Game for Trouble (Game for It 2)

“Fine.” Harvey shook his head. “You better go talk to her then. The holidays are coming close. You need someone to take home, so if you’re hell bent on her being the one, I guess you need to ask Willow.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.” Harvey smiled, but it looked more like a sneer. “I’m taking this to the media, Nick. You dating lawyer-to-the-star-athletes Walter Cavanaugh’s daughter could make good press.”

“How?” Harvey could turn anything into good press. He rattled off some explanation but Nick immediately tuned him out. What would Willow think? Did she want her father to find out?

And what the hell would Walter do once the truth became known?

He parted ways with Harvey minutes later, Nick’s mind racing a million miles a minute. Would she want to go home with him for the holidays or did she already have plans? God, he had no idea. He almost feared her rejection. Didn’t know if he could take it.

The woman absolutely kept him on his toes.

Chapter Twelve

The moment Willow opened her door to find Nick fidgeting on her doorstep she knew something was off.

“Wanna go somewhere and get a drink?” He smiled brightly but his eyes were dim. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for her answer, downright antsy.

“You want to go somewhere?” Glancing down at herself, she waved a hand at her outfit. She hadn’t bothered dressing up, since she knew he was coming over, and she was tired from yet another exhausting day at work. At least this time she hadn’t opted to wear nothing at all, like the night she greeted him at the door and dropped her robe.

Tonight she had on a pair of jeans, a favorite T-shirt, and a black oversized cardigan. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and most of the makeup she put on this morning had long faded away. He never complained before. Hell, most of the time he’d been so eager to get her naked, she wondered if he noticed what she was wearing at all.

“I…yeah.” He nodded, his expression determined. “I sure as shit do, princess. Let’s do this. Let’s go out and have an amazing time at some fancy restaurant. Whatever you want, I’m buying. And then after that, let’s go have a drink. Or twenty. Yeah, let’s get good and drunk and then come back here and fuck around for the rest of the night.”

Okay, he wasn’t acting right. He didn’t particularly care for fancy restaurants. And he wasn’t one to get shitfaced drunk, especially not during the playoffs. “Are you all right?”

“I am right as rain. How are you doin’?” He flashed that smile again, the one that normally lit a fire in her belly and made her knees quiver but tonight, it had an almost desperate edge to it.

“Come in here.” She grabbed hold of his hand and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind her and twisting the lock into place. “Let’s stay in tonight. It’s cold out there.”

“But…wherever you wanna go, darlin’, I’m game. My treat. You could order fifty lobsters for dinner, and I won’t protest.”

She grimaced. “I hate lobster.”

“You do not,” he said, frowning. “You grew up here. You can pluck a lobster straight out of the ocean from your dad’s deck.”

“Just because I grew up here doesn’t mean I have to love seafood.” She scrunched her nose. How she hated explaining this. No one ever got it. “I’ve never been a big fan. Lobster’s sorta freaky. Crab is too much work, not enough reward. I don’t mind shrimp, though. You can just pop them in your mouth and eat them.”

“I’ll take you out for all you can eat shrimp, then. You can stuff your face until you wanna burst,” he suggested eagerly.

Laughing, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’d rather stay in tonight with you.” She sobered up quick. The more they stayed in the better. This so-called relationship needed to stay quiet. One mention of it to the media, local or bigger, and all hell was going to break loose. As in, her father would have an epic freak-out.

“We always do that, though. Stay in.” He scowled. “Aren’t you getting bored?”

Oh, no. “Are you?” God, he was already tired of her. Really, she shouldn’t care. She should be glad. The faster she got rid of him, the better.

Right?

“No. Hell, no. Anytime I’m with you is good, Will.” He reached for her, settling those big hands on her hips. Dipping his head, he bent his knees a little so he could peer directly into her eyes. “Are you getting sick of me yet?”

She pressed her lips together to keep from saying what she really wanted. I could never get sick of you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“No. Well. Your constant sweet talk is getting sort of old.” She rolled her eyes, putting on an act. Nothing Nick did when they were together was getting old.

His mouth curved upward. “What are you talking about?”

“All the darlin’s and the sugars and the princess remarks. I think you say that sort of thing so you never have to worry about the name of the girl you’re with,” she teased.