Page 36 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

more than just a lucky puck

Devon

One month later.

I’m only four months along, but I look more like six months because there are two babies growing like weeds inside of me. I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like in two or three more months. A flotation device, probably.

When I suggested that to Gia yesterday, she nearly wet her pants from laughing so hard.

Great friend she is. We had quite the serious heart-to-heart, which was surprising.

Naturally, she swooned the first time I told her Grant loved me and wasn’t at all shocked.

But her words yesterday touched me deeply.

“Dev, I am so incredibly happy for you. You’ve always been upbeat and fun, and I love that about you.

But you are positively glowing now. I had no idea the love of a good man could transform someone, but it has you.

And I couldn’t be happier. You’re going to make the best parents simply because you love each other so selflessly.

I’m a little jealous, if I’m honest.” Of course, that made me cry—thank you, pregnancy hormones—which even brought tears to her eyes.

I hugged her, hard, and told her she was going to make the best auntie and godmother to our babies.

Good lord, there were tears after that too.

I smile as I think about that conversation.

And then that smile drops as I tick through hangers in my wardrobe.

There are not many professional-looking outfits left that will fit me now.

Which sucks because Grant’s first preseason press event is tonight, and he really wants me there.

Thus far, I have managed to avoid these types of events.

The players get all dressed up in suits and their spouses attend, sometimes even their children.

The events are meant to give the press personal access to the players and staff, to get their thoughts on the season and to get to know them as humans.

It’s been a tradition since before I started here, and I’ve not been invited because, honestly, who wants to get a sound bite from the nutritionist? Snooze.

It’s a significant night for Grant though—like a coming-out party as the new GM. And he’s made a lot of changes, so I’m sure the members of the press will have a ton of questions. He looks calm and collected as he puts on his tie, not a shred of nervousness showing.

“Ugh. I have nothing to wear. And you look perfect and sexy and fly as hell, to quote a certain admirer from my past. I’m just going to be this big whale in the corner.

Maybe I should stay home and invite Gia to come and eat Ben & Jerry’s with me and we’ll just Netflix and chill. Nobody cares if I’m there or not.”

Grant steps over and kisses me on the forehead. “Well, I most certainly care if you’re there. In fact, I insist on showing you off tonight, making certain everybody knows we are a team. Having you there by my side is the best part of this shindig tonight.”

“I’ll give you points for all that positive encouragement, but this wardrobe situation of mine is ridiculous. I’m so going shopping this weekend.”

“Perfect. I’ll go with you. I’ll be your personal shopper, bring you stuff to try on, carry all your bags, pay for everything, and I’ll even throw in a foot massage when we get home.” He gives me a sexy wink and goes right back to his tie as if he’s just solved a First World problem.

“You know, Gerard, it’s probably illegal for you to be this handsome and supportive at the same time, to your hormone-addled baby mama.” I give him a playful smack to his ass and return to flicking through the contents of my closet.

“Not when my hormone-addled baby mama is you, Pearson,” he says without missing a beat, still working on his tie.

“Hmm, this could work, maybe.” I take out a black wrap dress that looks promising.

The style of the dress and fabric are on point, at least. I step into the bathroom and pull it on.

It fits okay for the most part, makes my boobs look humongous, and my bump clearly prominent under the fabric belt at my waist. Or what poses for a waist at the moment.

It’s more like right under my boobs, to be honest. The only part of me below the shoulders that looks normal is my legs, showcased by my favorite Jimmy Choo slingbacks in glittery white gold.

After fussing with my hair and my makeup, I step back out into the bedroom and clear my throat.

Grant wolf whistles. “God, you look mahhhvelous. And fuckin’ hot.”

“Don’t patronize me, Gerard. I really do feel like a whale, and nothing fits right. Imagine how bad this will be in another month or two? I’m going to get huge.”

“Well, Pearson, as I said earlier, you are always beautiful to me, huge or not. It’s all fitting right, trust me on this.” Pulling me into a hug, he rests his chin on the top of my head. “I’ve always wanted to have a beach ball between us while we’re having sex. Total fantasy of mine.”

I can’t help but laugh at the image it creates. “That sounds so…hot.”

“Everything is hot with you. Please know that I’ll happily have sex with you, regardless of how huge you get.”

“Well, there will come a time when you’ll forget what I look like because we’ll only be able to do it from behind,” I joke, feeling lighter already, just knowing he still finds me desirable.

“Mmm,” he grumbles in my ear, nibbling at the lobe as his hand snakes up the back of my dress, dipping into the space between my legs. “We could do fun things from behind.”

I shoo him away. “No thank you. You’re not going to get me all hot and bothered now. I don’t need one more reason to be uncomfortable at this event.”

“Good, I want you hot and bothered,” he says, giving me a wolf’s grin. “I only want you thinking about me tonight.”

He really is too handsome for his own good. Every woman in the joint (and probably a few of the men) will be “thinking” about him tonight. “Well, how about you and dessert?”

He laughs softly, rolling his lips together. “That’ll do, beautiful, me and dessert it is then.”

