12.1
Georgina
“You’re good with the kids,” I note, trying to sound casual as I wipe my palms on my jeans not just because they’re dirty but because I’m slightly nervous being around Adriano now that we’ve finished setting up the tent. Adriano took over, teaching the two kids how to pitch the tent while cracking jokes that made all of us laugh. The second they were finished, Niall and Drew ran off to tell their camp counselors they were done, leaving Adriano and I standing here alone.
Well, as alone as you can be in a field with twenty kids running around and a bunch of camp counselors. I’m definitely aware of that fact when I take a step back from Adriano, putting a respectable amount of distance between me and the too-handsome athlete, who’s the epitome of small-town sexy in his blue t-shirt and faded jeans. He and Nathaniel both look at home here on the ranch, not at all like you'd think a couple of football players – or celebrities – would look plunked down in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, although I guess that's not surprising, since this is Nathaniel's ranch, after all.
“I have a pain-in-the-ass younger sister,” Adriano says. He runs his hand through his hair and shrugs.
I laugh. “I can definitely see you as a pain-in-the-ass older brother,” I say. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-one. She’ll be a senior next year in college.”
“You and Nathaniel grew up in Colorado, right?”
“Did you read up on us?” Adriano asks, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Actually, I didn’t,” I admit. “I remain blissfully ignorant about both of you.”
“Because you’re not interested, or because you’d rather get to know us personally?” Adriano asks.
The way he asks the question is unmistakably sexual, and the “us” part of the question doesn’t escape my attention. Reflexively, I glance to the other side of the field where Nathaniel is helping a couple of kids with their campsite.
You’d like to get to know Adriano and Nathaniel very personally.
I clear my throat. “I have this thing about not getting intel on people I meet in real life.”
“Intel from your security?”
“That too. But I meant internet-searching people I meet in real life."
"Your whole life is public knowledge," Adriano comments.
"Yeah, exactly. That's why I don't like looking up other people. People make lots of assumptions about me because they can find articles about my life, going back to when I was in grade school. They think they know who I am before getting to know me."
"Being a player isn't too different from that," Adriano admits. "It's all PR. Just like with me and Nathaniel. People like the whole 'Colorado golden boys' story."
"You both grew up out here by the ranch?”
"You literally don't know anything about us?" Adriano seems stunned by that revelation, and I'm not sure if he's offended or amazed.
"You're not that famous," I tease.
Adriano lets out a warm laugh. "Whatever, we're famous as hell. But… you really don't follow sports at all?"
I shake my head. "Don't tell anyone," I whisper, putting a finger to my lips. "On paper, I'm a Colorado football fan, through and through. But um… not really. My dad actually is a die-hard Colorado fan, though."
"We didn't grow up here," Adriano tells me. "Not on this ranch, I mean. Nathaniel bought this place a couple years ago. It's his place, really. He doesn't let people out here ever, either. After the season ends, he usually disappears for a month or so, doesn't talk to anyone, just holes up here like a hermit."
I glance over to Nathaniel, who's still working with his kids on setting up their campsite. "He doesn't look like a hermit."
Adriano laughs. "Nathaniel and people don't go together. Trust me."
Nathaniel leans over to pick up something from the ground, and I find my gaze lingering on his ass for just a moment too long. I clear my throat, mentally chastising myself for ogling another man when I have a ridiculously attractive man right here in front of me. What's wrong with me?
I intend to change the subject. I don't want to talk about Nathaniel with Adriano – and I definitely don't want to think about how attracted to both of them I am right now. "You and Nathaniel grew up together?"
Way to change the subject away from Nathaniel, Georgina.
"In the smallest town imaginable," Adriano says. "West Bend, Colorado."
"The smallest town imaginable, huh? I'm picturing a little Main Street with a bunch of shops, looking like something right out of the 1950s?"
"Ah, so you've been there?" Adriano teases.
"I've been to places like it, for sure," I say. "Actually, I probably have been there with my father during one of his campaign seasons. His campaign managers love to pick those small towns for town hall sessions or photo ops in a local diner."
"During one of his campaign seasons?" Adriano asks. "This is only his second time running for President."
I laugh. "My father has been in politics since before I was born. I was in campaign photos before I could walk. Councilman, state senator, United States congressman, Governor of Colorado… You name it, my father’s done it. P
olitical royalty – that’s what they call my family."
Adriano grunts. "I don't really follow politics."
"Well, I gathered that much when you didn't know who I was when you met me," I tease.
Adriano looks down at the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. "Yeah."
Is he embarrassed, and why do I find that so endearing?
"It's okay, you know."
"Nathaniel stays on top of political stuff. It's never really been my thing."
"Most of the people I meet are way too into politics," I admit. "They want to talk to me about my dad, or about the foundation, or want an edge somehow with their political career, or their causes."
"Yeah?" Adriano asks. "I guess it's the same with football. The only people I meet are fans."
"So I know nothing about football and you know nothing about politics. What are we going to talk about for two weeks?"
Adriano turns toward me, the proximity too close to be simply friendly. My heart races as I look at him, and I tell myself to step back away from him before someone out here sees us and gets the wrong impression… or the right one. But for some reason, I can't make myself back away. "Talking wasn't on my list of priorities."
The look he gives me is sheer lust – animalistic, primal, I'm-going-to-devour-you lust. Even as warmth rushes through my body in response to his words, I try to muster the wherewithal to rebuff him. I clear my throat. "I hope you didn't come here with the intent to do anything but talk, Mr. Jackson," I say. My words sound false even to me.
Adriano chuckles. "I'll talk.” He steps forward, his lips near my ear. "In fact, I'll tell you exactly what I want to do to you.”
