Chapter 20 Justin
Justin
‘You’re not comparing Brady and Favre, right? I mean, come on. Let’s look at the stats—’
‘Yeah, but the legacy knowledge. They’re—’
‘But they’re only as good as their wide receiver—’
‘Nope. That’s not true,’ I say, crossing my arms. ‘I mean, sure, it’s a factor, but the wide receiver doesn’t control their arm.’
In the corner of the sitting room, I’m in a heated debate with Conner and Anthony who clearly know nothing. Brady versus Wilson is a no-brainer. But Conner’s opinions rival his intense college pre-game workout and his face is practically matching his hair.
I twist open a sparkling water when a flicker of movement by the stairs catches my eye. The room narrows, then blurs against my peripherals. The guys’ voices dull and mute. One second, then two, passes and my breath hitches.
Doc.
A full moment passes before I can process, like my brain submerged itself in chocolate. My mouth salivates. Jesus Christ.
Doc is gorgeous.
Besides our first meeting, I haven’t seen her outside of a ponytail, cargo pants and a T-shirt. Now, long black waves roll down her bare, beautiful shoulders. Her skin looks so soft, so creamy, that I’m biting back the urge to touch it, just once.
And Christ, that dress. Red, fitted, grazing above her knee showing a glimpse of spectacular, muscular, long legs I knew were hiding underneath the cargo pants. God, she’s stunning. She belongs in the movies with me, a starlet from a different era, not someone hired to protect me.
Doc’s smiling at Zane – a magnificent, radiant smile – and it hits me like a dagger to the chest, and if my feet weren’t planted against the hardwood floors, I would’ve stumbled back a few inches.
All the sexual tension, our time together, our bonding …
it hits me hard. I fought with it since the day she walked into my house, with those beautiful pouty lips and fierce gaze, but I’m done fighting.
She’s fucking perfect.
The overhead light illuminates her like a halo. She blinks up, meets my gaze and pink flushes her cheeks. I can’t breathe. Everything is still and quiet, muted voices, and I can’t fucking breathe.
‘Dude. You hearing this?’ Conner says. ‘He thinks Sherman could— Justin. What are you looking—’
Conner and Anthony break their conversation and look at Doc. The air in the room turns thick and everything goes silent.
Say something. But I can’t. Right now, my brain is mush. Besides, I can guarantee the words that would leave my mouth, Doc will not want to hear.
She scans us, drops her smile, straightens her back and zooms into the den.
‘Seriously guys?’ Zane twists their mouth, and I absolutely feel like they busted me. ‘Stop drooling and get back to your football talk.’
‘Damn, Doc. You clean up nice.’ Yep, I just said that. Seriously? But it’s not like I can just come out and say she’s breathtaking. She’ll either be irritated or wave it off like I’m being polite.
‘Yeah, thanks. It’s amazing what a pound of face crayon can do.’ She tosses her hair over her shoulders and continues packing, without making eye contact.
But it’s not the dress and makeup that’s making me feel like this. Seeing Doc in this decidedly strong, yet feminine view shoots electricity from my brain to my cock and back again. This is it. I can’t hold it back anymore.
I want to touch her skin, and kiss her mouth, and smell her hair, and … shit.
I want Doc. All of her.
‘Hey guys, I’m going to take my own car to the club.’ Anthony breaks the unbearable tension. ‘Doc, Zane, you look great. The rest of you, I’m not so sure.’
I stuff my phone in my pocket and glance at a mysteriously silent Conner, who’s flicking his tongue against his lip. I swear to God if he says anything stupid …
‘Well, Doc.’ Conner’s eyes travel up Doc and I’m two seconds away from flattening him. ‘Pretty sure we’re going to need to protect you tonight, not the other way around. You’re smokin’ hot, for real.’
‘She’s staff. Leave her alone.’ Deep down, Conner’s harmless. But his comments grind into me, and I can’t get over how they bonded earlier over their hometowns. I shouldn’t be a dick and block Doc from being friends with anyone. But my insides burn when she smiles at Conner. I want all her smiles.
‘Driver’s here. Ready to go?’ Zane claps their hands.
‘Justin and Doc already know this, but, Conner, pay attention. This is both a social and studio call, so we’ll use the front door and VIP line so the photogs can get their pics.
The club security is aware of our pending arrival, and table service is set.
For the love of God, please don’t do anything stupid. Any questions?’
‘Which car is Doc taking?’ Conner smirks. My glare burns a hole into him, and he tosses up his hands. ‘Just kidding. Yeah, I’m ready to get my drink on. Justin’s dry house is fucking with my pre-funk.’
For Christ’s sake. Thirty-two years old, and Conner is still hanging on to the party life. Doc steps outside and I follow. Don’t look at her ass. Don’t look at her ass.
