With Me in Seattle Bundle One (84 page)

“Really,” he drawls and smiles widely. He takes a tiny step closer and tips my face up to look at him. His other hand snakes around my waist, and he starts to lower his face to mine, but I step quickly out of his embrace.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I warn him and walk over to the open passenger door.

He steps in front of me, blocking my way.

“Why not?” he asks.

“This is only a first date,” I remind him.

“So?”

“So, no ideas, Montgomery.” I try to look stern but can’t help but smile at him. He’s just too…Will.

“Don’t tell me you have that stupid three-date rule.”

I shrug but don’t answer.

Hell yes, I have a three-date rule!

“Can we count the engagement party as the first date?” he asks as he steps back and allows me to slide down into the plush seat.

I’m sitting in a Shelby! Holy fuck.

“No,” I respond when he gracefully lowers his long frame into the driver’s seat.

“But I took you home,” he reminds me with a sly grin.

“But you didn’t take me
to the party
, so it wasn’t a date.”

“What about yesterday at the hospital?” he asks and merges into traffic.

“Anything that includes my job is not a date.” I laugh and run my hands along the dashboard. “This car is my every fantasy,” I whisper.

Will’s head whips around, and he stares at me, his jaw dropped, and then he starts to laugh, a huge, loud belly laugh, and I join him, giggling like crazy.

“Great, so now you’re just using me for my car.”

“You’ll live.” I shrug. “So, how is Jules? I haven’t had a chance to call her since the party.”

“She’s good. Busy with their new business and planning the wedding. I don’t know why they think they have to get married so soon.” He frowns, and I want to run my fingers through his messy hair, but link my fingers together and keep them firmly in place in my lap.

“Did they set a date?”

“Yeah, for early October.”

“Why so soon?” I ask, surprised. That’s only a couple of months away.

“Who knows? This is my sister we’re talking about. She said her whole life she wasn’t interested in getting married, then she falls for a guy and now she can’t get married fast enough.” He frowns and pulls the car into a parking garage.

“Maybe she’s just ready to get married.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you like Nate?” I ask and turn in my seat to watch his face.

“I do. He’s a good guy, and he obviously loves my sister.” He backs into a parking space, and I smile widely at him.

“What?” he asks.

“So, you’re just being an overprotective big brother then?” I tease him.

He frowns and then grins. “Yeah, can’t help it.”

“Jules is good, Will.” I pat his thigh, and he captures my hand in his and kisses my knuckles, one by one, and just like that my stomach clenches and my breath catches and I wonder how the fuck I’m going to hold out for two more dates.

“Your fingertips have little calluses on them,” he murmurs.

“It’s from the guitar.”

His blue eyes meet mine. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“Sometime,” I respond and grin.

“I love that dimple in your cheek.” He leans in and kisses my dimple softly once, then again, and backs away, still clutching my fingers, to pin me with those fiercely blue eyes. “Do you feel this, too?” he whispers.

“Oh yeah,” I immediately respond. It’s futile to deny it. I want him so much it hurts.

“Good. Come on, I’m hungry.” Will climbs out of the low car and briskly walks around to the passenger side, opens my door, and offers his hand to help me out.

“I seriously love this car.”

“I’ll let you drive it home,” he replies and links our fingers together.

“Seriously?” I gape up at him as he leads me to the street.

“Sure, why not?”

“It’s a Shelby,” I state again, slowly, so he can understand the words coming out of my mouth.

“Honey, it’s just a car.”

“It’s a Shelby.” I shake my head. “I’m not driving it. If I wreck it, I can’t afford to replace it.”

“Do you get into many car accidents?” He narrows those eyes down at me, and I giggle.

“No. But with my luck, this would be the time.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides”—he winks at me—“I have insurance.”

He’s so confident. His voice, the way he walks, the way he carries himself.

And sexy as all get-out.

That ass alone should be illegal.

But I really love his shoulders and arms. He’s perfectly sculpted, shoulders broad, arms so strong.

Calm down, Meg. This is only Date One.

He’s led me into a sports bar in downtown Seattle. I recognize it. It’s upscale, full of Seahawks memorabilia, televisions on various sports shows and games, and large, dark furniture.

