Blindsided (31 page)

He winks, his grin growing, and turns the car onto Sunset Boulevard. Los Angeles is thriving as night falls, the bright city lights illuminating the road and sidewalks. There are people everywhere as stores close and everyone heads out for dinner.

I gaze out the window at the darkening skyline as Corey turns and pulls up in front of Alati restaurant. “Wait,” I say, looking across at him. “How the hell did you get us in here? They’re booked six months in advance!”

“Not for me.”

Without any more of an explanation, Corey gets out and walks around the car to me. Flashes start, and I take a deep breath. Corey opens my door then takes my hand to help me out. I hesitate just before I do, but he tugs on my hand.

“Trust me,” he whispers.

I nod despite the sliver of doubt. My heels touch the ground, and Corey hands his keys to a valet. Corey slides his fingers through mine and pulls me toward the front of the restaurant. As soon as I step onto the bottom stair, the light gives me away, and my name is shouted.

It takes them seconds to crowd us.

Corey snatches his hand from mine and wraps his arms around me. I cover my face with my purse as a security guard pushes his way through the photographers and gives us space to get into the restaurant.

My heart is pounding, and my hands really are shaking now.

“Are you okay?” Corey asks, resting his hand on my cheek.

“Um, we’re never going out in public ever again,” I answer, glancing toward the door. There are a few security guards there now, but the paparazzi are still scrambling and fighting for pictures.

“No kiddin’.” He laughs quietly and turns to the hostess. “Jackson. Table for two.”

“Of course, sir.” She runs a finger down the book in front of her. “If you’d like to follow me.”

Corey takes my hand again, and we follow the woman through the star-packed restaurant. She seats us at our table, thankfully away from a window, and sends a waiter over. Corey orders a bottle of white wine and reaches across the table for my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “I didn’t think they’d be quite that insane.”

“It’s okay,” I reply just as gently. “I mean, it would have happened sooner or later. After all, you’ve got the It Boy of football and the daughter of Hollywood’s It Girl on a date.”

“You’re an It Girl in your own right.”

“Being yours doesn’t count.”

His lips tug up. “Oh, it does, but I meant you’re an It Girl for the you-know-what.” He pinches his shirt and flaps the material.

I look down and laugh silently. “Yeah. I’m the secret It Girl, right?”

“You are. My mom called me this afternoon to see where we’re staying when we play the Jets, and she brought the show up again. She’s going with my sister.” His jaw ticks. “Then we’re expected to do dinner. How fun.”

“Oh come on.” I stroke my fingertips across his palm as the wine is poured for us. “It won’t be that bad, will it? Just eat, have a drink, then leave.”

“You haven’t met my sister,” he says dryly. “She’s like rain in the Bahamas when you’re on vacation—a giant pain in the ass.”

“See? You have something in common!”

“Beautiful and funny. Such a catch.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes me smile. His gaze catches mine, and he holds it. Then his smile drops a little. “You know somethin’?”

“What?”

Corey lifts my hand again and kisses the inside of my wrist. “I’m real glad you handed me my ass on a silver platter when we met.”

“Know something?” I smile. “Me, too.”

A
nd I am.

I’ve never been gladder of anything in my life.

She pissed me the hell off when she did it, mind you. But now, I see why she did it, and it makes sense. Leah Veronica isn’t the girl you fuck and run from. She’s the girl who’ll tilt your whole damn world upside down and make you look at it through different eyes.

She’s done that for me. So I’m still the same arrogant asshole I always have been, but she touches the softer side of me. She makes me want to care for her. Hell, I don’t think it would matter even if I didn’t want to. I’d do it anyway because she’s that girl.

She’s infectious and endearing. She’s soft and hard, her edges rough in some places. She’s strong and confident, and she’s beautiful and she knows it. She has so much damn respect for herself and everyone else around her that it’s a wonder any guy has ever let her go before me.

Fucking sucks to be them, though, and everyone else, because I don’t plan to.

Somewhere along the way, she became more than a prize. She became a gift—to me, from me. And this is one gift I’m not going to let collect dust at the back of the closet.

Somewhere along the way, she made me fall for her. I can’t help but miss her, even if we’re only apart for ten minutes, and fuck, the way my heart thumps whenever I see her is, to be honest, terrifying.

She’s the scariest thing I’ve ever known.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re not exactly hard on the eyes, babe.”

“It’s a curse,” she sighs, setting her knife and fork down. “Where’s the wine?”

