That’s the third call I’ve had from an unknown caller in the last week.
At first, I thought it was linked to my business. I’ve had the calls from my business number diverted to my personal cell phone because I don’t want to carry around two cell phones all day. The first time it came up, I answered it, excited that it might be an inquiry about the food truck. But all I heard at the end of the line was silence and then the connection ended, and I just put it out of my mind. However, a few days later the same thing happened, and it made me kind of nervous. And now this latest call has just caused the butterflies in my stomach to soar again.
I’m putting the butterflies down to that and not the fact that my leg is pressed very firmly against the thick, muscular thigh of the Seattle Whalers goalie. In order to avoid the limo my brother is taking, we’ve inadvertently ended up in the “party” limo with Knox and his girl and Nate and Beth. The champagne has been popped open and the music is loud, and the reason I’m pressing myself so tightly against Alex’s side is because Knox and his girlfriend are dry humping each other on the seat next to me. I hear Alex grumble about him being a disrespectful little shit, and before I know what’s happening, he’s lifting me over his lap to the safety of the free seat next to him.
Holy muscles, Batman! He lifted me like I weigh nothing, and I can assure you that with the amount of cheese I eat, I’m definitely on the curvy side of plump these days.
“Sorry about the kid,” Alex growls in my ear, making the hair on my bare arms stand on end. “He needs to check himself and learn some respect.” I can see the tick in Alex’s jaw going berserk as he tries not to scold Knox for his behavior.
“It’s okay.” I laugh. “He’s young. Let him have his fun.”
Alex huffs out a breath and continues to glare at Knox and his girl the entire ride. When we finally reach the plush downtown hotel, he kicks Knox’s leg, causing the kid to grunt and look up from sucking on his date’s neck. “Time to come up for air, Romeo. Put the girl down and make yourself look respectable. This is a charity event, not a frat party.”
“Take it easy, Grandpa.” Knox smirks, sitting up and not so suitably adjusting his pants while his date tries her best to salvage her ruffled hair and smeared lipstick.
“Fucking kid,” Alex growls again as the door to our limo opens, and he moves ahead of me so he can help me out. I didn’t really consider the practicality of this dress when I went shopping with Mila—the fishtail design is stunning and makes my butt look amazing, but my knees are pressed together by the tight fabric, and I can only move in a teetering shuffle at best. Pair that with the high heeled strappy sandals, and I fear I’ll fall flat on my face at any moment. However, there’s a man mountain standing next to me with his arm held out for me to take, his beautiful ice chip eyes drinking me in, making me hot in all sorts of forbidden places. He looks so incredible in his tux. I had no idea you could get one to fit someone his size. But fit him it does, like it’s been sprayed on in fact. The black material makes his blonde hair shine even brighter and the expensive Rolex on his wrist is just perfection. I have a real weakness for a man in a sexy watch.
But as much as I admire Alex’s rugged good looks, I know there’s no way I can enjoy them like I want to. Matt made it clear to me in the brotherly speech he gave before leaving for Bugs’ house that all his teammates, especially Alex, are off limits. I just rolled my eyes and tottered out to the awaiting Uber while I let Mila scold him for being an overprotective jerk. Although I can appreciate my brother looking out for me, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do with my life or who to date.
As I take Alex’s strong arm and allow him to lead me up the red carpet under the flash and glare of the cameras, I know it’s going to be harder and harder to resist him as the evening progresses. I thought after Etienne it would take me forever to feel comfortable with a man again, but with Alex, it just feels so natural. Despite his size and the aggression involved in his job, I know he’d never intentionally hurt me.
Suddenly, the photographers go wild as we pass, and I look back over my shoulder to see Knox dipping his date back, kissing her passionately for the paps. Alex sees this as well and finally sees the funny side of the kid’s antics, and I feel him relax next to me.
“You’re very protective of him, aren’t you?” I ask quietly as we enter the foyer of the hotel, following the crowd into one of the opulent ballrooms.
“He’s a troubled guy,” Alex replies sadly. “And I don’t think he has many people looking out for him. He never talks about family, and I know he’s signed up with one of the sleazier agents, so I feel like he needs someone to watch his back.”
