Holding (Moving the Chains Book 5)

by Kata Čuić

  “Stop acting so awkward,” I hiss.

  “I can’t help it,” he mumbles back.

  “If this doesn’t look as organic as it did in those photos, this new plan is going to go over as well as my SpongeBob memes that I posted to your accounts.”

  Not only that, but Mr. Gallo is only giving me a month to see if we have the chemistry to pull this off. If he decides he doesn’t like what he sees, then Kaylie takes over.

  Mike’s hand hovers over my back instead of actually making contact with any part of my body. It’s a wonder he’s as expert of a kisser as he is. “We weren’t on a date in any of those photos.”

  “We’re not really on a date now,” I whisper then smile as I spy a smartphone pointed in our direction while we wait in the lobby for our reserved table at Albany’s newest restaurant that’s already garnering five-star ratings. “People are watching, darling.”

  His face puckers. “Are they listening, too?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

  He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he tries—and fails spectacularly—to smile. “Darling sounds so…wrong.”

  I agree, but at least I’m trying. “You call me Peaches. Most couples who are in love have pet names for each other. I’m just trying to make it feel as authentic as possible for you, so you’ll loosen up.”

  The fake smile slides off his face. “We’re supposed to be in love? I thought Mr. Gallo just wanted me to act like I’m having fun instead of staying in my house when I’m not at work.”

  I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. Between the two of us, the fans who are here spying on their favorite Wolf are going to think we’re arguing, not out on a date. “Again, I’m trying to tailor this to meet your specific needs and personality. You’re not the kind of guy who has commitment issues and only serial dates for the benefit of hookups. That’s not how you want to appear in the public eye, right?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I do have commitment issues, and that’s why I never date at all.”

  I lean in to study his face in the dim lighting, but his expression gives nothing away. “You were with your ex-girlfriend for like, four years. You don’t have commitment issues.”

  Frankly, my bet is on her having commitment issues. How could she just throw away a man who kisses like Mike does and is packing the sort of…package…Mike has?

  “Maybe I have them now because of the ex-girlfriend I was with for four years who cheated on me for unknown reasons.”

  That’s a fair point, and information worth knowing in case she ever pops back up now that her ex is a millionaire celebrity. “Do you want me to do some digging to see if I can find an actual reason for her cheating on you? Or at least to make sure she isn’t a threat now?”

  “No.” He cracks a small smile. “Leave the past in the past where it belongs.”

  I’m definitely going to check up on her anyway. “Will do…Mikey?”

  “I don’t hate it, but Evie calls me that. And we have never kissed. Ever.” He shudders.

  “You really do think of her like a sister, don’t you?” My brothers always swore to me guys and girls could never be just friends.

  “I really do. She’s one of the few people who knows everything there is to know about me. She actually knows me better than my real sisters.”

  The way he says it makes me wonder what secrets she keeps for him the way he’s kept quiet for her. Their bond is obviously stronger than anyone knows after everything they’ve weathered together. Mike bears absolutely no ill will about the fact that she attacked him.

  He suddenly perks up and does a double-take as a server barrels past us, loaded down with trays of food. “Hey, Peaches?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  He shakes his head. That one isn’t going to work either. “How severe is your seafood allergy?”

  “Severe enough that I carry an epi-pen with me everywhere. I should probably teach you how to use it, just in case.”

  He finally grabs onto me, but it’s not romantic at all. His large hand circles my elbow in a vice grip before he pulls me toward the door. “We can’t eat here.”

  No matter how much I dig my heels into the modern, chic cement floor, I’m not strong enough to withstand his manhandling. “Mike,” I hiss. “Stop! You’re creating a scene. We can’t just leave! It’s good publicity for you to be at a new, raved-about restaurant in town.”

  He glances down at me with a pointed expression. “It would be bad publicity if you die while we’re on a fake date. A waiter just went past us with all kinds of seafood on his tray. What if you inhaled some of it?”

  “My allergy isn’t that severe. I wasn’t going to order seafood. I’m not trying to make you look bad by doing anything that’s going to cause a scene,” I re-emphasize.

  “How do you know the table next to us won’t order seafood, and traces of it won’t get onto your plate?”

  “It’s a five-star restaurant, not a dingy diner. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  He holds the door open for me. “That’s like asking a team to play a Superbowl-winning game during the preseason. The staff hasn’t gelled yet; they haven’t had enough practice. Give it a month or two, then maybe we’ll come back after we call ahead to make sure all necessary precautions are in place.”

  “Mr. Mitchell!” A balding man who looks to be in his mid-fifties races toward us, an expression of panic etched into his face before he screeches to a stop nearly an inch from where Mike has suddenly positioned himself between us. “My apologies for the wait! Don’t leave yet! We’re getting your table ready right now! Your meal is on the house!”

  Mike wraps a protective, beefy arm around my shoulders. “Oh, no worries. It’s not about the wait, and we’re perfectly willing to pay like any other customers. I’m just not feeling very well, so we thought we’d head out. We’ll be back though. You can count on it.”

  The man who’s obviously the owner sweeps his gaze up and down Mike’s large body with suspicion.

