Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

KIT

I squinted at the brochure in my hand, catching rays of light from an overhead streetlamp as Trent pulled me toward the bus. “Are you sure we’re on standby?”

He stopped his charge, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Alright, I might have made that up. The guy on the phone said to show up and see if anyone bailed.”

A line of people stood in line to board the bus, Team Hasbro, Barbie, and Sugar Babies among them.

“There’s got to be an empty seat.” Trent grabbed my hand, crumpling the brochure and pulling me toward the bus.

Truth be told, I wanted an early night in. If the first two nights days of the rally hadn’t drained my social battery, the kiss had pushed me over the edge. But Trent still wanted to win, even with no reservations and a mandatory extra stop in the morning.

“Hey, we forgot to book tickets. Can we pay here?” Trent asked the man standing at the entrance to the bus.

I tilted my head back. The threatening clouds overhead would present a problem if we didn’t get onboard. We’d parked at the hotel, a solid half-mile trudge that Trent turned into an all-out sprint to make the tour on time. My feet ached and sweat dotted my brow.

“We’re pretty full.” The man craned his head back into the bus.

“You can fit two more, though, right?” Trent asked hopefully. And in case that didn’t work, Trent already had his hand on his back pocket, fishing out his wallet.

“We’ve got the row in the back,” the driver said, eyes lighting up once he spotted the bills.

Thunder clapped overhead, and I winced. I should have grabbed an umbrella. A poncho. But my mind had been on dinner and the promise of some distance from Trent. Somewhere his scent wouldn’t linger in the air and his presence wouldn’t be around, reminding me of the kiss.

“A row in the back!” Trent exclaimed, green eyes and lopsided smile aimed at me. “See, I told you.”

The guy in front grimaced. “Only one side. They took out the seat on the left to make room for props.”

“We can fit in one seat.” Trent wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “We don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t mind.” This tour got worse by the minute. Not only would I not have a warm meal until almost midnight, but I’d be sardined beside Trent on a bench seat.

“It’s a little more than cozy.” The man frowned, sizing up Trent.

Trent slapped the bills into his hand. “We’ll be fine. Come on, Kitten.”

Trent dragged me onto the bus. He greeted each team, ignoring the annoyed looks, stalling at the back seat.

“Damn,” Trent frowned. “Definitely more than a little cozy.”

Before I could get a look, Trent sat down, taking up the entire bench. He patted his lap.

“No. Absolutely not.” I scanned the opposite side, but, sure enough, the bench opposite was gone, replaced with large black plastic containers stacked four high and strapped to the wall.

Trent patted his lap again with a grin. “Come on. It’s not so bad. Hell, we’re practically sitting this close in the car.”

My cheeks burned as I blew out a breath. “How about I go back to the hotel and you represent our team for this task?”

He shook his head, a sly grin on his face. “No can do. Didn’t you read the rules? The entire team has to participate to get points.”

Outside, the sky opened up, dumping water onto the city streets. The man standing outside hurried onto the bus, sliding into the only remaining empty seat.

“Is this even legal?” I hissed. “You just bribed that man into letting us on the tour.”

“I tipped him for accommodating us. It’s fine.” The words should have been reassuring, but I clocked the smarmy smirk on his face. Trent was enjoying this. Enjoying how frazzled I felt and no doubt looked.

And I had no reason to feel frazzled. For all he knew, the kiss meant as little to him as I claimed it was to be. Sure, maybe I got a little hot under the collar. Maybe I’d kept myself awake thinking of it. Maybe I’d replayed the kiss a time or two. But Trent certainly didn’t suspect it.

The bus jostled, throwing me off balance. Trent wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling me into his lap, and my humiliation was complete.

“Maybe if you didn’t man spread, I could fit on the bench,” I said, trying not to inhale. The combination of lemongrass and musk muddled my head, and I made bad decisions when I got too close to Trent.

“I’m not ‘man spreading.’” He slipped an arm around my waist and his knee pressed into my back. Not really holding me but cradling me. “This seat is right over the wheel well. I can’t put both feet down.”

That at least explained the cradling.

“So let me sit by the window and you sit on the edge.”

He shook his head. “And crush you into the corner? No way. This isn’t so bad.”

His fingertips tickled my side, and I squirmed. “This is awful.”

“It’s a comedy tour bus! It’s fun.”

“What even is a comedy tour bus? What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “I wonder if we’ll stop for a drink. We should have grabbed more roller meats on the road.”

“I can’t eat any more roller meats,” I groaned, my stomach turning at the thought. “I’m not even an athlete and I know that gas station food isn’t any good for you. What happened to that plan where you stopped making bad decisions to achieve NFL infamy and retired to a farm?”

“When I made that plan, I was solely discussing drinking and partying. Not roller meats. You leave my gas station food out of it.” Accentuating his point, he squeezed my side. I attempted to wriggle away but caught between the wide receiver and the seat in front of us, I didn’t have anywhere to go. “I’ll get you an actual meal before the end of the night. Room service if I have to. My treat.”

I doubted the no-star hotel serving as our nightly check-in had much in the way of room service, but my chest clenched just the same. “I can find my own food, thank you.”

“Yeah, but everything tastes better when someone else is paying for it.”

An insult about his groupies jumped to my lips, but I held it back, which was progress, however late in the game. “True. You don’t need to buy me anything, though. Hell, I probably owe you for tagging along with me last minute.”

His face broke out in a beaming smile. The kind of smile that would make a willing woman melt. One that sort of made me melt. Just a little.

