She hated being the center of attention and she’d just been so embarrassed. She was furious at Evan for causing that mess.
But she was even more furious at Shane. Didn’t he understand how humiliating it was to listen to him yell in front of God and everyone that Evan would get bored with her? That she wasn’t exciting enough to keep his interest? That the only thing she was good for was fixing him so he could move on to the type of woman he was meant to be with?
That conversation between Evan and Shane had highlighted everything that was wrong with her life. Everything wrong with even contemplating a relationship with Evan. They’d cemented all those doubts niggling insistently in the back of her head, forcing her to confront things she didn’t want to think about. It revealed all her worst, secret fears she’d tried so hard to hide.
It’s not that she didn’t know her worth. Because she absolutely did. She was smart and capable. She was successful and accomplished.
But she wasn’t like Evan.
She wasn’t larger than life. She didn’t do drama and scenes and magazine spreads. She didn’t make waves.
How was a future possible when they were so different? And eventually, he had to realize he’d be better off with someone like him.
It wasn’t self-esteem; it was practicality.
She slid farther under her throw, curling up on her couch while she waited.
Evan would come for her—of that much she was certain—and he wouldn’t be long. She’d been lucky. She’d jogged down to the busy street two blocks away and hailed a cab almost immediately. But he couldn’t be far behind.
For now, she just sat and stewed in her public humiliation.
When the doorbell rang, she was tempted to ignore it, but what purpose did that serve? She got up to open the door. The second she did he stormed in, turning on her, his expression filled with an anger that surprised her.
“What the fuck was that all about, Penelope?” His voice loud, filling her hallway and practically vibrating off the walls.
Her head snapped back. She’d been expecting contrite, apologetic even, but he was mad. Like really mad. In a calm tone she said, “What do you mean?”
“Why did you leave like that?”
She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“No, it is not.” He pointed a finger at her. “I’m trying to present a united front and you go and take off on me.”
Anger and irritation spiked hot in her blood and too late she remembered Evan made her volatile. She didn’t like volatile. It was one of the things she used to remind herself when she’d get angsty over him. She batted his hand away. “Oh please, that little scene had nothing to do with me. That was about you and Shane. All I did was provide the bone.”
He shook his head. “That’s bullshit. I was doing it for you.”
“No, you weren’t. You were doing it for you.”
“How can you even say that?”
Her reasons for leaving snapped into place like the crack of a whip, deflating her anger and leaving her sad. She looked at the trendy, chunky watch on her wrist. “You’re fifteen minutes behind me, Evan. So, let me ask you, how long did it take you to realize I was gone?”
“I’m sorry.” He dragged his hands through his hair and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not very good at this relationship stuff.”
“Relationship?” Her tone was soft, conveying none of the emotions storming away inside her. “It’s been fourteen hours and it’s already a disaster.”
“It’s an adjustment.”
What was the point of all this? His methods might have been all wrong, but there was truth to what Shane said. They weren’t meant to be together. It was never going to work between them. Why avoid the inevitable conclusion? The words stuck in her throat but she pushed them out. “Maybe we just have to come to the realization that sex is all we have in common.”
The green of his irises turned flat and cold as he stared at her through hard, narrowed eyes. “One little hiccup and you’re ready to call it quits?”
The no vibrated in her skull and she looked away, holding her breath as she waited for him to just leave. The silence was suspended between them as a thick, heavy tension, filling up all the free space in the tiny hallway where they stood.
This is how things always went. No matter their passion, they couldn’t sustain.
A few hours of happiness followed by heartache. It was always the same story.
Her stomach clenched and she stared at the picture she’d hung in the parlor, of her, Maddie, and Sophie at a party. They looked young and happy. She steeled her spine, waiting for him to leave so she could be alone.
“No.”
His voice was so sharp, she jerked her attention back to him. “What?”
He shook his head. “No. You almost had me convinced, but I’m not fucking falling for it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Some sort of survival instinct had her stepping back and she hit the wall, with nowhere left to run.
He stepped toward her, grabbed her wrists, raised them over her head as he pressed his body into hers. “You’re right. That was about Shane and me. But it’s also about you and me. I’m not going to let you push me away, Penelope. You talk a very good game, but it’s not going to work this time. I’m on to you.”
All the air caught in her lungs, then expelled with a whoosh. “I’m not playing a game. I’m being realistic.”
Face close, he met her gaze. “You don’t think I know what Shane said pushed every button you have? That he vocalized every one of your fears? That deep down, just like him, you’re waiting for me to walk away?”
Her heart started to pound against her ribs and a kind of panic swept over her. The words resonated deep inside her, shaking her to the core, forcing her to confront the truth.
She was. Where Evan was concerned, she was still vulnerable. Still blindly in love with him.
When he hurt her, she’d be crushed, so she kept trying to make the decision for him, only he wouldn’t fall into his expected role.
Her throat closed up tight and she croaked out, “Let me go.”
