Well this was a mess. Maybe she could just walk around the party and find some young, twenty-something looking for a few minutes on stage. It shouldn’t be too hard. Pulling her mouthpiece to her lips to tell Ross to begin the hunt, Charlotte stopped her, taking her clipboard from her arms. “You gotta do it.”
Snickering, Whitney pulled the mouthpiece to her lips again. “Right.”
“I’m serious.” Charlotte took her arm and pulling her away from the models.
“Wait, hold on,” Whitney cried lowering her voice as the others looked over at them. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You’re the only one I trust with this. It’s my biggest piece in this collection.”
The collection that Charlotte had been so excited to tell her about that she had hunted her down at a venue search with clients and the one that had her up all hours of the night sketching until her fingers were black with pencil ash and her hands stiff from sewing. A special line only for Mavericks’ fans of outfits that no sane person would ever wear together in public, but individual pieces she knew would strike with sports fans around the city.
“Char, I don’t know the first thang about modeling,” her accent spiked. Ignoring her, Charlotte untangled her headset from her hair. “Max, I need you to fix this hair.”
No. This was not happening. And what was wrong with her hair?
“Listen to me a minute, will ya,” Whitney insisted, grabbing Charlotte’s wrist. “I can’t do this. Charlotte, I just had a baby. I can’t be showing off anything, let alone anything in front of the entire city.”
“Please, your baby fat was gone in like four hours.” Charlotte grabbed two pieces of cloth small enough to fit in both of her hands.
“What is this?” Whitney cried, holding up the material with navy and silver rhinestones.
“Your outfit.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Now go put it on.”
“Oh no! No, no way.”
Had she lost her daggone mind? There was no way this outfit was going to fit her nor was she going to be baring it front of anybody, least of all an entire city. “Charlotte you asked me to pull off the impossible and put together this show,” she shook her head. “And I did it. But you can’t ask me to do this.”
“Whit, please. I have nobody else.”
Charlotte looked drained and about two beats from completely losing it. And she felt badly about that, she did. But this? No, this was crazy talk.
“I already told Ross and Liv that I’m leaving Save the Date.”
Already?
“This is it for me, Whit. If this tanks, I’m finished.”
“But,” Whitney breathed. She didn’t know what to say. She knew Charlotte was leaving Save the Date, but she wasn’t ready for that. Hadn’t prepared herself for no longer working side by side with her cousin. Her best friend.
“Please.”
Closing her eyes painfully, she couldn’t mess up Charlotte’s night. Nor her future. Her cousin hadn’t blinked when she asked to move in after the disaster with Adam. “I…I guess so."
“Max,” Charlotte screamed, causing her to jump. Pushing her down into a chair, Charlotte ordered her hairstylist using her hands for better measure. “I want big. I want volume. I want sex.”
“What?!” Whitney asked getting up, as Charlotte pushed her back down.
Twenty minutes of having her hair teased and sprayed, while a woman violently attacked her face with black eyeliner and red lipstick, all before placing some black stripes beneath her eyes, Whitney looked back in the mirror at herself. She looked like some erotic, over the top female ball player.
Oh, this is not good.
Alternating between the mouthpiece and earpiece, she urged Ross to show any last minute guests to their seats as Davey transitioned the music. Hundreds of black chairs circled around the stage, as the citywide attendees clustered together while the Mavericks players sat on the opposite side. She was supposed to be welcoming the crowd, but in a last minute desperation she’d asked Liv to give the introduction while Whitney lined up the casual wear models behind the curtain for the first act. “Alright ladies, just like we practiced,” she said, double checking the lineup as the lights fell. “Go ahead, honey,” she urged the first model, her hair following behind her as she walked down the stage.
“This is going to go fast,” Charlotte’s small hands shook.
Signaling the next model, she let Charlotte help her into the outfit, the small shorts barely making their way over her butt. “Charlotte.”
