Chapter 15
STEFFI
One week later
Drake had told her all afternoon not to worry about this charity auction, claiming it was a small event, but as they pulled up to the building, she knew he had exaggerated.
There were cameras, news crews, media personnel everywhere…
and the limo should have been a hint. Heck, the fact that his tux and her dress were in garment bags, on hooks in their bedroom for three days, should have been a clue.
Honestly, the fact that he bought her those strappy little heels and wanted to make sure she felt confident in them should have tipped her off… but no.
This was big.
Huge.
“I’m gonna have the driver let me out here, and you can sneak in through the staff entrance…”
Her eyes shot up to his, her blood pressure surged, and it wasn’t until she saw his smile, that flicker of understanding, that she realized that it was HIM who wanted to sneak past all of this spectacle. He was teasing her because it was his coping mechanism.
“If you can do this, then I can too,” she whispered nervously. “Together…”
“Together,” he breathed tenderly and leaned forward to kiss her – only for Steffi to jerk back slightly in alarm.
“Before you go rubbing your face on mine – I need those people out there with their cameras to get a good photo of us. You can’t be rubbing off my lipstick yet.”
“You said ‘yet’…” he taunted in a hushed, private voice that made her blush with all sorts of memories of them together this last week – and she couldn’t love him more.
They spent mornings together in the kitchen, trying recipes from her cookbook, spent evenings talking about nothing, and hours enveloped in each other’s arms, not talking at all.
“I’m all about those ‘yets’, my darling wife. ”
“I know you are, Dreamy Walker,” she shot back in a hushed voice just as the door to the limo was opened for them. “But it’s showtime.”
“You should start with that in the bedroom…”
“Would you go?”
“Can’t we stay? It’s cozy in the limo…”
“My clodhoppers were promised a dance…”
“Can’t disappoint the clodhoppers…” he chuckled, winking at her, before emerging from the limo slowly, putting his butt practically in her face.
That man was obsessed with the idea of her checking out his rear, she thought, rolling her eyes at his playfulness that knew no boundaries.
As he stood up beside the car, Drake turned to her, leaned forward to make eye contact, and winked.
“Oh, I noticed,” she whispered, smirking. “Super-hot view, husband.”
“I know,” he beamed – and they shared a laugh as she placed her fingertips in his hand, trying to emerge gracefully from the limo in the expensive gown he’d purchased.
There was no label, no signs of a price tag, but the way it was wrapped in tissue paper and carefully hung on a velvet hanger -she knew it was pricey.
“Drake! Drake!” immediately, the shouts came. “What are you wearing tonight, Drake?”
“Clothing,” he replied easily, smiling at Steffi. “My bride is wearing clothing, too. I’d offer to flex my muscles or pose for you all, but we all know that if I let go of her hand, she’s gonna race after Jenkins – that man is sexy as could be and I cannot compete.”
And a ripple of laughter surrounded them as her husband made a complete jokester of himself. Drake lobbed a few more comments, shielded her from several prying questions, and then interrupted the flurry of attention.
“I promised my bride a dance, so if you’ll excuse us – I’ve got some money to spend tonight and a woman I will never disappoint while I breathe…
” Steffi’s eyes met Drake’s, and she melted at the adoration in his gaze.
“I love you,” he whispered, seemingly not caring who heard him as he leaned down to press the softest kiss on her lips.
“Drake…” she whispered shyly as a blast of flashes exploded around them, everyone trying to get a picture of them kissing. It was invasive, annoying, and a lot to handle. The urge to run was strong, but Drake kept her grounded as he clung to her arm, his eyes warm and understanding.
“Sorry, babe – I couldn’t resist,” he replied tenderly. “Now, how about that dance?”
Walking the rest of the red carpet up to the building seemed like something out of a dream.
They met up with a few people, other players, and she was introduced to a few of their spouses.
Steffi was almost relieved to see that her dress, while plain black and sleek compared to the others, looked almost comfortable.
One woman was wearing an encrusted gown with a weird arch from her shoulder blade that went over her head.
How she was going to sit, dance, or move around – Steffi wasn’t sure.
Everyone was dressed formally, so many designer gowns, so much pomp and flair, it was staggering.
Entering the main ballroom, Steffi discovered there would be an auction tonight for charity and realized that was what Drake meant about ‘spending some money’.
