But I know those types are out there, too, which might be why I watch him a little too carefully. Still feeling that doubt within myself, saying how could I be enough for Aaron when he could have any woman he could ever desire.
He desires you, dipshit, I tell myself.
“Penny for your thoughts,” a deep voice from my left says. I turn to see Tacker. He’d come alone tonight since Nora’s apparently fighting a bad migraine.
I blush deeply, feeling guilt creep up my neck on the off-chance Tacker could actually read my thoughts on my face as I watched Aaron posing for pictures with a group of fans.
“Just wondering how you deal with all this adoration,” I quip with a shrug. “Must be exhausting.”
Tacker barks out a laugh, placing his forearms on the tall table I’m standing at. Hunkering in a bit closer, because it’s quite loud in here, he admits, “To be honest, I hate this shit.”
I jerk, whipping my head his way. “You’re kidding?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t play hockey for this,” he replies, sweeping his arm out to indicate the fan fervor. “Well… maybe back in my younger days. I mean, look at Guy over there. See how much fun he’s having? This is great for the younger guys.”
I glance over at Guy, who is being completely fawned over by a bevy of beautiful women. Aaron had been in that same position many times, I’m sure, and he’d loved it. Why wouldn’t he?
“I hope you’re not worried about Aaron,” Tacker says in a low voice, and my eyes snap back to him. Once again, I flush because the man had to have been reading my thoughts.
“Of course not,” I exclaim quickly. Loudly. Almost hysterically.
Chuckling, Tacker puts an arm around me. He gives me a brotherly squeeze, then lets me go. Leaning in a bit closer, he reminds me. “I’m Aaron’s best friend. The guy is insanely nuts about you, Clarke. I’ve never seen him like this.”
We both slide our gazes over to him. He has an easy smile on his face as he signs autographs.
“Trust me,” Tacker continues as we stare at the man we both clearly care a great deal about. “That man would rather be with you, somewhere alone and quiet, than here right now. But sometimes, we have a duty to our fans that has to be played out.”
“I know,” I murmur with a sigh. “And I would never hold him back from that.”
Tacker nods, accepting my word.
“It’s just…” I say, causing his head to turn as he gives me his full attention. “It’s still hard to believe sometimes.”
“That he’s insanely nuts about you?” he inquires.
“That…” I admit with a slight bit of shame that I don’t have more confidence. “But all of this, really. It’s a bit overwhelming. I never thought I’d be in the middle of such… such…”
“Awesomeness?” he asks with a sly grin.
“I was going to say ‘spectacle,’ but sure… awesomeness.”
We both laugh, and Tacker picks up his beer. He tips it back, draining the last few ounces. When he sets it back down, he nods. “I’m going to head out. I’ve got a lady with a sore head who needs my attention. But I’d love for you and Aaron to come out to the ranch and hang with us soon, okay?”
“I’d love that,” I reply with a smile.
Tacker leans down and hugs me, whispering, “I’m glad Aaron found you.”
“Me too,” I assure him.
♦
Forty minutes after Tacker leaves, I’m sour again. I suppose it might have to do with more alcohol being imbibed, which apparently makes people bolder.
More assholish.
Aaron does his best to stick by my side when he can, but he’s constantly called away by other teammates and fans wanting him to pose for pictures or reminisce over miraculous plays. And, God love him, he’s in his element. He’s an outgoing and gregarious guy. He may not thrive on the attention, but he is certainly more than comfortable with it.
I fend off drunk men who try to hit on me while Aaron has more than his share of women coming on to him. The only thing that makes it all better is the brief moments of attention he can spare for me, and the way in which he dotes for those few seconds. It might be sweet words or maybe a soft kiss. Regardless, he makes it clear I’m with him and vice versa.
The shame of it is, as the evening progresses, the women seem to care less and less the drunker they get.
Puck bunnies are what I’d heard them called. I think the name is ridiculous.
What’s even more ridiculous is how many are super-model gorgeous, tall, and big breasted with very little clothing on. When Aaron poses for pictures, they practically drape themselves over him like fucking curtains.
What’s even worse is I get stared at a lot. I’m sure it’s just because I’m with Aaron and he’s such a star for the team, but it makes me uncomfortable. And maybe I’m being paranoid, but I swear it, too, gets worse as the evening goes on. I even catch people whispering while they stare. Clearly talking about me. I hate every bit of this.
I check my watch for about the hundredth time, not sure what arbitrary number I’m looking for. It’s barely eleven o’clock, and the party here at The Sneaky Saguaro is still raging.
Aaron left my line of vision to head to the bathroom, assuring me with a kiss that was way more than a brief peck—it had left me seeing stars—that he’d be right back. The other couples we’d hung with in St. John—the women who took me into their group—they’ve all left and gone home. It’s what I want to do as well, and I resolve to ask Aaron if we can leave when he comes back.
I see the top of his head before I can see the rest of him. He winds his way back through the crowd toward me. Some people try to stop him, but he makes quick apologies and sidesteps them. Finally catching my gaze, he mouths a question as he walks toward me. “Ready to go?”
I beam a smile back, nodding my head so vigorously I’m surprised I don’t give myself whiplash.
Aaron returns my grin, and for a moment, we’re tightly connected.
And then… his face is blocked, because a tall, beautiful woman with sunny-yellow hair and curves for days in a strapless dress that barely covers her ass steps in front of him. She’s wearing platform sandals and her breasts are so big they’re practically popping out of the front of her dress.
Her hands go to his chest as she leans in to whisper something in Aaron’s ear. My blood pressure spikes, and I feel my ears get hot with anger and shame that this is happening right in front of me.
To Aaron’s credit, he shakes his head and tries to step around her.
She moves to cut him off, elegantly holding up a small piece of paper between her first and middle fingers. Boldly, she reaches down and tucks it into his front pocket, whispering something else to him.
I’m so pissed I see red, knowing without a doubt she just tucked her name and number in my boyfriend’s pocket.
She just fucking touched him intimately to do it, too.
Aaron’s face clouds with anger. Quickly, he moves around her, immediately searching me out. He knows I saw every bit of it.
All I can do is offer him a disappointed look.
Not disappointed in him. Just disappointed that we have to put up with crap like this.