by Bria Quinlan
“Oh. Yeah.” Lame response Hailey.
“How'd you meet him?”
I was relieved Connor and I had discussed these things. I'd thought we could put it off, but obviously I was wrong. People were far nosier than I anticipated.
“Our agents set us up.”
I was getting good at the truths that are a lie thing.
“Wow.” For the first time in my four years going there, she looked impressed. “I need an agent.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, You can have mine, but I figured that was pushing my luck.
“I'm sure there's at least one who comes in here. Or, maybe one of those matchmakers.” Wait. What was I saying? "Kim, every time I come in here a guy is hitting on you. You’re gorgeous. I doubt you need any help meeting men.”
“Yeah. Guys. But no one of the Connor Ryan caliber.”
“Maybe you should get a job over at the Athletes Center.” Because then I wouldn’t have to be having this conversation. “I think a lot of them work out there.”
She actually wrote that down on a sticky. As if it were a secret. Or that easy.
I avoided opening my mouth again for fear that this time I'd tell her she could have Connor too.
“Shawn had a cancellation. It's not a whole hour, but if you want to slip in now, I won't charge you. I mean, it's only half an hour.” Kim smiled at me like there was something special going on.
With how small advances were, I wasn't going to stop and question my good fortune. But, I was curious if this was that celebrity thing. Would she be telling people, Oh, Connor Ryan's girlfriend works out here. You can make an appointment with her trainer if he's free?
My shoulders tightened up just as I should have been stretching them out. I loved my gym and didn't mind if there was a way that helped them. But after working out here for years, I also didn't want to become Connor Ryan's Girlfriend.
One of the best things about the gym was the small trainer spaces. Weights. Bands. Pads. A mirror. That was it. I rolled out my mat and started stretching.
“Hey kid.” Shawn called everybody kid.
I asked him once if he knew my name and he just slapped me on the back and told me I was funny.
“I hear you need to work off some stress. That new boyfriend driving you crazy already?”
“You saw whatever there was to see wherever it was too?” Did Dex and Catherine take out a billboard I didn’t know about?
“No. Kim told me on my way in.”
“Great. Fine.”
Shawn laughed. He had one of those full-gut laughs you expected to come out of overweight guys with lots of gold chains and slicked back hair. Or Santa Claus.
“Let's get some of that aggression out. Are you warmed up?”
I'd jogged to the gym and stretched, so, with only thirty-minutes to go, I wasn't giving up any of my time.
“Yup.”
“Great. Pull on your gloves.”
Oh, Shawn. You know just what a girl wants to hear.
I rolled my mat up and stowed it in the corner with my bag. I'd hoped he was going to be up for a little sparring as I really—really—needed to beat the snot out of something. I pulled off my yoga pants, comfortable in the little room in a pair of Lycra shorts and a loose tank over my sports bra.
I leaned over, doubling in half for one last stretch as I untied my shoes and pulled them off before tugging on my gloves.
He pulled on a set of sparring pads and started working me through a fast, hard round of pound-the-snot-out-of-A-Certain-Someone.
Every hit took out some of my frustration at the stupid situation I should have just walked away from. At myself for not walking. At the apology I owed Connor and would have to give. And at every single person who wanted a photo or an autograph for the next however many days we managed to pull this off.
And, especially at Kasey and her less than subtle implications that I was upset because I had feelings for Connor.
I ran the back of my arm across my forehead swiping at the sweat before it hit my eyes.
“There you go, killer. You're moving up in the world.” Shawn pulled off his gloves and grabbed a stopwatch. “Let's check your pulse.”
I counted while he timed and wasn’t surprised how jacked my heart rate was.
“I wonder who you were thinking about as you beat the crap out of him.”
I spun around. That voice wasn't supposed to be here. This was my happy place. My decompression zone. Connor was the last person I wanted walking in. And yet, there he was, leaning against the doorframe, just out of view of the mirrors. I'd been so focused I'm not sure I would have noticed him anyway.
“Connor.” It was sad, and he probably liked it, but I practically panted his name. Of course, I was panting it because of thirty-minutes of hardcore cardio—unlike the majority of women who couldn't breathe when they made an attempt at those two syllables.
He grinned, watching me as I shifted, uncomfortable with his presence. “I had no idea you were such a bad ass.” Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Shawn. “Hey, man. I'm Connor.”
“I know.” Shawn gave him one of those guy head-nod things. “One of the suits I train has season tickets but travels three weeks out of a month. It's a good way to get a tip.”
Connor laughed and the two of them started talking baseball and training and injuries and I realized there was no reason for me to continue standing there feeling pretty much naked in the tiny amount of clothing I was wearing.
I rolled out my mat in the corner and swigged a couple swallows of water before grabbing my yoga pants. As I pulled them on, I caught a glimpse in the mirror of Connor staring at my rear end. I could only assume that was for Shawn's benefit. With a deep sigh and an even deeper yearning to be alone, I headed for my mat, collapsing into a few stretches.
“I'll let you cool her down.” Shawn offered Connor his hand, and then waved as he deserted me.
