Chapter twenty Damon
Chapter twenty
Damon
Council of Bros
Noah: Chill out, bro. I’ve never seen you this on edge before.
Adam: He’s on a date with his dream girl. He’s bound to be a little wound up!
For the millionth time: IT’S NOT A DATE!
Cory: Yell all you want. We all know you’re crazy about her.
I blow out a frustrated breath, tugging at the collar of my dress shirt. The top button feels like it’s cutting off my circulation. Why did I let my brothers talk me into a tie?
Niko, Kendra’s driver, shoots me a look via the rearview mirror.
“Everything good, sir?” he asks with a lift of his eyebrow.
No! Everything is not good. I’m in a fancy sedan, wearing a designer straightjacket, just blocks from Kendra’s place, and I’m freaking out.
It’s not like I’ve never been to a fancy event. I go to tons as Noah’s plus one. But going as Kendra’s maybe friend, maybe more is something else entirely. She’s a supermodel. A legit celebrity! There’ll be cameras everywhere and reporters trying to get to her, and I’ll be right there.
I let out a shaky breath.
“Everything’s great, Niko. And please just call me Damon.”
“Of course,” he says, turning back to the traffic ahead when the light turns green.
I should’ve insisted on separate cars. I understand why we have to come together—Kendra’s trying to keep her relationship status vague, especially now that her ex is engaged—but it means I have zero time to get my head on straight, something I’m used to doing before every big game.
And between the cameras, her ex, and us pretending to be more than we are, tonight is definitely a game.
I tug at my collar again, hoping my continuous fidgeting will somehow add stretch to fabric that’s got about as much give as plywood. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Adam
Adam: Something tells me you’re freaking out right about now.
I chuckle nervously. Even with the new distance between us, Adam still gets me more than the rest of my brothers.
Adam
I’m trying not to.
It’d be a lot less nerve-racking if I didn’t know there are going to be trashy articles about how I’m such a step down from her ex.
Adam: That’s bullshit, bro. He’s not all that.
Adam: If he were, she wouldn’t have divorced him.
I roughly drag my hand across my scalp, enjoying the prickly feel of my hair against my palm. She may have divorced him, but that doesn’t mean I’m the next best choice. Niko rolls to a stop in front of Kendra’s building, and all the air leaves my lungs at once.
She’s wearing a long, brick-red sweater dress that’s tight against her body.
The turtleneck, long sleeves, and ankle-length skirt keep her mostly covered, but cutouts at her shoulders reveal the rich honey tone of her skin.
Her hair is in a fussy updo, with loose tendrils around her face, and her lips are painted to match her dress.
Heeled boots with laces complete the sexy librarian look; prim and proper on the outside, but wild and wanton under all that cashmere.
It took all my brothers’ help to pick out a suit for this event; I didn’t want to embarrass her by showing up in trainers and some off-the-rack suit. Still, Kendra outshines me by a mile. Too dumbfounded to move, Niko opens the door for her as she steps in.
“Ooh!” she rubs her arms as if she’s cold. “It’s way too early for weather like this. My winter clothes are still in storage!”
Her warm hand on my thigh sends a jolt of electricity straight to my dick. She looks directly into my eyes; I resist the urge to squirm under her intense gaze.
“Thank you so much for coming with me tonight. I know the cameras and everything are kinda bullshit, but we can still have a nice time, right?”
The edge of her smile seems strained. She’s actually worried I might bail on her. That makes me want to punch Andre even more than I already did. I take her hand in mine, finally able to move again.
“Of course we will,” I reassure her. “And the cameras aren’t bullshit. They’re part of your life. I can handle it.”
At least I think I can. To get more of the beaming smile she’s giving me now, I’d put up with almost anything.
“That means a lot, Damon,” she says, scooting closer to me.
As usual, the aroma of lemon verbena and vanilla clings to her body. I take the scent deep into my lungs and feel myself relax for the first time tonight.
“It’s fine,” I reply, mouth dry. “What are friends for?”
Friends! I scoff to myself. As if any of my other friends could make me pitch a tent in my pants.
“A friend pretends to be your date to avoid reporters and make your ex jealous?”
Kendra looks as unconvinced as I feel, and I laugh.
“OK, well. Maybe not that exactly, but friends help each other out. If this were a club, I’d put my arm around you to keep a skeevy guy from hitting on you. And don’t I owe you for all the publicity you brought to the exhibition game?”
