It was good to be like this with her. It wasn’t the coffee shop we used to go to in college, but it was still nice. And at least here we didn’t have to stand in line. Or run the risk of running into people we hated… like Missy.
Ew.
A horrible stampede sounded on the stairs overhead, and we glanced at each other and groaned. Seconds later, from the other room, I heard, “What the shit? Who knocked over the coffee table?”
I winced. Then not one second later, Braeden hollered again, “My shoe! Who the hell chewed my shoe?”
Well… I guess I knew what got knocked over earlier.
“Ralph!” Romeo growled.
“You gotta get control of your mutt, Rome,” Braeden muttered.
As if he knew, Ralph came racing into the room and sat at my feet, looking up at me angelically and stoically all at once.
I patted his head. “Just ignore them. You’re a good boy.”
Ivy giggled.
Both guys appeared. Romeo was carrying Nova; Braeden was carrying his chewed-up, slobbery shoe, which he held up like he was presenting evidence.
“I told you not to leave your shoes lying around,” Ivy remarked as she sipped her coffee.
“That’s enough out of you, Blondie.” He shook the shoe at her.
I laughed. B swung his scowl to me. “This is your fault. That dog”—he gestured to Ralph—“did this.”
“I’ll buy you some new shoes,” I told him, still petting my dog.
Nova held her arms out to Ivy, and Romeo surrendered her. Once Nova was in her mother’s lap, she reached for the dog, and Ralph licked her fingers.
I batted my eyes at Braeden.
“Jesus!” He tossed his shoe in the trash. “We’re so whipped. This house is a freaking circus.”
Romeo stepped up close, Ralph still sitting between us. He gave the dog a look, and I poked him in the stomach. When he glanced up, I pursed my lips.
He chuckled and leaned down. The kiss lingered… just the way I liked it.
“We have to fly back to New York today, baby,” he informed me.
I tried not to show my disappointment. I knew it was coming. This was his job, and he really wasn’t supposed to be here now anyway. It still sucked, especially after last night. Especially since I felt so close to him.
“What time do you leave?” I asked, wondering how I was going to drive them to the airport. My car was gone. After last night, he probably wouldn’t hand me the keys to the Hellcat.
“We leave at one.” He kissed my nose and pulled back to head for the coffee. On the way, he snagged my empty mug so he could pour me more.
“We?” I said.
Ivy gave me a here we go look.
“You’re not staying here alone. Ivy’s going to New York.”
“I have to work,” I rebutted.
“You can get someone to cover.”
“No. I want to work. All I’ll do at your game is dodge the press and hide in the hotel room.”
“I’ll be there.” He acted like that was the deciding factor.
It almost was. I wanted to be with him, but I really did have some things I needed to get done at the shelter.
“How about I stay here this week? I promise to not go anywhere without Trent or Drew. And when you go to California in two weeks, I’ll come with you.”
“We’ll all go to California!” Ivy suggested.
“Works for me,” Braeden said.
Romeo stared at me. I knew he didn’t like the idea, but he was outnumbered.
“I’ll be fine.” I assured him. “California is farther away; it’s a longer stay. I’ll get all my work done these next couple weeks and have time to find someone to cover for me while I’m gone.”
“If someone even looks at you funny, you’re on the first plane to New York or Chicago, whichever city I’m in.”
Chicago was his next stop after Sunday’s game in New York.
“Promise,” I vowed.
After a minute of him pouring and stirring coffee, he returned to my side, then sat beside me. “Fine.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.
Next thing I knew, I was in his lap.
“Get a room,” Braeden griped. “Brothers don’t need to see that nasty.”
“Good idea.” Romeo stood.
He left our coffee where it sat and carried me out of the room and toward the stairs.
“See you down here at one!” he hollered back to Braeden.
We spent the rest of the morning in bed.
Romeo
Do not engage.
It’s a pretty common sense rule when it comes to dealing with the gossip mongers.
Until they nearly kill my wife.
No, she wasn’t seriously injured. But she could have been killed.
Now, do not engage didn’t seem like common sense. It seemed stupid as fuck.
I wasn’t sure how to fight against an entire community of stalkers out to take her picture. I wasn’t sure how to stop them. Technically, following her on the street in any public place was legal.
Running her off the road was another story.
If I had been there that night, I’d probably have snapped some necks.
Seriously. I’d been walking around with the bitter taste of fear in the back of my throat. Seeing her the way I had the day she lost Evie ignited it in me like nothing had before. Even Zach.
How did I deal with these assholes?
I couldn’t sue them all. I couldn’t be with Rim night and day. Even if I put a bodyguard on her, they’d still harass her from afar. That is if I could find a bodyguard I trusted enough to follow her around. I couldn’t, despite the many calls I’d made. None of them were good enough.
I needed action. To set an example. A standard.
I needed to send a message.
Don’t fuck with my wife, or I’ll fuck with you.
I liked it. It was very decisive.
Don’t you think?
