Game for It: Game for Trouble Part 17

s.h.i.+t. The lengths a woman went to for a paycheck.

The countersigned paperwork for the lease on the building had arrived just before she left for Vegas, the lower lease price included and everything, just as he promised-reminding her that yes, he was a good guy. And yes, she was an idiot for letting him go.

At least work had been keeping her so busy she went home every night exhausted and collapsing into bed. Didn't leave her much time to dwell on how much she missed Nick.

Her heart ached just thinking his name. She missed him, but she refused to contact him. Besides, he was just as busy. And he was probably on a plane by now on his way home to see his mama for the holidays.

She rubbed her forehead, the fake hair making it itch. She'd give anything to chuck the stupid wig and flush it down the toilet.

"The party is a smas.h.i.+ng success, don't you think?"

Willow glanced up to find Phil standing in front of the bar, a big smile on his face. "I can't believe how many people came," she said.

"I must agree. After all, it's right before Christmas. But I think they all like the idea of getting away for a quick Vegas weekend before the family insanity starts." He winked at her, and she smiled in return. "Plus, they're all eager to check out our new business. We've already pulled in a steady amount of sales."

She couldn't freaking believe it. The wigs were cheesy and the extensions weren't the best quality, but they were actually sort of fun. Like her pink hair, she supposed.

"Thanks for wearing the wig," he said for about the tenth time. "I know it's hot."

"You're welcome."

"I tried to get Mandy to wear one but she refused."

"Mr. Whitmore, it's her bachelorette party. The last thing she wants to do is wear a wig," Willow chastised.

He shook his head. "She said the same exact thing." Sighing, he watched his daughter dancing in the middle of the room, her hands in the air. "She hasn't worked a single minute tonight besides standing next to the table of products and smiling for a few photographs."

Willow said nothing. Was the man surprised? He knew what he was getting into when he made this arrangement.

"At least you seem to be an enterprising young woman. I'm sure your father is very proud of you," Phil said with a nod.

"Thank you, sir." Surprisingly, she realized she missed her dad, though she shouldn't be surprised considering it was the holidays, and who else would she spend them with? Funny how she could forgive him for his faults so quickly yet hold a grudge against Nick for what felt like forever. Whereas Nick had seemingly ditched her as fast as he could, her dad had always been there for her. They were a team, the two of them. They always had been.

Yeah, he'd ruined her relations.h.i.+p with Nick, but he'd done it to protect her. She could forgive him for that. Ultimately, they were all each other had.

She wished she were with him. With no Christmas Day plans scheduled whatsoever, she wasn't quite sure what she would do. Sheridan had extended the expected invitation but Willow hadn't committed.

Maybe it would be better if she were alone so she could sulk and wallow in her thoughts and her loss.

d.a.m.n it, she wanted Nick back. She missed him so much her entire body ached with wanting him. He made her laugh. He made her angry. He made her smile. Oh, and he made her pant out his name when she came...

Yeah. She flat out missed him. Had never really stopped missing him, even after all of these years. But this breakup was even worse, because she knew he felt the same way. They were too stubborn, too f.u.c.ked up to make it happen for real.

Sighing, she shook her head. Fine, she was the one who screwed it up. Who was too scared to give him a second chance. She couldn't blame him for walking out. She would've done the same.

"I'll let you get back to work," Phil said, interrupting her thoughts. "Though I did want to give you this before I forgot."

He handed over an envelope, which she took with a frown. "You already paid your balance, Mr. Whitmore."

"I know. It's a bonus." He flicked his chin at the crumpled envelope she clutched in her hands. "For all your hard work."

"Thank you." She smiled tremulously as he walked away, then tore open the envelope and peeked inside.

Holy. s.h.i.+t. There had to be at least ten hundred dollar bills nestled within. Talk about generous.

"Let's go hit the tables with all that cash," Colby suggested, sidling up beside her after he served yet another drunk woman.

"You wish." She stuffed the envelope in her front pocket. "This all goes right back into the business."

"Party p.o.o.per," Colby said with a smile then headed over to a cl.u.s.ter of people who had just approached the bar.