The door fell shut behind him and I had no idea what to say.
I avoided Connor’s gaze and stretched for my toes. I shouldn't have been surprised when he settled on the floor next to me.
“You're pretty hardcore with those little fists of yours.” His tone was light but I wasn’t fooled. “I had no idea you were so...”
Angry? Crazy? Prone to imagining the demise of those who tempted me?
“Athletic.”
My head came up as he finished. Athletic?
“I'm not athletic.” I tried to shake off the compliment, but he was still smiling at me. “I just like to keep in shape.”
Anywhere outside the gym and I was off balance, but for some reason, the gym felt like a place I could relax my body awareness.
“Right. That's why you're pure muscle under those curves.” His gaze went right down my body, heating it. He probably had a patent on that move too.
I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged looking at him. I wasn’t going to be swayed from dealing with yesterday based on a smarmy look and a sweet smile.
“Why are you here, Connor?”
That sounded rude. I meant it more as a question, but the inability to breathe yet made it sound shorter than I meant.
I didn't mean it that way, but all morning I'd been trying to work up the nerve to call him and apologize and now here he was.
And I was panicked.
“I wanted to talk about yesterday.”
He scooted back until his back was against the wall, legs crossed in front of him.
I waited hoping he'd say something that would give me an open for my apology. But, I couldn't figure out where he'd head.
“Catherine’s assistant said you’d be here if you weren’t at home or The Brew.” He glanced around the small training area, a look of appreciation for the space none of my other friends would have had. But, it also felt purposeful. Like he was stalling. “Hailey, I owe you an apology and after I realized that I didn't want to wait.”
This was...unexpected.
“That first day we met," he conti
nued, studying the edge of my mat as his finger flicked at the corner. “I was rude. You didn't catch me at my best. I'd gotten more bad news from Dex and his entire message that morning was basically, Get your ass to this address where I will fix everything for you again. I shouldn't have told you I wouldn't be caught dead with you or that you were...”
“Beneath you?”
“I don't think that's quite what I said, but I know that's how it came across.” He finally looked at me. He looked tired. Almost as tired as I felt. “The truth is none of that was true. I don't think you’re ugly or beneath me. I don't even know how I started dating all these women. If you saw a picture of my college girlfriend, she's…well, she's not that tall and she's definitely not ridiculously skinny. She was just really cute in a completely sexy kind of way.”
I was having a rough time believing that. But the look on his face, the one a person got when they were remembering something long ago, far away, and very happy convinced me I was wrong.
“She was…well, you guys would have gotten along, that’s for sure.”
He looked my way, as though trying to gauge me. But, I wasn't sure what my part of this conversation was. He'd kept talking through so many points that I was afraid to interrupt and now I didn't know what I was supposed to say first.
“The thing is," he kept going. “Yesterday, when you called me a dumb jock, that really—” His gaze shifted away as he struggled with the next words.
If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was going to say I'd hurt his feelings.
“Connor, stop. I'm sorry. I feel horrible about the things I said to you. I don't even want to worry about the whole type thing.” At all. Not from my side or his. I wanted to keep things even and fun and friendly. The best thing we could do was get back on track. “I doubt I’ll be what your fans expect, but I can’t worry about that either. No matter what, I shouldn't have implied that you're dumb. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.”
“Thanks.” He still wouldn’t meet my eye.
“No. Really. You’ve done nothing but show me how smart you are every time you have to handle people. To even insinuate anything else was mean and unfair.”
He glanced away again, giving me one of those guy-nods that I hoped meant he accepted my apology.
I pushed myself back to sit next to him against the wall.
“And, I don't sleep with all those girls. Most of the time, we meet somewhere, go to an event and then I drop her off at home. I'm not saying I'm a saint. I sure wasn't during my rookie years. Being young and stupid, plus making a lot of money and being a starter on a pro-team, equals women throwing themselves at you. Then somehow it became part of the package.”
“And, since your job is to catch things, you had that down, right?”
He grinned even as he looked embarrassed. “Let's just never talk numbers beyond my batting average.”
I don't know why, but I believed him. Oh, he’d probably been a bad boy. Now, he was just a bad boy who'd become more discriminating. Women were still throwing themselves at him. I'd bet he was just pickier which ones he caught and how often.
I sat there, not sure what to say, but glad that was over. On both sides.
“So, what'd you do last night?” I asked trying to move past it.
“I went to my brother’s, got drunk, and whined about you. It's like we're really dating.” He grinned at me, that slick grin that always made me laugh.
“Great. Since we're so involved you can take me to lunch.”
I stood up, stretching my arms above my head, a little bummed I was passing on my forty minutes on the elliptical. His gaze dropped to my stomach as it peeped out from below my tank—and then yanked back up again.
The boy really had too many hormones if he was looking at half-an-inch of skin on me.
“Give me ten minutes to shower and throw my clothes on.”
“Ten means forty, right?”
“No. Ten means ten, maybe eleven.”
