“So it isn’t true?” she asked.
I laughed. “No. I went to deliver your message the other night, and the dinner must have been misconstrued.”
“I’ll say,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.” And then I started laughing, the sound slightly hysterical. “I mean, can you even imagine—Brandon James dating me?”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Well, I’m young, unsophisticated. I don’t wear makeup, and I can count the number of times I’ve worn heels on one hand.”
“So?”
“So… I’m not his type. And he’s not mine,” I added.
“How do you know what your type is?” she asked. “Take me and Uncle Steve for instance. I was so convinced he wasn’t my type that I wasted a lot of time that we could’ve been together.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Really?”
I didn’t know much about Aunt Karen and Uncle Steve’s relationship, but it was clear they were in love. Normally, I would’ve considered talking to Mama about this kind of thing, but now… I couldn’t. I was afraid it would upset her too much to have to answer questions about Daddy.
“Oh yeah.” She leaned her head back and laughed. “I was so convinced. Just like you.”
“What changed your mind?” I asked, genuinely curious. Not that I was considering dating Brandon. He’d never so much as indicated an interest in dating me for crying out loud.
She lifted her shoulder, a smile lighting her face. “He did. He saw what I couldn’t.”
I nodded, considering her words.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure it will all blow over soon.” She stood, and I did the same.
“No problem.” I reached for the doorknob.
“And Staci,” she said, and I turned to face her. “Don’t be so quick to close off opportunities. You never know where they’ll lead.”
I returned to the conference room and spent the rest of the afternoon assembling swag bags. Though I usually lamented the lack of company involved with my job, that certainly wasn’t the case today. I was grateful to avoid everyone’s curious stares for the most part. And it gave me time to think about what Aunt Karen had said.
Later that afternoon, my phone rang, and an unknown number flashed across the screen. I let it go to voicemail. When it started ringing again a few seconds later, I frowned.
“Staci, are you going to answer that?” Amy huffed out from the other room where she was doing homework.
I should’ve sent it to voicemail, but it was the second time they’d called. Whoever it was was insistent. I only hoped it wasn’t a debt collector for Mama’s hospital bills. Though, typically, they called Ellie’s phone not mine. She thought I didn’t know, but I’d heard her talking in hushed whispers as she begged them to give her extra time to make the payments. I hated it.
I connected the call, ready to give them a piece of my mind. “Hello.”
“Staci.” A deep voice resonated through the phone, striking home deep within me like a tuning rod. It sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t Will.
I closed the door to my room, knowing Amy was prone to eavesdropping. “Yes?”
“This is Brandon. Brandon James.”
I fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it on the floor. I returned it to my ear, only then realizing that he’d continued speaking, and I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked.
He cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable. “Can you meet?”
My eyes widened. Not only was he calling me, but he wanted to meet. “Meet?”
“Yes, you know—" he said in a dry tone. “We pick a designated time and place, then arrive at said destination.”
“Are you asking me on date?” I blurted, immediately covering my mouth with my free hand. So much for finesse.
But he hadn’t acted interested in me. At all. He’d been quiet, almost stand-offish throughout dinner. And he’d never indicated any sort of attraction to me. At least, not like Will had.
Though I still wasn’t entirely clear on what Will and I were either. We’d hung out a few times, but I wasn’t sure that any of them counted as a date. And he had yet to kiss me or even hold my hand. I was afraid it was high school all over again—I was being friend-zoned.
“Not exactly,” Brandon said, interrupting my thoughts. “Though I will pay for your meal or any activity.”
“Sounds a lot like a date to me,” I teased.
If it wasn’t a date, what was it? Two friends hanging out? We weren’t friends. We were barely even acquaintances.
He sighed. “Look, I need your help. Okay?”
“You need my help?” What could Brandon James—Eagles superstar, and billionaire heartbreaker—possibly need my help with? This conversation—like my day—was getting more and more strange.
“Yes. Please,” he added, though it sounded as if it pained him.
“Does this have something to do with the fact that people thinking we’re dating?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped at that one word, and I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, he spoke again, saving me from a response. “Can you come to my house? Tonight?”
“No can do,” I said.
He was practically a stranger. He was older than me, much older. And he was inviting me to his home. Alone. It wasn’t safe or appropriate for me to go. Even if he didn’t turn out to be some axe-murderer in disguise, Ellie would kill me if I agreed.
He groaned. “How about…how about…”
“A coffee shop?” I offered.
“Too public,” he answered immediately.
“To what…murder me?” I teased, though considering how the other night had gone, I hadn’t thought he’d ever want to see me again. Let alone that he’d go out of his way to do so.
“I know you’re not a fan of football, but around here, a lot of people are. I’d like to discuss this where we won’t be interrupted or overheard. Where our privacy is ensured.”
“I assume Leith’s is out,” I teased. “Considering a number of pictures of us ended up online following our meal there.”