A cheesy Christmas song came on, the DJ spinning the tunes cranking it up to near-deaf decibels, and Willow realized one good thing about the wig: it m.u.f.fled sound somewhat.

But not enough.

It seemed as if every partygoer was on the dance floor, jumping to the beat of the perky holiday tune. Just watching them filled Willow with irritation, and she leaned against the bar counter, her elbow resting on the edge, her chin propped on her curved hand. She was starving, and she was exhausted, which made her even more irritated. Considering they still had hours to go, she was in for a long night.

And then she had to turn around and fly home first thing tomorrow. Thank G.o.d, the flight wasn't that long, but why in the world had she scheduled it so early? And what was she going home to, anyway? A cold, empty house? So depressing.

Merry freaking Christmas.

The cheery song segued from one to another by some boy band, and the crowd went wild, yelling and screaming as they bounced up and down. Even Colby was dancing behind the counter, shaking his head to the beat, mouthing the words to the song.

She wanted to roll her eyes but couldn't be bothered with it. She'd turned into the ultimate Scrooge.

The crowd suddenly parted and more than a few people started chatting animatedly, waving their hands, standing on tiptoe as if they were trying to see something. The song abruptly ended, and the crowd stopped dancing as the DJ made an announcement.

"Looks like we have an unexpected special guest this evening, folks! San Jose Hawks football star, Nick Hamilton!"

Willow's arm went out from under her on the counter and she stood straight, glancing around the room. Did the DJ really say Nick was here? But where? And what the h.e.l.l was he doing here?

Antic.i.p.ation rode through her, and she tried to squash it down. She was probably hallucinating. Just because the man was constantly in her thoughts didn't mean she could magically make him appear.

The crowd parted, and there he stood, like he was Moses or something, wearing jeans and his trusty faded Hawks hoodie, his mouth grim, his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes. He looked both terrible and wonderful all at once.

He was the best thing she'd ever seen.

Wordlessly he approached her, his brows furrowed, his mouth curled down. He stopped just before her, everyone watching them, the crowd silent. You could've heard a pin drop.

Even the boisterous DJ was quiet.

"Darlin', is that you?" He tilted his head. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing wearing that silly wig?"

Well, h.e.l.l, what happened to his woman? She looked ridiculous in the pink wig, her cheeks flushed, her eyes a little wild, sweat dotting her forehead.

She was hot-and not in the s.e.xy, drive him wild way. No, Willow was literally hot. Sweating her a.s.s off hot.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice raspy.

"I came to find you," he said simply, because really it was as simple as that.

He missed her. He wanted her back in his life. And he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Why?"

"We won our game today," he said, changing the subject. He needed to tell her this. Needed to get everything off his chest.

"That's great," she said, her brows scrunched in that way they got when she was confused.

"I scored the winning touchdown. Caught it and ran it down the field. Seventy-two-yard pa.s.s," he said proudly. It had been the f.u.c.king play of his life.

"That's amazing." The genuine smile she gave him made his heart lurch. f.u.c.k, he would've killed to see that smile only a few hours ago, and now here she was.

Wearing a pink wig? That sort of threw him.

"What's up with the hair, Will?"

"I'll explain later." She waved a hand at the crowd-who were all still watching-then pointed at the DJ. "Play a song, d.a.m.n it! This is a party, people want to dance!"

The guy did as she asked, most of the crowd starting to move again, though a few still watched them.

"So you came all the way to Vegas to tell me you won your game?" She sounded incredulous, not that he could blame her.

"Well, that was part of it." He'd been high as h.e.l.l coming off that field. He'd felt like a d.a.m.n hero. He'd been ready to celebrate, on top of the world.

And missing his woman more than life itself.

She scratched her neck. He bet that wig itched like crazy. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" she asked. "I mean, we're surrounded right now."

"I don't care who hears what I have to say. I gotta get it off my chest." He cleared his throat. "I've missed you, Willow. More than I can say. When I won that game and came off the field, ready to celebrate the play of my life, I felt...lost."

