The valet comes around to my side of the car, and I hop out to hand him the keys. I walk around and open Reese’s door, only to see her sitting there staring up at me.
She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear before, the dark mascara outlining the almond shape of her eyes. The shiny, pinkish color on her lips is a sucker punch to the gut, and I really have to focus on not staring at them.
“Reese?” I say her name, and her eyelashes finally flutter with a blink.
“You got a car seat?”
I grip the top of my car and stare down at her, attempting to read her reaction. “Yeah.”
Those plump lips open and then close again. People are starting to stare, the valet being one of them.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, holding my hand out for her to take.
Without hesitation, she places her palm in mine, and I pull her to stand. She peers at me, and one of her dimples appears. “Yes, it is.”
Someone calls my name, but I can’t be bothered to look. I hook Reese’s arm in mine and pull her to the sidewalk. I lean in close, my mouth brushing against her ear, thanks to the way she did her hair. “You ready?”
She blows out a breath. “I’m nervous…”
“Nervous? Why?”
From the moment I met her, Reese never seemed impressed by me—or any other hockey player, for that matter. She is the furthest thing from a fan girl, money and talent having no interest to her. For her to be nervous is conflicting.
Is she nervous to act like we’re a couple?
Is she nervous because of my teammates?
“I grew up in a trailer park, Malaki. Our yearly income was probably a week’s worth for some of the people in there.” Sheflicks her delicate chin to the doors we’re about to walk through. “Including you. They're all going to know the second we walk in there that I’m trailer trash.”
Before walking any farther, I pull her off to the side and spin her to look at me. I keep my arm around her waist, but the other goes to her chin. I tip her head so she’s forced to meet my eye.
“One, it doesn’t matter where you came from or how you grew up. And two, nothing about the way you look says you’re trailer trash.” Just to get my next point across, I tug her flush to my body. Her breasts press into my chest, and my entire body lights up. “Three…I never want to hear you insult my fiancée ever again.”
Reese’s mouth turns up on the side, her eyes rolling playfully. I pull her in tighter, just to feel her brush against me again.
“I’m serious,” I press on. “Just because you grew up in a trailer doesn’t mean you’re trailer trash.”
“I know,” she admits quietly. “It’s just a habit.”
I take her arm in mine and start for the doors again. “What is?”
“To refer to myself as trailer trash. When you’ve been called that most of your life, it catches on.”
The idea of someone referring to her as trailer trash puts my blood pressure at an alarming level.
The door opens in front of us, and with a tight-lipped smile, I nod at the man standing there. Once we’re inside, the same man gestures at the door leading to the event. There are a few flashes of a camera, but we make our way without stopping for too long.
I place my hand on the small of Reese’s back. I lean in and put my mouth against her cheek. “You ready?”
Our eyes lock. “Just…don’t leave me, okay?”
As if I’d leave her in a tank full of thirsty sharks.
“I wouldn’t be a very good fiancé if I ditched you at an event I begged you to come to,” I note.
She laughs softly, and after seeing her all worked up with nerves a few minutes ago, my pride swells.
“Oh, and Reese?”
