by Ali Parker
But if I heard his voice, I knew I would cry, and if I started to cry, I would never stop. Then the jig would be up. Mom and Dad would dig and dig until they figured out where I had actually been for all of January.
They were going to find out eventually, but the longer I could put it off, the better. The closer I was to the million dollars, the better. But the million dollars was a lot less of a shiny prize after spending all month with Joshua.
All I wanted was to go back to him. I wanted to sit in his lap all day with my arms around him, breathing in his scent. I wanted to be wherever it could just be the two of us. Where didn’t matter.
I thought back to the Ferris wheel and our day at Niagara Falls. I thought of our sexy night in Toronto and meeting his family and feeling like I was where I belonged.
How on earth was I supposed to spend the next twenty-eight days with another man when my heart was still in Montreal?
“Are you all right, Piper?” my father asked, putting his hand on my back.
I blinked and nodded before leaning over the table in front of me to run my cloth over it for the third time that hour. “Yes. Sorry. I was daydreaming.”
“About?”
“About having more customers in this place. About being so busy none of us have a chance for a break.”
He chuckled and peered back down at the flyer. “I daydream about that all the time, Piper. Those days are coming. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Me too.” I smiled. I could only feel it because I knew what they all did not. Money waited for us down the line. If they could hold on until the end of the year, then everything would work out. They wouldn’t lose the business, and we would be able to pay it off right then and there in one lump sum. Interest fees and taxes included.
And I could pay for Phillip to go back to school.
And for myself to go to school, too.
And Joshua? He would understand. He knew my family was struggling. And if our roles were reversed, I suspected he would make the same choice. Family came first. Always.
“Are you sure you have to leave today?” my father asked, a frown washing over his face. He pulled a roll of tape from the pocket of his chef jacket and taped the flyer to the top right corner of the window beside the front door.
You know, in case the public didn’t see all the flyers pasted to the telephone poles out on the sidewalk.
“I’m sure, Dad. I’m sorry. I wish I could stay a bit longer too. But I’ll be back on February twenty-eighth.”
“For a day.” His tone conveyed his disappointment.
“Yes.”
He sighed and taped down the last corner of the blue piece of paper. Then he dropped the tape back in his pocket and turned to me. “I’m proud of you, Pipes.”
“Sorry?”
He chuckled and clamped a hand on my shoulder. His hands were big. They always had been. When I was a little girl, I used to love how his whole palm was the size of my hand, from wrist to the tip of my middle finger.
He was a superhero to me back then. And now, too.
“I’m proud that you didn’t listen to your old folks when they tried to force you to stay here. You’re better than the rest of us. There’re things out there waiting for you. I just know it. Like I know our restaurant is going to pull through.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, fighting back the pain in my throat as it tightened. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
He nudged my cheek with his knuckles. “What do you say you, me, and your mother sit down and have some lunch?”
“What if customers come in?”
“Then they will see that we’re a family-first establishment. If that doesn’t sell them on Piper’s Paradise, I don’t know what will.”
I followed my father through the restaurant and down the hall to the back, where we joined my mother in the kitchen. She was wrapping scones to store in the deep freeze, and when we walked in, she looked up and smiled.
My father clapped his hands together. “Let’s whip up something to eat. What do you feel like, Piper? Soup and sandwich? Chili? Salad? Pasta?”
“Soup and sandwich is good with me,” I said.
“It’s our last meal together for a month,” he said. “Don’t you want something a little more exciting?”
I shook my head. “No, our sandwiches are the best. And I’ve missed them.”
I stood in the kitchen with my mom and dad, and the three of us whipped up sandwiches. When we sat down to eat, we talked about things that didn’t matter to avoid the things that did. The meal passed all too quickly, and the clock on the wall clicked steadily closer to two o’clock.
When it finally reached that final hour, I went to the back room and grabbed my suitcase, purse, and jacket. Jackson Lee had sent a car for me, and I’d asked the driver to park down two blocks and up one, just in case. I didn’t need my folks seeing me leave in a limo.
Not when finances were so thinly stretched. They would make assumptions. The wrong ones, naturally.
I hugged my mom and dad goodbye and told them I loved them. My mom cried. I asked them to give Phillip a hug for me and to kick his butt while I was gone. They assured me they would as they walked me to the door and stood on the threshold. They waved at me as I walked up onto the sidewalk and paused, looking back one last time before taking a right and walking away.
The tears didn’t come until I was down the block. And when they did come, they were impossible to stop.
I cried for my mom and dad and having to leave them. I cried out of guilt for making Phillip do all my work for me. I cried for me. And for Joshua.
But when I got to the car and slid into the back seat of the limo, I got a hold of myself.
This was a new month and a fresh start. I had to put my best foot forward. Easton deserved better than a girl who was pining after the last guy she’d been with. He didn’t sign up for a bubbling mess of tangled-up emotions.
