Page 2 of The Proposal
Ella rolls onto her side, brushing her dark hair off her shoulder. “While I can’t relate because I have a solid two years before I’m thirty—”
“Was that necessary?”
She laughs. “You’re freaking out for no reason. Tomorrow is just another day.”
“I know.I really do. There’s just this pressure to get my ducks in a row and start making serious progress, or else I’ll be fifty with no husband or kids. And I want both.”
“All I ask is that you be a little more selective on the husband part because the last few guys you’ve dated …” She whistles. “Not good, Blakely.”
Yeah, I know.
“I know you feel your biological clock ticking or whatever it is, but youhavebeen doing big things,” she says. “You’re the new artist manager assistant at Mason Music Label. Remember, you little badass? That’s impressive.”
I shrug happily at the reminder. That’s true—a dream come true, really.And even more of a reason to get my shit together. “But would I be even more impressive as a redhead?”
“The answer is still no.”
I groan. “Come on. I want to go out on something big. Something fun. Something wild that I’ll remember while I’m taking vitamins and going to bed before ten.”
Ella reaches for her water. “Fine. But let's find something else. Red doesn’t suit your skin tone.”
“Like what? I’m not getting anything pierced, and I don’t think I’m ready to commit to a tattoo.”
“You’ve been wanting a tattoo since the day I met you. As a matter of fact, weren’t you looking at tattoos when I brought over those cookies?”
I laugh. “Yes. But it’s so permanent. What if I don’t want it next week?”
She rolls her eyes.
“What else is there?” I ask. “Let’s think.”
“Well, you could find a man with money and get a quickie wedding on the Strip.”
I laugh again, turning over onto my stomach. “At this point, that’s the only way I’ll get married—inebriated and to a stranger.”The guys I date aren’t marriage material. I’ll probably be alone forever at this rate.
“Hey, people find love in all sorts of ways.”
“True, but the odds that I’ll find a marry-able man in the next few hours is incredibly low.” I fold my arms under my head. “In lieu of sexy strangers with an engagement ring in their pocket, what else do you suggest?”
She taps a finger to her lips. “We could go to a show tonight. A male striptease or something like that. It might be a way to get your juices flowing—”
“Ew!”
“While lacking permanence. Then just see where the night takes us. Be free-spirited.”
“You just want to go because it’s one more way to needle Brock.”
Her grin is full of mischief. “So? What’s your point?”
Ella and my brother have beena thingfor almost two years.What kind of thing? I’m afraid to label it, although I’m fairly certain they’re exclusive without declaring exclusivity.
On the one hand, Ella is a lot to handle. She’s smart, opinionated, and doesn’t need a man—and she knows it. She also has a propensity to make decisions and weigh the risks after. That drives Brock nuts.
On the other hand, dating Brock would be a nightmare. Women throw themselves at him wherever he goes. Men stop him for autographs and toman-swoonover him. And during the season, he’s focused and mostly unavailable. That doesn’t always work for Ella.
I watch this back-and-forth and vow never to get into a relationship with a player—an athlete or otherwise.Again.I’ve done that before, and it didn’t end well.
“I’m taking it you two are still fighting,” I say.
