Afraid of what the tabloids would say.
Afraid that I’m falling for this man who went out of his way to make a special night for me, with no idea how much baggage I carry around the idea of prom, and then trying to shift on the spot to fix it as much as he could.
When he doesn’t settle down.
And I have no idea what hewantsfrom me.
He does a ton of good for the Fireballs, and then he has theman-factor working for him, so while everyone knows he’s king of the one-night stand, and that he indulges in them all the freaking time more or less without judgment, he’s treating me like I’m the very best thing to ever happen to him.
Because I’m famous?
Because he likes me?
Or because he would do this for anyone? And does, in fact, do it for many women over the course of any given regular season?
He said himself that he has too much energy and too many ideas. Hewoulddo this for anyone. Wouldn’t he?
The tablecloth hiding me from view lifts, and I wince and grab my knees tighter.
Cooper’s eyes sweep over me, wary and full of regrets, which looks totallywrongon him. “You okay?” he asks.
“This is exactly where I probably would’ve been anyway if this were my real prom.” I force a smile that I almost feel.
He winces, then points to his head. “Parrot left me a little present in my hair. I’m gonna go take care of that, and then I’ll be right back. There’s rum by the punch if you want to spike it. And I won’t blame you if you quietly bail while I’m gone.”
He’s not hitting his normal carefree goofball attitude, and seeing him struggle makes me ache. “Cooper.”
He ducks back down. “Yeah?”
“I know they were making up all of those stories about you. Except the ice sculpture one. I believe that one.”
His eyes flare wide for half a second, and then he cracks up. “Yeah. Yeah, that one’s plausible. Make yourself at home. I mean, even more at home than hiding under tables. I have massage chairs behind the curtains along that wall, and I’ll drop the banner covering the TV if you want to chill. Back in five. I gotta fix my hair. I’d help you out, but my hands are, erm, contaminated with pirate bird…stuff.”
I scoot out from under the table easily myself. “It’s okay. I’m pretty flexible.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Back in a minute. And if you decide to bolt—I get it. No harm, no foul. I mean it.”
He heads for the stairs without wincing even a little at the fact that there’s been a fowl foul in his hair. That could’ve been a really great joke, and Cooper rarely misses the opportunity to make one.
I glance at Scott One and Kiva, who are standing on opposite sides of the room, one ready to head to the front door, the other ready to take the back.
Scott One doesn’t crack a smile, but Kiva’s lips wobble.
It takes a lot to make her break.
“Didn’t see a thing,” she says. “In this room, that is.”
Scott One grunts. It’s the same asneither did I. He’s more or less the same as Scott Two, but with a different number of ex-wives and no grandkids quite yet because he’s seven years younger.
Kiva glances up the stairs, where Cooper’s disappeared. “If you intend to spend any more time here, we’ll need to have a long conversation with Mr. Rock about the number of people who are able to disarm all the parts of his fancy security system.”
I don’t know if that meansmy demand for working security systems has been tested past my tolerance for things being other people’s problems, or if it meansI approve of you spending more time with Cooper Rock.
“Have you met any of Cooper’s family previously?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not unless I met them without knowing who they were. I met Max Cole the day we shot my video at Duggan Field. If Cooper’s sister was with them, I wasn’t introduced to her then.”
“The aunts worry me.”
