23. Kian

23

KIAN

" W hat the fuck was that?" Lorelei screams, making my smile grow wider.

For someone who claims not to like football, she's sure invested.

Her face, when we arrived and I directed her to a box, was priceless. Anyone else would have been beyond excited to have such incredible seats for this game. But, oh no, not Lorelei Tempest. She was pissed not to be in the stands with everyone else.

She is like no other woman I have ever spent time with. It's as amusing as it is confusing.

I wasn't trying to impress her—at least, I don't think I was. But it's becoming more and more obvious that my usual way of impressing women—anyone really—is having zero effect on my new assistant.

And let's not even get started on why we're here in the first place. I was meant to be coming with Dad, but when he called this morning to cancel, there was only one other person I could imagine watching this game with. Fuck knows why. She drives me crazy.

But watching her little brother on Friday night was…fun. So, I figured that she owed me a game.

It made sense until I said the words out loud and to her face. Then I just felt like a bit of a moron.

I have plenty of other associates who would love to watch the game from up here. But I didn't want a single one of them here with me.

I wanted her. And that is fucking terrifying.

"Who the fuck is that?" she barks, pointing down at the field as I finish my beer and abandon the glass.

Following the direction of her finger, I watch as a Seattle Saints player gets to his feet, leaving a trail of Chiefs' carnage behind him.

I glance at his number. Eighty-eight.

"Kane Legend."

Lorelei nods as if she's aware of his name.

He just took out almost all our defense in one play.

"He's good. The Saints are really fucking good. Have you been watching their quarterback?"

She scans the field, trying to find him. "Dunn?"

"The one in blue, yeah."

"Wait, there's?—"

"Luca Dunn is the Saints' quarterback. Leon Dunn is one of our wide receivers. They're twins."

"Huh. You know a lot about football," she points out.

"I grew up listening to Kieran talk about it every chance he got. It becomes second nature after a while."

"You follow him and the Chiefs closely."

"Of course. He's my little brother. No different from you and yours."

"Something we have in common," she says absently.

The game continues with our offense lining up to make a play, leaving Luca, Kane, and the rest of the Saints' offense on the sideline.

Leon and our other receiver Braxton Whitlock take their positions, ready for the snap.

"Come on," Lorelei screams in encouragement as Whitlock makes the catch before passing it off to Weston Rogers, our running back, who scores a touchdown, making the entire stadium erupt. "Yesssss."

I watch her with amusement as the Chiefs celebrate their touchdown, my eyes searching out my little brother for a moment before turning back to her.

"You might need to reconsider not being a football fan," I point out.

"I get sucked into the excitement. I can't help it."

The smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye when she turns to look my way do things to me. Things I'm unable to acknowledge, let alone even try to explain to myself.

The only thing I know is that I made the right decision to bring her here this afternoon. And I already can't wait to do it again.

I t's dark by the time we leave the stadium. If I were here with Dad, I've no doubt that we'd head toward the Chiefs' locker room to congratulate Kieran on an epic win. But I shut the idea down the second it pops up. There's no fucking way I'm sharing Lorelei with a bunch of sweaty guys who are running on nothing but pure adrenaline right now. I know all too well what they're all like after a win, and that isn't something I want her anywhere near.

Instead, I lead her toward my car with my hand pressed against the small of her back.

"That was fun," she confesses once we're in the car.

"Better than high school games?" I ask since she confessed to never going to an NFL game before.

She thinks for a moment. "Different. Bigger obviously, louder. But there's something nice about those smaller high school games with boys who have everything to play for."

As much as I love the buzz of watching the pros, I can't help but agree.

The car falls silent as Lorelei pulls her cell out and replies to some messages as I drive.

We haven't discussed what to do after the game. It's Sunday night. We both have a long week ahead of us, but still, I can't quite convince myself to take her home. Not yet.

"Who are you talking to?" I ask after she bursts out laughing.

I assume it's Tate. Lorelei is probably giving her best friend the lowdown on her day. Internally, I groan, because I know it will end with a phone call from my big brother demanding to know why I chose to take my assistant to Kieran's game.

"Just an old friend," she says absently, more focused on the new message that's popped up than talking to me.

"It's not him, is it?"

"Him?" he asks, finally turning her eyes on me.

"The asshole who was trying to force himself on you the other night."

"He did not—" She cuts herself off and finally lowers her cell, turning her full attention on me. I feel the heat of her glare all the way to the tips of my toes. "You had no right to get involved on Friday night."

"He was harassing you. I had every right to protect you," I counter, my grip on the wheel tightening as I remember the way he leered at her, unable to read her reaction to him.

"I don't need protecting, Kian. Not from Matt, and certainly not by you."

"If you say so."

She sucks in a sharp breath, ready to continue coming at me with reasons, but then she looks around and takes in our surroundings. "Where are you going?" she asks firmly.

"For dinner."

"For dinner?" she echoes. "Why the hell are we going for dinner?"

"Well, there are a number of reasons. First and most pressing is because I'm hungry," I mock. "Second, and only very closely second, is because I just love being on the wrong end of your temper, and I'm not ready to say goodbye to it yet.'