My heart swells at his kind words, and I squeeze his bicep a little tighter. “You’re very caring.”
Alex snorts out an embarrassed laugh. “Nah. I just don’t wanna see him ruin a promising hockey career or drag the Whalers name through the mud.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re always looking out for him. I saw it the day you brought his hungover ass to my food tasting.” I laugh. “You were constantly checking he was okay and not getting too hammered.”
“Yeah, well. It’s my responsibility as one of the older guys on the team to do that so there’s no need to make a big deal out of it.” I notice the pink tinge of a blush on Alex’s cheeks, and I know my words are embarrassing him.
“Well, whatever your reason, I think it’s very sweet. You’re a kind man, Alex Bergman.” I smile up at him, and after a beat he returns it, patting my hand and leading us through the doors into the ballroom that’s decorated in the Whalers team colors of navy and gold. It looks incredible and the room is already overflowing with people, mostly players and members of the team staff, but also donors and celebrities. I feel completely out of my depth, but Alex makes sure to never leave my side as we greet several players, Coach Casey and his wife, and the Whalers General Manager. He introduces me to everyone, and soon I’m giddy in a sea of expensive tuxedos and glamorous ball gowns.
“Do you want to go and take a look at the auction lots before dinner?” Alex suggests once we’ve done a circuit of the room and gotten a drink from the bar.
“Yeah, although I doubt there’s anything there in my price range.” I laugh, remembering the sorry state of my checking account when I looked this morning.
“I’m sure we’ll find you something.” Alex chuckles, with a wicked glint in his eye.
When we reach the long table holding the auction lots, I can see plenty of items I’d love to bid on, but none that I could ever afford. For instance, the wine tasting experience in the Napa Valley or a helicopter trip over the Grand Canyon. As we move down the table, commenting on the items for auction, I see the one I’m actually looking for.
“Oh good! They included my lot,” I say pointing to the card with my picture on it. I’m wearing my chef’s whites and holding a whisk and a spatula.
Alex looks at me and then to where I’m pointing, picking up the card to read what it says.
“You donated a night as a private chef to cater a dinner party?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.
“Yes. When Mila invited me and said the tickets were complimentary, I felt like a bit of a freeloader, so I asked Cam if I could donate something instead,” I explain.
“So, you’re just going to go to a random stranger’s house to cook for them?” Alex asks again, this time a look of concern on his face.
I laugh. “That’s the idea.”
“But what if the person who wins the auction is a serial killer?”
This time I double over with laughter at his ridiculous comment. “Yeah because so many serial killers lure their victims to their lairs by donating money at a charity auction.” I giggle, carefully wiping underneath my eyes to save my mascara.
“Hey, it could be the perfect crime!” he protests, looking somewhat put out by my reaction.
“Okay, Sherlock. How about you come with me as my assistant and then if I am being lured to my doom, you can protect me?”
“Deal!” Alex sticks his hand out, and even though I think he’s insane, I shake it anyway, still laughing.
“You’re ridiculous.” I giggle, shaking my head but loving the fact that he’s looking out for me.
“I think you’re mistaking ridiculous for charming, handsome, and sexy.” He smirks, leading me again by placing his warm hand on the small of my back. Every time he does this, I feel heat spreading all over the lower half of my body, and I’m almost thankful that my dress is pressing my thighs together.
After another tour of the room, we make our way to our designated table, and Alex introduces me to the donors and other guests who have already taken their seats. Ford and one of the second line wingers are also already seated, so we quickly take our place just as the appetizers are brought out.
I was worried it would be a bit awkward. I’ve seen several of these events from the service side of the table, having worked my way through college doing silver service waitressing at a hotel like this one. Some of these benefits can be so stiff and boring with no one making conversation with people at their table. However, Alex does an amazing job at keeping the energy levels high and the people laughing. It’s also good to see the Whalers players spread out among all the tables. Again, I’ve seen some of these events when the people everyone has come to see are kept separate. However, glancing round the room, I can see all the Whalers players and their significant others are doing as good a job as Alex at entertaining their tables.