Too late.
Fuck. She’s got a phenomenal ass. Yep, I’m officially that guy now. I hate being that guy. I blink into the night sky, forcing myself to look anywhere else but the strong, perfect, spectacular curve of her backside.
Doc slides into the seat next to me. Vanilla wafts from her skin, and I stop from leaning forward and going all full-on creeper mode and sniffing her arm.
Sure, it’s been a while since I was with a woman.
Not since Willow and I broke up six months ago.
But this whole mouthwatering, tongue-tied situation is too much.
‘So, Doc.’ Conner leans from the rear of the SUV. ‘I’m assuming you can’t drink tonight. But are you gonna get your dance on?’
‘Hell no.’ She chuckles. ‘I’m not paid to dance. I’m paid to keep your asses in line.’
My jaw goes rigid, but I try and shake it off. They’re just talking. I glance out the window and watch the city lights fly by.
‘You gotta let loose,’ Conner taps the seat. ‘Picture being back in Minnesota, a country music dive bar, peanut shells and hay crunching beneath your feet, the winter draft slapping everyone in the face every time the door opened.’
Doc’s shoulders soften. ‘You haven’t lived until you’ve danced in a barn.’
I lift a brow. ‘Did you actually dance in a barn?’
‘Sure did.’ She has a hint of a smile. ‘But I wasn’t much of a partier. I was more the official designated hair-holder while my friends threw up after shot-gunning a domestic lite beer.’
She sounds like she’s joking, but I bet any money she’s not. ‘Always watching out for others, huh?’
‘I live to serve,’ she says with a grin. ‘Even in times of vomit.’
As the SUV bumps through traffic, I tap my fingers against my leg. The studio wants me to show my face more, but going through the front door is awkward as hell. I’m about to walk into a flurry of flashing bulbs and cell phones shoved into my face.
The driver eases the vehicle to the side and Doc steps onto the pavement. ‘Give me a minute to do a soft perimeter check.’ Her face turns serious as she scans the area and makes a circle around the vehicle. A moment later, she returns and cracks the door. ‘Justin.’
I really wish she’d say my name more. Especially like this – firm, stern and sexy as hell.
‘There’s a lot of people here. More than I hoped.
Once you exit the vehicle, I need you to stay near me until we get inside.
Normally I follow you, but in this case, I’ll lead through the door with their security.
’ She tilts her head toward the back. ‘Conner and Zane, you can follow behind in a modified diamond formation.’
‘What the hell is that?’ Zane asks.
‘Create a diamond shape around Justin, like how the Secret Service does with the president. Does that make sense?’ she asks, dragging a small lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
‘I’ll be in front, one of you on each side, and the club’s security will go behind him. Understood?’
This is excessive, but I’m not calling that out and disrespecting her process. Besides, those sharp, dark eyes all intense and concentrated while absolutely rocking the hell out of that dress, are doing something fierce to my insides. My jeans are way tighter than they should be.
I need to calm down before I stand up.
‘Yes, boss.’ Conner winks. ‘I like a woman in charge.’
Well, that did the trick.
After tonight, I’m having a serious talk with Conner about leaving Doc the hell alone. Not that she can’t handle Conner. She can. But I can’t handle watching Conner flirt with her anymore.
The crowd doesn’t seem too bad, at least from what I can see from inside the car.
Maybe a few dozen people scattered behind a velvet rope.
It’s still early for a clubbing night, but as I start to step outside the vehicle, Doc’s body stiffens.
Several moments pass before she motions us out. ‘We’re good. You ready? Stay close.’
I exhale a quick breath and exit. Outside, Doc inches forward and puts a firm palm on my upper torso until the rest of the group exits. Damn. Her palm melts into me with this single touch.
‘JUSTIN!’
The shouts come from behind the rope, followed by rapid camera shutters, flashes and a small crowd rushing me holding their cell phones.
As Doc surveys the crowd, everything inside me goes tight.
I’ve never gotten used to screaming fans on a sidewalk.
It feels different when someone asks for a selfie, and totally different to being on the football field when the energy is for the entire team.
‘Over here! Justin, we love you!’
The yells rush in like a wave, gaining speed. A group of people duck under the velvet rope, security guards bark orders, people yell and wave. Doc firms her posture, drops her hand from my torso and grabs my hand. I interlace my fingers in hers, and she accepts without hesitation.
It’s nothing. Really. A hand hold. I’ve done this a thousand times before, while filming a scene, with girlfriends, since I was ten for Christ’s sake. And yet, it feels totally new, fresh, invigorating somehow, and I never want to walk with Doc any other way.
Tonight, I’m doing something about it.