Catching the Player (Hamilton Family) Page 3

And, boy, was she thinking about it…and him.

  Biting down on her lip, she leaned closer to the mirror and opened her eyes wide as she applied her second coat of mascara. Date or not, she wanted to fit the part to repay her clumsy shattering of a historical vase. This particular brand of mascara claimed that it would increase lash-length ten-fold with two coats, and long lashes never hurt a girl while groveling, right?

  Her best friend, Jessica Franze, sighed from the bed and flopped back on it. “I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Wyatt Hamilton.”

  “It’s not a date,” Kassidy said, switching eyes. “It’s a debt I owe him.”

  “Call it what you want, but in ten minutes, Wyatt Hamilton will be at your doorstep, ringing your bell, and taking you out to dinner at a fancy restaurant where they probably charge three figures for a plate.” Jessica sat up again and pointed at her. “I don’t know about you, but I call that living, my friend.”

  Jessica was the only other person privy to Kassidy’s decision to stop being so careful about everything all the time, and she was right. No matter what this was called, she was going out with Wyatt Hamilton, bachelor quarterback for Atlanta, and that was a huge frigging deal.

  Grinning, she lowered the wand. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

  “Are his eyes as blue as they seem on TV?”

  She sighed, picturing them. She couldn’t help it. “Even bluer.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Oh, but it is.” She grinned. “And they sparkle when he laughs. Like, actually sparkle. His hair is blonder, too. Not light blond, but not quite brown. You know?”

  Jess nodded. “Mm-hm.”

  “And his muscles…” She sighed again. “Ugh.”

  So frigging big.

  “I’m so jealous,” Jessica said, her eyes wide. “What if you’re on blogs and on the news?”

  Jessica had been single for a year now, after her boyfriend had cheated on her and left her. She’d been firmly on the men-suck bandwagon with Kassidy ever since.

  Butterflies flew in her stomach. The idea of the world seeing her at Wyatt’s side was an unsettling one, at best. What must it be like to be in the spotlight like that? To always have to wonder if you’d end up on TMZ? It must be crazy. No wonder he only dated supermodels, who were used to the pressure.

  Women like Samantha Ford, who had been named the hottest Playboy model of the year, and had been on his arm for last week’s Quarterbacks Give Back gala in New York City. The media speculated that this was the real thing and that Wyatt Hamilton had fallen, and fallen hard, for the lingerie model.

  “I hope not.”

  “But that would be fun,” Jessica argued. “Something to show your future grandkids. ‘This is when Nana was young and pretty and dated a star quarterback.’”

  “Embellishment, much?” Kassidy asked.

  Did he and Samantha keep in touch?

  Would he be texting her during their “date”?

  Why do you care? She didn’t. Not really.

  Jessica shrugged. “History is told by the victor. And honey? You’re winning.”

  “If you say so…” Kassidy capped her mascara and studied herself in the mirror, squinting. Letting out a sigh, she picked up her glasses and slid them into place so she could see again.

  Yeah, she wouldn’t be going sans glasses again.

  She couldn’t afford to break something else.

  She’d opted for a tight-fitting red dress, a pair of black heels, and had curled her hair and left it down again. Uncharacteristically, she’d applied heavy gray eye makeup and pink lipstick. If nothing else, she looked the part of the arm candy she would be, and that was all she could ask for. She’d do her best to try and make up for the property she destroyed, and that was all she could offer him. Hopefully, it would be enough.

  But still.

  Stupidly, she couldn’t shake the anticipation that built in her stomach and made her fingers tingle and her breath come quickly. There was no denying that she was nervous and excited to go out with Wyatt, and she just had to accept that a small, girlish part of her mind would view this as a date, no matter what the bigger, more logical part of her brain said.

  “I’ll go, so I don’t cramp your style.” Jessica stood and swooped up the other dresses she’d brought along, since Kassidy hadn’t owned anything fancy or sexy enough for dinner with Wyatt Hamilton. “Good choice on the dress, by the way.”

  “Thank you for letting me borrow it,” Kassidy said, smoothing the fabric over her stomach. It was a lower neckline than she usually wore, but not quite as bad as the Peter Pan costume. It showed a hint of cleavage, was sleeveless, made of the softest cotton she’d ever found, and hit right above the knee, pretty much replicating what Wyatt had requested earlier today, which was why she picked it.

  Hopefully he liked it…not because she cared what he thought or anything, but because she owed him a shit ton of money. Or so she kept telling herself.

  Jessica hugged her with her free arm. “You’re going to do great. Text me after and tell me if he’s an asshole…and if he smells good. I bet he smells good.”

  “He does.” She’d learned that earlier when he saved her from hitting the floor. Being in his arms, against his hard chest, had been life-changing.

  How could muscles be so hard?

  “Like, really good.”

  Jessica let out a sigh. “No fair.”

  “You can stay and meet him if you want,” she said, letting go of her friend. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “No.”

  “But—” she started.

  “No.” Jess started for the door. “Did you tell Caleb that you’re going out with him?”

