16. Willow Delmont
Chapter sixteen
Willow Delmont
Jason smells good. Like really, really good. He’s also so warm. Maybe all that muscle makes him a human heater. His thigh is pressed against mine, and it feels like I’m pressed against a radiator. A firm, toned radiator. I should have come up with an excuse for sitting somewhere else on the bus, but it’s very difficult to do that when he’s my fiancé and I’m supposed to want to be all over him.
After he kissed me earlier, I wanted to run away. Maybe dunk my head in one of the steel tubs we use for ice baths. Instead, I’m forced to sit next to him in a too-small seat, with all six feet and eight inches of him crammed against the window. I might as well be in his lap with how close we are. We don’t even have to fake anything. The seats do all the work. Most of the guys have their own row, but engaged couples wouldn’t sit separately, so here we are sandwiched together.
“Are you sure you don’t want the aisle seat?” I murmur, hoping to not be heard in the quiet bus. Most of the guys are relaxing right now. Usually the bus ride starts off quiet, then escalates to a roar about mid-way through, only to calm back down as all the guys start to get in ‘the zone.’ Even though we go to the hotel before heading to the stadium, they treat entering enemy territory seriously.
“Are you being nice to me right now? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this engagement has gone to your head,” Jason teases.
I roll my eyes, but feel my face getting warm. He’s not as far off as I wish he’d be. I still think he’s obnoxious and over-the-top, but he’s also stepped up over the past few days. Also, it’s hard to be angry at a man who’s paying for my grandmother’s medical bills and helping me stay in the country. I can hold a grudge, but I’m not that strong.
“This is why I’m not nice to you, because it goes to your head,” I shoot back and he smirks down at me.
“I’m fine where I am, but thank you for asking,” he says, answering my earlier question. “If you need to get up to film any content, I don’t want you to have to climb over me.” He pauses, a wolfish grin stretching his lips. “On second thought–”
I hit his arm to cut him off. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls and unbidden heat curls deep in my abdomen at the words. Why does he have to sound like a rakish cowboy? It’s annoying(ly hot).
“What am I going to do with you?” I mumble under my breath, then immediately regret it when I see the mischievous sparkle in his green eyes.
“I can think of a few things.” Can a person die from blushing too much? If so, I’m flirting with death here. Not death, just Jason Kingsley. Though they feel like one and the same.
I shake my head, trying my hardest to look annoyed. “If only I could switch seats right now.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him. “But you can’t. You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Kingsley. For better or worse.”
My stomach swoops at the use of my future last name. I’d given thought to not changing it, but it wouldn’t look good if I didn’t. Willow Jane Kingsley …it doesn’t sound bad. It’s the kind of name a girl would write in swirling cursive while staring at the dreamy quarterback in English class.
I pinch his side. He jolts a little. “Emphasis on the worse .”
“There’s my fiancée. I was worried for a second you’d lost your edge.”
I go to pinch him again, but he catches my hand with the one that isn’t around me. I’m wrapped up in him. Much too close for comfort, and just close enough for desire to heat my blood. His large hand wraps around my wrist while his other arm holds me against his side. Can he feel my pulse hammering?
Our eyes lock and I’ve forgotten the mechanics of breathing. Suddenly the simple act of in and out is written in a foreign language. I’m lost in his gaze, wandering through their green depths like I’m on a trail through a lush forest.
“What are you going to do now, Lo?” he asks in a low, gravelly tone.
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Lo?” I whisper.
“I’ve been trying to think of a nickname for you. Do you hate it?”
His eyes flick back and forth between mine, as if he’s searching for something. I don’t know what he could be looking for though.
I slowly shake my head. His gaze softens, his smile warm. “Good. Lo it is, then.”
The bus bounces, jerking us out of this moment. Jason’s hand falls away from my wrist.
“Must have hit a pothole,” he notes.
“Um-I should go see if I can get a few clips before the guys get too rowdy.” I slip out from under his arm and grab my phone out from my Lions backpack. “I’ll be back.” I cringe at my words. Of course I’ll be back. Where else would I go?
“Okay, let me know if you need anything or if anyone gives you any trouble.”
I nod, not daring to look at him again after what just happened. I need space, but that’s going to be hard to find for the next few hours. Maybe this little bit of a breather will settle my nerves and cool my flushed cheeks. If it doesn’t, I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through today.
“Lo, it’s time to wake up. We’re here,” a low voice says.
I snuggle against my warm pillow. “Five more minutes,” I murmur.
Air puffs against the crown of my head and I hear chuckling. “We need to get off the bus.”
I frown. The bus? My eyes shoot open. It’s then that my senses come alive. A masculine scent fills my nose, my pillow is warm because it’s a sweatshirt-clad bicep , and the low voice belongs to Jason.
