“Where are you taking me?” I asked as he ushered me into an elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. But he just shook his head.
I let out a frustrated huff, and he laughed when I said, “You’re no fun.”
“Trust me.” He leaned closer, and I inhaled his woodsy scent. It was addictive. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
“We’ll see,” I said skeptically. Though I was secretly delighted.
As the elevator rose higher and higher, I could feel my excitement building as well. I had no idea where we were going, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I was with Brandon.
When the elevator doors finally opened, they revealed a winter wonderland. Fresh evergreens dotted the walkways and white lights twinkled over an outdoor ice-skating rink. I stared at the scene, marveling at the decorations as classic Christmas tunes played through unseen speakers. It was magical.
And we had it all to ourselves.
“Where is everybody?” I asked, knowing the rooftop skating rink was a popular attraction. I’d heard Charlotte talking about it before she left for Vail with Aunt Karen and Uncle Steve the other day. They wouldn’t be back until mid-January.
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s ours for the afternoon.”
He’d rented it out? I couldn’t imagine how much something like that would cost. But the bigger question was—why? Why would he want to guarantee alone time with me when everything we did was for the sake of his reputation, his career?
“Would you want to volunteer with me later this week?” he asked before I could press him.
“I’d love to.” I smiled. “Do you volunteer often?”
“When I get the chance,” he said. “I do a lot more volunteer work during the off-season.” I loved that he was active in the community, using his celebrity status for good.
“That’s understandable. From what I’ve seen, you don’t have much free time during the season.” We took a seat on a bench overlooking the skating rink, where two pairs of skates that just happened to be our size were waiting.
He shook his head. “Little to none.”
“Yet you seem to always make time for me,” I said, trying to make sense of it.
“Of course. That’s what you do when you’re in a relationship. You put the other person first.”
“Yeah, but…this is a fake relationship. I don’t want you to feel like it’s a burden.” I finished lacing up my skates and stood.
“Staci,” he said, his steel gray eyes burning into mine. “You could never be a burden.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he spoke first. “No. And if anyone acts like you are, you shouldn’t be with them. Do you understand?”
I nodded, accepting his hand as we entered the ice rink. The ice was slippery, and it took me a moment to catch my bearings. Brandon was a natural, of course—athletic and graceful.
We lapsed into a comfortable silence, before I was struck with a thought. “Would you mind if Amy tagged along when we volunteer?”
“Of course not,” Brandon said. “I’d love to spend more time with your family.”
“You would?” I asked, stunned by his response.
“Why not?” Our skates sliced the surface of the ice as we circled the rink. “I miss my family, especially around the holidays.”
I was struck by what a lonely life he must lead. Apart from his teammates and now me, he didn’t spend much time with anyone else. At least not during the season.
“What about the off-season? You don’t go home then?” I asked. He shook his head, but I sensed there was something he wasn’t telling me.
“They try to come for one to two games each season,” he said.
“I can’t imagine living so far away from my family,” I mused as we continued to skate, but then I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, for a long time, my dream was to move somewhere like Austin or Nashville to pursue a music career. Which would mean moving far away from my family.”
“That’s not your dream anymore?” he asked, spinning on the ice so that he was facing me.
I lifted a shoulder, trying not to be too distracted by the sight of him skating backward. “I don’t know. I guess you could say I’m exploring my options. I used to have such a limited view of what life could be life, mostly because I didn’t know any different. But moving to Dallas, meeting Charlotte, meeting you,” I said, “has changed me.”
“Hopefully for the better,” he said, and I sensed his hesitation.
“Of course for the better.” I squeezed his arm, feeling warmer despite the chill in the air.
“I’m glad to hear it. Sometimes I feel guilty for dragging you into this. For corrupting you.”
I rolled my eyes, though I was touched by the sentiment. “First of all, I wouldn’t have agreed to it, if I didn’t want to. Second, you’re not corrupting me; you’re educating me.”
He groaned, swiping a hand down his face. “I’m not sure that sounds any better. If anything, it sounds worse.”
“Speaking of,” I said, ignoring his complaints. “I have a question for you, dating guru.”
“What’s that?” he asked, suddenly interested despite his protest only moments before.
“Well…” I kept my eyes focused on the rink, grateful for the distraction of skating. “How am I supposed to know if a guy is interested in me. Like, what clues should I look for?”
“You mean besides giving you gifts or asking you to be his girlfriend?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, wanting more, but not entirely sure how to ask. What I really wanted to know was not how to tell if any guy liked me, but whether he liked me. “More subtle clues.”
He stopped skating backwards, taking his place beside me once more. “You mean if he’s shy?”
“Yeah,” I said, latching onto that.
“Pay attention to his body language,” he said. “Does he lean toward you when he talks. Does he mirror what you’re doing or try to find little ways to touch you?”
“Oh, this is good,” I said enthusiastically. “What else?”
“Pay attention to his eye contact and whether his arms are crossed. Is he a good listener?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. I thought. Though I definitely needed to start paying more attention.
