I sighed and took a step back. “Wish me luck.”
Zac waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, an ornery smile taking over his tan face. “I sure will, Mrs. Graves.”
He was so full of shit, but I knew if I didn’t get downstairs, Aiden would probably come up here and drag me down—he hated being late—so I let Zac’s comment go and ran down the stairs. At the bottom, Aiden’s expression was his typical exasperated one. He was dressed in jeans and a black V-neck that stretched across the wide width of his muscular chest. His favorite hoodie dangled from his fingertips.
He gave me a look as I jogged down the steps, nerves making my knees weak. Aiden didn’t wait for me to make it down before he was on his way to the garage. I hauled ass through the kitchen, closed the garage door behind me, and carried my bag to his SUV.
“You got everything?” he asked with a curt look once we were both buckled in as he turned his head to back out of the driveway.
I ran my fingers over the small lump in the front pocket of my jeans and felt the flutter of nerves remind me they hadn’t gone anywhere. I took in his face quickly; the stern line of his mouth, the hard jut of his chin, and the constant tension creasing his eyebrows. Reality flowed over me. I was marrying this guy.
Oh, brother.
“Yep,” I squeaked.
The trip to the airport went well with the sports talk show on the radio keeping us company; luckily, they were only discussing professional baseball. Aiden parked his car in one of the covered lots. From there, we took a shuttle to the terminal. I eyed him a few times on the way over, my hands getting sweatier by the second. Just as the mini-bus rolled up to the drop-off, Aiden slipped his hoodie on despite the ninety-something degree weather in Dallas, and pulled the zipper all the way up to his throat.
When the bus stopped, he was the first to get up, reaching for his backpack with one hand and my duffel in the other. If he wanted to carry my bag, I wasn’t about to insist.
I let him lead us toward the check in. In no time, we had our boarding passes, and Aiden signed autographs for the four airline employees working behind the counter before the trek toward security. It was impossible not to notice the people around us stealing glances and gawking at him. It wasn’t like he didn’t stand out in a hoodie, even if it was only to women checking him out. While he wasn’t the tallest man in the world, the sheer size of him was eye-catching. Even in a double extra-large hoodie, the size of his shoulders and the outlines of his biceps were unmistakable.
Together, we walked up to the first TSA agent who looked at both of our licenses, went a bit pink-faced for a moment, and then waved us forward. Gentleman that he was, Aiden let me get in line first. Making sure his attention was elsewhere when we got to the part of security where our carry-on luggage was checked, I put the white gold band on one of the trays with my cell phone and snuck it back into my pocket the instant I finished passing through the detector.
“I want a cup of coffee,” I said when Aiden caught up to me. “Do you want something?”
He shook his head but walked along with me to the closest Dunkin Donuts, his frame a big, imposing shadow that I couldn’t help but constantly be aware of. In all the times we’d traveled together, I didn’t think we’d ever been so close to one another. Usually I was trailing behind him, or he’d go off to sit somewhere by himself. This time though, he wasn’t standing fifty feet away, much less ten, with his headphones in, oblivious to everyone and everything around him.
And that might have made me feel a little bit better. He wasn’t exactly ignoring me or acting the way he usually did, AKA pretending I didn’t exist. I had to give him some credit for that, didn’t I?
Once we were in line, I glanced over to find his attention straight-ahead, focused on the menu; a crease formed between his eyebrows. The customer in front of us moved aside, and I took a step forward as the employee peeked up from the cash register, briefly glancing at Aiden before looking back down. “How can I help you?”
“Can I—?”
Double taking, the employee’s gaze went up to Aiden again. His nostrils flared.
I knew he was going to gasp before he did it. The employee’s eyes went wide first. His mouth slammed shut second. Then he sucked in a breath. “Fuck,” the cashier whispered, his gaze locked on the behemoth next to me.
The behemoth who was, at that point, looking around and not paying any attention to the individual freaking out in front of him. So I elbowed him. Aiden’s attention snapped down to me so quickly it was a little alarming. He was frowning. I tipped my head to the side discreetly in the direction of the donut shop employee. Not anywhere near being an idiot, those brown eyes went where I indicated.
The employee was still gazing at him with huge eyes.
“Are you… you’re… you’re Aiden… Aiden Graves,” the guy who had to be a couple years younger than me blubbered.
Aiden nodded tightly.
Oh, brother. Mr. Social Skills was at it again.
“You’re… I’m…” The guy was panting. “I’m such a fan. Holy shit.” He sucked in another breath, and I swear his face paled. “You’re even bigger in person.”
He really, really was.
Aiden shrugged, carelessly, like he usually did when someone mentioned his size. I thought people made him uncomfortable when they brought it up, but mostly because I’d heard him tell Leslie before that it wasn’t like he’d done something for it. His genes had given him his stature and the framework of his build; all he’d done was work out and eat well to develop what he’d been given. His lack of a reply wasn’t arrogance; I was pretty positive he just didn’t know what to say.
The poor guy continued gaping at him, completely unaware I existed, much less that behind us were at least four other people wondering what the hell was taking so long for us to order.
Aiden didn’t help the situation either by standing there, looking back at his fan with that unreadable, borderline bored expression on his face. “Could you get my girl a coffee?”
His girl?
It took every ounce of my self-control not to look up at him with an expression that said exactly what I was thinking: what the hell did you just call me?
Thankfully, I didn’t physically react. When the cashier finally snapped out of his trance, he glanced at me and blinked. I smiled at him even as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the strange feeling coursing through my spine at the fake term of endearment that had just come out of Aiden’s mouth.
“Oh, sure. Sure. My bad. What can I get you?” the guy asked, blushing.
I placed my order, quickly looking down to make sure I was texting the right person, and typed out a quick message.
Your girl?
I sent the man next to me before handing over my card.
The guy cast another glance at Aiden while he swiped it hastily, nervously. I thanked him when he gave it back, but he was back to not paying any attention to me; he was still staring at Aiden, and on closer inspection, I realized the poor guy’s hands were shaking.
“Thanks,” I mumbled one more time as I took my cup and moved aside to put coffee and creamer in it. Aiden shifted over along with me, seeming to be in his own little world, oblivious to the text message I’d sent him, or maybe just deciding to ignore the phone I knew he usually kept on vibrate in his pocket. It was right then that I noticed the people in line behind us were all staring at him.