“You saw those?” he asked.
I cradled the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “Yeah. Kind of rude, don’t you think? Taking pictures of someone when they’re trying to enjoy their meal. Well—” I waved my hand in the air. “Their dessert.”
There was silence for a beat. “Brandon? Are you still there?”
“Yeah. I’m still here.” He sounded tired. “What about your place?”
I shook my head before remembering he couldn’t see me. “Not unless you want my family breathing down your neck.”
“You live at home?” His tone was incredulous, and it made my hackles rise.
“Sort of,” I said defensively. He had no right to judge me. He didn’t know my circumstances.
“Sorry. That was rude. I guess I just forget how young you are sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes. For a guy who had a reputation as a player he sure seemed to have a knack for putting his foot in his mouth. Maybe he wasn’t used to making conversation? Maybe he was used to women throwing themselves at him without any effort required on his part? Either seemed likely considering his profession and his good looks.
Ugh. I rolled my eyes. Stop thinking about his good looks.
“My age has nothing to do with my reason for living with family,” I ground out almost more annoyed with myself than him.
Objectively speaking, he was handsome. He was known as America’s Heartbreaker for crying out loud. I could admit that he was attractive without being attracted to him. Right?
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m not used to doing this.”
“Doing what?” I asked. “Talking to someone?”
“Asking for help.”
“Oh.” The word was soft on my lips, like a pillow.
He sounded
so pitiful, I decided to take it easy on him. “There’s a nice park near where I live. Will that work?”
“That would be great.” I sensed genuine relief in his voice.
“Okay. How about Saturday at two?” I asked.
He chuckled. “You really aren’t a football fan, are you?”
I scrunched up my face. “I thought I made that pretty clear the other night. But what does that have to do with our non-date?”
“I’ll be tied up all weekend for the game.”
“All weekend? I thought the game was on Sunday.”
“Yes,” he ground out. “But the team stays at a hotel on Saturday, and we have practice and meetings and curfews.”
“Oh.” I shook my head, laughing at myself. “Right.”
“Could you meet tomorrow afternoon? Say around four?” He was persistent, but I guess you didn’t get to be where he was without some determination.
“Um, sure. That should work.” I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Brandon James had called me to ask for help. How had he even gotten my number?
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” he said.
“Okay. Great.” Ack. Why was ending a call always such an awkward affair?
“Goodbye,” Brandon said, curt and to the point.
“Bye,” I said, with way too much enthusiasm.
He disconnected the call, and I fell back on the bed with a long sigh. I hoped I wouldn’t regret this.
“Can I come with you?” Amy asked when I picked her up from school the next day.
“Come with me where?”
“To meet Will. Aren’t you going to record some songs or something.” She buckled herself in and started messing with the radio. “I want to watch.”
My face fell. Will. I’d forgotten all about him. We’d hung out a few times, but I still wasn’t sure where we stood. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He hadn’t even kissed me. After considering it for a moment, I decided that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’d made no promises to Will, or to Brandon for that matter.
“Stace?” Amy asked, turning in her seat to face me.
I forced a smile. “Sorry. Not today. But soon.”
“Promise?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm. Yep.” My voice was falsely high, but if Amy noticed she didn’t remark on it.
I dropped her off at home, only to arrive at the park a few minutes early. This time of day, it was relatively empty. And I walked along the path, wondering if this was a mistake. Or even some sort of joke. I kept checking the time, feeling as if each minute passed at the pace of an hour.
Footsteps on the gravel path alerted me that someone was approaching, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Brandon headed my way. I slowed so he could catch up, though his long strides quickly ate up the distance.
“Hey,” he said, and his rich voice melted my insides. It made me wonder if he sang. If he could carry a tune, I bet he’d sound amazing.
I shook my head, only then realizing I was staring at his lips. “Hey.”
The other night he’d been dressed in a suit, but today he wore distressed jeans and a knit gray hoodie that matched his eyes. Though he looked handsome in a suit, I preferred this more casual look. Somehow, it seemed more him. Though really, what did I know about him? Not much.
I hadn’t allowed myself to search for him online. After Ellie showed me the pictures of Brandon and me eating at Leith’s the other night, it felt wrong. Like I would be invading his privacy.
Brandon assessed me from beneath his baseball hat, and I wondered what he was thinking. Compared to the women he usually dated, I was a bit plain. A bit modest. A bit—young. At least that was the impression I got from the pictures Ellie showed me before my self-imposed internet ban.
We walked for a bit in silence, the knot in my stomach growing ever more tangled the longer it stretched on.
“I need a favor,” Brandon said when we reached a bench. His baseball cap shaded his face, and I wanted to remove it so I could get a better look at his eyes.
He gestured for me to sit, and I did. It was a beautiful park overlooking the lake with large trees shading the water. A runner sped past, his shoes kicking up bits of gravel.