  Like usual, Jess blushed a little when she mentioned Kassidy’s older brother. She was 99 percent certain her best friend had a thing for Caleb, even though she’d never admit it. “Nope. I didn’t even tell him that Wyatt was the one I delivered balloons to. If he knew, he’d be here, waiting to meet him first and warn him that his sister is off-limits second. Then he’d be showing up at his house, since he has the address, and he’d never leave the poor guy alone.”

  “Maybe.” Jessica grinned. “Maybe his favorite football player is the one person he’d leave alone when it comes to his sister.”

  “Right,” Kassidy muttered, smoothing her hair one last time. “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be. He’ll love you. How could he not?”

  “I don’t want him to love me, I just don’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of him.” She winced, remembering that awful song she’d delivered. “Again.”

  “You won’t.” Jessica walked out the bedroom door. “Call me as soon as you’re alone.”

  “Love you,” Kassidy called out.

  “Love you more,” Jess said over her shoulder.

  The front door opened and shut. She let out a breath, checking herself out in the mirror, critically taking in every detail. Her dress was too tight. She was breathing too rapidly. The world closed in around her, suffocating her, threatening to choke her, but she had nothing to be worried about…

  Because she was not going on a date with Wyatt Hamilton.

  …

  He’d never been this nervous before. As he pulled up to a charming house, his palms were sweatier than they were the time he’d brought his team to victory in the Super Bowl, and his heart raced like he’d sprinted down the field full-speed, with the other team’s fastest player hot on his heels. It was ridiculous.

  He didn’t even know this woman.

  Why did she make him all shaky and weird inside?

  All he really knew about her was that she sang horribly, wore a Peter Pan/Tinkerbell costume like no one else, and had broken a vase that had been in his family for more generations than hours he’d known her. And yet it was still like he was a schoolkid on his first date.

  “Pull yourself together, Hamilton,” he muttered under his breath.

  He flexed his hands on the wheel. Her hou
se was cute. It had white siding, shuttered windows, and a small porch out front. She’d left the light on for him. He wasn’t sure why, but it warmed his heart that she’d thought of him like that. Swallowing hard, he tugged at his tie, cursed under his breath, and opened his car door.

  After grabbing the flowers, he made his way up to her door. Before he could even knock, it swung open, and for the second time that day, she took his breath away.

  How did she keep doing that?

  She’d been sexy in her costume, but in her red dress, she was downright dangerous to his focus, something he generally avoided like the plague. Anything that took his focus off his game and his stats was dangerous. Yet here he was.

  At her door.

  Only because I need her for the meeting. After he wooed his potential investors, with her help, he’d politely thank her for her assistance, drop her off at her door, and never see her again.

  “Hey,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hi. You look…” He checked her out again. Bad idea. Every inch of red fabric clung to her generous curves, and he ached to trace each and every one. Most of the women he dated were tall, curve-free, and barely ate half a salad at dinner. They deferred to him like he was some sort of god—but being on her doorstep made him wonder idly if he’d been dating the wrong kind of women all these years. “Wow.”

  “Thanks,” she said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear and stepping back so he could go inside. “Come in. I just need to grab my purse and jacket, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

  He swallowed past his dry throat and walked past her. She smelled like flowers again. The scent of her perfume was equal parts torturous and delicious. Her scent put the flowers he brought her to shame. Speaking of which… “Here you go.”

  “You got me…flowers?”

  “From your shop, yes,” he said, forcing a smile. “I told the guy behind the counter that you did a fine job singing, too, so don’t worry about that.”

  She closed her eyes. “Did you tell him they were for me?”

  “No.” He frowned. “Why?”

  “Did he fanboy all over you?” she asked, ignoring his question.

  “Yeah…” He laughed and eyed her from under his lowered head as he ducked down shyly. Fangirling always left him a little uncomfortable. He appreciated it, and loved his fans, but he never knew what to say, or how to act, when someone was gushing all over him. “He was nice. I think his name was…Caleb?”

  “Yep. Caleb.” She took the flowers, her fingers brushing his. “My brother. Sorry about that.”

  “Oh.” He scratched his head, smiling. “So, the guy he called Dad…?”

  “My dad.” She laughed. “You basically just met my family, minus my mother.”

  “Before the first date?” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. “A little unorthodox, but okay.”

  Her place was sparsely furnished, but every piece seemed to him to have been picked out with a lot of thought. He was pretty sure a girl like Kassidy never did anything without considering all her options.

  For some reason, he wanted to challenge that self-control.

  “It’s not a date,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “It’s a debt owed.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  It was, absolutely, a motherfucking date.

  “I probably don’t need to tell you this, since you’re a pro and all, but you should put those in water before we go,” he said, gesturing at the red roses.

  He’d decided to go classic.

  She seemed like a classic kind of girl.

  “Uh…right.” She headed for the kitchen, and he watched her go, placing his hands in his pockets. “You’re sure you didn’t mention me, or that we were going on a…thing…to my brother, right?”

  “I think I’d remember,” he said, laughing at her careful avoidance of the word date. “I just said you came by, sang for me, and did great. At the time, I thought I was putting a good word in for you with your employer. If I’d known he was your brother, I never would have even mentioned it.”