“It’s perfect,” Charlotte interrupted adjusting the shorts as Whitney’s stomach dropped.
Oh, this is just ridiculous.
“Go,” she nodded to the next model while Charlotte smoothed out the waistband of the shorts.
“Here, go put this on,” Charlotte pointed towards the corner, taking the lineup sheet. “I’ll take this.”
Taking a deep breath, she disappeared behind what she imagined was meant to be a dressing room and struggled to get the small top over her head. Pushing it past her boobs, she fought with it. Gosh. What had she just gotten herself into? Maneuvering the shirt, if it could even be regarded as one, down her stomach, she pulled it again before realizing that it wasn’t going down any further. Fishing her hair out of the back of the top, she peeked out seeing the gown models take the stage wearing the replica of the dress Charlotte had worn to the draft party a few months back. Opening the curtain she froze at the mirror in front of her.
Heaven. Help. Me.
Her mama would flip if she could see her now. Her hair was huge, her eyes dark and smoky and a tight jersey stopping just inches beneath her chest. It was no doubt the raciest football clothing she had ever seen, and she wanted to cry. Pulling at the back of the short shorts, she adjusted them. Again.
Why? Why did I let this happen?
Standing behind the tall, gangly redhead in a similar outfit, she took a deep breath. The music shifted and it suddenly felt louder. Or maybe that was the applause? Smiling, Charlotte stopped inches from her, smoothing her hands around the outfit. “You look hot.”
“No, what I look like is a busted can of biscuits.”
Shaking her head, Charlotte tapped another girl. The line of models thinning one by one, Whitney steadied herself wondering when she was going to stop owing people. Watching the model ahead of her disappear into the lights, she squeezed her eyes shut before doing the sign of the cross.
Sitting next to Jax, Shay watched models walk down the runway in everything from dresses to swimsuits to athletic wear. And some he could have sworn he knew in more ways than one. Fashion shows weren’t his thing, but when Myles threatened his life, and his balls, if he didn’t show up to support Charlotte, he decided to protect those balls and throw on a suit. He remembered Whitney mentioning having to pull off a modern day miracle to give Charlotte what she wanted in such a short amount of time.
And she had delivered.
The place looked phenomenal and he didn’t know why that surprised him. He hadn’t spoken to her since he dropped her and Quinn off at home after their seven hour car ride from his parents’ house. It had only been five days, but it felt much longer. He knew she’d be wrapped up in Charlotte’s show and he didn’t want to bother her. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. Liv had opened up the show, the gorgeous woman that she was, seemed so carefree, as his goof of a captain smiled like a damn near fool next to him. When Liv sat back down, she had tapped his knee telling him to enjoy before shooting him a wink. He had no idea what she meant by that. Looking around the room again as a redhead circled the stage in an outfit that looked an awfully lot like a Mavericks' jersey, but also a dress, Austin Kendrick, the new fullback cheered behind him obnoxiously, making his usual jerkoff comments. He was two seconds away from telling him to shut his mouth or get the hell out. The kid was loud, rude and liked to run his mouth too much. Looking around again for Whitney, he shifted in his seat. He had seen her once since arriving, her gorgeous hair and the cute dre
ss catching his attention immediately. When she smiled at him, he’d just damn near fell apart right there.
He really wanted to see her again. To talk to her. And for that reason alone, he needed to keep his distance. Spending too much time with her had him all kinds of shit confused and not seeing her whenever he wanted like he had at his parents, had him damn near going crazy. He needed to focus, but that hadn’t seemed to be happening since coming home. He needed to shake Whitney from his system. They weren’t going to happen. She needed stability and a family man. And he was neither of those things. Smoothing out his suit pants with his hand in irritation, he glanced up at the stage as the entire joint went crazy as any control he thought he still owned went straight to hell.