Given the time of day, the place is pretty full of businessmen and other locals unwinding after a long workday.

Will leads me to a booth and sits opposite of me.

“Have you been here before?” he asks.

“A few times, yeah.”

“They make a good burger here.”

“You eat burgers?” I ask, surprised. I would think that with his rigorous training schedule, he’d be on a strict diet.

“Not too often, but yeah, I do. I burn a lot of calories every day, so I pack a lot of food in.” He offers me a menu.

Instead of reading it, I gaze over at him, and he meets my eyes. I run my eyes over his face, shoulders and arms, and down to his long-fingered hands. He’s delicious in a gray T-shirt and jeans. When my gaze returns to his, his face is sober, his eyes bright blue, and I can’t tell what’s going on in that head of his.

“Keep looking at me like that, and the fucking three-date rule will be out the window, Megan.”

Make that really, really turned on.

“Hey, guys, what can I getcha?” A waitress sets waters down before us and takes out her notebook.

“What would you like?” he asks me without looking at the waitress, his eyes still on fire.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I respond and swallow hard.

“Two cheeseburgers with fries, please.”

“Hey, you’re Will Montgomery!” the waitress exclaims.

And before my eyes, Will transforms. He smiles his cocky smile, his eyes calm, and he immediately slides into celebrity mode. I’ve seen it on TV, but this is my first glimpse in person.

“How are you, sugar?” he asks her.

“I’m great. Good to see you again.” She winks at him and walks away, but our table is immediately surrounded by other patrons who overheard the waitress and now want to talk to Will and get his autograph.

“Hey, Montgomery! Great to meet you!”

For the next fifteen minutes, Will doesn’t falter. He’s charming and smooth, answers questions, poses for pictures—many of which I’m asked to snap—and works the crowd in his arrogant, I’m-a-football-star way.

And completely ignores me.

It pisses me the fuck off.

In the middle of all the hoopla, I slide out of the booth and leave. Will doesn’t even look my way.

I wonder how long it’ll take him to discover that I’m gone.

Ten minutes, and about two cab-ride miles away, my phone rings.

“Where the hell are you?” he growls.

“Heading home,” I respond calmly.

“What the hell?”

“Look, Will, I’m not interested in the arrogant, cocky football hero. That’s not who I agreed to go out with.” I close my eyes and try to calm my pulse. Why does he make me so fucking nervous?

“Where are you?” he repeats, clearly pissed.

“In a cab. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Meg, I can’t change my job—”

“I’m not asking you to,” I interrupt him. “But you had to know that you’d get a helluva lot of attention in a
sports bar
, Will. Showing off how famous you are is not the way to impress me. I’m not a woman who thinks that scoring a celebrity is sexy. I think
you’re
sexy, without the football jersey.” Fuck, why did I say that? “So, you go ahead and enjoy your photo op, but I have better things to do with my time than be ignored. Have a good night.”

This date so did not count toward the three.
And there probably won’t be any more dates, either. I just don’t need to date an arrogant ass.

Damn it.

Chapter Five

I’m sorry.

I stare down at the note that accompanied the dozens of chocolate cupcakes that were delivered to the hospital just a few minutes ago.

It’s obvious who they’re from.

He sent beautiful, intricately decorated cupcakes for all of us, not just me. There’s enough here for all of the patients, the staff…hell, even the kids’ parents.

“What did he do?” Jill asks from behind me, and I whirl around.

“Stop reading over my shoulder!”

She chuckles and picks up a cupcake, sniffs it, and takes a big bite. “What did he do?” she repeats.

“He pissed me off.”

“When?”

“Last night.” I pick up a cupcake and take a big bite. Mmm…so good.

“Wanna put these in the lounge?” Jill asks as she licks her fingertips.

“Yeah. People can graze on them all day, although I don’t think they’ll last that long.” I smirk and wheel the cart full of the chocolate goodness down the hall.

“You know, he could have just sent
you
a cupcake,” Jill murmurs beside me, examining her fingernails.

“I know.” Damn him for being so sweet.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Stop. I get it. He’s nice, but he fucked up yesterday, so it’s okay for me to be frustrated with him, okay?”

