Jock Rule (Jock Hard #2)(59)

“What kind of question is that? I did it for you.”

“For me? Why?”

“Help me out here for a minute, Teddy. We’re going somewhere nice, so you can receive an award—did you really want to show up with a dude they call Sasquatch, or did you want to show up with someone who looks respectable?”

Respectable is an understatement. Kip looks classy, refined, and out of my league.

I hate that I’m feeling this way; it’s not his fault. It’s my insecurities.

Shocking me like this certainly did not help, though, not when the banquet begins in less than an hour.

How am I supposed to sit next to him at the dinner table without staring? I won’t be able to help myself; it will be like trying to ignore an exotic animal that’s right beside you, purring.

“Why would you do this to me tonight?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.

Kip looks stunned. “Do this to you? I don’t get it—what did I do?”

“This.” I gesture wildly. “The hair. The beard.”

“I shaved? Got a haircut? For you?” He’s staring down at me like I’ve grown three heads.

“Right before my banquet? How am I supposed to concentrate now?” I grip my purse and throw my hands up, frustrated—mostly with myself and my reaction to the situation. “I’m so freaked out right now, Kip, I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

He tries to put his hands on me again, resting those big, beautiful palms on my bare shoulders. “Babe, it’s me. Just…different.”

Oh god, he just called me babe—sensory and emotional overload.

“Different? It’s different, all right. God, Kip. I can’t even look you in the eyes right now.”

They look clear, deeper and richer than they’ve ever been, shining down at me. Baffled.

Hurt.

Irritated.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit? Most girls would be happy their…person shaved. My sister said you’d be thrilled.”

I am one hundred percent overreacting, but knowing that isn’t stopping my mouth from saying things I shouldn’t be saying in tones that shouldn’t leave my lips.

“I didn’t fall for this guy. I fell for the other guy. This is too much for me. I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but—you have to cut me some slack here. You completely ambushed me.”

“I cut my hair and shaved.” He’s not impressed with my argument, tone flat. “I didn’t dye my beard pink and get a tattoo, for fuc—” Kip takes a deep breath, hands digging deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Do you not want me to go with you, Teddy?”

I suddenly feel like the biggest bitch on the face of the planet, making him feel like total shit because of the way he looks. He looks nice—that’s my issue? That he looks too handsome? That he’s too good-looking?

Apparently, I need therapy, not a boyfriend.

Jesus, Teddy, get a grip.

“I know I’m being unreasonable, and I’m…sorry.” I steady my breath. “I’m sorry.”

His arms go around my waist, pulling me in. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go and have a good time tonight, yeah?” Kip smells divine, his smooth jawline skimming mine, nuzzling my cheek, rubbing up and down. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” his hypnotic voice murmurs.

God, it does. It feels orgasmic.

I go to my tiptoes, eyes fluttering closed as aftershave, freshly shaved skin, and his warm breath assail me all at once.

But I feel like I’m hugging a stranger.

And I wonder if I’ll get over it before I ruin everything.

***

KIP

Teddy has been acting weird all fucking night, and it’s starting to piss me off.

I’ve never had this problem with a girl before, never had one keep me at arm’s length because of the way I look.

How fucked up is that?

If I was butt ugly, it would be one thing. But I’m not.

Girls have been chasing me around, trying to trap me into relationships since adolescence, and the one girl I finally decide to let catch me?

Treats me like a fucking pariah.

I thought she’d be happy, for fuck’s sake, not act like I betrayed her by being attractive.

Agitated, my leg bounces under the table, the high-end denim suffocating me, stiff because I haven’t worn it in yet. My shoes pinch, and the collar around my neck chokes.

I did this for her, and she’s acting like I committed a crime.

It’s just. A fucking. Haircut.

Come on—am I that unrecognizable without the beard?

It did occur to me when I watched the stubble rinse down the drain that I look incredibly different, but it didn’t occur to me that Teddy wouldn’t like it.

It didn’t occur to me that she liked me just fine the way I was.

Preferred it, apparently.

Kind of fucked up, if you ask me, considering I looked like a goddamn mountain man—on a good day. Or Paul Bunyan or Grizzly Adams or whoever it was she likes to call me.

She’s said so herself dozens of times.

I wouldn’t say she’s ignoring me now, not exactly—but she’s not looking directly at me, either.

And I’m not sure what to fucking do with myself.