Page 22 of Black Roses

Before I can filter my words, I open the can of worms that shouldn’t be opened. “Why did you watch me?”

“Why do you think, Piper?” He cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.

I asked for it. I ran right into it head-fucking-first. I have no excuse for baiting him like that. I’ve seen the signs from him. I’ve felt it in his touches. But what he doesn’t understand is that it can never happen. “Uh . . . I can’t . . . um, I think I’ll take that drink after all.”

He gives me a poignant look and then grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

He tries to hand me one but I wave it off. “I was thinking of something a little stronger.”

“You know where the bar is,” he says, depositing the untouched drinks on a nearby table. “Lead the way.”

We walk up to the crowded bar and work our way up to the front where we watch the bartender prepare us a couple of Jack and Cokes. I savor the burn of the first alcohol I’ve had in three weeks. Then I look across the room and see the fashion model he was talking with earlier. The one who seemed to have no problem trying to get cozy with him. “Who’s that woman?” I nod my head at her.

“Her name is Janice Greyson. She’s the owner’s daughter.” He points to the well-appointed older gentleman on her right. “That’s her father standing next to her. He’s the big boss.”

“I thought you said this was a small charity function.” I shift around again, my feet really starting to hurt now. “Why is the owner of the Giants here?”

“Janice is the one who organized the benefit. Not to mention she’s very close to the cause being that she’s adopted. It makes sense her father would come to support it.” He nudges me gently with his elbow and adds, “Plus, I think he’s trying to set me up with her.”

My stomach churns, a slight sick feeling building from within, reminding me how empty it is since I was too nervous to eat earlier. I throw back the remainder of my drink. “I’m going to get another.”

“Are you sure about that, Piper? The marathon is only a few days away.”

I balk at him, “What are you, my dad?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll take you to get another. But if you lose the race on Monday, don’t come crying to me.” He winks and something inside me melts.

His stare is intoxicating and I question my choice to have that second drink. The liquor is making me brave and stupid at the same time, reminding me exactly why I shouldn’t have it.

I’m mesmerized by the bartender as he expertly mixes scores of drinks seemingly all at once. It almost becomes a ball and cup trick to figure out which ones are ours. I stare intently until he places mine on a napkin in front of me.

“Dix! It’s good to see you, brother.”

I watch as Mason and the tall stranger enjoy one of those guy handshake-turn-hugs, patting each other affectionately on the back as they share a few words.

The man turns his attention to me, but unlike some of the others, he doesn’t try to undress me with his eyes. “And just who did you find to escort your pathetic second-string ass to this thing?”

Mason hits him with a reserved, playful punch and looks at me. I shake my head at him, eyes wide with trepidation. “This is . . . uh, a friend of the family. Garrett, meet Snow.” He winks at me. “Garrett and I went to Clemson together. He’s the pathetic second-string running back for the Giants.”

“Friend of the family? What family—you mean to tell me you have a life outside of football?” Garrett says to him before turning to me. “Snow, huh?” He laughs and I’m sure he’s going to make fun of my ‘name.’ “It’s a shame my wife isn’t here, you’d get along great. Her name is Autumn.”

“Whereisyour better half?” Mason asks, scanning the room.

“At home probably puking her guts out. I don’t know who decided to call itmorningsickness, because she’s got it all goddamn day long. I just came to make an appearance and write a check.” A waiter hands him a glass of champagne. He tips it at us. “And drink. The woman won’t let me drink at home anymore since she can’t.”

Garrett excuses himself to talk to some of the other players. Then Mason introduces me to a few other people, smirking at me every time he uses my new name. While some of the others in our group hold conversations about their children or their pregnant wives, he pushes my hair to the side and whispers into my ear. “I knew I’d find some way to call you a princess tonight.”

When his hot breath flows over my ear, tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention and I notice an involuntary hitch in my breathing. When I turn to question him, I see he noticed, too. His gaze is fixed on my neck and his hand is still holding back my hair. His eyes dilate and he blows out a deep breath.

I conjure up every ounce of willpower and pull away, my hair falling back down around my shoulders as he stares at the dark tips when they meet my flesh. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“You know, Snow White. She’s one of those Disney princesses, right?”

I break into a huge smile as laughter bubbles from within me. “Oh my God, you’re hopeless, you know that?”

He studies my face as if he’s in awe. “Piper Mitchell, I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. I think I’ll make it my mission to produce that sound from you more often.” He leans in close and my eyes flutter in anticipation of the feel of his breath on me again. “And I’m not hopeless—” he puts a strong arm around me and pulls me ever so slightly closer to him “—I’m hopeful.”

Squelching the lava running through my veins, I tell him I need to use the bathroom again. It’s a lie I hope he doesn’t detect. I need to get away. Distance myself from him for a minute to gain a little perspective.

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