She stared at him, not saying a word.

"I let you go before without a fight, like a coward. I let your father walk all over me, and I hate that. Hate that I hurt you so bad."

He took a deep breath, scared that she still wasn't talking. His Willow loved to talk. Argue. Prove him wrong. Maybe that she wasn't speaking was a good sign?

"I'm ready to fight for you now. I want you to be mine. Only mine. I'm so d.a.m.n sorry for what happened. That you feel like I tried to force you into admitting we're in a relations.h.i.+p when you weren't ready. That you believe I did this all like some sort of weird, twisted game where I used you to get back at your dad or whatever. I wanted to earn your trust and instead, I tried to bully you into a relations.h.i.+p, and you don't work like that. No woman would." He stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing her hand. Her fingers were cold in his grip. "That's the last time I leave you, even if you kick me out the f.u.c.king door. My life is flat out not right without you by my side. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I need you. I'm not complete without you."

"Really?" she croaked.

He nodded, squeezed her hand. "Really. I knew I had to come right here and be with you."

"But I thought- Aren't you going home to be with your family for Christmas?" Her fingers trembled as they clutched at his.

"My home is wherever you are." He pulled her to him, slipping his arm around her waist, dipping his head close to hers. "I love you. I can't believe I didn't just say this that last night we were together, but I guess I had to be without you to realize the truth. And I know you love me. You're just scared. That's how I know you're crazy about me."

Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, letting out a shaky laugh. "The most romantic moment of my life and I look like an idiot with a pink wig on."

"Here." He plucked the wig off her head and tossed it over his shoulder, one of the partygoers watching the entire interaction catching it with a whoop. "Now you look good."

Well, sorta. Her hair was a mess, clinging to her head. But she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"I look terrible." She smoothed a hand over her head then swiped at her cheeks.

"Not to me. Never to me. Don't know why you wear these, since you don't even really need them." He plucked the gla.s.ses off her face, set them on the bar counter.

And then he kissed her, the tension that had filled him since he left her slowly easing as Willow kissed him back. Sweet, simple kisses that sent heat rus.h.i.+ng through his veins, made his head spin. "I love you," he whispered against her lips. "I'm so in love with you I'm never going to let you go again, you got that?"

She laughed. Kissed him again. "You promise?"

"Only if you say the words back to me first." He squeezed her, pulling her even closer.

"I love you, Nick," she murmured. "I'm so in love with you. I'm never going to let you go again, you got that?"

He laughed. "Smart a.s.s."

Grinning, she hugged him close, kissing him again. "You're so incredibly rude, I don't understand what I see in you sometimes."

"My rude qualities are your absolute favorite thing about me. Don't you deny it, either." He kissed her again because now that he had her in his arms after being without her for too long, he might not stop kissing her.

Ever.

"I love all your qualities," she said, her eyes glowing, her voice soft. She smoothed his hair away from his forehead, her gentle touch making him s.h.i.+ver. "I love you, Nicholas Hamilton."

He grinned. "No one calls me Nicholas unless it's my mama when she's p.i.s.sed at me about something."

Willow rolled her eyes. "You and your mama stories. When can I meet this brave woman who gave birth to you?"

"Lucky you, I'm flying the entire family to my place for the holiday." The idea had come to him more than a week ago, and he'd called them up to see if they were willing. Then he'd immediately booked the tickets when they all said they were dying to come to California and see him. Everyone would be at his place in Carmel for Christmas, even his sister and her family.

Willow's eyes went a little wide and she visibly swallowed. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. You ready to meet my mama, darlin'?" His parents were going to love her; he just knew it.

"Oh, G.o.d." She made a little face. "You think she'll like me?"

"She will love you," he said a.s.suredly. "You two have plenty in common, trust me."

"What? That we both love you and want the best for you?"

"Well, that's a given." He shrugged, smiling. "But my mama is feisty and crazy, just like you."

"What? I should hit you for that remark," she whispered.

"You won't. You love me too much." He murmured the words against her soft, damp lips as he kissed her, wis.h.i.+ng they were alone in her hotel room...