“Alright. But if I'm standing out there for more than twelve minutes, we're going to Sports on Tap for lunch.” He leaned against the wall looking smug.
“Deal.”
That was the safest bet I'd been involved in all week.
15
I HADN’T SEEN Connor since the day at the gym when we both went on our small apologizing binges.
Part of me was afraid he was still upset with me…and maybe himself.
But the other part was trying to remember that I had a life outside of Connor Ryan.
I managed to get some work done, and go to a movie with Jenna, went over to Jenna’s friend Jane’s—yes, the other Jane—house so Jenna could play with her baby and I could play with their dog, and went to the gym.
All the stuff that had been normal and fun and made my life feel full before that darn Connor Ryan.
But, today, we were off on another one of our dating adventures. He’d called first thing that morning and asked if I wanted to get lunch. Since I had to be seen with him and needed to eat, I said yes.
Of course it had absolutely not a thing to do with not seeing him for a couple days.
I put on yet another set of casual clothes from Becca’s binder. Amazingly, I still was tearing tags off things. She’d be horrified if she came over because two-thirds of the clothes were still in their bags.
It wasn’t like I was hosting the Oscars and needed to do costume changes here.
I had no idea what we were doing, but Connor had said to put on “wander around shoes”—whatever that meant. I assumed that excluded all the cute heels I almost kept killing myself in on our messed up sidewalks.
He showed up almost on time—which was right on time for us—and gave me the prerequisite once-over before handing me my jacket. At this point they didn’t even seem insulting. It just seemed like the thing he did. He was a people watcher and this was part of that.
We got to the sidewalk before I asked him where we were going.
“Oh, just to grab some lunch. I know this little place, it’s a couple blocks away. I think you’ll like it.”
“What’s in the bag?” I asked, nodding to a plastic bag he had tucked under his far arm.
He gave me a wink and answered, “Supplies.”
Well, I guess that’s all I was going to get.
He left it at that, tossed his arm over my shoulder, and soldiered on down the windy, fall-leaf covered sidewalk. We walked on, Connor telling me about Gavin’s latest dating misadventure and how he was trying to find Ms. Right. Hilarity ensued. The girl ended up being the sister of someone he’d dated last year and had accidentally dumped in an email when he was trying to dump someone else so he could then be exclusive with the girl he accidentally dumped.
There was much groveling and flower sending, but in the end she wouldn’t take him back.
He made the mistake of calling the sister the 2.0 version and got dumped by yet another member of that family halfway through a date.
Sounds like one Ryan boy was a picket fencer.
Failing miserably at it, but definitely a picket fencer.
He had me laughing the few blocks we went before we cut down a small, one-way side street I’d never been down before. Halfway down was a small glass fronted bistro with two wrought iron table and chair sets framing the doorway.
“What’s this?” I asked, peeking in the window.
“This is my Brew.” Connor gave me a grin and glanced both ways before pulling me in after him.
Inside was a cramped, but sweet little set up with only a few small booths lining each side of the room. We ordered at the counter, a mix of everything Connor felt like eating for his six meals that lunch and headed over to a corner where the sun still lit up the room and heated the air.
A young girl brought over our drinks and smiled at Connor, asking him how he was, but otherwise treating him like he was just some guy.
“Do they know who you are?” I asked, because I felt like I was in Bizarro World, where Bizarro World was n
ormal world. Which was…bizarre.
Connor smiled at me, a huge smile and glanced around looking more relaxed than I’d seen him out in public. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”
That seemed like an odd answer, but since he was perfectly happy with it, I was perfectly happy to let him be happy with it.
“Isn’t it great?” He smiled at me and I realized he was sharing something very special for him. “Oh. The supplies.”
Connor grabbed the bag out from next to where it sat on the bench beside him, pulling out a Sports Illustrated then a National Geographic. He slipped me the National Geographic before flipping the SI open.
“This is great, right?” He asked before diving into his magazine.
I looked at the National Geographic, surprised he’d realized from the few sitting around my apartment that it was my favorite magazine. It was the newest copy and I hadn’t even seen the topics, so…bonus.
We read in silence, sipping our drinks, reading our mags, enjoying the late fall sun, until our food came.
The waitress made small talk with Connor as if he were any regular before slipping away to where her husband shouted at her in French from the kitchen.
It was, by any stretch of my imagination, one of those perfect days.
“Why’d you pick this place? Didn’t you want to go walk around and do the picture thing? Check off another day?” I thought about how quickly we were running through our time and hoping that everything had been enough to make a difference.
He shrugged. “I just wanted to chill out with you.”
“Really?” I tried not to sound surprised, but…really?
“Yeah. Sometimes it’s just nice to be quiet and eat some great food and be left alone.”
Connor Ryan wanted to be left alone. With me.
And that’s when I started to worry if I was going to make it out of this alive.
16
“I NEED YOUR help.”
No Hello, Hailey. How’s your day going? Just cut right to the chase.
“Connor, so lovely to hear from you. How is your day going?”
“Horrible. You need to fix this.” Connor breezed right past the sarcasm and circled back around to him needing something.