I grab the bottle and pour the last of it. She’s now on her fourth to my one, but I think she needs it after the media assault we experienced on the way in. I’m sure as hell not putting her through that on the way back out. If I knew they’d be that bad, I would have gone and got McDonald’s drive-through or something.

“Thank you.” Leah picks up the glass and sips. “When do you go to New York next week?”

“Thursday. We’ll be back Monday morning. Then a few days off before regular season starts. Which means”—I lean across the table—“you get me all to yourself for a few days. Aren’t you lucky?”

“Oh, yes. I get four days completely free of you!”

“Your sass is terrible.” I run my thumb across her bottom lip. “Someone’s gonna have to shut that mouth of yours up.”

“Try it,” she replies, looking at me flatly. “I dare you.”

“I could fill it.”

She takes a big mouthful of wine and puffs her cheeks before she swallows. “I just did.”

I laugh. She’s right, and it’s one of my favorite things about her. Not that she’s right—that pisses me off because I’m supposed to be right—but that she’ll take my dumb sexual comments and completely flip them upside down.

Leah looks over my shoulder at the doors. “Do we have to go back out there?”

I shake my head. “No, babe. We’ll go out the back way.”

“I can kick some cameraman ass if I have to,” she responds, relaxing back into her chair again. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she adds under her breath.

“There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

She looks away. “There might have been this one time where some guy got too touchy with my mom trying to get her to answer one of his questions. I might have swung my very heavy purse at his balls.” Her blue eyes flit back to mine, dancing in amusement and faux innocence. “He might have ended up on his butt.”

“Tough chick,” I tease. “Is that a warning?”

“To you? Maybe. Don’t annoy me when I have anything in my hands.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smile. “Are you ready to go?”

Leah nods and drinks the last mouthful of wine in her glass. I motion for the bill, and when the waiter brings it over, I ask about leaving through the back. He goes to arrange it, and I pay, adding a tip on top of the total.

“The valet will have your car right outside the back door, sir,” the waiter says. “This way.”

I clasp Leah’s hand with mine, and we follow him through a long corridor to the back door. He opens the door to the valet.

“Mr. Jackson, if you and Ms. Veronica would like to return for another evening, please ask to enter the back way when you book. We’ll make the necessary arrangements for your discreet evening.” He bows his head.

“Thank you.” I shake his hand then take my keys from the valet.

Leah shivers as we step outside, and I open the passenger’s side door so she can get in. She throws her purse on the floor, and I grab her waist, hoisting her in.

“Come on, slow poke.”

She laughs, and I get in on my side.

“Got plans for tonight, have you?” She turns in the seat and looks at me.

She looks tired, and, honestly, I am, too.

“No, babe. Not tonight.” I take her hand in mine. I fucking love the feel of her fingers sliding between mine. “Tonight, when we get back, we get undressed then cuddle.”

“Okay,” she says with a soft smile. “But no more four-a.m. boob grabs. You got it?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Leah looks at the magazine with her mouth twisted to the side. Her mom reads the article over her shoulder, but all I can see of it is the front page. Which, unsurprisingly, is a picture of us entering the restaurant before shit got crazy.

“Well, they weren’t assholes,” Grace reasons. “But I’d appreciate it if they’d stop calling us now.”

“Why do you think we left Corey’s place?” Leah sighs, dropping the magazine on the cushion next to her. “We left our cells there, too. Like, three phones, all ringing repeatedly. Then there are the tweets and the texts and the e-mails.”

“My favorite text was Cole’s.” I sip my coffee. “He wanted to know why I hadn’t asked him to dinner instead.”

“Legitimate question,” Grace says, fighting a laugh. “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s a little clingy, and since I already got him tickets for the game on Saturday, I didn’t want to give him too much of the wrong impression, y’know?”

Leah rolls her eyes at me. “Nice to know you’re getting along, but where’s my ticket?”

“Next to Cole’s on my dresser.”

“I didn’t see any there.”

“You weren’t looking for them.” I shrug, leaving the empty mug on the island and joining her and Grace. I pick up the magazine, give the cover a cursory glance, then drop it on the coffee table.

“You aren’t reading it?” Leah turns to me.

“No.” I sit next to her and rest my arm over her shoulders. “Their bullshit reporting and speculation aren’t going to change my life any. It’ll piss me off a little, and since I have training this afternoon, I can’t be fuckin’ bothered with it.”

Grace’s lips twitch. “Couldn’t have put it better myself. Leah, hon, you know better than anyone what they’re like. Just ignore the articles and comments and focus on you two. It’s only going to get worse.”