“No.” The word absolute. “I will not let you go.”
“Please, Evan.” Her voice a soft plea.
He squeezed her wrists. “All those years ago, I hurt you and I was cruel. But I was just a dumb, messed-up kid, Pen. My father had just died, my sister was in a coma, and in my fucked-up way I thought I was doing the right thing by you. It’s not an excuse. It’s only an explanation.”
“I don’t blame you.” God, all she wanted was to get away from him so she could compose herself. So she could push all this away.
“The hell you don’t. You do, and you’re right to blame me.” He manacled her wrists with one hand, and slid his finger around her too-tight throat with his other. “But I’m not going to walk away.”
The tears welled in her eyes and no matter how hard she fought it, they wouldn’t be contained. “Yes, you will.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t expect you to believe me, but every time I stay, you’ll believe a little more. You can’t push me away.” His thumb swept up and brushed the wet tracks from her cheek. “And there’s more between us than just sex.”
She started to tremble, she wanted him so damn much and she was so scared. He could crush her. And now everyone knew, and when it ended, she’d lose her makeshift family too. Not them physically, because they’d never walk away, but their respect. They’d look at her with pity before they lowered their gazes. Behind her back they’d whisper they’d known, but she hadn’t listened.
It would never be the same again.
He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. “Someday you’ll trust me. Believe in me. All I can do is prove it to you every day that this is worth sticking out.”
At the next brush of his lips, she responded with all the urgent, desperate desire she kept locked away.
He pulled away and shook his h
ead. “Don’t kiss me like that.”
“Like what?” Her voice choked.
“Like you think it’s the last time.” He softened the next brush of his lips. “It’s not the last time, Penelope.”
“Okay.” Tonight, if he wouldn’t walk away, she didn’t have the strength to do it for him. She leaned her head against the wall, tilting her chin in an invitation.
His thumb brushed over her lower lip. “I want you so damn bad.”
“I want you too.” Her lashes drifted closed as she waited.
His grip on her wrists tightened. “Let’s go watch TV.”
Her lids snapped open. “TV?”
He nodded. “We can watch your show, so I can properly make fun of it.”
“But . . .” Her gaze darted toward the stairs leading to her bedroom.
“Later.” Another brush of his lips over hers. “Now I show you this isn’t about sex.”
* * *
Lying next to her on the couch, Evan rested his open palm on Penelope’s stomach. Her eyes were closed, her dark hair fanned out, her chest an even rise and fall. Sometime during their third episode of The Originals, which was just as campy and horrible as he thought it would be, she’d drifted off and he’d contented himself watching her sleep.
None of them, even her, believed him. They were all waiting for him to bail, and sadly, he couldn’t blame them. He couldn’t blame his sister. Or Shane.
And he sure as hell couldn’t blame Penelope.
All people had to go on was his behavior, and the evidence was stacked against him.
Her dark lashes swept over her cheeks. Asleep, she lost her air of utter competence, the efficient set of her jaw. She looked vulnerable. Breakable. Which she was. Deep down where nobody knew to look.
And it was his fault.
How could he have known all those years ago that the harsh words meant to drive them apart would have such a lasting effect? Would come back to haunt him.
He had to figure out a way to prove it to her. To convince her she wasn’t just convenient; but other than time, what could he do?
He took a deep breath. He supposed he could start by figuring out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. Because everyone was right, he might be rich, but he had no purpose, and when it came right down to it, he wasn’t raised that way. Each day, stretched endlessly before him, wasn’t healthy for his psyche. He’d gotten back to conditioning his body, but his mind needed something to chew on too.
Maybe if he started showing some signs of stability it would start to convince her.
He knew what he had to do. What he’d been avoiding thinking about since questions about his future had started to plague him. He had zero interest in modeling or doing commercials. He didn’t want to do broadcasting. He couldn’t stand the thought of going and sitting behind a desk every day.
He knew and loved only one thing in this life. And it was the one thing he was truly good at. What Penelope had said about him and those kids at the fantasy camp was right. He had loved it, been good at it. Coaching had been his plan for that date far off in the future when his playing days were over.
Those days had come faster than he’d anticipated, and he still missed playing too much for comfort, but if he wanted people to see him as an adult, and for Penelope to see him as someone with staying power, he’d have to man up and start living the future, today.
All that stopped him was ego and an unwillingness to see himself as anything other than a football player. But he had to put all that aside.
First thing in the morning he’d start making calls.
He couldn’t play anymore, but he still loved the game. He didn’t have to give it up; he just had to transform his contribution. He’d never won a Super Bowl as a player, but maybe someday, he’d win one as a coach.
He couldn’t keep holding on to the career he’d lost, or all the things he had left to accomplish. They weren’t undone—they were merely different. He’d had his time, and now he had to make peace with the fact that it was over.
It was time to become the kind of man his father would be proud of.
That someday, Penelope could believe in.
