Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
WYATT
The NFL Honors are always hosted in the same city as the Super Bowl.
I’m a little pissed to be in Dallas for the awards show when we could have been here for the game if the Hurricanes hadn’t blown it in the playoffs.
But I’m also relieved that I’m here with Nash.
I guess I’m lucky she wanted to make this her first event of our deal so I don’t have to fly solo.
The drive up here was nice. It gave Nash and me some time to go over the plan for tonight. I think she felt guilty about hijacking my speech, but I would have mentioned her even if we weren’t faking a relationship. Slipping in the Moons will be easy.
What won’t be easy is hauling all this luggage from my truck into the hotel. When I pull the third bag out, I have to say something. “You know we’re only here for one night, right?”
Nash looks around like she’s trying to find the answer to my obvious question. “I know.”
“Then why do you have ten suitcases?”
“There’s only three bags! And my dress takes up one on its own!” She cries. “Men never understand the importance of overpacking.” She looks pointedly at my suit in its dry cleaner bag and my single backpack.
We manage to shuffle all our shit into the lobby to check in.
The hotel has gigantic chandeliers, and the smell of BBQ wafts through from the in-house restaurant.
I make a mental note to check that out before the event.
They never serve enough food at those fancy places.
I’d have to eat ten of those fancy event dinners to feel anything.
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with heavy makeup and dark hair, greets us as we walk up. “Howdy, welcome to Hotel De Armas. Can I get your name to check you in, hun?”
I step up to the counter. “Wyatt Vandergriff.”
Her extra-long nails click clack on the keys as she types.
“Okay, I see you right here. Perfect.” She reaches for a key card and a pen, smacking her gum as she smiles at Nash over my shoulder.
“Here you are, hun. That’s room 313; you’re going to want to take the Aggie hallway to the Longhorn elevator and go up to floor three. ”
My stomach drops to my balls. “One room?”
“Yes, sir. The NFL booked one king-size room for those in attendance. I’m sure they assumed any plus one was a partner?
Unless otherwise specified.” She looks back at Nash, carrying her long dress bag.
She’s smiling at me because for all intents and purposes, we’re together.
We look like a couple; we are supposed to be a couple.
I did not consider what that might entail when it comes to sleeping arrangements.
The thought makes my face heat. I want people to look at her and think we’re together, and for our plan, that is important, but for some reason it makes my stomach flip.
I chance a glance at Nash, and she just shrugs her shoulders.
I take the card from her outstretched claws. “Thank you,” I glance at her nametag, “Helen.”
“You’re welcome, hun. Ya’ll enjoy your stay.”
We gather our stuff and turn to walk away. As soon as we’re a couple steps out of hearing range, I say, “I’m so sorry. I can take you to another hotel and pay for your room there if you want. I had no idea this was one room, I swear.”
She laughs and puts a hand on my arm. “Relax, Wyatt. We’re already sharing your house. We can share a room. There are no secrets between us.”
I laugh, but it comes out breathy and nervous. “Totally. Not weird at all.”
Sharing a room with the woman you’re fake dating, but harboring real feelings for, is not as fun as it sounds.
I got about three minutes in the bathroom before she was kicking me out, claiming she needed the entire two hours we have to get ready.
She took her toiletries, a hair weapon of some kind, the dress bag, and many other odds and ends in there with her.
Leaving me to lie on the king-size bed and flip through the cable channels.
After getting sucked into the basketball game that was on, I’m shocked when I notice how much time has passed.
I grab my suit out of the bag and start to get dressed. I’m going to have to get in that bathroom to fix my hair one way or another. I could do it at the very last second, but hopefully Nash doesn’t make me wait until then.
I’m tying the laces on my fancy shoes when the bathroom door opens. I’m immediately hit with a tsunami of smells from all the products.
Then I see Nash and I forget how to speak.
“Huh. W-wow. You look–” I put my arm behind my head trying to recover my grasp on the English language. “Beautiful.”
She runs her hands down her body, fingers dancing over black sequins that hug tight to her hips, and my eyes follow down, down. Until they stop at the top of the slit that starts terrifyingly high and reveals miles and miles of tanned leg. Shit.
“Is it nice enough?” she asks. Hearing the insecurity in her voice makes me want to lavish her with praise. “It was hard to find something on such short notice. I can’t exactly wear something off the rack with my height.”
“It’s perfect. Really, Nash. You look gorgeous. I’m not even going to have to do anything tonight. Once the camera gets a load of you, everyone will be talking about the PVF.”
Her cheeks burn a beautiful pink as she ducks to grab her shoes off the floor. “Will you help me with these? It’s a bit hard to lean over in this dress.”
I move toward her and take the heels out of her hands, then I get on one knee in front of her to bring her bare foot up to my leg to balance.
I slip the silvery heel over her foot and begin working the tiny buckle.
The sting of her heel pushing into my thigh is a torturous pleasure.
When I clasp the other one, I make the grave mistake of looking up at her, hands still circling her ankle.
Our eyes meet over miles of smooth legs as time marches on with the two of us frozen just like that.
Letting go of her is like trying to release a live wire.
My eyes are glued to her face, but she averts hers, looking for her clutch.
Yeah, it’s going to be a long, long night.