Braeden and I flew to New York, then on to Chicago. The Knights were playing well. So far, we’d won all our games. I wasn’t naïve enough to think we’d get through the season without any losses at all, but we could make it through with less than a handful.
Chicago had been a tough game; it was my worst game so far this season. Even at my worst, I still played well. We still won.
I craved my wife. The sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, the feel of her body. I had her three times the day I was home after her accident.
Three times bareback.
I wanted her again. And again.
I also wanted her safe.
I called my father between traveling, football, and press shit. I’d dodged questions left and right about her accident and the state of our marriage. It was a bunch of bullshit. I played football; I didn’t run a damn gossip rag.
The two assholes who ran my wife off the road had been arrested; the cops had actually caught them the night of the accident. My father was pleased about that because the cops seized their cameras immediately.
There were photos of my wife on them, photos of her outside the doctor’s office and getting into her now-totaled SUV. We were pressing charges. They weren’t going to walk from this. They would be example number one.
I also had him draw up some documents, which sat in my wife’s lap in a discreet manila envelope as we drove into town.
Have I mentioned lately how much I fucking loved my Hellcat? Best car in the world.
She still purred over the road just as perfectly as the day I got her.
Rimmel was quiet during the drive, and when I pulled into the lot and killed the engine, I turned to face her. “You can stay in the car if you want.”
She gave me a withering look and adjusted her glasses. “Maybe you should wait in the car.”
“Give me a kiss with that sassy mouth, woman,” I growled and leaned forward.
I was smiling when she leaned in, but her lips didn’t meet mine the way I exp
ected. Instead, she kept her lips out of the kissing and licked across my mouth.
My eyes shot open. She licked me lightly again, lingering where my top and bottom lip met, teasing, enticing me to open.
I did. She stroked deep into my mouth, and I palmed the back of her head to deepen the kiss.
The loud sound of a slamming car door caused her to jump back and spin around. “It’s just someone over there,” I said quietly, still feeling the slickness from our kiss on my lips. “It’s not a reporter.”
She grimaced as if her reaction embarrassed her.
“Let’s do this,” I said. What we were here for would empower her, and I was all about that shit.
She nodded once and climbed out of the Hellcat.
No baggy sweats for my girl today. Today she was dressed something fierce. When she stepped out of the closet, I knew she meant business, and it was just proof she had come a long way since the day we lost Evie.
I knew Rim would never be the same. Hell, neither would I. It didn’t matter. I loved her no matter what.
But I sure liked it when she got all angry kitten.
I admired the way she looked coming around the back end of the Hellcat toward me. Tight black jeans that hugged every line of her frame. Black boots—not her usual fur lined; instead, these had a heel. The top she wore was also more fitted than her usual fare. It was plain white, body hugging, and sexy as hell. Over it, she wore a black leather jacket.
Her hair was straight, sleek, and fell right down her back. When it was blown out like that, it hung halfway down her back. I couldn’t remember the last time she had it cut.
The envelope of papers was tucked under her arm, and as she approached, the clicking of her heels on the pavement stuttered as she pitched off to the side.
“Whoa.” I stopped her from the downward spiral. “You look hot in heels, Smalls, but you can’t walk in them.”
“I know,” she grumbled, straightening away. My hands hovered at her sides in case she decided to fall over again. Without another word, she marched forward. Every two steps for her was one for me.
Our fingers threaded together as we walked. I didn’t let go even when I opened the door and allowed her in first. We held hands in the elevator and were still connected when we stepped off and into the lobby of the doctor’s office.
Rimmel stiffened when her eyes swung to the reception desk. She glanced up at me. “That’s her.”
“Mrs. Anderson,” the woman said, “and Rom—I mean, Mr. Anderson! Good to see you today. I didn’t realize you had an appointment.”
“We don’t,” Rimmel said, her voice nothing like the friendly, innocent one she was known for. “I figured if I called ahead, you would have made sure the press was waiting downstairs when I pulled up.”
The lady paled. “I’m sorry?”
I made a sound. Rim put her hand on my waist, effectively restraining me. Instead, she stepped forward and rose to her full, short girl stature. But damn if it wasn’t something to see.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not sorry,” she replied. “I’m here to see Dr. Crawford. I just need a moment with her in her office.”
“She’s fully booked—” The receptionist began.
“Call her.” Rimmel cut her off. “Tell her I’m here.”
I could see the calculating wheels in this bitch’s head turning. She was already trying to figure out a way to make it look like she called back but couldn’t get the doctor on the phone.
“You can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I intoned.
Her eyes flashed to mine.
I smiled.
Her throat worked. She picked up the phone and spoke quietly into it.
“She’s in her office now,” she said. “You—”
Rimmel didn’t even wait for her to finish talking. She dismissed her and strode through the door, back toward the office and exam rooms.
Before going back, I leaned on the counter, near where the woman was sitting. “Hope your resume is nice and polished up, ‘cause you’re gonna need it.”
“I didn’t—” She started to protest.
