Page 25 of Only Between Us

But then his fingers find my anchor necklace, the clasp in the chain having slid to the front, and he carefully feeds it in place behind my neck. He doesn’t meet my eye. Just stands there, brows furrowed in concentration as he fixes my necklace.

Warmth erupts deep in my stomach, radiating outward, tingling in my fingertips.

Fifty thousand eyelashes.

The man has fifty thousand of them. Dark, and sweeping his skin as he fiddles with the anchor around my neck, setting it carefully in place over his jersey.

“My dad got it for me,” I say for some reason. Athank-you, maybe, for so sweetly and unintentionally caring for my most prized possession.

He nods like he understands but doesn’t dwell on the moment. Brooks moves for the metal doors. He rolls back his shoulders, stretches his neck from side to side, getting ready for our show. Then he holds out a hand, fingers open and waiting for mine.

“You with me, Pippen?”

I think it’s one million eyelashes. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

The second our fingers lace, he throws open the door and ushers me into pandemonium.

“You’ll be signing right over here.”

A volunteer leads us through the masses of lined-up season-ticket holders and tables manned by large men I recognize as past Huskies and recent or current NFL players. They’re signing autographs, flanked by people I assume are their partners and children.

Even with all this star power, Brooks and I draw most of the attention as we move through the maroon-colored space. Plenty of stares and phones point in our direction. And mixed in with the cheers, I hear whistling bird chirps definitely directed at me.

It’s perfect.

Exactly according to plan. The more photos of us there are out there, the higher my stock online, and the more likely they’ll make their way to the Rebels for Brooks’s benefit.

“You okay?” My breath hitches when Brooks’s hand touches the small of my back. He speaks quietly into my ear. “I know it’s a lot.”

“I can handle it.” I choose not to remind him that I’d previously trailed my ex as the masses fawned over him.

I was a common fixture at his games in our first year together, when Tom played just a couple of hours away from Baycrest. Then he’d demanded that trade to the Ravens in LA and moved all the way across the country while I stayed behind to take over the shop.

After that… I’d become living proof thatout of sight, out of mindwas pretty much right.

Brooks slides an arm around my waist as we pass the legions of screaming fans. He’s surprisingly at ease for our first time out as a pretend couple.

But then, he’s done this fake thing before. Knows exactly how to play it up, doesn’t he?

We approach an empty table in front of a moon-sized poster of a younger Brooks grinning behind his helmet on the Huskies field. This college-aged version of him looks so sweet. Not unlike the way he’d laughed with me in that coaches’ booth, before it all went to shit.

Brooks flinches when he catches sight of the picture. “Not ideal.”

Again, my body tenses. A visceral reaction to that low, smooth voice delivered with his mouth at my ear.

“What’s not ideal?”

“You think I enjoy sitting in front of my face?” He shoots me a look. “Don’t.”

I raise an innocent brow. “Don’t what?”

“I know there’s a face-sitting joke simmering in that head. Don’t say it.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a good one!”

He shakes his head, exasperated, but there’s definitely a twitch at his mouth. “It’s a family event, Pippen.”

The volunteer seats us behind the table where Brooks will be signing. She leans in between our seats so we can hear her above the cheers. “You’re on the hook here for the next hour and a half. Then you’ll head to the locker room to prep for the game, Brooks. And Cece will head out into the stands.”

---