Page 11 of Poke the Bear

I would have given him my first-born child right then, severed my preferred hand for drawing and given it to him on a platter, if I could just have more of this. He created this hot little bubble around us I was terrified would pop, shutting out the other players, all of the other people, right up until he did this.

But then the compere started talking about the season this year, listing teams I was familiar with, but not the players. He talked smoothly, enthusiastically about football in a way that I heard every day, people talking about it as they ordered their coffee, and that brought me crashing back down to earth. I was sitting here with this super-hot guy with half the city watching us interact.

Including my dad.

Fuck.

I’d put my phone on silent, but somehow I knew I’d have a million messages, all of them screaming at me, asking what the fuck led me to here, but I couldn’t look at it or anything but him. That golden aura seemed to falter for a second, and I couldn’t have that, so I said the only thing I could.

“Yes.”

God, that megawatt grin. When I’d been around at my parents’ place and Dad had the footy on, I’d seen it then and been struck by it. Adam had that cocky, larrikin energy that so many Aussie blokes seemed to exude, like nothing in the world could touch them right now. But if it’d caught my attention then, it was nothing on this.

Only I could have my first real kiss on live television. His eyes had dropped down the moment I agreed to this insanity, seeming way too focussed on them and not the bloody ceremony. I wondered if he was really going to do this. But then he dipped closer, not even pausing to think about it, then pulling back, like Keith Taylor in school. He went in for the kill, his arm curling tighter around me before kissing me in front of everyone.

Fuck.

Before now I wondered if there was something wrong with me. I felt desire, attraction, and got myself off plenty of times, quietly in my bedroom when I was still living at home, then much less circumspectly at my place. I’d tried a bunch of things different magazine articles suggested, waiting for the fireworks to explode.

Just like they did now.

Holy shit.

Thank god I was wearing a bra, because my nipples were trying to burrow their way out of my dress. I felt like I was licked by flames the moment his mouth touched mine. I hadn’t meant to let out a little moan, his breath sucking in at the sound of it, because apparently I had missed the memo.

I agreed to fake this shit, thinking I’d have no problems with that, but that was not the case at all.

“Adam Farrelly…”

The sound of his name being called had both of us jerking apart, but not before I embarrassingly chased his lips forward, the need for more overriding common sense. Jesus Christ, Freya, I snapped at myself. Get a grip.

My cheeks flushed bright red as I heard the compere list all of Adam’s achievements. He’d obviously had a big year, confirming what Dad said. That he’d be a shoo-in for the medal. And that’s what tonight was about. As if hearing my thoughts, he whispered, “Do you know what happens at the medal count?”

“Ahh…” Great, I was failing at being a fake date so badly. Jack had told me, but the details fell apart in my mind like cobwebs. “Dad watches it on the TV each year.” Her eyes flicked around wildly. “I used to listen to it when I was drawing?”

“Drawing?” Why did his eyes light up at that? “What do you draw?”

I was about to tell him. I wanted to. Every time anyone asked, it was all there. Everything I had drawn and everything I wanted to, it would all come tumbling out. But as the screen lit up, a video presentation about to be played, I stopped myself.

“Pretty sure that’s not something a fake date would tell you.”

I figured he’d just laugh that off and focus back on the matter at hand. He was in the running for the highest award he could get in the state for his sport, but he just frowned slightly. Something burned in his eyes and that wasn’t just a metaphor. His eyes were always bright blue, but now they burned with an unearthly light I’d never seen before. Before I could ask why, he continued.

“And what if this wasn’t fake?” Whoa, that came out in a rush, his tone a harsh and urgent whisper. “I said I wanted to take you out. We can go now.”

“Really?” I asked, without thinking.

Oh my god. Like oh my fucking god, who was this man? I knew his name, heard people talking about his stats, but not this. Not the man who stared at me like I was the last woman on earth. No, that wasn’t it. The only one. He said the words I wanted to hear, needed to, offering me an out, but… I glanced around, saw all of these people brought together to celebrate something they’d achieved and while I didn’t give a shit about footy, I did this.

I knew what it was like to do something with your whole heart and I couldn’t take that away from anyone.

Not as others had tried to do to me.

I wanted to leave so badly I could taste it, but instead I just grabbed his arm.

“Really,” he said. “Tell me about you.” I wanted to so much, but the compere was talking again. “I still want to know.” He let out this low growl that was doing very strange things to me. “After this is done.”

Could I hold out for that? I said I could for Jack and I looked back over the sea of heads and saw her waving at me madly. I thought that meant just kicking back with her and having a few gin and tonics, but here we were. But it was the hopeful look in Adam’s eyes that convinced me. Somehow this strange man made me feel like I’d break his heart if I didn’t agree to stay.

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