Page 4 of The Stunt
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to a high rise right in the middle of Boston. I wonder if this is where he lives. The driver takes an underground tunnel into a parking garage, where he stops in front of a revolving glass door. As I look out, confused as to what I’m supposed to do next, a tall man with wide shoulders comes into view. Holy shit, his arms look like tree trunks.
Wait. Is that…oh my God, that’shim. I swallow thickly, completely frozen as the driver rounds the car to open my door. I’m still not moving as Maverick steps up and reaches his hand out for me to take.
RIP: Bella Simon. She died doing what she loved. Staring at the perfect male specimen while imagining him removing her clothes with his teeth.
He looks at me, still holding out his hand with his brows raised. Oh, shit. He’s waiting for me. By the grace of God, I pull myself together enough to put my small hand in his large one, allowing him to gently pull me from the back seat. Tingles maketheir way up my arm as he laces our fingers together. I look around for cameras, but there are none.
“Hi, Bella. I’m Maverick,” he says with a voice smoother than butter. My cheeks immediately blush as I look for the words to respond. Up close, I realize no photo could ever do him justice. His skin is a warm tan, even in the midst of a Boston winter. His eyes are such a deep brown, I can barely tell where the irises end and the pupils begin. And his lips are plump and kissable.
Shit. I’m in trouble.
“Umm, hi,” I say shyly, pushing my hair behind my ear. If he noticed my gawking, he doesn’t say so as he leads me through the door. Our bodies brush against each other as we walk, eliciting a warm feeling all the way to my core. He greets the doorman and gives the elevator attendant a high-five as we settle inside. We ride to the top floor, my hand still in his, and the door opens directly inside his penthouse apartment. Holy fuck, this is nice. I read that he was the highest paid defensive end in the league, but he renegotiated his new contract so the team had more money to give to other players. He’s obviously still doing well for himself.
We step into what looks to be a decent sized foyer. The place is so clean, I can’t believe a human being actually lives here. “I hope it’s okay that I had you dropped off here,” he begins, his brown eyes holding my attention as he lets my hand go. If I were more confident, I would reach back out for him, but I’m me, so I don’t. I can’t seem to look away from him as he continues. “I figured we should take a couple nights to get to know each other before we go out to public places together. It’s kind of an awkward situation, so I thought we could get more comfortable with each other, so things look more natural.”
Thank God this whole situation is awkward for him, too. Now I don’t feel so bad.
He motions for me to sit on the couch. I do, and he sits in the chair opposite the sleek, glass coffee table.
“That’s a really good idea,” I say. “It’s definitely not a conventional way to start a relationship—” I catch myself. “I mean, afakerelationship,” I rush out my correction.
His eyes meet mine, and for the life of me I can’t read him. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll take a water, please,” I reply quietly. I wish I had more confidence. I’m sure the girls he normally dates have no problem telling him what they want. I can command a stage in front of a hundred thousand people, but I’m here alone with this gorgeous man and I can’t find two words to put together.
He leaves the room, returning moments later with a bottle of water. I twist off the top, gulping half of its contents in one go. That was a little cringey, but my mouth feels like the Sahara. As I lower the bottle, I look up through my lashes to find Maverick staring at me intently.
“What?” I ask. It’s not making me uncomfortable like it probably should be, considering he’s a stranger and I’m in his house, but I wonder what he’s seeing right now. I don’t have to wait long to find out.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, making me suck in a quiet gasp. I’m used to getting complements thrown at me, but coming from him, it’s just so…intimate. A throb begins to pulse somewhere deep inside me as I fall back into his deep brown eyes.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. He’s definitely affecting me in a way I’ve never felt before. But I stop on a dime when my brain reminds me that this is all fake to him. He’s saying these things in private, so it seems more natural when we get into public.
It’s okay to be a little delulu and pretend like he isn’t faking though, right?
Right?
“So,” he says, breaking my thoughts. “Tell me about yourself.”Ugh.I hate this part. Although it seems like I live this amazing life, I’m far from interesting. All I do is work. On the rare occasion that I have time to go out, it’s set up by my team to ensure that my every move is documented by the media. And thosefriendsyou see me in photos with? Not really my friends. They’re all there for the same reason I am. Someone told them it would further their career. That’s why it should be easy for me to remember that Maverick isn’t really into me. Although, by the way he’s staring into my soul as he waits for my answer, I’ll be needing several reminders tonight.
“There’s not really much to tell,” I say, fidgeting with my water bottle. “I grew up in California, but I moved to New York City with my family while I was recording my first album. My brother, Bryce, is an actor, but he’s been in Italy for the past two years.” I stop to think. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m really not that special. I work, eat, and sleep.”
He studies me for a moment before speaking. “Well, you’re definitely wrong. Youarespecial,” he says softly. My eyes follow him as he moves from the chair to the couch, lowering himself down only inches from me. I can almost feel a ghost of a touch when his knee comes close to brushing mine. I wish it would. I smile up at him as we both turn in toward one another, getting more comfortable.
“What about you?” I ask. For some reason, I want to know every detail about him.
He blows out a breath. “Well, I grew up on a farm in Nebraska. I was offered a full scholarship to play football at the University of Miami, then got drafted to the Blizzard my senior year. And here I am.”
I already knew all of that because I shamelessly Googled the fuck out of him yesterday. I want juicier details. Feeling a littlebraver, I ask the question I really want to know. “Any recent girlfriends?”
“Not really,” he replies. “I usually have a rule about dating during the season. And before that, I went out with a few girls, but nothing serious came of it.”
Twyla told me he tries to keep his personal life out of the media as much as he can. That’s probably why I haven’t seen many photos of him with women. A pang of jealousy hits me at the thought of him sharing an intimate, private evening with someone else.We’ll just set that aside to unpack later.
“What about you? Any exes I need to worry about?” He smiles and I can’t help but snort at the question.
“Nope,” I say. “I haven’t had time to date in the last ten years. You’ll actually be my first.”
His smile falls, a shocked expression taking its place. “You’ve never been on adate?”