Something flickers across her face—disappointment, maybe?—before she’s smiling once more.
“Please,” she says with an eye roll. “All I did was post about it. You’re the one who made that event a success.”
“Let’s agree to disagree on that one, considering all my work would’ve been for nothing if no one had shown up. I’m pretty sure all the men in attendance were there to shoot their shot, and I’m not talking about basketball.”
She giggles, and the sound does nothing to calm things down below the belt. Quite the opposite, actually. I discreetly adjust in my seat.
“Speaking of which, it was probably obvious from the stunned expression on my face when you got in, but you look amazing.” She bats her eyelashes and strikes a few poses, which earns a smile. “Seriously, who’s even going to buy that I’m your date?”
That stops her in her tracks, wiping the smile off her face and putting me right back on edge. I don’t get it. Usually my self-deprecating remarks get a laugh.
“Damon Park, what in the world are you talking about?” Unsure of her mood, I wait for her to continue rather than responding.
“You are a tall, handsome, single man with the body of a professional athlete. You chose to coach high school kids instead of trying to be a sports broadcaster on ESPN or chasing sponsorships for car insurance or kitchen gadgets. Even before you retired, you were volunteering, giving kids like my cousin something to do over the summer besides get into trouble on these streets. Why the hell wouldn’t I date you? ”
No one, not even my mom, has ever lavished so many compliments on me at one time. I feel full to bursting, and I’m likely blushing like a teenager with a crush. Is that really how she sees me?
“I—” I sputter, completely overwhelmed. “I—” I start again, but I’m still at a loss for words. “Uh…thank you.”
Unable to take her scrutiny or praise any longer, I clear my throat and push to change the subject.
“So what’s the game plan tonight? Do you need me to hold your purse? Keep a steady stream of champagne in your hands? Be a human shield against photographers?”
After a few more moments looking at me way too closely, she finally relaxes back against the plush leather seats.
“All the above?”
I laugh, but she doesn’t. OK then.
“I wish I were joking. We’ll pull up to a red carpet. Niko will open the door, and you’ll get out first, then you’ll help me out and shield me so no photographer gets an unflattering picture up my skirt. I don’t want to wind up like Britney Spears, though I’m definitely wearing underwear.”
I nod, willing myself not to react to the thought of her without underwear.
“Then I’ll walk the press gauntlet. Since I’m one of the spokespeople for Pumped Energy, we won’t have to wait in line, but I will need you to hold my purse during pictures.
” Her eyes turn pleading. “Please don’t take offense if a pap asks you to move.
They can be pretty rude because all they care about is the shot. ”
I look at her with my eyebrow raised.
“I’m a grown man. I doubt a reporter could hurt my feelings.”
Kendra looks doubtful.
“You say that, but I’ve been close to tears from some of the things they’ve said. It makes you develop a thick skin quick.”
My blood boils just thinking about someone insulting her. Why? For a picture?
“And that reminds me,” she continues in a tone that says she read my mind, “you can’t get offended if they say something inappropriate to me either.” She raises her hand when I start to protest.
“I know, I know. You don’t want anyone to besmirch my honor and all that chivalrous stuff. I know I don’t deserve whatever they may say, and I know it’s not right, but it comes with the territory. You have to let it roll off your back, or you end up giving them exactly what they want.”
I close my mouth.
“Thank you. Once we get inside, I’ll have to schmooze a little, say hi to the hosts, and take a few more pictures with whatever display they’ll have set up. I always miss the crab cakes when that happens, so if you could grab me some, I’d be very appreciative,” she says with a grin.
“I’ll keep you swimming in shellfish,” I promise with a smile. She giggles again.
“You’re the best.”
She snuggles against me then, and my heart starts racing. God, staying so close to her all night, acting like her date without getting to take her home? It’s going to be torture. Which reminds me…
“What about the date stuff?” I ask, proud my voice doesn’t sound as shaky as I feel. “Is it OK to put my arm around your waist?”
“Of course,” she answers readily.
“What about my hand on your lower back? Is that OK?”
Her breath catches, and I hold mine.
“Yes. That’s fine,” she murmurs. Her tone is huskier than before, and the temperature in the backseat definitely went up at least two degrees.
“You can even kiss me,” she offers hesitantly. “If you want.”
She rushes to add the last part, like I might say no. Doesn’t she realize that every bone in my body would say yes to literally anything she asks? I look down at her head resting against my chest. There’s no way she doesn’t feel my heart pounding.