“Okay.” Jill raises her hands in an
I surrender
motion and snags another treat. “These are delish.”

“Yeah, I guess he listened the other day when the kids told him I like chocolate.”

“I guess he did,” she responds with a smile.

“You have chocolate in your teeth,” I mutter and pick up another cupcake for myself.

I arrange the cupcakes on a long table in the lounge and then pull out my phone.

Delicious.

I hit Send and bite my lip. Maybe I should have said more, but he needs to earn it.

Yes, you are,
he responds immediately, and I laugh.

Suddenly, my phone is ringing, Football Star displayed on the caller ID.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hey,” he responds softly. “I wanted to hear your voice, and this is faster than texting. We’re about to get on the plane to go to San Francisco for Sunday’s game.”

“Oh, it’s an away game this week?” I ask, disappointment in my voice. He’ll be out of town all weekend.

That’s okay, I work all weekend.

“Yeah, we’ll be back Sunday night. Look, Meg, I’m sorry for last night. I should have known that it would get crazy, but I really did just want to take you out for a good burger.”

“Yeah, you should have known,” I agree softly.

“Have I completely fucked up, or are you going to let me make it up to you?”

I bite my lip and clench my eyes shut. Damn it, what is it about this guy that I just can’t seem to tell him no?

“Next time, I pick the spot,” I reply, and I hear him sigh in relief.

“Deal. So, where shall I take you for date number two?”

“Uh, let’s worry about date number one first.”

“We already went on date number one,” he growls, making me grin.

“No, we didn’t. You didn’t take me home, and you pissed me off. It doesn’t count.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, and I can imagine him running his hand through his shaggy hair in frustration. “You’re killing me, honey.”

“How is that?” I ask and peel the paper off another chocolate cupcake. Jesus, I’m going to gain ten pounds today.

“Hold on.” He takes the phone away from his mouth and calls out to someone, “Hey! I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Finding a private spot,” he mutters, and I hear him walking. A door opens then closes. “As I was saying, you’re killing me because I want to taste you, everywhere.”

I stop chewing the now-cardboard chocolate in my mouth and swallow hard.

“Excuse me?” I whisper.

“I want to slowly undress you and taste every delectable inch of you. I want you squirming and wet.”

“Mission accomplished,” I mutter and then slap my hand over my mouth as he laughs.

“I want to see you Sunday night.”

“I work Sunday night. I’m on swings this weekend. I don’t get off work until two a.m.”

“Do you work that shift often?” he asks quietly, and I frown at the change in his tone.

“It’s a rotation. We all work all the shifts. But I work only three twelve-hour days a week, so it’s not so bad.”

“So, let me get this straight. You go home in the middle of the night to a house in North Seattle with no alarm system?” His voice is steel, and my stomach clenches.

“It’s no big deal, Will.”

“I’m installing an alarm system in your town house on Monday.” His voice is firm.

“No, you’re not.” What the hell?

“Yes, I am. Don’t argue with me on this, Megan. I’m gone a lot. I need to know you’re safe.”

“Will, we’ve been out on one date…”

“Aha! So it was a date,” he exclaims triumphantly.

“Don’t change the subject. You don’t need to install anything in my house. I’m fine.”

“We’ll see.”

“Is that a ‘we’ll see’ so I shut up and you do it anyway?” I ask suspiciously.

“Yes. Your safety isn’t something I’ll fuck with. If you have to go home alone in the middle of the night, I need to know that you’re safe.”

“Will, I—”

“I have to go,” he interrupts, and I’m instantly disappointed in not only the loss of his fun and carefree tone, but that I won’t see him all weekend. “Are you going to watch the game on Sunday?” he asks, his tone softened.

“Is it a morning or afternoon game?” I ask.

“Afternoon.”

“Yeah, I usually watch the games with the kids. I’ll be watching in between work stuff.”

“Okay, pay attention at halftime. I’ll make sure I’m on camera as we head off the field, and I’ll say hi.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, watch for me.”

“Okay. Have a safe trip.”

“
You
be safe, sweetheart. I’ll text you when I can.”