by RC Boldt
On the ride home, I mull everything over, and once home, I shower, trying to ease my agitation while I determine some sort of game plan.
Regardless, I know I won’t be going down without a fight.
In the kitchen, I reach for the fridge to grab ingredients for a smoothie when I hear a car door in my driveway. When no knock or doorbell follows, I decide to investigate.
To say that I’m surprised to see Darcy standing outside my door, looking so lost and unsure, would be an understatement. My first reaction is to raise all my defenses, because, dammit, she hurt me.
So, I try to steel myself against whatever she’s about to say. When she tells me she’s baked turmeric muffins, it’s as if someone reached inside my chest to wrap a tight fist around my heart.
I’m caught off guard, still faltering on how to act around her, as she stammers and ends up rushing down the stairs. I catch up to her in time to save her from taking a nosedive and face-planting on my driveway. The plate of muffins drops and shatters, and her muffins—which honestly roll along the drive like they’re made of cement—scatter. I don’t give a shit about any of that. I’m just glad I’ve got a hold of the woman whose back is tucked against my chest.
She’s still skittish while I clean up the mess. Ready to leave. I know if I don’t try to stop her, I’ll regret it. That the gap between us will widen further. So, I do the only thing I can think of in the spur of the moment.
I offer her a kale smoothie to entice her to stay.
I know. Lame-ass move, but shit. She throws me off-kilter like no other. But when she counters by asking if she can be my date to the awards ceremony, my defenses weaken more. I agree, of course, and when I close the door behind us, my entire body relaxes, making my heart happy.
We have kale smoothies and curl up on my couch to watch 10 Things I Hate About You before she heads home. I walk her to her car, and when I kiss her goodbye, I know my close-mouthed kiss catches her by surprise. I wave as she pulls out of the drive and heads down the street.
The night was perfect. Something I could get used to. I wanted to remind her we’re more than the hot sex we had over the weekend. That we’re friends and lovers.
Now, it’s Tuesday, and that normally means a day off for me, but the GM has summoned me once again. The idea of being in his presence makes my skin crawl, but I don’t have a choice.
I shoot off a text to Darcy as soon as I park.
Me: Hey, Duchess. I’m heading into a meeting, but can we do dinner tonight? My place?
I shut off the ignition and get out. With a press of the key fob, I lock my truck and turn my phone on silent just as it lights up with an incoming text message.
Darcy: I’d love to. Let me know what time and what I can bring. Hope all goes well with your meeting.
Me: How about 6? And just bring yourself.
My thumbs hover over the keys, hesitating, before I finally mumble, “Fuck it.”
Me: If you want to bring a bag and stay over, you’re more than welcome. No pressure. Just worry about you driving home late at night.
I pocket my phone and stride toward the Jags offices. As much as I don’t want to get my hopes up that she’ll say yes, it’s tough not to feel antsy, wondering what her answer will be.
First, though, I need to figure out what the GM wants with me.
When I turn and head toward Delia’s desk, I immediately slow when I notice her desk is completely bare. The admin assistant has been with the Jags as far back as I can remember. Frowning, I glance around, and that’s when I hear the quiet, panic-filled hiss travel from down the hall.
“Stop!” I recognize the owner of that voice.
“You can’t say that when you wear these little dresses,” a male voice says in a loud whisper. I catch the sound of some rustling. “Better watch your—”
I’m already in motion, ready to rip apart whoever’s laying a hand on Jackie. I sprint to the only door with light shining through a two-inch gap.
Only to stop short at the sight I’m faced with.
“What the—?” My jaw drops, and I swear steam must be shooting out of my ears and nose. “What’s going on?”
Jackie tugs at her dress, covering where it appears someone had tugged it and bared her bra-covered breast. My new GM stares back at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Without taking his eyes from me, he directs his condescending tone to her. “Leave us to our meeting, Jackie. But remember”—he finally tears his hard gaze from me and gives her a once-over that has me itching to tear him apart—“it’s always good to keep your boss happy by doing your best work.”
It doesn’t take a genius to translate “work” as catering to him and his asshole ways.
I force an easy, relaxed grin for Jackie. “Good to see you again, Jackie.”
Her features are worried as though she thinks I might believe she’s in the wrong here. Some of the uneasiness edges away, and she musters a painful excuse for a smile. “You, too, Dax.”
“While you’re here, what happened to Delia?”
Jackie’s entire body goes rigid, and her eyes dart to Garner briefly. “She, uh, decided to leave and spend more time with her family.” Plastering a bright smile on her face, she backs out the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
Holy shit. I’m assaulted by queasiness because I don’t have a good feeling about what’s going on here.
“Have a seat.”
Garner’s easygoing, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary transition has me bristling. He settles into the chair behind the mahogany monstrosity of a desk and steeples his fingers. The way he eyes me is similar to how a parent might regard a small child they’re disappointed in.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the photos by now.”
I frown in confusion. “What photos?”
His fake laugh has me clenching my fists and fantasizing about laying him out flat with a sucker punch. He reaches for something on his desk and slides a stapled article across his desk. It’s obviously been printed off the Internet from some Hollywood-style tabloid site.