"You're not funny," she snarks, crossing her arms beneath her chest and lifting her chin.

"And you're not going to win. Not against me, Temptress."

"I knew it," she shrieks at a pitch that I'm sure only dogs should hear. "You called me that earlier."

"And?" I ask, refusing to be embarrassed by the fact she is a fucking temptress. Her last name fits her to a tee.

"Do not call me that. It's Lori. Anything else is unnecessary."

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you," I say as I take the next left, our destination appearing up ahead.

"As long as the same goes for me."

I smirk. "As long as it's sir, boss, or maybe even daddy, I'm pretty sure I can get on board with it."

"Pig," she scoffs.

"That wasn't on the list, Temptress."

"Kian," she warns, only dialing up my amusement over this.

"Dinner, then I'll take you home. Deal?" I ask as I pull the car to a stop.

"What is this place?" she asks before committing.

"This is where you get the best buffalo chicken wings in the state."

Lorelei's eyes widen in interest. "Oh?"

"So do we have a deal?"

She makes a show of pretending to think about it.

"Okay, fine. But let me make this clear—I'm only doing it because of the wings."

"Sure you are."

Without waiting for me to even kill the engine, she pushes the car door open and climbs out.

"Fucking pain in my ass," I mutter as I follow her out.

By the time I catch up to her, she's already asking for a table for two.

The server opens his mouth ready to speak, but then he looks up at me.

"Kian, long time no see."

I might be standing behind Lorelei and unable to see her face, but I know she rolls her eyes hard enough to hurt as I'm greeted personally.

"Good evening, Ash. Table for two?"

"You got it, sir."

He takes off, leaving us to follow.

"See," I say, dropping my head so I can speak directly into Lorelei's ear. "He's happy to call me sir."

"He'd probably happily drop to his knees and worship at your feet as well. Another thing I am not going to do."

"We'll see," I rasp before she lowers into her chair.

"Can I get you some drinks?" Ash asks.

"Two sodas, please," I say before Lorelei has a chance, mostly just to piss her off.

There is something very endearing about the way her nose wrinkles and her lips purse when she's irritated.

I'm not sure if it's a reaction she only has to me, or everyone who riles her up, but I kinda hope it's the former.

"Seriously."

"Trust me, Temptress. I won't steer you wrong here."

"Not the point. I don't need or want a man who will order for me, or think he knows better than I do."

I smirk.

"Don't say it," she warns, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, have you been here before? Are you an expert?"

"Sodas," Ash announces, stopping Lorelei from snapping back. "Are you ready to order?"

"We are." I rattle off our order while Lorelei threatens to end me with a look alone.

"You're unbelievable," she mutters, pulling her cell from her purse and staring down at it.

"And you're ignoring me again."

"I know it might be a hard pill to swallow, but there are other people in the world who are more interesting than you."

I move faster than she can compute and pluck her cell from her hands.

I glance at the screen and find exactly what I was expecting, a message thread with Tate.

"Kian," she cries, leaning over the table to snatch it back, but I'm faster and tuck it into my pants pocket before she gets anywhere close.

"You're insufferable," she huffs.

"Takes one to know one," I counter.

"Mature," she mutters.

"Tell me something, Temptress. Something not everyone knows."

Dropping her eyes to the table, she falls silent as I reach for my soda and wait.

"There's nothing to tell. I'm a small-town girl who wanted the bright lights of the big city," she says, but there's something in her tone that doesn't sit quite right with me.

"Where'd you grow up?"

"California."

"Parents?"

"Single mom," she explains reluctantly.

"I bet she's something."

A bitter laugh erupts from Lorelei, making me frown. "Yeah, you could say that."

"You don't get along?" I guess, reading between the lines.

"You could say that. What about you?" she asks, turning the tables on me.

"Yeah, things are about as good as they can be when families get separated. Dad…Dad likes replacing the woman in his life almost as often as he changes his underwear."

"Your stepmom at the wedding?"

"Gone. Think he's had two others since then."

"Wow, okay." She says, her eyes widening with surprise. I get it. Dad is nothing but a serial womanizer. It's his coping mechanism from how things ended with Mom.

"Mom's happily married. Has been since leaving Dad. She's happy. Our half-sisters are…hard work," I confess. "That's siblings, right?"

"Yeah," she muses. "Mine are awesome, though," she says with a soft smile playing on her lips as two huge platters of wings appear before us, putting an end to our serious conversation.

The plate has barely touched down when I dive for my first wing.

The heat and spices hit my tongue, and I groan in appreciation.

Lorelei, though, doesn't move an inch. Instead, she just stares at me with her lips parted and her eyes getting darker by the second.

"Eat, Lorelei," I demand, aware that it'll annoy her.

Her eyes narrow, but unable to deny herself, she finally reaches out for a wing. The second she begins eating it, I discover what the issue is.

I've only ever eaten wings with the guys before. I've never taken a girl out for them, and I'm starting to wonder why, because the way Lorelei is working that wing right now…fuck.