let’s take more pics. Turn up the music.”
“I’ll take the pics. You dance.” I slip my phone from my pocket, and the girls quickly form a semi-circle around Trick like he’s the main act and they’re a harem of backup dancers.
I click through dozens of shots and take a quick video clip because I know Nina would love it for her IG reels.
She’s such a social media maven, devoting more than a casual amount of time to it and has the followers to show for it—over ten thousand.
Trick has some moves, including a spin that I catch perfectly, but when one of the girls next door moves her hips up close and personal with Trick’s crotch, I shut it down. Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I jump in front of Trick, taking the girl’s place as I front him.
He wastes no time grabbing my hips. That’s when I notice Darcy aiming her phone at us.
Trick swings me around and dances me through the kitchen on the way to my bedroom.
He waves over my head. “It’s been fun, ladies.”
The girls respond with giggles, waving back, and a few shouts about us having fun and promises not to listen at my door. Shit.
He closes the door behind me, but we can still hear the music and the chatter. “I’m sorry. We had a few people over for drinks before going out. They should be leaving soon. I hope.”
He glances back at the door. “Shit. I left your jersey out there.”
We stare at each other for a few blinks, and I’m wondering if it’s worth it to go back out there and retrieve it.
“How about if you text Ricci and ask her to bring it to us?” He cocks his head and stalks toward me as I smile at him, nodding. “I know, I know, it’s a great idea. Sometimes my brain comes to life after a long slumber, surprising me with its brilliance.”
I laugh and kiss him, lingering on those generous lips. “You are brilliant. I love your brain almost as much as your muscles.”
“There you go making my muscles feel bad again.”
Grabbing my phone, I text Ricci, and she doesn’t reply, but there’s a loud knock on my door within a minute.
“It’s me. Open the door a sliver and I’ll pass it through. I promise I won’t look.”
Trick laughs, shaking his head. “She’s definitely my favorite.”
I shush him and open the door wide enough to give Ricci a hug while I take the jersey, which is rolled up in a ball. “Thank you so much. You know you’re the best.”
She cranes her neck around me to take a peek at Trick. “Shit, the least I should get for my good deed is a peek at his bare chest.”
I laugh, but when I turn, my heart thuds hard when I see Trick whip off his shirt in a move so quick it would make a magician jealous.
Ricci squeals and then covers her mouth, glancing behind her out the door.
“You’re so bad, Trick Jennings.” She rubs two fingers together in the old-fashioned sign for shame on you, making Trick laugh.
But the longer she lingers in the open door, the more worried I get that the rest of the girls will invade our privacy.
She glances at me. “Don’t worry. I’m rounding up the herd right now. I just got a line on a wrestling team party. I think even Darcy will be excited to go.”
“I owe you big time. In fact, just a sec.” I pick up my bag from the nearby desk and fish through it to find my keys. “Here, take my car. I know you want to.”
She rolls her eyes. “Awe shucks. You know about my thing for Mini Coopers.” She pauses for drama and taps her chin while I suppress a grin. “Too bad pink isn’t my color.” She snatches the key fob from my hand. “But don’t get me wrong—I’ll make it work.”
We hug and kiss cheeks, and she pulls my bedroom door closed firmly behind her as she leaves.
Before I finish turning around, I feel the heat and the mass of Trick’s body behind me. My heart does a triple-axle jump as the impact of him hits me, sending electric bolts through every nerve ending—in a good way. The best way.
He wraps his arms around me like that’s where they belong, like I’m his home base.
“You have my vote for Miss Congeniality of this beauty pageant. It’s almost not fair though,” he whispers in my ear, disturbing the fine hairs at my temple and making me shiver.
Then he nibbles on my earlobe, and I nearly collapse against him.
“Not fair…” I parrot absently, relishing every hot breath he releases against the sensitive skin around my ear and neck.
“Because you also have my vote as the most beautiful girl in the room, in every room.”
