The Perfect Catch

by Meghan Quinn

  “Walker . . . be straight with me. I can’t protect you without knowing what’s happening, and I swear to Christ, if something comes out and I’m surprised, I’m going to have you by the balls.”

  I blow out a heavy breath and stare in the mirror. A small part of me wonders if Roark could help. My mind goes to the last kiss I shared with Kate, the way her lips burned mine, branding me as hers. What I wouldn’t give for another kiss, for another moment like that.

  Without giving it another thought, I say, “I’m in fucking love, man.”

  “Seriously?” Roark asks. “When the fook did that happen?”

  “Not sure, but I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t be in love with.”

  “Shit,” he grumbles. “Is she married? Does the husband know? What kind of cleanup are we talking here?”

  “No, she’s not married. She’s single, nothing like that.”

  “Okay, and she’s of age?”

  “Jesus Christ. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

  “Just checking. So, what’s the problem?”

  “It’s Kate,” I say, feeling a weight lift off my chest from admitting that to one person.

  “Kate? Kate who? Wait . . . Kate Chapman?”

  “Yeah.”

  “As in—an employee for the Bobbies?”

  “Yeah,” I repeat, prepping myself for a lecture.

  “Have you done anything with her?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Jesus,” he breathes out. “Fuck, Walker, if this gets out, it could end badly for both of you. You know the Bobbies don’t mess around with their policies, especially when it comes to employees and players. You just got back in the team’s good graces, but this will guarantee you a trade. Not to mention, Kate would lose her job, a job she’s damn good at.”

  “You really think they would take it out on me?” I ask.

  “Yes. Bernie Barnes was traded for the exact reason three seasons ago. Granted, he wasn’t as high profile as you, but when I spoke with his agent about the trade, it was based entirely on his off-the-field conduct.”

  Panic rips through me again.

  “Who knows?” he asks.

  “You and Kate’s friend, Vivian. That’s it.”

  “Ryot doesn’t know?” he asks.

  I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. And you have to end it. If you both want to keep your jobs, you need to end it now.”

  I swallow hard and say, “It ended this morning.”

  “For good?”

  “Yes,” I say, the answer like cold steel on my tongue.

  “So, this isn’t something I have to worry about?”

  “It’s not.” Looking in the mirror, I add, “Kate and I are done.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  KATE

  Kate: Are you here?

  Walker: Yes.

  Kate: Can I see you for a second?

  Walker: No, Kate. It’s over.

  I stare down at the text, my throat growing tight. I wasn’t asking to see him in that kind of way, I just wanted to make sure he was okay. After all, he’s doing a speech tonight that involves talking about his father that he hasn’t spoken to in years.

  But looks as though I don’t even get to check up on him.

  Maybe it’s for the better. I spent last night crying, unable to control my anguished emotions. All I could think about was how much I missed his strong arms wrapped around me, how much I missed the little kisses to my shoulder. And I only had him for one night, but that one night felt like an eternity, as if that’s how my nights were meant to unfold . . . with him.

  I was tempted to text him. To ask him how he was doing. If he missed me like I missed him. But I turned my phone off instead and curled into my pillow, wishing it were him.

  And today was a new day. I knew coming in to work the Firefighters Ball that I was going to see him, have to talk to him, but I didn’t think he was already going to be so cold. I didn’t think he was going to brush me off as if nothing at all happened. Although, that’s not really fair, if I think without my heart for a moment. Or perhaps, if I use it. He is a good man, one who’s being firm on the no-contact. I told him it was over. He said it was over. But we both completely hate this situation.

  So, he’s not being mean or brushing me off.

  He’s following through on our agreement.

  He’s still the same enigmatic, warm man, trying to protect me. I need to accept that, but there will be times I need to communicate with him in regards to tasks and events. It’ll be horrendous—being completely task focused—but necessary. And I’ll need him to still be polite with me, or that will break me even more. Please don’t treat me cruelly, Walker. Please still be the noble and respectful man I love.

  “You look gorgeous,” Vivian says as she walks up to me, pulling me out of my Walker-laced thoughts.

  Over the last few hours, we painstakingly set up the fundraising event, making sure every last detail was perfected. The room looks positively breathtaking with the draped fabrics, uplighting, and casino gaming tables scattered throughout the space. Large bulb lights line the arches of the venue, casting an amber light over the room, and the classy, white, block vases we found and decorated with black dots to resemble dice look positively adorable full of deep red roses.

  It’s sophisticated perfection.

  And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the high-priced auction items we’ve lined up that were donated by the team and other local companies. I have a feeling we’re going to raise a wealth of money for the firefighters and their families in need.

  After everything was set up to our liking, I quickly took a shower—thankfully the venue had one—did my hair and makeup, and slipped on a red cocktail dress that plumps up my breasts, wraps tightly around my waist, and flairs at the hips. I paired the dress with a killer pair of glittery, gold shoes, fire-red lipstick, and a small red flower fastened behind my ear.

