He sat at the edge of his bed, and it creaked beneath his weight.
“Should we, um, lock the door? Put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign?” I asked.
“No. That sign is a red flag to the coaches that something’s going on.” And Evan should know something about red flags considering that he was basically a red-flag factory, and I had no intention of signing up to be the shift manager at Red Flags Manufacturing, Inc.
I mean, he came across as trustworthy and honest, but that was part of his public persona. It was hard to give up my distrust of him and his motives.
“So, you said you wanted to talk to me?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked pained, as if he didn’t know how to say whatever it was he’d planned on saying. “I hate that all this happened. I like . . . to be in control of things. And now this engagement story has happened, and all of it feels like it’s very much out of my control.”
That wasn’t necessarily true. He could deny it, and then it would all be over. I’d be in trouble at work, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “You don’t seem like the control-freak type.”
“Probably not something I should admit, but I used to be much worse. I would boss my teammates around and act like all of our losses or wins were on my shoulders. I would try to do everything myself instead of delegating, gave a lot of unsolicited advice to people. But the Jacks have a great sports psychologist who worked with me to focus on controlling my emotions and thoughts instead of everything around me.”
“Oh.” This surprised me. Evan was known for being tightly controlled on the field, but I’d had no idea it spilled over into other parts of his life.
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I always choose the best way to do things. I need to ask you for a favor, and what do I do? Unload my dirty laundry on you. Anyway, first off I just want you to know I didn’t have anything to do with those pictures or the stories about us being engaged.”
“Oh. Yeah. I know that.” Because I knew who was responsible for it. “I didn’t, either.” And a favor? What kind of favor did he need from me?
“I know. But, okay, I’m just going to say it, and I feel bad even asking, but here goes. So my agent thinks it’s a good idea for us to pretend to be engaged.”
“What?”
“They’ve started negotiating my contract renewal. And given how much of a family man Chester Walton is, he will be happy about this, which can only work in my favor. Especially if I’m engaged to a Portland native. It makes me seem more stable and more likely to stick around. On the flip side of that, if I come out and say this was all a big mistake and we’re not engaged, it could potentially bring a bunch of negative publicity that I don’t need right now.”
As one of the people who wanted to bring a bunch of negative publicity down on him, I couldn’t help but cringe. “Why would people care if a photographer made an incorrect assumption about you? I’m not really seeing how that would hurt you.”
“Because . . .” He let out a deep sigh before continuing. “The world sees you differently when you’re like me.”
“Like you?” Genetically perfect? Annoyingly charming? Surprisingly smart?
“It’s kind of like . . . I’m this self-proclaimed prophet in a completely atheistic society. Either I’m dismissed as some ridiculous impossibility, or I just antagonize people and cause all this anger by challenging their worldview.”
The picture started to become a little clearer. “Because you’re a virgin?”
He nodded. “And because I’m a professional in a sport where aggression is rewarded. Because I’m famous. Because I’m rich. Because I’m athletic. Because I’m a guy, and I’m waiting. So because of that, my masculinity is constantly questioned, because how can I be a real man if I’m not hooking up with every random woman in my path? Even Chester Walton, this religious, conservative family man, has made some condescending remarks to me about it.”
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Whether or not it was true, Evan was committed to maintaining this public persona that he was waiting for marriage. Even in private. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not fair. It’s also stupid. We complain about toxic masculinity, but people don’t allow men to make different choices. Our society doesn’t let them be who they are and then makes fun of them when they don’t conform to a certain stereotype. Which is why, even though it’s nobody else’s business, I talk about my choices. Because the silent majority is strong, but it only takes one or two people to speak up to start changing people’s minds about what’s normal and what’s not.”
“I can see that.” I was making these neutral statements, hoping that he’d keep talking. Maybe slip up.
“Wow,” he said with a short laugh. “Listen to me! I’ll get off my soapbox now. Sorry.”
“No problem. I can tell it’s something you’re passionate about.” But did all that passion come from true belief and action, or was it to keep his sponsors happy?
“I am pretty passionate about it. Especially since people don’t ever seem to respect it. There’s that adultery website that put a bounty on my virginity. Like it’s another commodity the world can buy. I’ve found naked women in my bed. In my closet. My bathroom. And it’s not because they want me. They want starting quarterback Evan Dawson. Or the million-dollar reward.”
You wouldn’t have to pay me a million bucks. I’d definitely do it for free. I told my inner vixen to be quiet for a second because jealousy smacked into me, hard and strong. I had the urge to find said women and start clawing them up. But the weird thing was, I felt like I’d heard these words from him before. Because he said them so often they sounded a little rehearsed? Or because they weren’t his words at all but something he was regurgitating from his publicist?
He looked down at his feet. “Everybody always wants something from me.”
His last sentence felt a hundred percent real and honest. Guilt made me wiggle a bit on the couch. I wanted something from him, too. He just didn’t know it. “So about this engagement?”