“Okay,” I said, stretching out the word. “What kind of favor?”
He tensed. “I need you to be my girlfriend.”
My eyes widened, my mouth going dry. “You what?”
Wow. He just cut straight to that. No lead-in, no explanation.
“I need you to be my girlfriend. Well, fake girlfriend anyway.” He stared out at the lake as if he hadn’t just asked me to fake date him.
“Why?” I blurted.
Surely, he had women clamoring to date him—supermodels, famous actresses, fans. So, why would he need a fake girlfriend? And why on earth would he choose me?
“The truth?” he asked.
I nodded. “That would be nice. If you want me to fake date you, I think I deserve an answer.”
He laughed. “You’re not like most women.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Most women would accept without batting an eye. Most women would kill for a chance to date me.”
“Fake date you, remember,” I said.
“Even that.” He gave me a wry grin, which prompted me to rolled my eyes.
“Look—” He twisted on the bench, and I squirmed beneath the intensity of his gaze. “My contract with the Eagles is up for renewal come the end of the season. And they don’t like my current image as…”
“America’s Heartbreaker?” I supplied.
“Exactly.” He nodded, though I sensed some tension on his part. “They want me to show that I’m in a committed, loving relationship.”
I laughed so hard I snorted. My cheeks flamed red, and I covered my face with my hands.
“What’s so funny?” Brandon asked.
I finally uncovered my face so I could answer him. “I think it’s ironic that you’re trying to prove you’re this wholesome guy, but you’re using a fake relationship to do so. Why?”
“I don’t have the time or desire to date. I don’t want to lead someone on, when I have no intention of ever getting married. I love my job. I love this sport.” His gray eyes flared with emotion. “So, if this is what it takes to keep playing, I’ll do it.”
I wanted to rewind and ask him why he wasn’t going to get married. Ever. It sounded so final, so non-negotiable. Not that his marriage ban affected me in any way, but it did make me sad. I saw how happy my parents had been together, how much they’d loved each other. Why wouldn’t he want that?
“Why not just buy a team and play for yourself?” I asked, instead of the question I really wanted to.
“The right team would have to be for sale for me to even consider something like that. But more than that, it’s about respect. It’s about earning your place on the team.”
I could respect that. More than respect it, I admired his attitude. As a man who had the power to buy anything, do anything, he still wanted to earn his place.
“And you think I’m the girl for the job?”
I wasn’t exactly considering it, but I wasn’t ready to say no either. It wasn’t every day a guy asked you to be their girlfriend—fake girlfriend, anyway. And definitely not a celebrity who also happened to be a billionaire.
“Yes.” He ran his palms down his thighs. “Well, not me. My agent.”
I frowned. Though what had I expected? He wasn’t asking me to date him because he liked me. He was asking me because I was good for his image. Perhaps that was for the best. If I agreed to fake date him, and that was a big if, there would be no feelings involved. It would be less messy.
Was I actually entertaining his proposal? What would I tell my family? What would I tell Will?
“What about Will?” I asked.
A muscle twitched in his neck. “What about him?”
“Well…what would I tell him?”
&
nbsp; “What do you want to tell him?” he asked in a calm tone.
“Ugh.” I scuffed the toes of my shoes against the gravel. “Stop answering every question with a question.”
The corner of his mouth titled. “First of all, are you dating Will?”
I hung my head. As much as I wanted to say yes, I knew it would be a lie. “No.”
“Then you don’t have to tell him anything. If he’s not your boyfriend, if he hasn’t asked you on a date, you don’t owe him an explanation. Next issue,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Easy for him to say. He didn’t want to get married or date. So how could he possibly understand?
“Why should I agree to this?” I asked.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Football is my life. It gives me purpose. If I lose that…” He shook his head, clearly regretting his words.
But where he thought they showed weakness, vulnerability, I thought they showed strength. And it made me take his request more seriously. I might not love football, or even understand it, like he did, but his passion resonated with me. It was how I felt about music. If I lost my ability to sing, I’d be devastated. It would be like losing my soul, my very essence.
Despite what he was asking me, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no. Besides, what did I have to lose?
Chapter Ten
Brandon
I blinked, staring back at Staci. She’d just asked me a question about my expectations for her as a fake girlfriend. And all I could focus on was the fact that her eyes perfectly matched the color of the clear blue sky. Her hair fluttered about her face, a golden halo. And her scent was heavenly—like roses or some sort of delicate flower.
“Well—” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus. “We’d date until after my contract is finalized.”
I needed to get my head in the game. This was a fake relationship, nothing more. And that was only if she even agreed to it.
“Right, but how often would we go out? Would we have to hold hands? Kiss?”
As often as possible. Heck yes. And…I swallowed hard at the thought of kissing her. I wanted to. So badly.
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