  Knowing very well how to read a tough opposition, Mike clamps his other hand over his stomach and leans more heavily against me. “Do you mind driving, babe? I might need to puke out the window.”

  Why does babe sound so natural coming out of his mouth in the middle of a hefty lie?

  I’m always telling Mike I’m at his service, so I hold my hand out for the keys to help him sell this ruse to the manager who’s taken a healthy step away from us.

  “You will have a table ready and waiting anytime you want to return!” The man says before turning and dashing away.

  Mike leads me out to the parking lot like he’s quite happy with himself.

  “That wasn’t necessarily good press for you either.” I open the passenger side door for him in case anyone is still watching. “Instead of embarrassing yourself to anyone within earshot, you could have just told him you were concerned for my allergy. That might have even given him enough motivation to make a safe space for others with food allergies in Albany.”

  Mike leans against the door of his truck, that same smug smile still firmly entrenched on his award-worthy lips. “Like I said, this success is all still so new for him and the entire staff. You saw how busy they are in there tonight. Even if he wants to do the right thing, he’s not capable of it just now. Give it some time, then we’ll use your food allergy awareness platform to effect some changes in the Albany area.”

  I’m a little too enchanted by how much Mike just proved he genuinely cares for my welfare in spite of being on a fake date. He didn’t even use me as his excuse for bailing. He simply took the load onto himself without question or hesitation.

  I’ve known since our first meeting that he’s an absolute gem of a man. If I’m not careful, I’ll be blinded by his brilliance and lose myself to the charade that it’s my job to sell to the public. It’s time for a dose of professionalism.

  “Is that why the Sing Out foundation doesn’t get more publicity from you, Alex, and Rob? Because you think the gen
eral public is aware of the problem, but not ready or willing to take action to solve it yet?”

  My question erases the smile from his face. His voice exudes a deep sadness. “That foundation should never have been created in the first place.”

  “Why not? It’s a truly noble cause—one you’re all organically invested in. If the three of you put a little effort into making it your main charitable platform, you might be surprised at how many people would support ending sexual violence.”

  Mike leans down into my personal space. “None of what Evie went through— what we all went through on the sidelines—should ever have been made public. The only reason it was is because fans can’t seem to draw the line between professional and private anymore. You should understand exactly how that feels since you’re caught up in this mess. We’re out on a date even though you never wanted to sleep your way to the top. You were willing to put your life on the line to make me look good just in the local press tonight. It’s only a hop, skip, and a jump to having your deepest, darkest nightmares splayed out for the world to judge.” He straightens and heaves a deep sigh. “Sometimes, I think football isn’t worth it. Having my life—the lives of the people I care about—on full display isn’t worth the money. But when I feel like quitting, I remind myself that my mom and sisters are counting on me. I owe them whatever I can give. I don’t have the brains to be a rocket scientist, but I work damn hard to be good at football. I’m capable of that. So, I’m going to keep doing it until I can’t anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m going to share the people I love with the rest of the world, so I can get to the next level of celebrity and land a bigger underwear deal than Alex.”

  After such impassioned words, his heartbeat is surprisingly steady when I place my hand on his chest to hopefully soothe his warranted fears. “I’m willing to put my life on the line for you because I understand—and can manage—my own risks. In my opinion, you are worth every ounce of energy I can give, just like you believe your family and friends are worth your protection and effort.”

  He runs a gentle hand down my cheek that feels anything but fake. The backs of his rough fingers say more in silence than any pet name ever could. “I am not so selfish that I would ever ask anyone to give up anything for me. I’ll do what I can without expecting anything in return. Now…since we have to be on this fake date for both our jobs, how about we find a restaurant that won’t potentially kill you?”

  I chuckle and step back from the illusion of his caress. “It’s not surf and turf, but how do you feel about pizza? Hold the anchovies.”

  He stares at me with a deadpan expression. “Peaches, I’m a professional running back. So long as we’re not putting pineapples on our pizza, I’m down for anything I can eat to keep up the energy required to do my job.”

  I round the bed of the truck then hoist myself up into the driver’s seat as Mike buckles his seatbelt. “I still feel bad about you giving up a five-star meal in favor of fast food. How do you know so much about food allergies if you don’t have one, anyway?”

  He glances over at me as the engine turns over. “Rob is deathly allergic to coconut. Evie hasn’t eaten any in years because of it. To this day, I don’t think he has any idea it used to be her favorite flavor.”

  “So, technically, not only does Evie know more about you than your own sisters, but you also know more about her than even her husband.”

  Mike nods. “Yep.”

  “Does she know why you don’t like pineapples on pizza?”

  He laughs. “That doesn’t take over a decade and a flood under the bridge to figure out. Pineapple on pizza is disgusting. If that’s what you’re into, I’m not sure I want to even date you for show.”

  As we pull out of the parking lot, it occurs to me that for as much as I’ve learned about Mike Mitchell in the past year, I have no idea what would make him fake break up with me. Except fake cheating, of course.

  “Peaches! Hey!”