I quickly sit up and run my fingers through my hair, embarrassment flooding my veins.
“I-” My throat is dry, stifling my speech. Oh no, was my mouth open? Was I drooling ? I glance down at his arm, relieved to find no wet spots.
Jason hands me my reusable water bottle. I take a long swig. “I’m sorry,” I breathe out once my throat is no longer doing an impersonation of the desert.
His brow crinkles. “For what?”
I blink. “For using you as a pillow.”
“Why would you need to apologize for that? I’m your fiancé, I think that’s a part of the deal.”
“Yes, but–” I pause, realizing we’re on a bus full of people. I can’t very well say this isn’t real. “You’re right. I’m just dazed,” I say with a forced laugh.
He raises a brow like he knows I’m faking. “Let’s get into the hotel. Maybe you can rest some more before the game. I know it’s been a long past few days.”
I nod in agreement. It has been, but I’m not sure a quick nap will help. My legs ache from being seated for too long when I stand. The guys are filing off the bus, but when I stand, the line stops.
Troy, one of our wide receivers, smiles at me. “Ladies first.” His eyes flick to Jason, then back to me. My brows furrow. I glance over my shoulder to find Jason giving him a stern look. What is going on?
I pick up my bag and slide by Troy. He backs up into Lawson, our kicker, in order to avoid being close to me.
“Seriously, man, I just got these new shoes,” Lawson grumbles.
“Sorry, she needed more room to pass.”
I really didn’t, but there’s no use telling him that now. Jason follows behind me, pausing to give Troy a firm clap on the shoulder.
“You’re a good guy, Troy,” he says, his casual tone not at all matching his body language.
I shoot him a confused look, but he just gestures for me to keep going. Shrugging off the weird interaction, I head down the bus stairs, my backpack jostling against my back as I do. When I step off the bus, I feel the weight of my bag lifted.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Jason. I step out of the loops and he throws the bag over one shoulder, his other holding a maroon duffle bag.
“My wife doesn’t carry her own bag,” he states.
I go to grab it from him, but he pulls back. “We’re not married yet, but when we are, your wife can handle a backpack.”
“Let’s call it practicing for next weekend.” He tightens his grip on my backpack’s strap. “I know what you can do, but I also know that you shouldn’t have to.”
The stubborn expression he wears irks me. I’m fully aware it’s stupid to be mad at Jason doing a nice thing for me, but the way he’s talking is like he’s laying down some sort of law. And if this is indicative of future situations…then I need to make sure he knows I’m not going to be trifled with.
I grab on to the strap and pull, tugging Jason near a fountain in front of the hotel. Players shoot surreptitious glances as they pass, but I don’t care. They’ll need to get used to this, because I’m not going to be a quiet little wife.
“Are you really mad at me for wanting to carry your bag?” he asks, frustration evident in his tone. He’s usually so amiable that it catches me off guard for a moment, but then I’m throwing that same tone back at him.
“This isn’t about the bag, this is about you speaking as if things are fact. This thing between us isn’t going to work if you try to control me.”
His eyes flash in anger. “This thing is marriage, and I’m not trying to control you. Just this morning I asked before I kissed you on the cheek . All I wanted to do was a nice thing for you.” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. When he looks back at me, his expression has softened. “Willow, I know you have your reasons for not liking me, but I’m never going to control you. I’m not that guy, and I think you know that.”
I stay silent, looking down at my scuffed tennis shoes. My anger comes crashing down like a parachute with a tear in it.
“I think you’re scared,” he murmurs. “And that’s okay. I am too. But I’m not going to hurt you, ever. At least not on purpose.”
Emotion tightens my throat. I’m so foolish. The sting of my embarrassment settles behind my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I barely manage to get the words out. “I’m stressed and I took it out on you.”
Calloused fingertips brush under my chin, lifting my head. “It’s okay. I just want you to know that we’re a team. I’m not your enemy.”
“Kingsley!” A shout from behind us makes me jump. Jason’s hand falls away. “Are you checked in yet?” Coach Young stands near the hotel doors, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m coming, Coach!” he yells back, then looks at me. “Are we good?”
I muster up a smile. “Yeah, we’re all right.”
He returns my smile with a brighter one. “Good. Now let’s go get checked in before Coach benches me.”
I let out a light laugh and follow him to the door. Once we both get checked in to our individual rooms, Jason drops a kiss on the crown of my head and returns my backpack so that he can go talk with Coach Young before the game starts. I watch him walk away, his kiss leaving a wake of tingles that ripple down my spine.
Trouble, I think to myself as Jason glances back and winks at me when he catches me staring. I’m in so much trouble.