“You don’t owe me anything. I’m glad you let me come.” He winked, and I wished I wasn’t in his lap. Wished I had thought to reserve tickets earlier in the week so I hadn’t found myself cuddled up beside Trent, desperate to keep my calm demeanor even as my heart thumped in my chest.

“Don’t get me wrong. Derek would have been significantly better,” I said, my face breaking into an exasperated grin that undermined my words.

Trent’s mossy green eyes dipped to my lips and back again. His tongue wet his bottom lip. I sucked in a breath, both convinced and scared he’d kiss me.

“Welcome to Birmingham, y’all!” The man who’d taken Trent’s bribe stood up as the bus lurched into motion. I sat up as he hitched his fingers through his overalls.

Trent had been right about one thing. Even without man-spreading, there was barely enough room for one person on the bench. Slipping off his lap, I straddled his leg and inclined into the aisle.

“Lean back. I can’t see.” Trent drew his arms around me, pulling me back into his chest. He balanced his chin on my shoulder, his steady breath tickling my cheek.

I tried to mount all the pissed off energy I’d directed at him back home, but after three days in the car, I couldn’t dredge it back up. I couldn’t even work up some mild indignation. Instead, I only felt relaxation mixed with anticipation.

The bumbling country bumpkin act at the front of the bus didn’t prove enough of a distraction from Trent’s lips brushing over the shell of my ear.

“Stop that,” I mumbled, unsure if the errant kiss had been an accident or intentional.

“Stop what?” His lips brushed my earlobe.

Two weeks ago, hell, four days ago, this situation would have been unbelievable. But here I was, cuddled up to the cockiest player on the Norwalk Breakers, heart racing and palms sweaty. Not exactly my best look. And Trent definitely wasn’t my type.

Proximity. Forced into the same car. Of course I’d develop a small crush. I worked in a lab full of women and lived with Derek. Except for a cheeky nurse in the ICU, I hadn’t so much as flirted in years. And Trent was a flirt. A shameless flirt.

And acting disinterested riled him up. It was a potent combination, one I could have counteracted if it hadn’t been for the kiss. Or the bus tour.

A comedy tour should be funny. And hell, maybe it was. Despite the two-man at the front of the bus, trading zingers and drawing the rest of the tourists into hysterics, my mind focused on Trent’s fingers against my hip and the weight of his palm on my thigh.

After a leisurely tour through an array of Civil War monuments, the bus pulled to a stop at a dingy-looking warehouse. A cidery, based on the tour guide. The riders crowded the aisle, eager to stretch their legs. Trent’s palm grazed my ass as he pushed me up to standing.

“Hey, buddy,” I snapped. “Watch your hands.”

He shot me an impish grin that could have just as easily meant he did it on purpose as he grazed it by mistake and just liked how riled it got me. “Sorry. Tight quarters.”

“Thirty minutes, folks,” the tour guide announced. “Grab a drink, something to eat, and then get back on the bus.”

I’d slip onto the bus before him and take the bench for myself on the next leg of the journey. Until then, I’d replace the warm feeling left by his hands on my body with warm food and alcohol instead.

We walked into the brewery and I steered away from the mobbed bar to the kitchen, the word “Pizza” emblazoned over the window.

My stomach growled, and I busied myself with staring down the limited “late night” menu written in curly script on a chalkboard, doing a piss-poor job of ignoring Trent’s presence looming behind me.

Okay, maybe not looming. Not menacing. Not even annoying me. Just there. Present. Almost comforting.

“I think I want a slice of the chicken buffalo.” He leaned down, his breath hot on my neck.

I resisted the urge to lean back. “I think they just took a supreme out of the oven.”

His hand curled over my waist, pressing me forward as the couple in front of us stepped away from the counter.

“Two slices. One buffalo chicken, one supreme.” Trent gave the man behind the counter our order, sliding his credit card through the reader.

“I’m going to get a pint of cider. You want one?” I needed space way more than I needed booze.

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ll take a sip of yours, if you don’t mind.”

I nodded on my way to the bar.

“You two are getting cozy, aren’t you?” Hayden sat at the barstool, five small glasses on a board in front of her.

I shrugged. “We’re trapped in a car together. We’ve adjusted.”

“And that was you two ‘adjusting’ at the back of the bus?”

My cheeks heated, and I ducked my head, relieved when the bartender swooped by to take my order. He retreated to the taps far too soon.

Hayden took a sip of cider, puckering her lips before setting it down. “I’m not judging. He’s just…a lot.”

“A lot?” I glanced back at Trent, still waiting for our pizza. He gave me a cocky grin and a half wave.

“A lot of baggage.” She followed my gaze back to Trent, eyes roving up and down before pulling away. “I know we just met, but you seem too level-headed for a guy like him.”

“We’re not—” I stumbled, unable to finish the sentence. “We’re just not.”

“No judgements!” She held up her hands with a grin, the blonde-wig bobbling on her head. “But for a guy actively trying to implode his career, this is a weird move, right?”

“He’s not trying to blow up his career.” I balked, my chest growing tight. “That stuff you’ve read? Rumors.”

She tilted her eye, blue eyes glassy. “You think?”

I bobbled my head. “Okay, some of it is probably true, but he’s a good guy.”

I echoed Derek’s words from a few weeks ago, finally believing them to be true.

“So does that mean you’re scre?—?”

I stopped her with a hard look just as the bartender returned with my cider. I took my drink and found Trent with our pizza at a nearby table.

“Sorry,” he said through a mouthful of pizza. “I started without you.”

I shook my head. “No worries. I was chatting with Hayden, anyway.”

“What’d she have to say?”

“She saw us in the back of the bus. Told you to knock it off.”

He looked up with a grin. “Noted.”