  “I wish you hadn’t, because—” She broke off and muttered under her breath. Her phone went off on the counter, next to her purse, and she frowned down at it. “And there’s the text.”

  “What text?” he asked, confused.

  “The one I knew I’d be getting from my brother.”

  “Oh. What does it say?” he asked slowly, walking toward her.

  Her kitchen had white cabinets, a gray, tiled backsplash, and granite countertops. He liked it. It was very clean. Very organized. Very her.

  “Do you ever do anything spur of the moment?” he asked.

  She blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by his question.

  “Uh…not really, no.”

  “I figured.” He smiled at her. “The text?”

  “Huh?” she asked, still taken aback by him.

  Good. At least he wasn’t alone.

  “The text.” He gestured at her phone. “What does it say?”

  She read it. “That I should have told him I broke the ears of the greatest quarterback to ever live,” she said. “Followed by demands for every detail about you.”

  He snorted. “Every?”

  “Every,” she returned, lowering her phone. “He’s kind of a big fan.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  She laughed. Turning toward him with a smile, she said, “Yeah, sure you didn’t. Just like I was a good singer, and I’m not in debt to you after breaking your vase. You, Wyatt Hamilton, are a liar. A nice one, but a liar nonetheless.”

  He was unable to speak or defend himself, because when she smiled, she lit up the room. It was his goal, then and there, to make her smile as much as he could, all night long, before he walked away from her. “I don’t lie. I always tell the truth. So, it’s true when I say this: you’re beautiful. When you smile, I swear, you take my breath away.”

  She froze with the vase she’d pulled out from the cabinet halfway to the countertop. Slowly, she set it down and turned his way again, trembling. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Closing the distance between them, he took the flowers out of her hand and took the wrapping off, since she didn’t seem to be doing it herself. “Do what?”

  “Pretend to be interested in me like that,” she said, snatching the flowers back, shoving them gently in the vase and then filling it with water. “I’m going out with you because I happen to speak the right language. This isn’t a date, and these flowers don’t mean anything, and I’m not your type, and you’re not attracted to me in the slightest, so we can just go to this dinner as—”

  “I mean no disrespect, Kassidy, but…” He stepped directly behind her, slowly spun her around, and locked eyes with her. “Where do you get off telling me whether or not I find you attractive? I think I would know better than you.”

  “Yeah, sure, but…” She fidgeted with her hands in front of her stomach. It was charmingly endearing, her nervousness around him. All the other women he spent time with tried to play it cool, to act like they didn’t care who he was or what he did, but she didn’t hide her feelings at all. He sensed what was going on in her mind, and she was so very real. “How’s Samantha?”

  “Who?” he asked, frowning.

  He hadn’t seen that question coming on the next page.

  “Samantha Ford.”

  He laughed. “Good, I guess. I mean, I haven’t spoken to her since last week, but I’d hope her week is going well.”

  “So, you’re not…?”

  “An item?” He shrugged, not surprised she’d believed the fodder the press liked to spread about him. They were almost as desperate to pair him off with a woman as his sister Anna was. “Nah. I’m not looking for that.”

  “For what?” she asked, crinkling her nose up adorably.

  “That.” He lifted a hand, touching her shoulder and skimming his fingers down her smooth skin. He hadn’t meant to, but really, he couldn’t help it. She was so soft
and beautiful, with bright eyes and soft lips. “Love. Girlfriends. Relationships.”

  She gasped, her cheeks reddening and her body swaying toward him in an open invitation for more. “O-Oh.”

  He moved his fingers back up her arm, watching the goose bumps rise on her skin. They were almost as mesmerizing as she was. If he pressed against her and whispered in her ear, would more come up all over her?

  “Wyatt.”

  “Yes?” he asked, snapping himself to attention and pulling his hand back.

  Jesus, had he been touching her?

  “I…we…if we’re being honest about what we want, and who we are, then I have to tell you, touching me like that isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  His heart dropped. If he’d made her uncomfortable, he’d never forgive himself. He had no clue what had gotten into him, besides the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous, and he wanted her more than he ever wanted anyone. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to… If you’re not comfortable going out with me, I completely understand.”

  “No, no. It’s not like that. It was…nice.”

  He hesitated. “It was?”

  “Yes, of course, but I’m not that kind of girl,” she said, stepping back to put a safer distance between them.

  He frowned. “What kind of girl?”

  “The kind who kisses a guy she just met, who happens to be famous, and I sure as hell am not spontaneous enough to kiss you without thinking about what comes next.”

  “What kind of girl are you, then? Tell me.”

  He had to know everything about her. Why? He had no idea.

  “I’m overly cautious, never take risks, haven’t been on a date in almost five years, and basically am pretty much the most boring person you’ll ever meet. Ever.”

  “You don’t bore me,” he said softly, unable to believe that this enchanting woman had, one, not been on a date in five years, and two, thought she was boring. Whoever she had dated last had seriously messed up if he’d left her feeling that way. “As a matter of fact, you intrigue me.”

  She laughed nervously. “Give it time. It’ll wear off, and you’ll see the truth.” After grabbing her purse and her phone, she faced him again, hugging her items close to her chest, avoiding his eyes the whole time. “You ready to go get an endorsement deal?”