Chapter Twenty
The following morning, Shane didn’t waste any time. He was at her office door before Penelope even powered up her computer. He was dressed in dark gray slacks and a white button-down, his sleeves rolled up indicating he was ready to get down to serious business. His powerful forearms flexed as he shut the door behind him and motioned to the chair across from her, on the opposite side of the desk. “May I?”
She flipped open her iPad cover and pulled up her task list for the day. “You’re the boss.”
He grimaced, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m in that much trouble, am I? It’s never good when you call me the boss.”
He sat down on the chair and she scrolled through the app, jotting down a few notes as she went.
“Are you just going to ignore me?”
She didn’t look up. “What would you like me to say?”
The chair creaked as though he shifted around. “Go ahead and yell at me. Fight it out. But you know I can’t stand the silent treatment.”
She finally glanced up and folded her hands neatly in front of her. “You know why I’m mad. The question is, are you sorry?”
He crossed one ankle over his knee and sat back in the chair. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Cecilia. I’m not going to apologize for looking out for you. You’re like a sister to me, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I love my brother, but he’s hard on women. I’m protective of you. I care about you. And I believe you deserve better than what he can offer. I can’t be sorry for that.”
Asking Shane not to guard what he considered his responsibility to keep safe was tantamount to asking him not to breathe. That also wasn’t the point. “So then you don’t know why I’m mad.”
Green eyes, so similar to the eyes of the man she could never forget and was fast realizing she didn’t want to, narrowed on her. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
Her knuckles turned white where her hands were clasped. “You didn’t even ask me, Shane. Nor did you ask Evan. You assumed you understood and charged in on your white horse without any factual evidence that I need, or desire, a rescue.”
“I have years of evidence. I know Evan’s type, and you’re not it. I’ve seen the men you date. You and Evan don’t match.”
His words were an irritant, scratching along her skin, but she remained calm. “You don’t get it. To quote you, you don’t know shit about it. Forget Evan for a second. You know me, know how I am, what I think, how I operate. You know I’m smart, capable, and better equipped than anyone to run my life. Yet, instead of talking to me, bothering to ask a single question, you concoct some story in your head and make me the victim. Too stupid and blinded by the great Evan Donovan to remember how to rub together those two brain cells you claim I have.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that, and it’s not what I meant, I . . .” He trailed off and the strain in his voice chipped away the tiniest bit of her anger. “He only dates supermodels.”
It stung. Shane had no idea how he dug the knife into old wounds, but she refused to let that dissuade her from her point. “And tell me, Shane, did you by chance ask Evan what his intentions were?”
His gaze slid away. “No.”
“Let me ask you another question. Has he ever misled you about his feelings for a woman?”
A shake of his head.
“And yet, you don’t think it’s possible, in this case, that he might actually have feelings for me. Because, oh, I don’t know, you think I’m not hot enough for him?”
Shane’s attention snapped back to her. “What? No! I don’t think anything like that. You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m merely pointing out you’ve made me up into some sort of infatuated little girl too blinded by your brother’s reputation to think rationally or make my own decisions, and I w
on’t stand for it.” She stood up, not bothering to disguise the hurt and anger in her tone. “I deserve better from him? No, I deserve better from you.”
“Penelope—”
She held up her hand and forced her voice into something that resembled calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a conference call in a few minutes.”
Shane blew out a deep breath. “Cecilia warned me, but I wouldn’t listen.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Your wife’s a smart woman. Don’t make that mistake again.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but her admin came over the line. “I’ve dialed in, and they’re waiting for you to start.”
He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought you were lying about the call.”
“I never lie about business. Or anything else.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m too practical to make up stories.”
“We’ll talk about this later.”
She tilted her chin in the air. “I’m in meetings all day.”
His gaze narrowed. “Fine, after work then. Since this is personal it’s better anyway.”
She wanted to push back the snide remark, but couldn’t. She smirked. “Evan hasn’t dumped me for a Victoria’s Secret model yet, so he’s picking me up at six.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and with jerky movements he picked up her iPad from the desk and started pressing the screen. Several moments later he handed it back to her. “I’m on your calendar at five thirty. I’ll see you then.”
Then he turned and walked out of her office, leaving her to deal with her day in some semblance of peace.
* * *
After a long, grueling workout Evan spent the entire morning on the phone talking to his agent, the new head coach of his former team, and the offensive coordinator. After a crap season, this was a rebuilding year, which was in his favor. When he’d concocted his plan, his biggest worry was that if he was serious about coaching, he’d potentially have to move. And that wasn’t an option, considering Penelope worked here in Chicago.
Thankfully, he’d always had an excellent relationship with the offensive coordinator, Bill Laughton, and he was a local boy, something that was always appreciated in Chicago. After a lot of discussion, he was scheduled to go in for a meeting at the end of the week to discuss the open wide-receiver coaching position.
As Good as New Page 23