He signed up for a polished woman who would enhance his life, not bring her literal and figurative baggage with her and drop it on his doorstep.
I pulled a compact mirror out of my purse and checked my makeup. There were smudges under my eyes that I wiped away with the tips of my fingers before snapping the mirror closed and dropping it back in my purse.
I double checked that I had my outfit I would change into in my carry-on. I wasn’t going to step off the airplane in Florida in my jeans and white button-up that I’d worn at the restaurant. I had a cute little summer dress rolled up in one of the front pouches that I would pair with the gold sandals I borrowed from Janie.
I missed my best friend. She’d been at work today, and we weren’t able to see each other. I shook my head. I couldn’t think about her right now. We would talk later.
I stared out the window and tried to tell myself that this month would be fun. At the very least, I was going to get away to some nice warm weather.
It was game-face time.
“Round two, Piper,” I said to myself, trying to still the swirling in my gut. “You’ve got this.”
Spending an entire month with a pro NFL quarterback would be easy peasy.
Right?
Chapter 3
Easton
Jerry’s mouth was pressed together in a thin line. His arms were crossed so that his Dolphins’ windbreaker was all wrinkled near his armpits.
“I don’t understand you, Easton,” my agent grumbled.
I chuckled. “It’s all right, Jerry. It’s above your pay grade.”
Jerry ran his hand down his face in exasperation. “She’s going to be at your place in an hour. Why the hell are you going out right now?”
I shrugged. “I want a drink.”
The team meeting had just come to an end. It was seven o’clock in the evening. I was hungry, parched, and in the mood for literally anything besides going back to my place to wait for the Girl to show up.
A couple of the boys from the team had invited me out for a drink, and I’d taken them up on it. Ac
cepting their invitation nearly gave poor Jerry a heart attack, which was why he’d pulled me into the hallway outside the meeting room to give me a lecture.
“You agreed to this. You knew how this thing worked when you signed up. Piper comes to Florida for a month, and you, the bachelor for February—and Valentine’s Day I might add—are supposed to entertain her and make her feel welcome. And yet, you’re going for drinks? With your team? You can have drinks with these guys any day of the week.”
“Exactly. Like today.”
“You’re being an ass.”
I grinned. “What else is new?”
“So, you’re fine with her showing up at your place by herself? Who’s going to help her with her bags?”
I snorted and shook my head. “I don’t really give a shit whether or not I’m there to help her with her bags, Jerry. The Girl is working class. She can carry her own bags. Or bag, I should say. I doubt she has more than one with her.”
Jerry sighed. “You should have at least gotten her a hotel. That’s what the last guy did.”
“Fuck the last guy. He’s got nothing on me.”
“Besides chivalry and common sense,” Jerry mumbled.
“What?”
My agent scratched the back of his neck. “Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. If this is how you want to start things off with her, then so be it. That’s on you. I’m out of here.”
I nudged him in the shoulder with my fist. “Thatta boy, Jerry. See? Doesn’t that feel better? Just don’t sweat this shit. She’ll come and go, and everything will go back to normal, and you won’t have to worry about this. Sound good?”
“Sure. Whatever. Just don’t drink too much tonight. The poor thing doesn’t need your drunk ass stumbling into the house at three in the morning, waking her up.”
“I’m charming when I’m drunk.”
“You’re delusional,” Jerry said before turning and walking down the hall with his hands in his pockets.
“Thanks for the pep talk!” I hollered after him.
He flipped me the bird over his shoulder and kept walking.
A few of my teammates filed out of the conference room behind me. One of my linebackers nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. “We’re hitting the Century Club. You in, or what?”
I glanced over at Brett. He was already dressed to go out in a light gray suit with a navy shirt underneath and matching pocket square. He had cared about how good he looked when he went out for as long as we’d been on the team together.
I used to think it was too flashy. But then I saw how much the motherfucker got laid, and I started following suit.
I adjusted my cufflinks and nodded. “What are we waiting for?”
* * *
The Century Club wasn’t very busy when we showed up.
But after we’d been there for about fifteen minutes, it was packed to full capacity.
Word traveled fast when NFL players settled down at a place on a Friday night. Tweets and pictures on Instagram brought the people flocking to the club.
Brett, who took a spot beside me at our VIP booth, was living his best life. He had both arms draped over the back of the booth. His jacket was off and hanging on the post at the end of the table. He had his sleeves rolled up, flashing strong, inked-up forearms to all the ladies who were trying to catch our attention on the other side of the VIP rope.
It would be so easy to take any one of them home, but that wasn’t an option for me. Not for the entire month, at least.
I could play nice for the next twenty-eight days.
“Bro.” Will, one of the wide receivers on the team, nodded at a pretty blonde who was walking across the dance floor toward the bar. She had on a skin-tight red dress that left little to the imagination. Her shoes were sky high and the same shade of red as her dress. Straps wrapped up her ankles and halfway up her thin calves, which flexed with every step she took.
She was the definition of my type.