“I bet you…” I’m about to give him the standard cliché response I give for wild flattery by boys, but I stop myself. Because this isn’t any boy; this is Trick. And maybe it’s not wild flattery—what if he means it?
“You bet me what?” He smirks like he’s reading my mind. So I tell him what I’m thinking.
“I bet you’re serious, that you’re not just saying that to flatter me.”
He goes still, and his blue eyes flash like an aurora borealis, showing waves of all kinds of emotion I don’t usually see.
“You’d win your bet.” His voice is quiet and solemn, and I don’t know what to say.
But I realize I’m holding the hockey jersey between us and pull it out to look at it, separating us and ending the moment.
“Thank you so much for getting this for me. It means a lot. Kind of like getting your letter jacket like they used to do in the old days. At least that’s what Grandma says.”
He grins. “Right. I remember seeing an old movie once where guys got letter jackets. But my jersey is cooler than that.”
“Yes, it is.” I recognize his moment of vulnerability, his need for assurance, and my heart softens. “How about if I put it on now?”
“That would be hot.” He sits on my bed and pulls me to stand in front of him. Then he yawns, and not the small bored kind of yawn, the big open, fist in the mouth, and his whole body shuddering from it kind of yawn.
He chuckles. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe I’m crashing now.” Then he turns me around and smacks my butt playfully. “Go change into my jersey. I have an unreasonable need to see you in it.” He yawns again. “Before I fall asleep.”
I laugh as he lies back on the pillows, and I take the shirt to my en-suite bathroom to change and get ready for bed. When I return, he’s barely awake.
“What do you think?” I spin around and model the jersey, which is apparently designed to fit a small rhino or a massive hockey player wearing thick layers of all kinds of padding.
“Fishing for compliments, Fifi. That’s so beneath you. You know you make anything on you look gorgeous.”
“I think I really could make this gorgeous.” I look down and inspect the material. “With a bit of jazzing up, I think this jersey has promise as formal wear.”
One eyebrow lifts, and he grins. “Formal wear? How about bedtime wear?” He reaches for me, but I step back because my designer mind is spinning, and I’m excited about my idea.
“Did I tell you about the project we were assigned in my design class?”
“The one with your famous professor?” He sits up and gives me his attention, like he’s listening seriously now.
“That’s the one. We need to design formal wear, and she’s planning to arrange a fashion show for us. It’s worth half our grade. The design will literally make or break our grade for the class, which in turn could make or break our chance to write our career ticket when we graduate.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about, Fifi baby, because you always look exciting in everything you wear. Nothing about you is boring, especially not your fashion sense. You’re the most delectable woman I’ve ever met.
You always look like the prettiest cookie on the dish, the way you dress and, more importantly, the way you carry yourself, like you’re a fairy princess—not one of those snobby catty mean queens. ”
My smile grows wider and wider until my face might split in two when he’s finished with his speech or pep talk.
“You sound like my coach in the fashion show dressing room just before I’m about to go on.” I throw myself at him, joining him in bed, kissing him to show how much I appreciate his confidence, even if he knows nothing at all about fashion.
He squeezes me tight, tucking me into his side, trying to hold back another yawn.
“You have a big game tomorrow. You should probably go to sleep.” Part of me is disappointed, but another part of me is happy just to lie in his arms, snuggled against him, feeling his heat and his solid presence.
“I should.” He strokes my back. “You know I want to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow, but—”
I put a finger on his lips. “There is a tomorrow, Trick. And tomorrow is your game against B.C., and I want nothing more than to see you kick the bejesus out of Vince and his team, especially after the way he treated you.”
“He didn’t treat you very well, either.” His voice rumbles dark and edgy.
“True.” I go up on my elbow and lean over him, staring into his eyes, something I could do for endless time, but before I get lost in his mesmerizing eyes, I lean down and kiss him.
“You need your sleep. You need to take care of yourself to play your best.”