"Yeah," I say. "Pretty sure you have a few times now."
"Good." She straightens her dress and strides past me, her ass swaying in the red silk. "Because it's true. You're the devil, Austin Hawkes."
I watch her go, more than willing to play the devil for her.
I follow, keeping a respectful distance because even I know when to quit while I'm ahead. For now.
Her heels click down the sidewalk, her ass swaying with every step. She doesn't turn until she hits the curb, and then she waits with her arms crossed, looking at me like she's daring me to start something.
"Where are we actually going?" she asks, her tone skeptical.
"You'll see."
"That's not ominous at all." She narrows her eyes. "If you take me to a strip club or a sports bar, I will murder you and hide your body in the Potomac."
"Tempting, but no." I hold out a hand, waiting for her to take it before leading her to my truck.
"Jesus Christ." She stops dead, gaping at the truck. "Of course you drive a monster truck."
A loud laugh rumbles from my lips. "A monster truck?"
She waves a hand in the direction of my truck. "That thing, Austin. It's obnoxiously giant."
"It's a regular-sized truck."
"Yeah, for regular-sized giants," she scoffs, stomping toward it. "I swear to God, if my ass ends up on the internet again while I'm trying to climb a beanstalk into this damn thing, I will kill you."
I shake my head, chuckling as I pop the door open and then lift her inside. "Anyone ever told you that you have frighteningly violent tendencies?"
"What? You think I watch hockey for the fun of it?" She quirks a brow at me, smirking. "Please. I'm in it for the bloodshed in the boy aquarium."
"Boy aquarium?" I arch a brow, leaning across her to fasten her seatbelt. "What the fuck is a boy aquarium?"
"A hockey rink looks like a fishbowl because it's surrounded by glass, and we get to watch pretty things inside it."
I stare at her like she's lost her mind. "That…actually makes so much sense." I mean, not the pretty things bullshit, but the rest of it.
She just smiles in response, placing her little clutch on her lap. "I'm aware."
I shake my head, slamming her door. Jesus Christ. Getting tackled by her at Stu's was, quite possibly, the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.
"Impressive," she says an hour later, one brow arched as she glances around the upscale steakhouse, taking it in. Candlelight bounces off the mirrored walls, casting a hundred reflections across the dining room. Salted char and rendered fat from the grill cling to the air, turning every breath into a whole sensory experience.
"You really expected a strip club, didn't you?" I tease, taking a sip of water.
She holds her thumb and forefinger a few centimeters apart, smirking mischievously.
"One of these days, you'll change your mind about me," I murmur, meaning it as a joke, but it comes out more serious than intended. I could pull it back, but I decide to let it ride instead because, yeah, I do want her to change her mind about me. I'm not the asshole she thinks I am. I'm just the man willing to play hardball to earn a spot in her life.
Manufactured scandals are survivable. Been there, done that. Will probably do it a thousand more times before Iretire. But not taking chances when the chances matter? Well, that's not an option, not with something this important.
She stares at me for a long moment before grabbing her glass like it's a lifeline. I watch her throat work as she sips, my cock twitching.
"You never did tell me why you were at our party," I murmur when she sets the glass down.
"I did. Reasons."
"What reasons?" I growl, genuinely curious how someone like her ends up at a party she clearly didn't want to be at with athletes she wants nothing to do with. I know her well enough by now to know she wasn't just feeding me a line. She genuinely doesn't give a shit about football.
