Page 25 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)
ELIAS
We ended up having to hire a service to take all of Whimsy’s purchases back to the hotel suite.
It’s no surprise when we enter the room after a long day of shopping and sightseeing to see the place stuffed to the brim with bags.
I’ll have to arrange for whatever she doesn’t want to keep with her to be sent back to the States.
Whimsy freezes in front of me in the entry of the room. “I didn’t realize I got that much stuff.” She turns around, nearly bumping into my chest as she does. She takes a quick step back. “Why did you let me do that?”
“I assumed you were trying to prove a point, and the answers is there’s no limit on what I’d spend on you.”
“This has to be—” she starts.
“About two-hundred thousand dollars’ worth of designer goods. Honestly, I think you should’ve spent more. Should we go back out and make it five-hundred thousand?”
She makes a choking sound. “No, I’m good.”
“Let me know what you want to keep here and I’ll have the rest sent back to Miami or even Monte Carlo.”
She shakes her head. “I … I’ll return all this.”
“Nope.” I stride past her, kicking off my shoes. “Not a chance. I’m spoiling you so if any other fake boyfriends ever come along, you know that I’m the best.”
She lets out a huffing breath. “Fat chance of that.” Her shoulders sag. “Thank you for indulging this.” She gestures to the smorgasbord of bags and boxes.
“I look forward to doing the same in Paris.” I wink at her.
She groans and I laugh.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, removing her shoes and rubbing at her aching feet.
“All right. I’ll just be here.” I settle on the bed, crossing my feet and reaching for the remote.
At the same moment, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to find a text from Noah.
Noah: Meet me at the bar for a drink?
Me: Sure. Be there in a few.
“Actually,” I announce. “Noah wants to grab a drink downstairs.”
“Okay.” She reaches down, massaging her calf. “Have fun.”
I narrow my eyes on her hand as it digs into her calf. “I’m having a massage therapist sent up.”
“What?” Her brows knit. “For me? No. I’m fine.” She waves away my concern like a pesky fly hanging over her plate.
“Whimsy,” I say her name with a low warning. “Let me take care of you.”
I know she has a supportive family, but Whimsy is the kind of person who is always taking care of everyone else.
Look how she took care of you as your assistant? You never knew what she was going through.
And sure, yeah, I feel like an asshole for that. Is it so wrong that I want to make up for it now by taking care of her? She doesn’t have to handle her hurts alone. If I can do something, like hiring a massage therapist, to make her feel better why wouldn’t I do that?
Her shoulders sag and she gives a tiny nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I echo. I step closer to her, gently griping her wrist. I lower my mouth to the corner of hers. She’s frozen. I’m not sure she’s even breathing. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I don’t know what made me do that.”
“It’s okay,” she says stepping away from me. “I think it’s normal to mistake real and not real when you’re pretending to be a couple.”
“Sure,” I mutter, edging closer to the door. “You’re right.” The air feels thick with something I can’t decipher. “I’ll see you later.”
I slip out the door, heading down the hall to the elevator.
“What were you thinking?” I mutter to myself.
I pull out my phone and quickly make the arrangements with a massage therapist. The entire ride down in the elevator I can’t stop thinking about what a colossal idiot I am, leaning in and kissing her like that. Sure, it wasn’t fully on the lips, but it was still a kiss. Sort of.
I’ve never been this unbalanced before.
When it comes to women, I’m always confident and never confused. But Whimsy has completely turned me upside down and inside out. By the time I make it to the bar where Noah sits waiting, already nursing a drink, I’ve managed to work myself up even more instead of chilling the fuck out.
Noah takes one look at me, brows knitting, and asks, “What has that stressed look on your face?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I gripe, signaling the bartender.
If Jackson saw me right now, he’d probably drag my ass back to my room. I can do some stupid shit when I’m drunk, but I only plan on having a drink. Two max.
Noah chuckles, wrapping his fingers around his glass. “Nice try. We’re talking about it.”
I frown, but I’m saved from saying anything else for the moment by the bartender. I order and Noah gives me a reprieve until my glass is in front of me.
“What has you all twisted up in knots? Come on, tell dear old Noah.”
“Old is right,” I gripe.
“Hey.” He punches my shoulder.
I laugh, rubbing my arm. “You’re the one that said it first,” I defend. “How’d you get away from Sabrina and Maddie? You three are a package deal.”
He sighs, taking a sip of his drink. “They’re having a girl’s night with your sister. Hair, facials, nails—the whole shebang. I’m barred from the room until…” He looks at his phone. “Ten o’clock.”
I shake my head and make a whipping sound. “You’re whipped, dude.”
He sighs but can’t hide his smile. “I am and I love it.”
Noah lost his wife to cancer years ago. We weren’t friends at the time, but I knew the loss affected him deeply. It’s been nice to see him find love again.
He eyes me up and down. “Don’t think you’ve successfully deflected me.” He arches a brow, waiting for me to elaborate.
I know how he is and he’s not going to let this go easily. I raise a finger in warning. “You can’t tell Sabrina about this. I mean it.”
His mouth drops open. “But I tell her everything.”
“Yeah, and she tells my sister shit. I’m not telling you unless you promise.”
He frowns. “I really don’t like lying to her.”
“How are you lying to her?” I frown in confusion. “I’m not asking you to lie . I’m asking you to keep my private life a secret. Totally different.”
He shrugs. “All right, fair point. I won’t say a word.”
I arch a brow. “You have to swear it. Pinky swear?” I stick my finger out toward him.
He eyes the appendage with a disgruntled expression. “What are we? A bunch of fucking girl scouts?”
“I’m not telling you if you don’t swear it.”
He frowns. “You want to spit in our hands and shake on it too?”
“Maybe, if you keep dragging this out.”
He sighs and wraps his pinky around mine. “I pinky swear not to tell my fiancée whatever your big secret is.”
I take a deep breath and blurt out, “I almost kissed Whimsy.”
Noah stares at me. Stares some more. Then carefully cocks his head to the side before lifting a hand to press to my forehead. “Do you have a fever? She’s your girlfriend. It’d be kind of weird if you didn’t kiss her.”
I let out a bone rattling sigh and grab his wrist, giving the limb a gentle shove away from me.
“I don’t have a fever,” I gripe. “What I have is a fake girlfriend because my manager decided I needed one to look like I was taking my life more serious. But now I think I have a crush on my fake girlfriend and I went and made it weird by kissing her, but not quite kissing her, and now…” I exhale another weighted sigh.
“Now she’s probably upstairs plotting her escape from me as we speak. ”
Noah’s eyes grow larger the longer I talk. Then he gives a laugh. “I’m going to need more to drink for this conversation.”
He signals for the bartender and that’s how my two-drink limit goes flying out the window.