“What about teasing?” I asked.
“It depends. As long as it’s not mean-spirited, and it’s flirty; then yes.”
“But how do I know if someone’s flirting with me?” I asked, feeling a bit perplexed.
It always seemed like such an elusive concept, so easy to misinterpret someone’s intent. It had certainly happened to me in the past. There had been a number of times I thought a guy was interested in me, only to be stuck in the friend zone.
Though he was facing forward, I saw his mouth curve into a smile. “You’ll know.”
“But how?”
He shook his head. “You’ve flirted with me tons of times. You’re a natural.”
“Ugh,” I groaned.
He slowed, and I followed him over to the side of the rink where we leaned against the wall. The city spread out beyond, and it only made me realize how small we were.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s just so much to remember,” I said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. How could I possibly carry on a conversation and focus on my body language while studying his? Would I ever stop second-guessing everything?
“Staci,” he said, his gray eyes boring into mine. “When you’re with the right person, it’s as easy as breathing.”
The rest of the afternoon, Brandon’s words rang in my ears. Because when I was with him, it felt effortless. Like he’d said, it was as easy as breathing.
Chapter Fourteen
Brandon
It was the night before a playoff game, and I was fired up. So was the rest of the team, thanks to the incredible motivational speaker. They always had an inspiring message, but tonight’s speaker seemed particularly comp
elling.
Staci and I had been dating a few weeks now, and the press was eating it up. I loved that Scott was off my back, and even Arthur seemed pleased. It was all going so well.
Staci had loved my Christmas surprise, and I was looking forward to spending New Year’s Eve with her as well. I didn’t know which I’d enjoyed more—witnessing the delight on her face as we skated around the empty rink or seeing the necklace I’d given her resting against her collarbone. When I’d seen the piece, I immediately knew it was meant for her. It was understated yet elegant, and it represented everything she was to me. She was light, hope, and joy. Between what she meant to me and her beautiful voice, she truly was my angel.
I startled when the audience burst into applause, filling the ballroom with the sound of their appreciation. I joined in, only then realizing that I’d missed the rest of the speech, I’d been so lost in my thoughts of Staci. After a team chant, we were dismissed, and I was looking forward to heading up to my room for our nightly phone call.
Tristan leaned into my space as we walked toward the elevators. “So, how’s the flavor of the month?”
“Don’t call her that,” I ground out.
“Why? That’s what she is, right?” I had a feeling he was goading me, but I didn’t have the time nor patience for games.
“Yeah, man,” Nash said, falling in step on my other side. Where had he come from? “That’s what you do. Date ‘em and break ‘em?” He smirked.
“Stop,” I growled. Though we were getting along better, I didn’t consider him a friend. And even if he was, I didn’t want to hear anyone talking about Staci like that.
“Ooh,” Tristan said. “Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for this one.” He chuckled, patting me on the back. “Don’t screw it up,” he said before he and Nash walked away.
I glared at their backs, while I waited for the elevator. When it didn’t come after a few seconds, I decided to sprint the several flights of stairs to my room instead. As I crested the landing of my floor, I pressed Staci’s number to connect the call as I sped down the hall toward my room.
“Brandon.”
My shoulders immediately tightened—something was wrong. “What’s wrong?”
The door to my hotel room closed behind me with an audible click. I kicked off my shoes and headed farther into the room.
“Nothing.” I could hear just how upset she was from the sound of her voice. Instead of the clear, musical quality, it sounded as if she’d been crying. An ominous feeling settled over me.
“Staci,” I growled. “Talk to me.”
She huffed. “It’s the night before your game. We can discuss it tomorrow.”
I shook my head—not good enough. “If something’s upsetting you, we can discuss it tonight,” I said in a tone that left no room for negotiation.
“Ugh. Why are you always so stubborn?”
I chuckled. “Some would say my determination is one of my best qualities. Now tell me,” I said, softening my tone.
“I guess you didn’t see the article.” Her words were punctuated by sniffles.
I frowned. “What article?”
“They’re calling me a gold digger. Did you tell the photographer we’d be there?”
“Be where?” I asked, fumbling as I struggled to open the internet browser so I could figure out what the heck was going on.
I searched for our names, and an article immediately appeared. There were pictures of us at the restaurant that first night, skating at the empty rooftop rink, and a close-up of her necklace. The article made a running tally of how much money I’d lavished on my new girlfriend, but that didn’t bother me so much as the insinuation—that Staci was only dating me for my money. I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
“Staci,” I said, hating that she was both so upset and so far away. “You can’t read that trash. You have to ignore it.”
“How can I? Everyone at work is acting weird. I know they’re judging me.” She sighed, and I heard her breath shutter. Was she crying now? “Do you know how nice it was to be somewhat anonymous? To not have people know everything about you?”
“I can imagine,” I said, knowing exactly what it could be like to live in a small town. At times, the sense of community was incredible. But it could also be suffocating.
