Page 39 of Scoring Eden

For one thing, having her hand looped around my bicep is doing an effective job of keeping that spot warm. And for another, she smells as divine as she looks. Sweet, like cherries in the midst of summer.

Ian, who is already waiting for us with the door open, tips his cap to her. Eden returns a soft smile to him, breathing a quiet “hello” as she slips into the backseat and slides across to leave room for me.

I’m nothing if not an opportunist, so I take the seat closest to her, undeterred by the why the fuck are you sitting so close to me glare she sends my way.

Well, I’ll tell her why.

Excluding the fact that I simply enjoy being as close to her as possible, there’s logic behind my clinginess.

For starters, we’ll be glued together for the next several hours. I’ll be touching her—a lot, if I have things my way. So, it wouldn’t do us an injustice for her to start getting used to it. No one will believe us if she flinches every time I step into her personal space.

Secondly, from prior experience, I know that the cameras will be flashing before we’ve even left the car. If the paparazzi have caught wind of the event, they’ll have their lenses pressed up against the windows the second the car slows enough to get close. A photograph of us sitting as far apart as possible would not be effective to the cause. That would bring wildly different headlines to what we’re aiming for, and I’d hate for the public to believe that this is a hostage situation.

She doesn’t dispute me as I tell her this, which isn’t like her. I guess nervousness makes her compliant. I don’t like it. It isn’t the jittery, erratic sort of nervousness she displayed the other night, but more of a quiet hum of anxiety.

It’s unsettling.

Despite being wrapped in my jacket, her arms are still curled around herself, and her teeth are sunk so deep into her lips it’s a wonder she hasn’t drawn blood.

Finally, she breaks her silence. “Who are we meeting tonight?”

“The whole team, their partners too. You’ll meet my sister. You can hang around with her if we get separated.” I start easy then build up to the worst of it. “Um, Coach Carter and the team’s senior staff will be there. Carter seems like a hardass when you meet him, but he’s actually a total softie. I’m pretty sure he already loves you, despite not knowing your name. The man’s been wanting me to settle down for years. You could be an elk, and he’d still be over the moon.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. “He’s one of the ones we need to convince most, right?”

I nod. “Him and the board members. But mostly it’ll be the new team investor, Purview. They’re a vehicle manufacturer who makes family cars and apparently have a real stick up their ass about protecting their wholesome, family-centered reputation. They’re the ones who are pressuring the team to drop me.”

“Great.” Her smile is more like a grimace. She fingers the lapels of my jacket, scratching her nails over it until a thread starts to come loose. She stops for a second, starts again. Drops her head back against the seat. Bounces her knees. Scrunches her nose, her eyes, her mouth. I didn’t even know mouths could do that.

“Eden, I think you need to breathe.”

“Nope.” One eye peels open. “What I need is alcohol.”

That, I can do.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to ply her with alcohol on the most important night of our lives, but if she walks into the party like this, we have no chance. With the state she’s in, she’ll cry the moment someone asks how long we’ve been together and admit to everything.

I reach for the jacket around her shoulder, purposely brushing her arm as I slip my fingers into the inside pocket. She shivers and raises questioning eyes to mine. I hold them for a long beat before retrieving the silver flask I’d packed in preparation and passing it to her. “If you could stop before the point of hurling, I’d appreciate it.”

She holds up her middle finger and takes a swig. Then turns green. “Jesus, what is that?”

“Whiskey.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Gross.”

“You’re welcome.”

She takes another sip, but this time, her shoulders relax. The lines on her face smooth over, and the tempo of her bouncing knees reduces by at least twenty BPM.

“Better?” I ask.

She hums in agreement, but I guess it’s still not enough to engage in conversation. Silence resumes, and we stay that way until Ian signals our arrival.

Then it’s all systems go.

Eden takes off my jacket and hurls it at my face. By contrast, I’m gentle as I take her clammy hand in mine. Cameras flash, light bouncing off the tinted windows. Eden’s breath lodges in her throat. My heart beats the score of an EDM song.

“You ready?” I ask.