Words—breathing—life seemed to catch in my throat as I took in those incredibly long lashes framing such potent eyes. The line of his shoulders was imposing and endless. His face was so severe and thoughtful, it plucked at my heart, but somehow, somehow I got myself to nod, the world in my throat. “I get it.”
I did. I got it.
Did he care what I thought? He explained himself, his decisions and his thoughts. But what did it mean?
He’d said he had four people in his life, and I now figured those had been his grandparents and Leslie. Who was the other person whose opinion mattered to him, I wondered?
I bit the inside of my cheek and let out a shaky breath. “I know you don’t care what that asshole thinks, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to pretend he punched me in the arm. You’d just have to be my ‘witness.’” I smiled weakly at my joke. “Team Graves, right?”
Aiden didn’t smile back.
His forehead tipped forward, and before I could react, before he said another word to me, he leaned forward, forward, forward and pressed his mouth just to the side of my mouth. A peck. A shot better than tequila, made up of friendship and affection and organic sugar.
When he pulled back, just a few inches, just enough for our eyes to meet, my heart pounded this crazy rhythm that might have been a borderline heart attack. I couldn’t help but smile. Nervous and confused and overwhelmed and completely caught off guard, I had to gulp.
“GO BACK TO DALLAS!” the man sitting somewhere behind us yelled again, and the hold Aiden still had on the back of my neck tightened imperceptibly.
“Don’t bother, Van,” he demanded, pokerfaced.
“I’m not going to say anything,” I said, even as I reached up with the hand furthest away from him and put it behind my head, extending my middle finger in hopes that the idiot yelling would see it.
Those brown eyes blinked. “You just flipped him off, didn’t you?”
Yeah, my mouth dropped open. “How do you know when I do that?” My tone was just as astonished as it should be.
“I know everything.” He said it like he really believed it.
I groaned and cast him a long look. “You really want to play this game?”
“I play games for a living, Van.”
I couldn’t stand him sometimes. My eyes crossed in annoyance. “When is my birthday?”
He stared at me.
“See?”
“March third, Muffin.”
What in the hell?
“See?” he mocked me.
Who was this man and where was the Aiden I knew?
“How old am I?” I kept going hesitantly.
“Twenty-six.”
“How do you know this?” I asked him slowly.
“I pay attention,” The Wall of Winnipeg stated.
I was starting to think he was right.
Then, as if to really seal the deal I didn’t know was resting between us, he said, “You like waffles, root beer, and Dr. Pepper. You only drink light beer. You put cinnamon in your coffee. You eat too much cheese. Your left knee always aches. You have three sisters I hope I never meet and one brother. You were born in El Paso. You’re obsessed with your work. You start picking at the corner of your eye when you feel uncomfortable or fool around with your glasses. You can’t see things up close, and you’re terrified of the dark.” He raised those thick eyebrows. “Anything else?”
Yeah, I only managed to say one word. “No.” How did he know all this stuff? How? Unsure of how I was feeling, I coughed and started to reach up to mess with my glasses before I realized what I was doing and snuck my hand under my thigh, ignoring the knowing look on Aiden’s dumb face. “I know a lot about you too. Don’t think you’re cool or special.”
“I know, Van.” His thumb massaged me again for all of about three seconds. “You know more about me than anyone else does.”
A sudden memory of the night in my bed where he’d admitted his fear as a kid pecked at my brain, relaxing me, making me smile. “I really do, don’t I?”
The expression on his face was like he was torn between being okay with the idea and being completely against it.
Leaning in close to him again, I winked. “I’m taking your love of MILF porn to the grave with me, don’t worry.”
He stared at me, unblinking, unflinching. And then: “I’ll cut the power at the house when you’re in the shower,” he said so evenly, so crisply, it took me a second to realize he was threatening me…
And when it finally did hit me, I burst out laughing, smacking his inner thigh without thinking twice about it. “Who does that?”
Aiden Graves, husband of mine, said it, “Me.”
Then the words were out of my mouth before I could control them. “And you know what I’ll do? I’ll go sneak into bed with you, so ha.”
What the hell had I just said? What in the ever-loving hell had I just said?
“If you think I’m supposed to be scared…” He leaned forward so our faces were only a couple of inches away. The hand on my neck and the finger pads lining the back of my ear stayed where they were. “I’m not.”
As if the peck he’d given me hadn’t done enough damage, the way he said that sent my heart pounding again. My chest flushing hot. Everything I thought I knew seemed to spiral out of control.
He was messing with me. Flirting with me. Aiden Graves. What was this?
It didn’t help that, before I managed to get my heart back in shape or get my head on straight, my phone started vibrating. When I saw the incoming message as a picture from Diana, I didn’t think much of it.
But when I unlocked the screen and saw the picture, it only sent me reeling all over again.
She had attached a shot of her television. On the screen was a picture of Aiden and me sitting in the stands just minutes before, his face so close to mine, his arm around my back. It looked… well, I didn’t know what exactly it looked like, but Aiden and I were laughing. I could see what it didn’t look like.
It didn’t look like this thing between us was fake.
But then it got me thinking. Had Aiden just been extra friendly and flirty because he suspected this would happen?
* * *
“Look, he’s right there.” I smacked Aiden with the back of my hand before pointing at the brown-haired booger standing just outside surrounded by teammates and other people not affiliated with the university. “Oscar!”
My brother didn’t turn around.
“Oscar Meyer Weiner!” I yelled again.
That had him swinging his head around with a big grin on his face. Raising one hand, I waved and tugged on Aiden’s hand briefly with the other, urging him forward. After away games, he usually didn’t have much time to hang around, so I wanted to take advantage of the few minutes we had together.
As we walked closer, I spotted my brother cutting a path through the crowd, only to stop abruptly for a second and look back and forth between Aiden and me, before he continued walking toward us. Behind Oscar, more than a few of the crowd were looking in our direction too.
My brother was smiling, but his gaze kept trailing to Aiden in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he demanded as I took a step forward and let my brother give me a big hug, pulling me up off my feet. He’d been taller than me for nearly the last ten years and never let me forget it.