Though it was nothing compared to the scrutiny I’d experienced since joining the Eagles. I was always in the public eye, and it was exhausting. The idea of flying under the radar sounded sublime, especially after how many years I’d spent dealing with the media. And it only made me feel worse for dragging her into this life. This mess.
“What can I do to fix it?” How can I help?” I asked, needing to make it better.
I hadn’t read the full article, but I didn’t need to. It didn’t matter what had been said about her mom’s health, her dad’s death, or her family’s dire financial situation. What mattered was how it had made Staci feel.
She was quiet for a long time, the only sound her soft breathing punctuated by the occasional sniffle. She was going to break me.
“Stace, please,” I pleaded.
“Nothing,” she finally said. “Nothing can fix this. Mama’s in tears and refuses to leave her room. Ellie puts on a strong front, but I know she’s upset. And Amy…” she sighed. “The kids at her new school were finally starting to accept her. Now this…”
“Look,” I said. “I’ll talk to my agent, see what he recommends. Okay?”
When she didn’t answer, I said, “I promise I’ll find a way to make this better.”
I had no idea if that would be possible, but I was determined to try. Someone as kind, as wonderful, as Staci and her family did not deserve this. Especially not after all they’d been through.
“You trust me, right?” I asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was small, but it was strong.
I was already forwarding the article to Scott to see what we could do. This was unacceptable.
“Brandon,” she finally said. “You don’t think I’m a gold digger, do you?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. The idea of Staci being a gold digger was ridiculous.
“You think this is funny?” Her pained tone immediately sobered me.
“No, sweetheart,” I said, my eyes going wide at the pet name. What am I doing? “I know you’re not interested in my money. You’re aren’t even interested in me.”
“That’s not true,” she said, and for the millionth time I wished I could see her expression. What was she thinking?
“It’s not?” I asked, hope blooming in my chest. Was she trying to tell me what I wanted to hear so badly?
She hesitated before answering, “You’re a good friend, Brandon. The best,” she whispered, her voice tight.
Her words sliced through me like a knife. It hurt. It shouldn’t—I knew exactly where we stood. This relationship was all for show. But the more I got to know Staci, the more I wanted it to be real.
I sunk down on the bed, suddenly very tired. It had been a long day of traveling and preparations for the game, and I should’ve been winding down, focusing on tomorrow. But I wanted nothing more than to talk to Staci and make sure she was okay.
“I would never exploit our relationship—real or fake—for my own gain,” she said.
“I know.” My tone was solemn. Because I did know that.
Which was why it was even more difficult to accept that someday this thing between us would end. Even in the short time we’d been together, I’d realized that Staci was everything I could want in a partner, a wife. She was perfect for me, but I could never be worthy of her. I didn’t deserve her.
“Brandon…you still there?”
“Yeah.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I’m still here.”
“I’m scared,” she said in a quiet voice.
I frowned. I always envisioned Staci as brave, fearless even. She seemed to face life head on, with such passion. Scared wasn’t a word I’d typically use to describe her.
>
“About the paparazzi?” I asked, knowing they could be a nuisance.
I’d hire a bodyguard if I had to. Whatever it took to keep her safe and comfortable. I’d hire a fleet of bodyguards if that’s what she and her family needed.
“For Mama.”
“What’s going on?” I leaned back against the headboard, tucking my arm behind my head.
“She’s really struggling with my dad’s death. We all miss him, but… he was the love of her life. You know?”
Unfortunately, I did. After losing Melissa, I’d thought my life was over. For years, I’d been a shell of a man. It was only since Staci, that I felt like that was changing. I was living again.
“Has she seen a counselor? Or attended a support group?” I asked.
It hadn’t done much to help me after Melissa’s death, but I knew people benefitted from them. Football was the only reason I’d survived one of the most difficult times in my life. It gave me focus. It gave me purpose. And it held me accountable.
“No,” Staci said. “We’ve tried. But she keeps retreating further into herself. And this isn’t helping.”
I clenched my fist. I wanted to strangle every single reporter who’d decided it was okay to pry into Staci’s family life. Ultimately though, the blame was on me. I was the one who’d dragged her into this mess. I wasn’t surprised that her name was splashed in the news—she was dating me, and it had lasted longer than any of my previous relationships. But I was surprised by how invasive—and frankly insensitive—the article was.
“Maybe we should end it,” she said suddenly.
“That’s a terrible idea,” I blurted out before realizing how harsh it had come across. But ending my relationship with Staci was the last thing I wanted. Still, I was scrambling for a reason that would sound plausible. “I mean, if you’re wanting to end it because of the rumors, that’s the last thing we should do. It would only add fuel to the fire.
“But if you want to break it off because you’re unhappy, then I understand.”
I wondered if her heart was pounding as fast as mine. If she was as opposed to the idea of breaking up as I was. I fisted the comforter, regretting that I’d ever mentioned it. I didn’t want this to end; but if it was what she needed, I would do it.
Catching the Billionaire Page 11