His gaze met mine. “Right. I don’t know what it is about you that gets me going off on all these tangents. You’re easy to talk to, I guess.”
Which was good. And could be helpful.
And also made my heart pound with an emotion I didn’t want to examine too closely.
Evan cleared his throat. “Back to what I was saying, hiring starts on January first, but Chester Walton likes to get his contracts ready to go beforehand. So we would need to be together for a few months.”
Now my mouth was dry. A few months? “I don’t think I’m at a point where I’d be okay dating you.” And I was probably the only woman in a thousand-mile radius who felt that way.
His confident smirk made me feel like my thought bubbles had returned and he’d just read my mind. “Don’t think of it as dating. Just hanging out. We used to hang out all the time. And I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s hard for me to even ask for it. I have a hard time trusting people.”
The guilt intensified. I was the worst person ever and the last person he should trust. But as I knew from all the time I’d spent watching and participating in sports, the best defense was a good offense. “I don’t know that I can trust you, either.”
There was a look of pain in his eyes that was quickly gone. “That’s fair. Guess I’ll just have to do my best to prove that you can.”
I was the slime of all humanity. If he was being sincere.
And unfortunately the best way to figure out whether he meant it or it was all an act was to do what Brenda wanted me to do: stay “engaged” to Evan.
He got up and came to sit next to me on the couch. Not too close to make me uncomfortable, but close enough that I could feel his warmth and smell the soap on his skin, and every cell in my body tingled with anticipation of his touch.
“Please give me a dirty look so I know we’re okay.”
What else could I do but smile?
&nbs
p; He held up six fingers and mouthed the word six to me.
Which made me want to smile again, but I pushed the feeling down. I didn’t know if I could do what he wanted. I was sure Brenda would be ecstatic, but it would be really hard to pretend to be his fiancée. Especially when I had only just started to think about him with something besides hatred. “I don’t know . . .”
“It is a lot to ask,” he said. “I get that. And I get that there’s not really anything in it for you. I could come and do an interview at ISEN and give you all the credit for bringing me in.”
That was not what ISEN wanted from him, and the guilt nearly overwhelmed me. “That’s not necessary.”
“Or how about for the home games I could get your family a luxury box?”
Years ago my father had been invited by a client to attend a Jacks game in a luxury box, and he mentioned it practically every time we went to the stadium. He desperately wanted to go back but couldn’t justify the cost.
How could I say no and deny my father that chance?
As if he sensed I was weakening, Evan pressed his case, reaching out his hands as if he intended to grab mine. “The boxes are really nice. I think your family would enjoy them.”
I had to say yes. Even though I didn’t want to. Not just for my career’s sake but to make my dad happy. “Okay.” I swatted at his hands. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake fiancée for the next few months.”
“That is so great. Thank you!” He leaned forward, his arms moving toward me like he intended to hug me.
In that moment it would have been too much. I was trying desperately to remember my end goals: to stay professional and not let Evan Dawson in. Being enveloped in his strong, manly arms would not help with any of that.
I quickly stood. “I’m going to need a ring. That’s the first thing women ask about.”
He stood as well. “I’ll take care of that. I’ll have my assistant grab something. Text me your address so I can have it delivered.”
“Sounds good. I should get going.”
“Right. I am kind of bummed that people think I proposed to you in a restaurant. I would never do something so cliché.” He must have caught my disdain, because he immediately started backpedaling. “Uh-oh. Did someone you know get proposed to in a restaurant?”
“My oldest sister. My mother. My paternal grandmother. I could go on.” Clichés were clichés for a reason. We stopped just next to the door.
“Sorry, I have a bit of foot-in-mouth disease when I’m around beautiful women.”
“Ha.” He was either blind or the liar I suspected him to be. “I know how I look right now.”
“What do you mean? I like how you look.” His gaze lingered on me, following the contours of my body until he again met my eyes. My skin burned everywhere his gaze touched me.
“Yeah, men say they want someone low-maintenance, but they’re always drooling over the Barbies. Would you have talked to me at Tinsley’s party if I hadn’t been all done up?”
His body seemed to be moving closer to mine. My internal temperature rose about forty degrees. Had the walls started closing in? Or was he edging his way over to me?
“I didn’t talk to you because of how you looked. I talked to you because of what you were saying about the game. That you’re a knockout just happened to be icing on the cake.”
The flush started, and I was glad it was dim where we stood—hopefully he wouldn’t see it happening. I didn’t need him to start counting all the times he made me blush.
What I did need was to leave. Now. But he was blocking my only exit, because I was not Batgirl and couldn’t do a flying leap off his balcony. “Could you open the door so I could go?”
He put his hand on the doorknob and paused. “Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”
I was having a hard time concentrating. His nearness was throwing off my ability to think clearly. “There’s no way I would miss out on my luxury box. My family are season ticket holders. We always go to all the home games and watch the others on TV.”
