Page 28 of Date with a Devil
An embarrassed heat flooded Austen’s cheeks. “Um, yeah. Just some … dirt?”
“Where?” He swiped at his lap, wiping nonexistent dirt from his crotch. Thankfully, he seemed unaware of what she wasreallylooking at. “I don’t see it.”
I do,she thought, watching DeHardt’s big dick heftily flop around in his joggers as he rustled it.It’s enormous. What the hell.
“Did I get it all?” he asked.
“Yup,” Austen muttered, “you got it all.”
Because, of course, a guy like DeHardt had literallyeverything in life. Millions of dollars. Great looks. Fame. Any woman he wanted. And if that wasn’t enough, the guy had a big penis to top it all off.
She wished Thayer had been right. She wished that the nickname ‘The Big D’was the telltale sign of an insecure braggadocio with a shameful, teeny-tiny secret. But Thayer wasn’t right at all—which was strange, since he’d claimed to have seen it in person. It made Austen wonder if her boss was mistaken. Was he remembering someone else instead? Did he happen to catch DeHardt on a particularly cold day? Even that was hard to believe … how much could that thing really shrink?
Or had Thayer outright lied to make DeHardt look bad? That wasn’t something Thayer would do, was it? Lying about the size of someone’s dick?
“So, aren’t you going to ask me anything?” DeHardt suddenly asked. “Or are we going to sit in awkward silence for the rest of your interview?”
“Sorry, I was just, um, daydreaming.”
She knew she was in her own headfartoo much, overthinking and overanalyzing everything. She had to be confident! Carefree! Fun! A cool girl! Like she normally was when she did these interviews! Like Austy Marlowe!
Austen smiled at the cameras and blurted out the first question that entered her mind.
She opened her mouth and heard herself ask, “Dane, how’d you get the nickname ‘The Big D?’ ”
Austen resisted the incredible urge to kick her car door open and throw her mortified self out onto the roadway.
DeHardt looked at her like she was crazy. “Really? You’re asking methat?”
She squirmed in her seat. “Er … apparently I am.”
“I thought it was pretty obvious. Don’t you?”
For the briefest of moments, her eyes reflexively darted right between his legs. “Y-yeah?”
“Yeah. My initials are DD. I play for the Dallas Devils. I’m a pretty big guy. Add it all up, what do you get? ‘The Big D.’Not the most creative, no, but hockey nicknames usually aren’t.”
“That’s—that’s what I thought,” Austen said, running a hand through her hair. “But I wasn’t sure.”
He gave her a wink. “Glad I could clear that mystery up for you, then.”
Just shoot me now,she thought as the car pulled into the restaurant parking lot.
***
Austen took a healthy gulp from her martini. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to drink during these things—but after the car ride, she needed something to help her relax. Surely Thayer would understand, right? Always nearby, Johnny and Frederick worked their magic from the shadows. They’d do their part to make sure they didn’t film her drinking on camera.
“So what’s good here?” DeHardt asked as he browsed the menu.
She gave a shrug. “I haven’t eaten here, but my boss recommends the tuna nachos.”
“Tuna nachos?” DeHardt made a sour face. “I like chicken nachos, sure. Buttuna?Sounds kind of weird, doesn’t it?”
“I know you athletes don’t possess the most daring of palettes,” Austen began, the booze already loosening her lips. “But yeah, you’re right, itdoessound kind of weird.”
DeHardt chuckled. “Glad you agree. I’ll pass on that, then.”
“Me too.”