She walked slowly, gazing at the tables and marveling at the luxurious gowns, elaborate hair-dos, and the pageantry of it all – until she heard Drake make a small noise.
Her head turned sharply toward him in alarm, and she saw him frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dang it, they put my favorite glove at the front of the auction.”
“You donated a glove? Was it signed?”
“Forget the signature – it’s my favorite,” he looked so discouraged, so upset, that she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at him.
He looked so gorgeous in his tuxedo, and this whole event felt like something straight out of a fairy tale.
Her husband let out a whine – and actually stomped one of his feet.
“Drake…”
“I donated it – and now I want it back,” he grumbled, making her laugh at the frustration he was barely containing. “You don’t understand, it’s perfectly broken-in and I don’t even like my new glove.”
“I’m sure your new glove will be just fine – eventually.”
“I was gonna bid on my glove…”
“So bid on it.”
“It’s at the front – which means they're expecting top dollar.”
“Okay, Mr. Egotistical – do you really think your glove is gonna command top dollar?” she mocked, taunting him.
He turned slowly, looked at her, and then marched forward toward the glove that was waiting, poised, under a snazzy-looking glass display case complete with a gold badge on the front.
“Drake! Drake, wait a second…” she began, rushing after him just as he yanked up the glass, lifted the glove that he claimed was his – and licked the palm of the filthy leather mitt.
The hum of activity died around them as everyone turned to stare.
Her husband didn’t miss a beat.
“I licked it – so it’s mine.”
“Oh my gosh,” Steffi muttered audibly, putting her hand on her forehead as the room exploded in laughter and the cameras began flashing. Her beloved husband looked so distraught, so frustrated, that she rushed to his side.
“Don’t they know I’m serious? Why are they laughing? It’s mine. It was mine, and I want it back - so I licked it. Rules of the house, yo…”
“I don’t think it works like that, Drake.”
“It works like that everywhere.”
“Not here,” she hissed under her breath, pulling the glove from his hands and giving it to the team of security people that were suddenly surrounding them. “You probably just drove up the cost with that saliva sample. I hope they don’t clone you…”
“I’m one of a kind,” he boasted, making her laugh as they walked away toward their table for the evening.
“That you are, my Darling Weirdo.”
Two hours later, Steffi was done.
The event was dragging on, the courses had been served with giant silver cloche domes, and then yoinked away before she was finished as the first guest speaker got up to talk. The auction hadn’t even started yet, and people were starting to get restless – including her.
She had to use the bathroom.
“Excuse me,” she whispered to Drake who looked like he was ready to nod off. “I’m dying the slowest death possible, and I’ve got to stretch my legs, or I’ll pass out. Which way is the bathroom?”
“By the entrance – and I understand what you mean. Want me to walk you there?”
“Oh, I’ve got it – you stay here and enjoy…
that,” she whispered, gesturing as another speaker rose to the stage.
Making her escape, she quickly navigated through the tables, needing a moment to break up the monotony of the evening, and idly wondered how long they would be there tonight.
As she entered the stunning restroom, she was shocked to see an attendant waiting with a tray of perfumes, hair spray, different toiletries, and chewing gum.
Nodding, she smiled – and disappeared in one of the stalls before a second problem hit her.
How was she going to do this?
Several moments later, contorting her body, stretching the seams of her gown, and hovering indelicately… she finally had finished her business and righted her outfit. Leaving the stall, she realized that with the attendant there, she had an audience of one.
“Spanx, am I right?” Steffi tossed as she moved to wash her hands – and the woman cracked a smile knowingly before looking down.
Her eyes followed, and Steffi saw the toilet paper stuck to the heel of her shoes – and rolled her eyes.
Yanking it off, she threw it away, washed her hands again, and then pulled a bill out of the bodice of her dress.
Thank heavens Drake had informed her about tipping the attendant – and she was relieved to hear that he’d learned the hard way.
Spritzing a bit of mist on her throat, happily smelling vanilla, she thanked the woman and exited the bathroom to return to the table – only to notice that Drake wasn’t there. Maybe he’d escaped to use the restroom also – or perhaps he was eyeballing his glove again.
“Hopefully, he’s not licking it again… ugh.”