“Isn’t it weird to think we’ve been in the same place at the same time so often? Maybe this is fate.”
His intense, blue-flamed gaze was going to make me come apart and confess everything to him. “Yeah. Weird. I’ll talk to you later.”
Finally getting the hint, he opened the door and stuck out his head, making sure the coast was clear. When he nodded, I had to duck under his arm and brush against that delicious chest of his to get out of his room.
I hurried down the hallway without looking back.
He was wrong. None of this was fate. It was a deliberate choice on my part.
And it wasn’t really personal anymore.
It was just business.
CHAPTER TWELVE
This entire day had emotionally drained me. I was relieved that now I could go home, put on some pajamas, and sleep until noon the next day.
I’d just finished getting ready for bed when there was a knock on my door. It was late. What kind of sociopath just stopped by without calling or texting first? I tiptoed over to the peephole and saw my older sister. Maybe if I just stayed quiet she’d go away.
She banged on the door again. She was going to start waking up neighbors, and I would get yelled at. “I know you’re in there! Open up, Ashton!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, opening the door slightly. She barged her way in, throwing her purse on my sofa.
“Do you even know how busy I am right now? I don’t want to be here, either, but you’re not answering texts and not picking up when any of us call!” Aubrey crossed her arms and glared at me.
There was a reason for that. I had no idea what to say to any of them. I wasn’t in the habit of lying to my family. I shut the door behind me. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No, I don’t want something to drink! I want you to tell me how you’re engaged to a guy who you were calling Satan just a few days ago!”
She sat down hard on the sofa, next to her purse. Everything in her body language said she wasn’t going to move until she got the full story.
So I told her about the party, the basketball game, and the dinner and how he’d apologized. I told her the paparazzo following us had made a mistake, assuming we were getting engaged when we weren’t, and that Evan had asked me to play along for the sake of his contract renewal.
She wore her scary I’m going to crucify you in court expression. “Nope. I’m not buying it. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I poured myself a glass of water and took a big gulp. Her intense attorney glare was making me nervous.
“The whole truth would be good.”
“Is this where I slam my hand on the counter and say you can’t handle the truth?”
But my sister did not appreciate my joke. “Out with it.”
I set my glass down and leaned against the kitchen counter. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“I’m not looking for your Facebook relationship status. Just . . . give me a dollar.” She held out her hand.
“I’m not giving you a dollar,” I scoffed. “You don’t need it.”
“Give me the dollar, Ashton.” She added her “don’t screw around with me” voice to her judgy, scary face. Just as it kept her kids in line, I felt compelled to do as she commanded.
“Fine.” I went over to my purse, pulled out a dollar bill, and handed it to her as I plopped down on the couch next to her. “Here’s your dollar.”
She held it aloft. “Now you’ve officially retained me as legal counsel, and anything you say is privileged and will be kept just between the two of us.”
“Where has this been all my life? It would have been very useful when I was in college.”
“Come on. The whole truth.”
I told her everything. It was a relief to tell someone else. Someone not as cutthroat or ambitious as Brenda. Aubrey didn’t care what happened with Evan one way or the other. And I kn
ew she’d always be on my side.
I talked about Brenda’s ambitions, how she’d chosen me for the story because of my past relationship with Evan. How I wanted to take him down and destroy him for revenge. Get him kicked off the Jacks.
“Wow,” she interjected. “I can’t believe you’re out to get Evan Dawson. I’ve never seen anybody pick a fight with the entire state of Oregon before.”
“But maybe he’s not who I thought he was.” I told her about his apologies, about how he claimed he hadn’t been responsible and wanted us to be friends. She didn’t look surprised at this part, and it made me wonder if she’d already had this discussion with him.
“So it’s possible he’s telling the truth, and he is a good guy, and you’re doing something terrible?”
“Well, when you put it like that . . .”
“What? It sounds true?”
Aubrey didn’t get it. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. That’s what I’m trying to find out. And keeping the engagement going is good for me and my aspirations.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is going to bite you in your aspirations. And I’ll take that water now.”
I got up to get her a glass, thinking about what she said and trying to find a way to explain myself. “I do need this job. My grandma money isn’t going to last for much longer.” My grandmother had left us three girls with trusts that were to be used for college and graduate school. It was a set amount that our father had disbursed to each of us. And since I hadn’t gone to graduate school, I’d been using that money to live off while I worked for free at ISEN. “It’s all about to work out for me. I’d hate to be this close to the end zone and fumble the ball.”
She took the water from me and set it on the coffee table. “Some things are more important than money and jobs.”
“Says the woman who has both. And a great husband and kids.” I put my feet up on the coffee table, turning away from her. “And the money’s not the only thing. Can you imagine how hard Mom and Dad would gloat if I lost my one chance to make this job a reality?”
#Awestruck (A #Lovestruck Novel) Page 11