Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Xander’s back is to me, but Coop’s eyes come up to us, and they darken when they land on his wife. When he looks at me, a slow smile spreads over his face.
“Well then.”
Xander turns, and his expression goes completely blank as his eyes move from my face, down my body to my feet, and then back up again.
I do a little turn, and by the time I’m facing him again, he’s striding toward me, his jaw clenched.
“Why are you mad?”
“Because I have to wait hours to get you out of this incredible dress and fuck you properly.”
Britney barks out a laugh, and I smile softly as I reach up to straighten his bow tie. My man is so broad and tall, and this custom tux fits him perfectly.
“You’re quite handsome, Mr. Hendrix.”
“You’re a fucking miracle,” he replies, and my heart catches. “Christ, you’re so damn beautiful.” His hand comes to my face, and his thumb ghosts over my cheek. “You didn’t hide your freckles.”
“They wanted to, but I said no.”
“Good girl,” he whispers and kisses my forehead.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Cooper says. “Shall we go?”
“The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave,” Xander agrees.
“You know, this is for your own charity,” I remind him. “We can’t be in too big of a rush to leave.”
“Oh yes. I can.”
I smirk, relieved that he likes what he sees, and we take our own chauffeured vehicles over to the Denver Art Museum, where the event is being held. I appreciate that no one wants to deal with parking, and then we pull up out front and my stomach clenches.
“Um, Xander?”
“Yes, baby.”
“There’s a red carpet.”
I look over at him, and he smiles. “Of course. There’s a lot of famous people here tonight, and the press wants their piece. For your information, I’ll be introducing you as my girlfriend tonight. I hate that term, but I can’t say this is the other half of we. Girlfriend sounds like middle school, but whatever.”
“I’m your girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
He holds my gaze.
“And you’re telling me this now.”
“Well, you were gone all day, and I thought it was pretty self-explanatory when I said you’re mine.” He shrugs. “It’s just a label, Red.”
“Right.” I exhale and then nod. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Before he climbs out of the car, he leans over, takes my chin in his fingers, and kisses me softly.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here. There’s no need to be nervous, wildcat.”
I offer him a shaky smile, and then he steps out, buttons his jacket, and offers me his hand.
Flashes are already going off all around us as Xander tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and leads me up the carpet. We get stopped about every ten seconds to pose for photos—I can’t wait to get my hands on these later—and so Xander can answer some questions, mostly about how he’s feeling and if he’ll be back this season.
The answers are always the same: I’m great, and Only time will tell.
It’s a diplomatic answer.
“And who is your gorgeous date?” the commentator from ESPN asks.
“This is Ivy, my girlfriend,” Xander replies, smiling down at me. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get inside.”
Of course, we don’t get right inside because we’re stopped about six more times, but finally, I have a glass of champagne in my hand and we’re in the museum, which has been set up banquet-style with silent auction items along the perimeter and round tables for dinner spread out through three rooms. The flowers are gorgeous, and whoever the event planner was for this deserves a raise because the entire space is just stunning.
“Wow,” I murmur and glance up at my boyfriend.
Xander Hendrix is my boyfriend.
What alternate reality am I living in?
“It’s not bad,” Xander says with a nod, and I snort out a laugh.
“Right. Not bad. Yeah, okay.” I give his arm a squeeze, and that’s the last moment we get alone. He was right, players from all the professional sports are here, and it seems that I meet almost everyone. I’m a little starstruck, if I’m being honest. Because holy shit, that’s Nikola Jokić, who plays for the Nuggets, and I love the Nuggets.
He and his wife are both lovely, and then we move on to the next group of people to talk to.
Xander is charming. Quick to smile or joke, happy to pose for photos. And he never leaves me alone. He always has a hand on me or holds my hand, and it makes me feel . . . loved.
“Xander,” a blond woman says as she leans in to offer him a kiss on the cheek, but my man simply smiles at her and she flushes. “God, it’s been forever. You look so great. You’re not even limping!”
Ugh, I hate her.
“Does that mean you’ll be playing soon? It’s not the same to watch the games without you out there, you know.”