“So, as a professional chef, what’s your verdict on the food?” one of the female guests asks me just as we finish up an exquisite lemon souffle that’s lighter than air.
“The food has been outstanding,” I reply honestly, wiping the corners of my mouth with my napkin. “I haven’t tasted a souffle that good, even in Paris.”
“Alex tells us you have a food truck business,” she says, looking genuinely interested. I learned from earlier conversations that she’s a lifestyle blogger and has something like a million Instagram followers who eat up her recommendations for pretty much anything from skincare and makeup to books and food.
I flick my eyes to Alex, who’s sitting next to me with a happy smile on his lips, giving me the nod that I should go ahead and tell her more. If this had happened with Etienne, he would have immediately monopolized the conversation and turned it back to him and his restaurant. That’s another thing I’m beginning to realize about Alex; he’s kind and selfless, happy to put other people before himself. As I talk to the woman, whose name is Carly, about my food business, I feel Alex’s hand gently rubbing small, reassuring circles on the small of my back. It’s comforting because I always get a little self-conscious when I have to talk about myself. But more than that, it’s turning me on more than if he were touching me in a more intimate place. I feel it everywhere from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet, and I have an uncontrollable urge to just slide over onto his lap in front of all these people and kiss him like there’s no one watching.
However, what Carly says next brings me back to the moment with a crash.
“I’d love to feature your truck on my Instagram and blog,” she says. “I’m always looking for new places to feature.”
I shoot my eyes over to Alex, and his smile is literally splitting his face in half. I can’t help but mimic him, my heart swelling and my stomach flipping with nerves and excitement.
“That would be amazing! Thank you.” I gasp, trying to sound as professional as I can while I secretly do a very uncool happy dance on the inside.
We exchange Instagram handles and cell phone numbers with promises to make contact in the coming days. I’m so excited I feel the need to excuse myself to gather my thoughts for fear of completely losing my cool. I whisper my intentions to Alex, grab my purse, and quickly make my way around waiters serving coffee and petit fours, leaving the ballroom to find the nearest bathroom. When I enter, it’s thankfully empty, but just to be safe, I quickly check all the stalls before letting out a little triumphant squeal and finally doing my uncool happy dance. Exposure on Carly’s blog and Instagram feed could be massive for the business, and all the possibilities of what this could lead to flood my brain. I’m so busy fantasizing about one day owning a whole fleet of Gooey Gourmet trucks that I crash straight into Alex, standing outside the bathroom like a big tree. As I bounce backward off his broad chest, I feel his hands grip the top of my arms to stop me from falling.
However, the firm press of his fingertips on my skin triggers a memory of Etienne and the time he had me cornered in the walk-in closet after I’d had the audacity to comment on the less than favorable review his restaurant received in a prominent food magazine. He’d grabbed me by the arms and shoved me back into the closet, pressing me painfully against the shelves, screaming in my face. When he was done, he released me, and I crumpled into a crying heap, my shoulder blades, ribs, and arms remained bruised for a week and my self-esteem for longer still.
I’m so lost in the traumatic memory that consumes me I don’t even realize that Alex has pulled me into his arms, and I’m heaving out desperate, strangled sobs into the lapel of his tuxedo. Through the fog, I can hear him humming quietly, and I eventually slow my breathing, so it doesn’t feel like my heart is about to burst free from my chest.
“What happened, baby?” he asks gently, ushering me into a quiet corridor away from potential spectators.
I make a wet sniffing noise and shake my head against his chest, not ready to talk about it yet.
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
To that question, I nod my head, and it takes no time at all for Alex to whisk me away into a cab, his arms around me the whole time. I know he’ll probably get into trouble for leaving the benefit early, but he didn’t even give it a second thought.
In the car, Alex continues to hold me with no request for information as to why I’ve suddenly turned into a sniveling mess. I feel like I owe him an explanation, but I’m not prepared to do that in front of our cab driver. So, I continue to look out the window and breathe steadying breaths as the city whizzes past, realizing that we aren’t heading out toward the Sound. We’re going in the direction of Alex’s condo instead.
It’s clear by the tingle of anticipation that zings up my spine that I’m completely okay with that.