  I would be lying if I said I didn’t dress for Walker today. While doing my hair and makeup, I kept thinking about his reaction when he sees me. Would his eyes go dark? Would his jaw tick as he takes me in? Would he be tempted to pull me into a corridor and tell me how beautiful I am?

  Foolish thinking.

  Patting down my dress, I say, “Thank you.” I take in Vivian’s more modest black dress. “You look stunning.”

  She presses her hands against her hips. “Wearing Spanx was a bad idea. Within an hour, I know I’ll be peeling these things off.”

  I chuckle, even though my laugh falls flat on my ears. “These heels will be the death of me tonight.”

  “Let’s make a deal—by the end of the night, you take off my Spanx, and I’ll take off your shoes.”

  “Deal,” I say, taking her hand in mine and giving it a firm shake.

  “It’ll be the most action I’ve gotten in months, so I’m looking forward to it.” Vivian winks.

  “There you are,” Audrey says, coming up from behind us. “Wow, you two look great.” She squeezes both of our hands. “You truly made this event come to life. Thank you so much, ladies.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Is there anything else we need to do?”

  “I don’t think so. The venue is already filling, our waitstaff is circling, drinks are being poured, and hopefully wallets are opening up.”

  “Have any of the players arrived yet?” Vivian asks.

  “Penn, Torres, and Brad, I believe. They’re all hanging out at the blackjack table right now. I think they’re trying to out-bet each other.”

  “Are they drinking?” I ask.

  “I believe so,” Audrey says. “I think we need to make sure they stay sharp, though. Can you girls handle that for me? I would hate for something stupid to happen because alcohol was involved.”

  “We can keep track of that.”

  Audrey turns to me. “And please, don’t let Penn and Walker get too close to each other
. The last event we had where they were both involved, they caused a scene in the back. Luckily it was only Coach Hopkins who found them. But the more we can keep them separated, the better.”

  “Sure,” I say, swallowing hard.

  Audrey checks her watch. “At quarter to eight, we’re going to start the speeches. Kate, would you be able to round up everyone for me so I can work with AV on preparing the room?”

  “Not a problem,” I answer with a smile.

  “Lovely. Okay, ladies.” She claps her hands. “Let’s make this the best event to date. We’re raising a million dollars tonight.” Audrey takes off in one direction, Vivian in another, leaving me to look around the room.

  The event really did come together beautifully, and so far, the patrons already here seem to be enjoying themselves. I scan the tables, looking for the players. I spot Torres and Brad, but don’t see Penn. I glance toward the live band to see if Walker is over there—because that’s who I’m really looking for—but don’t spot him, either.

  Wanting to check the back of the venue, I head in that direction, but as I’m about to walk through the door, my phone rings. I glance down at the screen and my brow pinches together from the sight of Roark’s name. And then . . . oh no, is Walker not coming?

  “Hello?”

  “Kate, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  I eye the bustling event and say, “Uh, I’m currently at the Firefighters Ball, is everything okay?”

  “Damn, I thought I’d catch you before. My time was off, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Do you have a moment now that I have you on the phone?”

  “Yes,” I answer, wishing I could avoid this conversation more than anything.

  Is this about Walker? Would Roark call me to tell me he’s not attending? Or that he’s been traded? The All-Star break is wrapping up and the thought of Walker being traded sends a deep-rooted bout of anxiety through me.

  I heard there were rumors about Phoenix, but I thought they were just rumors. Walker has done a good job changing how people perceive him. He could be better with his social media, but for the most part, he’s really made a valiant effort of making sure he did what the front office asked of him.

  “Was Walker traded?” I ask before I can stop myself, and then I realize what I said and attempt a cover-up. “You know, just wanted to see if I’ve been doing my job well. He was a hard image to turn around. Want to keep a good success rate.” I laugh awkwardly.

  “Because Walker is my client, I need to keep his contract negotiations confidential.”

  Oh God, he was traded. That’s your typical “I can’t answer” answer, which means . . . yes. Disbelief and sorrow hit me all at once. Was it to Phoenix?

  “I understand. Sorry I even asked,” I say, my throat clamping up on me as I try to hold it together.

  “But I did call to talk about Walker.”

  “Oh, is everything okay? I haven’t seen him at the event yet, not sure if he left or—”

  “I believe he’s there. At least, he told me he’d be attending. I checked up on him this morning because he informed me of what’s been going on between you two.”

  What?

  Walker told Roark?

  What happened to us not telling a single soul?

  And out of all people, he tells Roark—why on earth would he do that?

  “From your silence, I’m going to assume that’s not what you expected me to say.”

  “Not really,” I answer, my throat feeling crackly. “I know he’s your client, but can I ask why he told you that?”

  “I was pressuring him, and I believe he got frustrated with me and told me what was going on. I want you to know something—I have no intentions of saying one goddamn word to anyone. Both of you would be at risk of losing your jobs.”

  “Even Walker?” I ask.

  “Very much so. The Bobbies don’t take things like this lightly. But the reason I’m calling is because I’m checking up on you. I want to know how you’re doing.”