At first glance, I’m ready to dismiss it since it’s just me getting out of my truck. Big deal. I immediately falter when my eyes drop to the photo beneath it. It’s of Darcy and me when we left the gym on Saturday morning.
I trace the pad of my thumb over the curve of her face, at how beautiful she looks freshly showered with damp hair. The angle of the photo shows the hand I have at the base of her spine, making me look possessive or protective—or maybe even both.
The next one must have been taken from farther away simply because I don’t recall spotting anyone, and the vantage looks like it was from across the street. We’d been about to enter the coffee shop when the older couple stopped me.
It always makes me uncomfortable to receive praise for doing something any decent human would—should—do: help others. Granted, I’ve got more cash flow than the average person, but every little bit helps.
The expression on Darcy’s face as she watches the couple compliment me has me growing still. Pride is there, but it’s intermixed with something else. I’m afraid to get my hopes up, but I swear it looks like… love.
“We already discussed the repercussions once.” Garner’s voice jars me from my inner thoughts. I lift my eyes from the photos to rest on him. He narrows his gaze. “Consider this your final warning.” Leaning forward to rest his forearms on his desk, he pins me with his steely glare. “Cut ties with her or be prepared to suffer the consequences.”
Rage bubbles to the surface, threatening to overflow, but I tamp it down, using every ounce of restraint. What the fuck is this guy’s problem?
I grind my teeth and force a calm, nonchalant tone. “Is there something more to this?” I wave a hand casually. “With all due respect, it seems like this might be a personal grudge of some sort.”
Something flickers across his face, but it vanishes before I can decipher it. His mouth forms a frown, his expression morphing into one of concern. �
��My job is to watch out for my players and the reputation of this team. If something threatens that, I need to put a stop to it.”
He steeples his fingers, expression hard. “Let’s just say, if word gets out that the owner of Hitched wasn’t only offering matchmaking services, but the other kind of happy endings, too…” Both shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug. “It wouldn’t look good. People would get the wrong idea about Miss Cole”—he raises his brows pointedly—“and you.”
Fuck. I don’t like this one bit. I still can’t push aside the feeling he’s not telling me something. Like he has a personal vendetta against Darcy.
“Obviously, I need time to do it”—I run my tongue along the front of my teeth as I carefully choose my words—“since I can’t have bad press or have things end poorly with her and her company.”
Basically, I’m stalling for time. I need to get to the bottom of this.
A satisfied smile forms on his face, and it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. “Just don’t let it take too long.” He lets that threat hang heavy in the air between us.
“Will do.” I punctuate this with a nod and rise from my seat. “Thanks for the talk.” It takes everything in my power to keep the snark out of my tone. This is one of those times I’m grateful for all the practice at being in the public’s eye and maintaining a polite façade. I head to the door that practically glows like a beacon of freedom.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday evening.”
I nearly misstep at Garner’s comment. Fuck. I hadn’t even considered the fact that he’d be there. Hell if I’ll change my plans to bring Darcy as my date for his sake, though.
This just means I’ll need buffers in place because it’s a pipe dream to think I could avoid him at an event like that.
I merely nod in response and hightail it out of his office. I still have one more thing to tackle.
Jackie.
She proves to be a tough one to track down. Finally, I find Jackie talking to one of the public relations department assistants, Michael. I stop a few feet away as they wrap up their conversation. He catches sight of me over her shoulder and gives a little wave.
“Hey, Dax! Ready for Texas on Sunday?”
I grin. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Jackie turns around. “Better watch that post route.” Her eyebrows rise, and I’m relieved to see humor sparkling in her eyes. Lately, every game Texas has played has been a dumpster fire, so I know she’s poking fun, knowing we probably won’t have much to worry about—least of all on a post route.
“I have to get going, but I’ll get this set up for you, Jackie.” Michael raises the folder with a nod.
“Thanks so much.” She flashes him a grateful smile before turning to me.
I tip my head in the direction of the long hallway leading to the bank of elevators. “Walk with me?”
Her smile tenses slightly, but she nods, and we fall into step down the mostly quiet hall. Many of the office doors are closed, Jags’ employees working diligently. Once we get to the elevators that hardly anyone uses since the team provides Fit Bits to everyone and offers monthly monetary incentives and gifts for the most mileage, I stop and turn slowly. Ensuring we’re out of earshot, I lean back against the wall facing the elevators.
“So,” I start casually, “Garner’s an interesting dude.”
I’m fishing. We both know it. Emotions war in her eyes. Wariness. Anger. Fear.
It’s the latter one that tells me my gut instincts were right.
“Please, Jackie,” I plead softly. “Talk to me.”
She glances around again, nervously eyeing our surroundings even though we’re alone. “I can’t.”
I clench my jaw, trying to maintain calm. “Okay.” I think fast. “Yes or no. Has he touched you inappropriately?”
Fear lights up in her eyes like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She swallows before whispering, “Yes.”
Fuck.
My hands clench at my sides as rage fills me. “You need to tell someone.”