As soon as we’re spotted on the gold carpet, Grant is immediately steered toward the press throng as I scan the gathering for familiar faces.

Pam and Holly are talking away from the crowd, so I make a beeline over to them.

As I get close, I hear Holly saying something about how sad it is that a press event poses for a date night lately.

“You had a date night at my class recently,” I say, joining their conversation.

Pam’s eyes light up as she touches my baby bump. “I know, I know, you’re not supposed to touch a pregnant woman’s belly, but yours is so freaking cute!”

“Welcome to the club of fraternizers,” Scarlett says as she joins our group, making us all laugh. “And you do look awfully cute pregnant. I felt disgusting the whole time I was pregnant the first time, and only marginally less so this time.”

“Everyone feels disgusting when they’re pregnant,” Holly says.

“Well, I’ve got two buns in this oven, so I’m guessing I’ll win the argument over who feels bigger and more hideous by the end.”

“You’re perfect,” Pam says, grinning. “You’ll probably look perfect all the way to the end.

Like, you’ll still have your perfect, toned arms and your perfect, skinny legs, and there’ll just be this perfect little ball of a stomach in between.

And amazing tits. Let’s not forget those, not that we could with the way they’re taking a starring role in that dress. ”

We all laugh again as I lament my issues getting dressed, the fact that my bras don’t fit, and my total lack of motivation regarding exercise these past months.

“If you need someone to jog with, I’m always out with the running stroller,” Holly offers.

“Ugh, not me. Exercise is not my thing, nor will it ever be,” Scarlett adds.

I’ve always liked these women, but it does feel different now, being part of a secret club. Or not-so-secret, I suppose. “So, you and Grant met before he started here?” Scarlett asks.

“We did. He had just gotten the job offer, and I was at his hotel for a conference. We made a pact to not talk about work or exes.”

“I imagine there wasn’t much talking at all,” Pam says, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, just look at the man.”

“Look at the woman,” Holly says with a laugh. “Christ, those are going to be some good-looking babies.”

I blush, but the conversation is halted as the event starts. Max Terry kicks things off, noting that he usually skips these preseason press events, but he wanted to be here in person to introduce the team’s new general manager.

“He’s made some changes that I fully support, and which I believe will take our team into its next metamorphosis.

We have been at the top. But to stay there, we need vision and innovation in the way we think about coaching, playing, and managing a team.

I have total faith in Grant Gerard’s leadership. ”

After a thundering applause of introduction, Grant takes the mic and launches into his prepared statement.

He talks about coming from a player’s background, about understanding the game in a way some administrators don’t.

He thanks the coaches and players for embracing his ideas and changes, and he talks about what those changes have been.

The press ask him a ton of questions, and he handles everything like the total pro that he is. After about ten minutes, Max jumps in and says, “I’m sure you’re all eager to chat with your favorite players, so let’s just do one more question for Grant and then open it up to the team.”

“Are you happy you made the move?” someone asks.

Grant gives a dazzling smile that sets off plenty of camera flashes and nearly melts my maternity panties. As if I wasn’t already hot and bothered from our earlier dalliance.

“I am. I needed this change, both personally and professionally. I needed a challenge and I needed to grow. This has provided everything I could have asked for, and more. It feels like it was meant to be. I’m super stoked to see what the season brings, but I do have one loose end I need to tie up tonight if you’ll all indulge me for just a moment. ”

So gorgeous in his charcoal silk suit and his tie in bright gold, he steps out from behind the podium. Taking just a few, long strides, he drops down to one knee in front of me. I suck in an audible breath, my hand coming up to my mouth in surprise.

“Devon Josephine Pearson, we got the timeline a little muddled up here, but it’s only forward from this point on.

You are my favorite thing about Las Vegas—you have been since the day I interviewed for my job here.

And I can’t wait to be parents together.

But first, I want to be more than just a really lucky puck for you.

I love you so very much, and I want to be your husband.

Your partner. Your biggest supporter. Devon, will you marry me? ”

Popping open a ring box, he presents me with a sparkling emerald-cut solitaire.

I can clearly hear all the sighs from people throughout the room, but I can’t see much of anything because I’m totally crying.

If you’d told me twelve months ago I’d be pregnant and receiving a marriage proposal a year later, I would have said you were out of your damn mind.

But life has a funny way of changing in miraculous ways.

This next twelve months is going to bring about even more incredible changes.

There is only one answer for this ridiculously handsome, wonderfully supportive man down on one knee before me.

“Yes. I’d love to marry you, Grantham Gerard. ”

Everyone cheers and claps and whoops as he stands and puts the engagement ring on my finger, pulling me into his arms for a kiss.

“Christ, it would’ve been so embarrassing if you’d said no,” he says into my ear. “But I heard this team likes these moments to be big, so…”

“Well, that was pretty big, and also pretty perfect, my supremely hot and oh so lucky puck.” I kiss my husband-to-be on the lips in front of everybody. “Like I would ever say no to the man I’m spending the rest of my life with,” I whisper back to him.