I slumped back in my seat and glowered at Will. “Go for it. We all know I’m benched for the month. Don’t let an ass like that go to waste.”
“It’s too early,” Will said. “I was pointing her out for you. I didn’t think you’d actually follow through with this whole ‘no bitches’ rule.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Jerry would have my head. This club is pretty elite. And it might end up in the tabloids. The last thing I need is to be plastered all over the front pages as a man whore.”
“But you are a man whore.” Brett chuckled.
Will and our other teammate who had joined us, Brodie, also started laughing at my expense.
I reached for my whiskey glass on the table. “I can endure twenty-eight days.”
“Sure you can,” Will mused.
“Who says you can’t get any from the chick crashing with you?” Brett asked. “What’s her name again?”
“Piper.”
Will snapped his fingers at me. “Yeah, Piper. Sounds like the name of a girl who knows what she’s doing in the bedroom.”
“Pretty sure she’s a prude,” I said.
Brodie waved a server over and ordered us another round of drinks, as well as two shots of tequila each. After she took our order, he turned his attention back to me. “The prudes are the best ones to break. If you can show her a good time, you have no clue what kind of vixen might be lurking under the surface.”
“I don’t plan on investing that sort of time in her,” I said flatly.
Will ran his thumb along his jaw. “Aren’t you a bit worried about her showing up at your place while you’re not there? If you want to bow out and head home, we won’t hold it against you.”
I shook my head. “She can snoop all she wants. There’s nothing to find.”
“Besides other women’s panties in your drawers.”
“Fuck off,” I said.
Brett slapped his knee and leaned forward with laughter. “I’m just busting your balls.”
Brodie looked around the club at the women flocking around us. “I don’t know how I’d feel about having a strange woman in my place while I wasn’t there.”
“She’s bound by the same rules as I am within the Casanova Club. She won’t pull any shit. Besides, she’s a goody good. I doubt she’d even run herself a bath without asking first.”
“Sounds like the sort of girl you bring home to mom,” Will said.
“Maybe she’ll surprise you,” Brodie added.
“I doubt it,” I said.
Brett nudged my shoulder. “Try to take it easy on her at least? If she’s as much of a prude as you say she is, your lifestyle is going to do a number on her.”
I lifted my glass to my lips and took a sip. “I’m counting on it.”
“Ass,” Brett said.
I shrugged off his comment. “She spent the last month with some clown up in Canada. She’s probably itching for some time alone, and I’m more than happy to give it to her. My driver will let her in, and then she can do whatever she damn well pleases.”
The server arrived at the perfect moment with a tray full of new drinks and shots. She passed them around, offering each of us a nervous smile as she put them down in front of us. We made eye contact for a brief second, and her cheeks flushed pink.
I was used to having that effect on women. In the beginning, when I first became a household name, it flattered me. I reveled in the attention and the stares and the promiscuous looks women gave me from afar.
But even I had to admit it had grown tiresome.
My attention was only ever held by the really spectacular creatures now. Like the girl in the red dress who was still hanging around at the bar down below, milling around with the ordinary people while we took up space in the VIP section.
She had a great ass. Perky and the perfect handful. Glittery jewelry winked at her wrists and in her ears, and she wore a gold choker necklace around her throat. She was the exact sort of girl I would have gone for if I wasn’t committed to the Casanova Club.
&nbs
p; She had the look of a guaranteed good time.
And I suspected she was the sort of woman who would be gone in the morning before I even woke up. The best kind. No breakfast in the morning. No small talk. No bullshit. It would just be sex, and then she’d be on her way to go about her business.
It was the best-case scenario. We both got what we wanted and moved on. She wouldn’t be staying with me for a whole fucking month.
“Here’s to Easton and his temporary common law situation,” Will said, lifting one of his tequila shots up.
The rest of us did the same. We clinked our shot glasses together before slamming them down on the table and then tossing them down our throats.
We followed the first shot with the second. Then we polished off our drinks.
The girl in the red dress was even more alluring with every drink I had. And as the time passed, more women caught my attention.
Brett left the VIP section after about an hour to talk to a girl in a short skirt and a sparkly blue top. Will wandered off as well, probably to take a girl into a bathroom or some shit, and I remained at the table with Brodie, who ordered us yet another round of shots.
I was glad for it. They were a welcome distraction from my current reality.
Chapter 4
Piper
My stomach was a tight knot of nerves as I adjusted the hem of the summer dress I’d just changed into. After getting off the airplane, I made a beeline to the restrooms to freshen up and changed into the outfit I’d packed in my carry-on. My old clothes from my shift at the restaurant were neatly rolled up and tucked in the front pouch of my bag as I stood at baggage claim six, staring at the middle of the carousel waiting for luggage to start spitting out. They’d turned it on about four minutes ago, but no bags had appeared.
The crowd was growing restless.
Well, more restless than they already were. Flyers were, practically by definition, the most restless and impatient group of people.