Walking onto the stage in an outfit that was enough to force a grown man to beg, Whitney’s eyes went round as streams of bright lights bounced off her smooth, olive skin. The straight line of her lips softening with each step she took, the ferocious applause seemed to make it damn near impossible for her not to smile. That gorgeous hair, big and wild looked like she had just spent the last hour rolling around between the sheets. Her eyes sexy and shadowy, she laughed nervously at the cheers, her chest pushed up in a Mavs’ jersey cut off at the top of her stomach. Clenching his fists, his eyes didn’t move while she paused at the edge of the stage, popping her hip out and he got a real good look at those smooth legs in a pair of navy blue shorts. Spinning around, he nearly choked as her ass stared him back in the face. Her curves were downright sinful and he knew for a fact that if he’d known what was laying underneath all those cute dresses she favored wearing, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself the past weekend. Lifting his eyes, he saw Kendrick’s name written on the back of the jersey and he wanted to spit.
Throwing off catcalls, Austin played into it with some other teammates behind him and he wanted to knock the little shit right off the back of his chair. Looking over his shoulder, Jax shot them with a look as Liv cheered on Whitney. Turning around again Whitney looked at him and his gut tightened. Struggling for control to keep himself from standing up and throwing his jacket over her, he grinded his teeth.
This wasn’t her.
This wasn’t the southern girl he had found himself calling Sunshine. She was pure and compassionate. She baked with his mother and smothered her baby girl with kisses all day long. Locking eyes, she smiled before tossing him the football she was holding. Catching it before it fell into his lap, doing some damage to the uncomfortable hard on he was now blessed with, she winked at him. A line of models made their way down the stage, hips popping and heels stomping, circling around her before the stage split and Charlotte walked down the center. The entire place igniting in applause and cheers, Myles clapped violently next to him and he had an odd sense that the man was about to lose it like a big baby as Charlotte came to the edge of the stage. Her bright blonde hair was a mess sticking up on the sides, clunky black boots and cutoffs she looked like every creative designer he had ever seen as she took Whitney and another girl’s hand before bowing. One by one each model left the stage and he stood watching Whitney’s luscious ass disappear behind the curtain with Kendrick’s name between her shoulders.
No.
He didn’t want Kendrick’s name anywhere on that sweet body. He didn’t want any man’s name on that sweet body. Not with how amazing she fit with his family. How she fit with him.
“Whit.”
Picking up her headset at the sound of Ross’s voice, Whitney grabbed the piece from the vanity behind the stage placing it back into her ear. Picking up a pile of clothes by the dressing room, she searched for her dress. Her loose, graceful and modest dress. One that hadn’t had her bottom hanging out. “I’m here.”
“I need you down at the merchandise table to help take these buyers’ orders for these clothes. I don’t know what system you set up here. Plus, I have to deal with the kitchen.”
Shoot. Where in the world is my dress?
“Give me a few minutes, okay,” she requested, walking to another vanity. Her heart felt like it was pounding inside her throat. Walking out onto that stage had been the most frightening thing she had ever done. The people had blurred together and she had focused on nothing but not falling. That was until she split her eyes through the front of the crowd and seen Shay in the front row, his face like stone. And like only he seemed to be able to do lately, she felt herself relax, mimicking the same moves she had watched the models before her perform. And by the time the other women had joined her on stage, she had even been able to breathe again.
“No. More like now. It’s insane down here,” Ross ordered inside her ear.
Rushing down the steps towards the front of the courtyard, she smiled to herself. She may have looked ridiculous and certainly felt it too, but showing off a piece that Charlotte had spent so many hours creating, had almost been fun.
Almost.
Pushing through the crowd she heard Ross again, “Whit!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she promised, squeezing through the crowd, as two women gasped at her outfit commenting that it was the one they wanted for their boutique and themselves. Giggling to herself, she pressed through the crowd some more. Who in the world would ever wear something like this to a football game? Or in public for that matter? Charlotte was a genius and based on the crowd hovering over the merchandise table, she was a genius that everyone wanted a piece of. Feeling a long arm reach around her waist, she nearly fell off her feet as it pulled her behind a curtain away from the chaos. Feeling Shay before seeing him, she gasped as her legs bumped against a tall music speaker that had the ground shaking beneath her feet.
