Someone lets fly with a loud cat call. But I’m too deep in the moment to wonder if I’m the heckler’s target. I’m too busy trying to devour Wilson, just like he’s trying to devour me.
But then it’s suddenly over. My feet find the ground again. And I become aware that numerous people are staring at us.
And—oh my God—there are players everywhere in this crowded hallway. My face is already burning. And then I spot my phone a few feet away, watching me with its wide-open eye.
I just got that kiss on camera. And I’m supposed to have a video—a G rated video—ready to upload in the next hour.
“Easy, Stacey,” Wilson says with a chuckle. He cups my cheek in his giant hand. “Have a beer with me later, yah? At the luncheon?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
With a wink, he turns to clomp off toward the lockers with his teammates.
And I want to die of embarrassment all over again. I just mauled him. On camera.
I’ll probably be fired by suppertime.
4
“Okay, this was a really cute idea,” Georgia says. “Good effort. But I’m not sure about the ending, though.”
“Mmh?” I ask, shoving a strawberry in my mouth so that I won’t have to speak.
We’re standing on an ocean-side patio, outside a classy beach club where lunch will soon be served. I don’t see Wilson anywhere, but that’s probably because I’ve been looking at either Georgia or my shoes since I arrived five minutes ago.
It’s better this way. I don’t want to see the smirks on people’s faces.
Especially Wilson’s. He kissed me to make a cute video. I transformed into a horny octopus.
Who does that?
“Stacey, the video ends so abruptly,” Georgia says with a frown. “You flip the sign—so cute and clever, by the way—and then Wilson goes to hug you. But then it just cuts off. Did you have a technical problem?”
I make a noncommittal noise that would best be described as “hermmm.”
“So… what’s with the quick edit?” she asks pointedly.
“Um, hmm,” I say, nodding awkwardly. “Maybe, I, um…”
I’ve got nothing.
“Can I see the raw video?” she prods. “Maybe we could smooth it out together?”
“Well…” I clear my throat a couple of times. “There was more of this footage. But it went, uh, in an unexpected direction.”
“What direction is that?” she asks sweetly.
My face is permanently red now. It just is. When I arrived for lunch, the doorman asked me if I had a sunburn.
No, that’s just sheer embarrassment, I’d told him, and he’d laughed as if I was kidding.
I wasn’t.
Leo Trevi pokes his wife in the arm. “Honey, come on. Let her off the hook, okay? She looks like she’s going to spontaneously combust.”
That’s when Georgia cracks a huge smile. “Okay, can I please see the video? Pretty please? It’s all anyone will talk about. I’m dying here.”
Oh my God. They’re both grinning at me. And when I look over both shoulders, I see more of the same. “Can’t you just fire me instead? Preferably right now?”
“Why?” Georgia yelps. “We don’t fire people for kissing around here. There’d be nobody left to work for the team. Show me the video and I’ll write you a great recommendation.”
“Georgia,” Leo says, laughing.
“I was going to write it anyway!” Georgia says.
“Sure.” I blow out a breath. “Whatever. It happened.” I open up the other edit I made—the one with the kiss—and I show it to her. “But it’s practically a porno.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she says as I hand over the phone. “It’s just a k—” She leans closer to the screen. “Oh my. Wow.” She pinches the front of her blouse in two fingers and airs it out a little. “The boys weren’t kidding about that kiss. You two were smokin’.”
My face burns hotter. I wonder if it’s possible to actually create your own sunburn. Like—torch yourself. I might be the first person to manage it.
“Whew!” Georgia fans herself. “Okay, so I see why you cut it. But what if I put two seconds of slow-mo in there when he reaches for you? And then maybe a graphic sticker of a kiss, covering up your faces?”
“Could you do that?” I practically whimper. “I don’t want to watch that video again.”
“Why?” She looks genuinely concerned. “I mean—you, uh, were okay with that kiss, no?”
“Oh I certainly was,” I say in a low voice. “But I don’t usually lunge at hot guys in public.”
“Hey, Wilson definitely did the lunging,” Leo says with a chuckle. “There he is now. I think he’s looking for you.”
Uh oh.
Oh boy.
“Go. Shoo,” Georgia says. “Eat some lunch. I’ll finish the video and bring you the phone.”
“Thanks,” I say weakly. Then I glance toward the ocean, wondering if I could maybe swim away from here.
That’s when I spot the boathouse, off to the side of the patio. That’s my escape route! Quick as a slapshot, I dart toward the safety of its clapboard walls. I slip around the exterior until I come to rest there, breathing hard, the blue ocean rolling calmly in front of me.
There. This is fine. I’ll miss lunch, but hunger is better than public humiliation, right?
“Stacey,” says a very masculine voice. “What are you doing over here?”
I turn and meet Wilson’s smile. And, wow, he looks tanned and healthy in a crisp white shirt and mirrored aviators.
Wow.
He’s still waiting for an answer.
“I, um…” I take a deep breath. “Just, uh, looking for a peaceful spot to hang out.”
“Interesting,” he says. “Because it seems like you might be avoiding me.”
“Well…I…um…” Get it together, Stacey. “I’m not avoiding you.”
He lifts off those sunglasses and studies me with bright, inquisitive eyes. And we both know I’m lying. “Hey, I’m really sorry. I was inappropriate in the hallway. I didn’t mean it to get so out of hand. But you kind of kissed me back, and I lost it a little.”
“I definitely kissed you back,” I correct. “I mauled you like a hungry tiger, and the whole world saw!” I lift both hands to my eyes, as if that could even help. “You were just being silly. But I lost my mind. I even filmed it. God.”
His chuckle is warm. “Well you don’t seem as happy about it now as you were then. So I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize,” I mumble. “Let’s never speak of this again.”
He clears his throat. “Huh.”
“What?” I drop my hands but I still can’t look him in the eye.
“Look, Stacey,” he says. “I think I’m going to have to spell this out for you. I think you’re cuter than a herd of puppies, and I’d like to see more of you.”
“You do?” I nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him. “How much more of me?”