  I’m not excited to see her. I’m pretending to be excited after two weeks of my Tori-less existence because there are a ton of cameras floating around the field.

  Keep lying to yourself, Mikey. Strangely, the voice in my head sounds a hell of a lot like Evie.

  My fake girlfriend’s forehead feels warm beneath my lips. I take a quick hit of the peaches and cream scent of her hair before pulling back. Just enough affection for show, but not enough to get lost in it. “I didn’t expect to see you here this weekend.”

  “Oh, well, you know…” Her cheeks pink up, and it’s not because of the blazing sun on the field. “I figured it would look bad if I wasn’t around while you hang out with a bunch of women for a few days. Can’t have people thinking I don’t care.”

  “So, you’re here to play the part of the jealous girlfriend?” Normally, that kind of behavior makes me cringe. With Peaches? I’m already entertained by the way she fakes a glare at the chick who’s watching our interaction with a dirty look of her own. At least we’re having fun with this mess.

  Tori leans in and whispers, “Do you like her rack better than mine? Do you call her Apples?”

  Another question that would ordinarily feel like a trap only makes me laugh. “I’ve been enough of a problem child for you. I would never do anything that would get me slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

  Tori glances between me and my most devoted trainee. “I’m glad to hear that because I wouldn’t want you to do anything to embarrass yourself in front of your family.”

  What the what? “My family isn’t here…”

  The women’s training camp that closes out the team’s training camp is one of the few off-season team activities that would be totally safe for my mom and sisters to attend. I invited them, but between my sisters taking summer courses at college, and my mom working like she still needs her paycheck, they declined.

  Except when I follow Tori’s gaze over her shoulder, there they are, waving at me from the sideline.

  My mom is wearing a Wolves t-shirt that has…glitter on it. Maybe diamonds? The team logo sparkles in the sunlight, threatening to blind me more than the glare I’m used to from the field. She actually has so much Albany gear on that it looks like the fan shop threw up all over her. My sisters both have sunglasses on, so I can’t tell if they’re actually happy to be here, or if they just got dragged into this mess.

  “Why are they here?” It’s not that I don’t miss them, but this time, all their excuses not to visit actually worked in my favor. I can explain away the photos on the internet of me and Tori over the phone, but it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to lie to their faces.

  Tori’s blush deepens. Her shoulders creep up toward her ears. “David thought it would be more good publicity for the team’s star player to have his family involved in Wolves events, especially since this is a female-centered activity. He called your mom and worked his magic.”

  Great. Just great. More like David knew this would be the ultimate test, and he’s using it to press his advantage to see if Tori and I can hack this act.

  I’ve got bad news for him. I want my starting position, and I will do whatever I have to do in order to keep it. “Peaches, this has to be Oscar-worthy. We can slide past my mom because she doesn’t like to think about my love life too much, but my sisters are an entirely different story. If we don’t make them believe it, they will call us out. They’re relentless when they sink their teeth into something. They will absolutely take their suspicions about this whole situation to the internet.”

  Tori’s shoulders fall. “I can’t lie to your mother, Mike! The woman gave birth to you! I would never try to lie about this to my family!”

  Why the hell did Tori’s dad pull whatever strings he pulled to get her this internship? She’s not nearly cutthroat enough for the business of football.

  I tap her forehead. “You’re not thinking like a winner. You said you wanted this opportunity, and you want to prove everyone wrong about both of us. For now, this is part of the game plan. Don
’t think of it as lying. Think of it as helping me provide for them. If I stay in the starting lineup and gain more ground with the fans, then I can land more side contracts that will help me pay for my sisters’ tuition, so they don’t start their adult lives underwater in debt. I can finally pay off the mortgage to my mom’s house, and maybe convince her to take an early retirement that she absolutely deserves. And hey, if they think we’re together, then they won’t be on my case about settling down all the time, so it’s like a triple crown.”

  “Settling down?” Tori’s lips twist into a deep frown. “You’re only twenty-three!”

  “I want them to be happy. They want me to be happy. That’s family, right? So, let’s just all…be happy.” That sounds just as great out loud as it did in my head. I totally understand marketing.

  Tori doesn’t look convinced. “I drove them here from the airport. I introduced myself as your PR manager. I didn’t think you’d want me to lie to them, too!”

  Oh, this just keeps getting better. We’re going to have to make up some lost yards. “Faith and Hope didn’t interrogate you the whole drive? They keep very close tabs on me even though I tell them not to, so I know they’ve already seen the pictures on the internet. They’re just waiting to grill me in person about them.”

  “They point-blank asked me if we’re sleeping together!” she hisses, her face turning from red to green. “In front of your mother!”

  That sounds about right. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing! I changed the subject!”

  “Perfect. They’ll think you were just maintaining plausible deniability to save face in front of Mom.” Her shoulders are actually trembling when I wrap my arm around them. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  She tries so hard to drag her feet against the turf. “I can’t do this. I can’t, Mike! Fake dating for fans to post pictures of us together on the internet is one thing, but this is your family! I don’t have to sleep my way to the top to sell this lie to strangers! Your mom and sisters will see right through us, just like you said!”