  “I’m . . . fine,” I say, my heart nearly beating out of my chest.

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “Roark, I appreciate you calling and checking up on me, but if anything, I’m a professional, and yes, I might have slipped, but that won’t happen again.” My eyes begin to sting and I curse myself for being so emotional. Pull it together, Kate. “There’s nothing going on anymore, it’s ended, so you don’t need to worry. I won’t hurt Walker or his attempt to get things straight.”

  “I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you.”

  I slap on a fake smile even though he can’t see me. “I’m doing fine, but thank you for your concern. I hate to cut this short, but I need to check on a few things before the speeches begin.”

  “Sure, okay,” Roark says. “If you need anything, let me know. Got it?”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it. Bye, Roark.”

  I hang up the phone and take a deep breath.

  Oh shit. Oh shit.

  Why would he tell Roark? I’m 99.9 percent sure Roark would never say anything to anyone because he’s protecting Walker as well, but it was still a risk telling him.

  Anxiety mixed with irritation swirls inside me just as someone swings open the nearby door for me. I glance to my right, where I find Penn with a devastating smile on his face.

  “Hey there, Katie Girl.” The scent of whiskey falls off his tongue as he winks. “May I have a word?”

  Oh God, he’s already drunk. “Penn, how much have you had to drink?”

  “Penn? Come on, Katie.” He creases his brow and leans against the door that leads to backstage. “What’s that about? We’re alone. You can call me Dan.”

  Dan is the nickname I gave him back in college because we were huge Gossip Girl fans. We’d spend hours watching episodes when we should’ve been studying. He claimed he watched because of Blake Lively, but I’m pretty sure he cared more about the storyline than anything. Since Penn Badgley played Dan Humphrey, I nicknamed my friend, which he loved.

  I glance over my shoulder and whisper, “I told you, not when we’re at work.”

  “And why’s that again? Ashamed of me?”

  “You know that’s not the truth.” I tread carefully. When Penn is drunk, he loses control of his mouth. “I just don’t want people to know you’re one of the reasons I got this job. That you pulled a bunch of strings for me.”

  “Who cares?” He shrugs. “You’ve clearly proven yourself.”

  I point to my chest. “I care.”

  He smiles. “I’ve always admired your determination. Ever since college, you’ve had this drive to prove something. I love that about you.” He reaches out for my hand, but I move away. “Katie Girl, come on.”

  “Penn, I’m serious. Keep it professional.”

  He sighs heavily and lets his head fall to the hard wood of the door. “What about after the event? What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up.”

  “After that? We haven’t hung out in a while. I miss you.” He looks to the side. “Brenn broke things off with me.”

  “Brenn?” I ask. “I didn’t know you were even seeing someone. Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t.”

  “Didn’t want to make you jealous. I know how you’ve always had a thing for me.”

  I know he’s teasing, but I don’t appreciate the teasing right now, at a work event, when I’m already feeling raw from Walker.

  “That’s not funny.” I move past him and into the back of the event space. He follows me into the cream-colored hallway. When the door shuts behind him, I say, “What do you want, Penn?”

  “Jesus, you’re in a mood. I’m just looking for some time,” he says. “Time with you.” He comes up to me and pins me against the wall.

  “Penn,” I say in a warning tone. “You need to get it together. You’re drunk. Go get some coffee.”

  He sh
akes his head. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “What?” I ask, my eyes widening. “Wh-why would you think that?” My voice deceives me and he hears it. He’s known me for too long to not detect the shakiness in my voice. Did he hear me talking on the phone with Roark? Panic ensues from the thought of Penn finding out. I can’t even imagine the ramifications of him holding that kind of knowledge in his hands.

  “Who is he?”

  I try to push past him, but he doesn’t let me through.

  “Penn, this isn’t the time or the place for this conversation.”

  “Then meet up with me after . . . at my place.”

  What the hell has gotten into him? He’s never like this. His eyes are glassed over, his mood is bordering on aggressive, very unlike him, and it feels like he’s out to prove something. But what?

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  WALKER

  “Try the crab thing?” Ryot asks, mouth full.

  “Nah, I don’t like crab.”

  “Your loss,” he says, grabbing another one as a waiter passes by with a tray. “Are you going to eat anything or are you going to stand there, scanning the room like a creep?”

  “I’m not being a creep,” I defend, even though I feel like one.

  Fuck, is it obvious I’m looking for Kate? Ever since she texted me, I’ve been scanning the room, looking for her. It was painful texting her back that I didn’t want to see her, because, hell, I want nothing more than to catch a glimpse of her. A glimpse of her dressed up, walking around the event, proud of herself and the work she put in to everything. I want to pull her off to the side, press a kiss to her lips, and tell her how proud I am.

  “You look like one,” Ryot says. “A creep, that is. Your eyes are all shifty.” He takes a sip from his beer. “What’s going on, man?”

  Staying calm, trying not to show my true emotion, I put on a mask and say, “I don’t like events like these.”

  “Afraid someone is going to grab your dick? I get like that too.”