Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
MALAKI
It’s strange to have a woman hanging off my arm for an event like this. Showing up at award ceremonies, charity functions, or galas without a date is usually frowned upon, but I’m not necessarily huge on following social norms.
I’m not going to just go out and find some random woman and use her like arm candy for the media. I’m an athlete, not Hugh Hefner.
Most of the women I’ve come in contact with over the last couple of years are as shallow as a kiddie pool.
There’s no real depth to them, and we typically have nothing in common.
Most of them don’t even laugh at my jokes, either too incompetent to understand them or too afraid they’ll get a laugh line or two.
Reese, though? She’s not afraid of getting a laugh line or anything of that nature. In fact, she just admitted that she’s afraid of making me look bad. What an absurd thought.
“What if I trip? Or say the wrong thing?” She tugs on the sexy opening of her dress in the front seat of my car. “What if they ask me a question about you, and I don’t know how to answer?”
I try to hide my amusement. It’s sort of adorable that she's so worked up over being my date. “Will you relax?”
“Relax?” There’s fire in her voice. “How do I relax? I’m supposed to be your fiancée, and I don’t even know your hockey stats!”
“My hockey stats?” I laugh loudly while I drive toward the valet.
I get a quick glimpse of Reese, and her angry glare only eggs me on further. I reach over and place my hand on her thigh that’s been calling my name since the moment she sat in my car. Her dress fell open, and I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but that.
“Listen, I will handle it if someone asks you about how talented your future husband is.” I give her leg a squeeze.
Reese exhales loudly, unbothered that we’re skin on skin. “I want a detailed report on all things Malaki Young by tomorrow evening. I don’t like to be unprepared.”
“You know what I think you need?” I ask.
“A lawyer?” she exclaims. “I know! I’ve already thought about that. The moment Benedict threw the word custody around, it was my first thought.”
I trace the outside of her thigh with the pad of my thumb. “No…”
I bought a pack of Skittles at the gas station earlier simply because she was on my mind, but now that I’m looking at her like this, I’m wondering if she’d be better off with an orgasm.
That’s sure to relax her a little, take her mind off things.
But what do I know? I’m just her fake fiancé.
I put the car in park. “Look in the backseat.”
“Did you get me Skittles?!”
I grin, and her eyes brighten. She smiles fleetingly at me and reaches in the back for the candy.
The valet comes around to my side of the car, and I hop out to hand him the keys. I walk around and open Reese’s door, only to see her sitting there staring up at me.
She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear before, the dark mascara outlining the almond shape of her eyes. The shiny, pinkish color on her lips is a sucker punch to the gut, and I really have to focus on not staring at them.
“Reese?” I say her name, and her eyelashes finally flutter with a blink.
“You got a car seat?”
I grip the top of my car and stare down at her, attempting to read her reaction. “Yeah.”
Those plump lips open and then close again. People are starting to stare, the valet being one of them.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, holding my hand out for her to take.
Without hesitation, she places her palm in mine, and I pull her to stand. She peers at me, and one of her dimples appears. “Yes, it is.”
Someone calls my name, but I can’t be bothered to look. I hook Reese’s arm in mine and pull her to the sidewalk. I lean in close, my mouth brushing against her ear, thanks to the way she did her hair. “You ready?”
She blows out a breath. “I’m nervous…”
“Nervous? Why?”
From the moment I met her, Reese never seemed impressed by me—or any other hockey player, for that matter. She is the furthest thing from a fan girl, money and talent having no interest to her. For her to be nervous is conflicting.
Is she nervous to act like we’re a couple?
Is she nervous because of my teammates?
“I grew up in a trailer park, Malaki. Our yearly income was probably a week’s worth for some of the people in there.” She flicks her delicate chin to the doors we’re about to walk through. “Including you. They're all going to know the second we walk in there that I’m trailer trash.”
Before walking any farther, I pull her off to the side and spin her to look at me. I keep my arm around her waist, but the other goes to her chin. I tip her head so she’s forced to meet my eye.
“One, it doesn’t matter where you came from or how you grew up.
And two, nothing about the way you look says you’re trailer trash.
” Just to get my next point across, I tug her flush to my body.
Her breasts press into my chest, and my entire body lights up.
“Three…I never want to hear you insult my fiancée ever again.”
Reese’s mouth turns up on the side, her eyes rolling playfully. I pull her in tighter, just to feel her brush against me again.
“I’m serious,” I press on. “Just because you grew up in a trailer doesn’t mean you’re trailer trash.”
“I know,” she admits quietly. “It’s just a habit.”
I take her arm in mine and start for the doors again. “What is?”
“To refer to myself as trailer trash. When you’ve been called that most of your life, it catches on.”
The idea of someone referring to her as trailer trash puts my blood pressure at an alarming level.
The door opens in front of us, and with a tight-lipped smile, I nod at the man standing there. Once we’re inside, the same man gestures at the door leading to the event. There are a few flashes of a camera, but we make our way without stopping for too long.
I place my hand on the small of Reese’s back. I lean in and put my mouth against her cheek. “You ready?”
Our eyes lock. “Just…don’t leave me, okay?”
As if I’d leave her in a tank full of thirsty sharks.
“I wouldn’t be a very good fiancé if I ditched you at an event I begged you to come to,” I note.
She laughs softly, and after seeing her all worked up with nerves a few minutes ago, my pride swells.
“Oh, and Reese?”
Her brown eyes twinkle under the glowing lights.
“You look beautiful,” I say.
Warmth spreads onto her cheeks, and I walk into the event with satisfaction. For the first time in my career, I don’t have to make light of the evening with humor to cure my boredom, because I’ve got my own personal little escape right beside me.