What in the world?
Falling down onto the speaker, she watched Shay move between her legs. He was so close, leaving her with no choice but to look up at him, the wool from his suit warming her body against the chilly air. Swallowing hard, she watched him while her hands shook as if she was back on stage again. She knew trouble when it stared down at her. And she also knew all about this man’s trouble. His face unreadable, he almost looked angry, as he gripped the back of her head. His thumb resting against her cheek, his lips pushed against hers. She was still a moment as he assaulted her mouth, a mixture of heat and his cologne filling her senses. Feeling his fingers tighten on the back of her head, she opened her mouth to him. Standing up, he pushed her back down as he hovered closer. He was raunchy, but she liked it and he bit her lip before threading his hands inside her hair tighter. Swirling against his mouth, she gripped the sides of his face, feeling his smooth skin beneath her fingers. He tasted like a man. A real man. A powerful man.
Without warning, he pulled away. Her body felt like it was on fire as she struggled for a breath. Watching him sweep his thumb across his lips, he looked away. “We can’t do this.”
Looking around to see if anyone else saw them, she fought to stand up on her feet. Her mind was spinning. She didn’t know what to say, but as she watched him squeeze the back of his neck, she knew he didn’t either. He looked tortured and he wouldn’t even look at her.
Did I do something wrong?
Wait. He was the one who grabbed her.
“I,” she stuttered again reaching to cover herself, but she had nothing. “I need to go.”
Taking off behind the curtain she squeezed past the crowd, her body shaking.
What just happened?
Pushing through another group of people, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Shay was so confusing. So infuriating. And if it were possible, she now felt even more ridiculous. Gently moving Ross out of the way, letting him know that he could leave, she grabbed an order form. Her hands shaking, it was difficult to write as she struggled to jot down information along with the other volunteers.
Yes. Shay was infuriating and confusing, but only like he could, he’d also just shook her to her core.
Draining the last bit of whiskey, Shay slammed down the glass, the cubes rattling. What the hell had he been thinking? That was the
problem. He hadn’t been. One minute he was catching a football Whitney had gently tossed to him while standing on stage looking like something out of Sports Illustrated and the next thing he knew he was slicing through the crowd and grabbing her behind a curtain. He felt like a damn idiot, letting his jealousy get the best of him like that. Yeah, that must have been what had him on a mission to find her - jealousy. He couldn’t stand Kendrick and having another man’s name sprawled out on her perfectly warm body was unacceptable.
Shit.
This couldn’t happen. He had a job to do and he needed to focus if he wanted to continue doing that job here. He couldn’t get wrapped up in Whitney. Not now and not ever. She was a forever girl and wanted the family, the babies and happily ever after bullshit. That had been evident all weekend with his family. And she deserved that too. But that wasn’t him. He had plenty more years left in the league and that’s what he needed to focus on. His career.
But that kiss.
That mouth.
Groaning, he motioned for another drink as a hand slapped his shoulder. “Yo brother,” Liam Walsh nodded, signaling to the bartender for more of what he was having.
Taking another swig of the amber liquid he bit back the sting between his teeth. “Yo.”
“I managed to convince some models to join us at the after party.” Liam raised a brow nodding graciously to the bartender.
“Oh yeah,” Shay said, stuffing his hand inside his pockets. “And where is this after party?”
An after party with some hot models with low cut tops and even lower expectations come morning wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe after a few more drinks he’d be in the mood. Although he needed to lay off the drinking. He was beginning to feel like shit lately. But a few hours releasing some pent up frustration from a particular southern belle, sounded like the best laid plan he had heard all evening.
“Well your house of course,” Liam grinned taking another swig. “Ever since your birthday, it’s all anybody talks about.”
Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series) Page 16