Anguish fills her features. “I can’t.” What’s worse is the resignation that takes its place. “I need this job, Dax. And”—her voice cracks, and she averts her eyes, focusing on the toes of her heeled shoes—“it’s my word against his.” My lips part to protest, but her head snaps up, eyes clashing with mine. “As the GM, he has all the power in this situation.”
Shit. I scrub a hand over my face. I can’t force her to speak up, and I’d have to be living under a rock not to recognize what’s been going on lately with the #TimesUp and #MeToo movements. Even with so many big names disclosing their experiences with sexual harassment and assault, there’s still a stigma. A doubting that plagues the victims.
It’s so fucking wrong.
“Jackie…” I falter because I don’t even know what to say. My hands are tied. I can’t betray her trust. But fuck.
I grip the rigid muscles of the back of my neck and exhale slowly in an attempt to ease my agitated anger at the situation Jackie’s been forced into. “I’ll figure something out.”
She frowns. “Dax, no…” A loud sigh rushes past her lips. “You have enough on your plate.” The crease between her brows is more pronounced with her worried expression. “Please. Don’t give it another thought.”
I step back and shove my hands in my pockets. “Just… come to me if you need anything.” I dip my chin, raising my eyebrows pointedly. “Promise me.”
There’s a hint of hesitation before she slowly nods. “I promise.”
After we say goodbye and I exit that building, I can’t seem to outrun the cloud of dread hanging over me.
38
Darcy
Tuesday evening
National Football League (NFL) awards ceremony
I settle a palm against my stomach in a fruitless attempt to quell the anxiety. It’s only exacerbated by the sight of the reflection in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out in disbelief.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dressed up for events before, but this is a whole other level. The dress Dax bought me is simply breathtaking. Simple yet elegant, the black dress dips low in the front with a beaded bodice. Knee length in the front, the rest fans out at ankle length. I know from the designer label that this dress cost him a pretty penny.
And the shoes… Good Lord, these shoes are the icing on the cake. The black Givenchy peep-toe heels made me gasp when I peeled them from the tissue paper in the large box he’d given me. They are gorgeous enough to incite me to drop to my knees and give thanks to the shoe gods.
I’ve styled my hair in loose curls that drape over my shoulders, applied a sparkly rose-colored gloss to my lips, and made my eyes smoky with darker, more contrasting eyeshadow.
I pray I pass muster for Dax. He’d wanted me to come over and get ready at his place, but my schedule became crazy at the last minute, and I had to decline.
The knock on my door sends a jolt of nervous excitement rushing through me. By the time I grab my small wristlet purse and head to the door, the sharp staccato clicking of my heels punctuates my approach on the hardwood floors.
However, nothing could have prepared me for the sight when I open the door. If I thought Dax was handsome in everyday attire, he’s devastatingly handsome in a tailored three-piece suit. The fabric loves his body, molding to the contours of his hard muscles instead of masking it, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. I allow my eyes to trail from the toes of his sleek wing-tipped shoes up over his buttoned torso and the pocket handkerchief before lifting my eyes to his.
“An orange pocket square?”
He appears a bit dazed, eyes locked on my face, before he finally blinks. The edges of his mouth lift, a soft smile touches his lips, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. His dimple makes an appearance, and my pulse skips in response.
“Orange, for my alma mater.” His husky response sends delicious shivers down the length of my spine. “Since they’re planning to talk about Gainesville.”
His eyes canvass me. “You look…” He shakes his head as if in awe, meeting my eyes once again. “I don’t even have the words. You look absolutely incredible.” A panicked look crosses his face. “Not that you don’t look beautiful any other time.”
As if embarrassed, he drags a hand over his face before dropping it to his side. He squeezes his eyes shut, muttering an expletive under his breath before whispering, “Jesus, I need to shut up.”
My mouth stretches wide with a smile. Just when I thought he couldn’t make me fall harder for him. When he finally opens his eyes, his gaze roves over my face as though he’s mesmerized by the sight. “You’re breathtaking, Duchess.” His voice is a touch breathless, as though I’ve affected him—a man with a powerful body honed to perform, to exude strength—enough to rob him of breath.
Three simple words spoken with such emphatic emotion curl around me, enveloping my heart.
I smooth down the lapels of his suit as an excuse to touch him. “So are you.”
He raises his hands but drops them back to his sides. “I’d give anything to kiss you right now.” His hands curl into fists as though he’s physically restraining himself. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and that golden brown gaze rests on my mouth, yearning etched on his features. “But I don’t want to mess—”
I frame his face with my palms and fuse my mouth to his, cutting off his words. To hell with my lip gloss; it can always be reapplied. Right now, there’s no way I can deny this man what he so obviously wants.
Our kiss is explosive and deep yet tender. It’s laden with emotion, affection, and desire melding together. His hands settle at my waist before one slides down to cup my ass and press me closer. When I notice his cock hardening against me, I break the kiss, but our lips still barely touch.
“If you didn’t have to go and receive that damn award…” I trail off suggestively, teasing him, of course.