“I think your body was blocking anyone’s view. That door is about six inches wide. It’s okay.” He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “As for being embarrassed, did you see anything I need to be embarrassed about?”
He had a point there. I shook my head vehemently. “Um, not at all.”
“I’m a shower, not a grower,” he told me. “It’s a hell of an ego boost, let me tell you. No awkward shriveled-dick moments.”
I swallowed the lump that was in my throat. I had no idea what to say to that. “I see. I’m glad to hear it.” I thought I could surmise what shower versus grower was but I vowed to Google it later just to make sure.
“I didn’t realize how serious you take your job. Trust me, next time, I’ll leave the damn phone.”
“See that you do,” I said primly, embarrassed beyond belief.
Dak laughed.
The flight attendant came back with my wine and Dak’s whiskey. She poured carefully for him with a smile. In contrast, she handed me a little plastic bottle of wine and a glass with barely a glance. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her head gesturing slightly toward the restroom. She was clearly dying to know why I had barged, or attempted to barge, in on Dak in the restroom.
“Oh, that?” Dak asked. “Everything’s fine. She was just feeling left out. She’s used to holding it for me.”
“Dak!” I said, outraged and horrified.
“Oh!” The flight attendant looked at us both like we were freaks from Planet Perv. “Glad everything is fine. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“He’s kidding,” I said. “That is not a thing between us. I just didn’t want him to take his phone into the restroom. He’s dropped it before,” I lied.
She didn’t look like she believed me.
When she moved away down the aisle, Dak laughed. “Fuck, that was funny.”
“Are you crazy?” I whispered, smacking his arm. I unscrewed the top on my wine bottle with desperation. “That is so… inappropriate.” I didn’t have strong enough words for it.
“You’re the one who couldn’t let me take a leak in peace. Don’t blame me.”
He had a point. I poured, then took a huge sip of wine and groaned. “It’s not just your phone that’s the problem. It’s your mouth. I’m not prepared to handle this job.” I took another drink. “I’m not prepared to handle you.”
“I can think of all kinds of ways you can keep my mouth busy.”
I looked at him. His long hair, his strong jaw. His straight nose, ridiculously perfect for a football player who took hits on the regular. His green eyes, filled with smug mischief and a hint of lust. His shoulders took up the entire seat and then some. I thought about that glimpse of him I’d gotten in the restroom.
I wondered if I could update my resume on my phone this weekend, because there was just no doubt in my mind I was going to get fired.
I was no match for Dakota North and his raw masculinity.
* * *
Dak
* * *
It was a two-hour drive from the airport in Knoxville to my parents’ house in the mountains. There was a pre-ordered rental car waiting for me, thanks to my real assistant, Gregory, who kept me on track, for the most part. The thing about me and Gregory was he had no opinions, and didn’t try to talk me out of or into anything. He just did what I asked him to do.
Unlike Eloise, who couldn’t seem to stop herself from overreacting.
And if she couldn’t stop herself from overreacting, I couldn’t stop myself from baiting her.
She hadn’t figured out yet that every time she pushed me, I created a situation in person that was just as bad as anything I’d ever posted online. Nothing controversial or political, that was never my style. But dirty? Yeah, I had the market cornered on sexually inappropriate behavior.
As we loaded our bags into the rental SUV, I pictured the flight attendant texting all her friends that Dak North had a girlfriend who was penis possessive. The thought cracked me up. As did the visual of Eloise holding my dick while I pissed. She would probably take that job equally seriously.
She didn’t think any of it was nearly as funny as I did.
She was also, if not drunk, buzzing hard.
Rattled, she had ended up drinking three glasses of wine in the remaining hour of the flight and now her cheeks were flushed and her eyes a little glassy behind her glasses. She also kept snorting in contempt to anything I said.
I had bought her a bottled water and unscrewed the top off of it for her. “Drink this,” I had told her.
Snort. That was her response.
But she’d taken it, and as we headed southeast, she sipped more of it. “I’m going to lose my job,” she said, sounding glum but accepting.
“No, you’re not.” I would argue that with Jeff. Eloise was doing what he asked of her. “I promise.”
She sighed.
“So, tell me about yourself, Kitty,” I said, turning the radio on to classic rock, but at a low volume. “I know you said you have cats, which isn’t a shocker. How many do you have?”
“Two. Eli and Peyton. Males, obviously.”
Interesting. “Eli and Peyton, huh? You’re a football fan, clearly. Fond of quarterbacks?” I gave her a grin.
“Yes, I love football.” She ignored my quarterback comment. “My dad was a huge football fan. It was the one thing we could really share together. He taught me everything about the sport.”
I noticed the past tense. “What happened to your dad?”
“He died when I was nine. Cancer.” She sighed again.
My heart clenched. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. I lost my little brother to cancer when I was sixteen. He was only six.” It was never easy to talk about Jackson. But Eloise seemed like someone I could trust to understand how I felt and not turn it into a soundbite.
She looked over at me with big, luminous eyes that were filled with compassion. “I know. I’m sorry. That must have been terrible to lose a brother who was so young.”
“It was,” I said gruffly. “Football was our thing, like with you and your dad. Jackson couldn’t play, obviously, but he came to every one of my games, when he wasn’t at the hospital. He had a Tom Brady kid-size jersey that he slept in night and day.” I hadn’t thought about that jersey in a long time. The thought of it made me smile now, instead of feeling sad, which surprised me. “I think it’s stuffed in a box somewhere at my parents’ house, but man, he loved that jersey. We watched NFL games together in his hospital room and he always told me I was going to go pro. I vowed to do that for him, you know?”
I stopped talking. I never told anyone about my relationship with Jackson. That was private, something separate from the public persona of star quarterback. Whenever I was asked about him in interviews, I declined to speak about him. My memories of Jackson were sacred.
Eloise reached over and placed her hand on my thigh. She gently squeezed. “You’re a good man. And I’m sure Jackson is watching you still, very proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
That made my throat tighten. “I’m sure the same can be said for your father, Kitty. Look at you. Working at headquarters for a pro team. Got a fancy degree. And you’re obviously a woman who has her shit together. Not to mention you’re adorable.”