“Save it.” I slapped the words at her. “I don’t know how much you got paid for almost getting my wife killed, but it probably wasn’t enough.” I pulled away, then turned back. “By the way, you may want to move to another city… preferably another state. You’re gonna have a hard time finding work around here. Unless, of course, you like flipping burgers.”
I sauntered through the half-open door Rim had just disappeared through. She was standing in front of an open door, waiting for me, so I quickened my step to join her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,” Dr. Crawford greeted us when we stepped into the room. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” Rimmel said politely.
“Of course. Did you have additional questions about the blood test results?”
We’d already gotten those results. Everything was good.
“No,” Rimmel replied.
“I read about your car accident. You aren’t having any kind of pain, are you?”
“I’m not having pain, but I am here because of the accident.”
The doctor motioned for us to sit down. Rimmel did, but I was slower to join them. I thought long and hard about just staying on my feet so I could tower over the doctor, but in the end, I decided that was probably the wrong move.
I was an asshole, but not all the time.
Besides, I’d like to believe this woman hadn’t known what was happening under her nose. I’d give her the benefit of the doubt until she gave me a reason not to.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“One of your employees, the one out at the desk right now, is the person who tipped off the press that I was here that day. She’s the one who called them and brought them all here.”
The doctor shook her head. “That can’t be. My staff knows our patients’ privacy is of utmost importance.”
“She pretty much just admitted it to me out in reception,” I said coolly.
Dr. Crawford picked up her phone and dialed for the receptionist. After several long moments, she hung up. “She’s not answering.”
I laughed. “I’m sure she’s already hightailed it the hell out.”
The doctor frowned. “Helen,” she called. A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Can you tell me if Bethany is out front?”
We all sat there in awkward silence while we waited for Helen to come back and tell us what I already knew.
“She’s not there,” Helen said, coming back into the room. “And all her stuff is gone.”
The doctor paled. “Thank you. Close the door on your way out.”
When we were alone, she straightened in her chair. “I’m shocked and very embarrassed. This is completely unacceptable, and I want to apologize profusely to you and your husband on behalf of myself and this entire office. Putting you in danger is the last thing I would ever want. I’m a healer.”
I studied the doctor as she spoke and then for several minutes after she finished. When I was done, Rimmel and I looked at each other, and I nodded once.
Rimmel pulled a stack of legal documents out of her folder. “This is a legal and binding nondisclosure agreement. I understand you are bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but clearly, your staff doesn’t understand that.” The woman looked between my wife and the papers, but my girl just kept right on going. “I think you are a good doctor, and you know my history with the miscarriage… I would like to continue on here with you as my OB-GYN. However, I can’t do that unless you and your staff sign these.”
“You want me to sign an NDA?” The doctor seemed slightly offended.
“Yes. If you refuse, I will be transferring to a new, more discreet practice.”
“And I’m going to file a suit against this practice for endangering my wife.”
“You won’t win that case,” the doctor said, visibly upset.
I shrugged. “P
robably not, but just the press will ruin your business.”
“How dare you!” The doctor jumped up from her seat. She glanced over at Rimmel. “I’ve always tried my best to accommodate you and give you the best care.”
“I realize that,” Rimmel said. “And that’s why I’d like to stay. But I can’t do that if I’m worried someone on your staff is going to tell the press my every move. If… when I get pregnant again, it won’t be just me, but my baby.”
The doctor sank back in her chair. “I’ll need to have my attorney look over these.”
“Fine. You have one week to sign them and return them to Anthony Anderson’s law firm. If you have any questions, you can contact him directly via the number on the documents,” I replied.
Rimmel stood, keeping her back straight. “Oh, and just for transparency, I’m pretty sure that receptionist was also the one who called the press the day I miscarried my daughter. She’s the reason they were outside the hospital.”
“She wasn’t at the hospital.” Dr. Crawford argued.
“No. But she knew I was because I called your office on the way to the hospital. I spoke to her.”
Realization dawned in the doctor’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I know,” Rimmel said, kindly.
I wasn’t feeling too kind. I didn’t know how the hell my wife had so much compassion for other people.
“Please look over the papers,” she added.
Dr. Crawford nodded.
Rimmel went to the door. After giving the doc another long, lingering stare, I pushed out of the seat and joined my wife at the door.
As soon as we stepped into the hall and the door snapped shut behind me, Rimmel looked up. “I can’t come here anymore.” Her quiet voice was forlorn.
It just pissed me off even more.
I brushed a hand down the back of her head. “I know, baby.”
I’d known that since she told me she suspected the receptionist. I’d never let my wife be seen at an office that put her life in danger. Never.
But Rim had to come to that realization on her own. I couldn’t order her. It would have caused a fight. I had to let her see what I already knew. Plus, I really did want those papers signed. Not only would that NDA cover any contact Rim or I had with the office from here on out, but it covered all the care Rimmel got here in the past.
#Bae (The Hashtag Series Book 8) Page 22