Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3

by Jerica MacMillan

  Hannah stuck out her tongue at Elena. “Sure thing, Mom. Same to you.”

  Matt chuckled and held the door for Hannah, taking her hand to walk down the stairs and out to his truck.

  “What was that about in there with Elena?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged again. “She wanted to warn me of the consequences of hurting you again.”

  She huffed, half laugh, half exasperation. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to her and tell her to lay off.”

  “It’s not a big deal. She gave me the same sort of warning the summer we met. She’s protective of you. It’s not a bad thing.” He held her door open for her to climb into the truck, giving her a hand up to steady her in her heels. When he got in on his side, she’d let it go.

  “So where are we going? You’ve been holding out on me.” Her voice held equal parts excitement and frustration, her narrowed eyes just visible under the fluorescent lights of the parking lot.

  He chuckled. “You really want to know? You don’t want to be surprised?”

  Sucking in a breath, she held it in while she considered her answer, then let it out in a whoosh, shaking her head. “No. Just tell me. It’s been killing me all week that you’ve been so secretive about it.”

  “Fine.” He laughed again at her eagerness. “We’re going to Chateau de Provence. Have you been there before?”

  She shook her head. “No. It sounds fancy.”

  “It’s great, you’ll love it. The food is delicious, and they change the menu with the seasons so it’s always fresh. The owners are French.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been there a lot.”

  He glanced over at her while he drove. She had her lower lip between her teeth like she was nervous. “Just once. But their website is full of information. I looked at it while I was on hold to make the reservation. We got lucky. They only had a few spots left. And they’re doing a Valentine’s Day prix fixe menu that sounds really good.” When he glanced at her again, she was biting at her thumbnail. “Hey. What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited.”

  Her hand fell to her lap as she turned to face him. “No, no, I am. It sounds lovely. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  She shrugged, an unreadable look on her face. “I just feel kind of bad, you know? You got me a gorgeous rose and now you’re taking me out to dinner at an expensive restaurant. I didn’t get anything for you, and you’re spending all this money on me.” Her hands fluttered in her lap, worrying the edge of her coat.

  He reached over and covered her hand, finding her palm with his, and lacing their fingers together. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I want to do this. I like getting to take you out to a fancy restaurant and buy you gifts.” Based on this, he was a little worried how she’d react when he gave her the necklace that sat nestled in a little velvet pouch in his pocket. He’d picked out a silver pendant, a flower mandala design on a slim silver chain, from one of Megan’s friends in the art department who made jewelry. Megan had a few pieces her friend had made—the ring she wore on her thumb, a couple of bracelets, and a necklace—and she’d hooked him up when Matt had told her he wanted to get jewelry for Hannah. He hoped she’d like it.

  He also hoped she’d react well when he told her he loved her. That he wanted her to wear the necklace as a way to have him with her when they were apart—a reminder of his love. It sounded sappy, but he couldn’t help it. This girl had him heart, body, and soul. He had no intention of letting her go, and this seemed like the perfect time to tell her. He just hoped she felt the same way.

  She smiled at him, her worry seeming to ease a bit, and they rode the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence. They were led right to their table and ordered drinks—a beer for him and a Lemon Drop for her—while looking over the menu options.

  “I’m going to do their prix fixe menu with the steak and raspberry ganache torte for dessert. What are you thinking of getting?”

  Hannah’s eyes were wide. The dim lighting made her pearly skin seem to glow, the warmth from the oil lamp on their table casting a golden hue on her complexion, making her eyes a deep forest green. “Everything’s so expensive.” Her eyes darted around, and she leaned closer to make sure he could hear her whisper. “Are you sure? I could just get the chicken.” She made a face when she looked down, and he could tell that she’d noticed that the chicken dish she referred to cost almost twenty dollars.

  He leaned in close and whispered as well, unable to suppress the laughter fighting to get out. “Get whatever you want, Hannah. I have a full time job and cheap rent. I can afford to splurge on you tonight.”

  She pulled back, giving him a doubtful look, but when the waitress came she got the prix fixe menu as well, selecting the fish and the creme brûlée. He smiled to himself that she believed him.

  “So how’s the internship going?”

  Looking at him over the rim of her martini glass, her eyebrows raised, then scrunched together, finally settling low over her narrowed eyes as she lowered her glass. “Are you asking as my HR manager or my boyfriend?”

  He let out a laugh. “Your boyfriend. Are you liking it? Learning a lot? You tell me all about school, but you don’t talk to me about work. You’ve said before that this was your dream internship. So is it living up to your expectations?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I love it. Sandra’s awesome. I’ve learned so much from her already, and I love the philosophy behind the company.” Launching into more detail, she told him all about the different social media campaigns she was working on and how much fun she was having. He wished he could manage half the enthusiasm for work that she had.

  The waitress bringing their food interrupted her, and after they both cut into their entrees and started eating, she brought the conversation around to him. “What about you? Have you thought more about doing what you love?”

  He shrugged, not wanting to taint their evening by going there. “Not really.” And cut another bite of his steak. It was cooked perfectly, juicy, red in the middle surrounded by pink, the sauce with it complementing the flavor.

  He raised his eyes to Hannah’s when she made an irritated sound in her throat. “What?”

  Imitating his shrug, she pitched her voice low and dumb sounding. “Not really.” Is that really how she thought he sounded? “Come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? I know you’re not happy at work. Don’t you want to do something you like more?” She shook her head at him and took a drink of her water.

  He shrugged again. “It’s work. They pay me. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world. It’s a good job, they pay well, it has good benefits, and they care about their employees. There’s a lot to be said for that.”

  She stared at him for a minute, not moving, then shook her head a little. “It just makes me sad that you’ve given up already.”

  “Not everyone gets to do what they love for a living.”

  She spluttered, looking around the room, trying to find something to say to that. “Okay, fine. I guess somebody has to be a janitor or a garbageman or something. But you just graduated. You haven’t even tried doing something you’d really like. Why not? What better time to do what you want, what you love, than now?”

  He didn’t say anything, keeping his attention on his food. It just seemed silly and farfetched. He learned a long time ago that dreams were for night time. Days were for working and earning money. At least he wasn’t working on a fishing boat or in the Coast Guard like his dad had been growing up. Those were about the only options in Westport, and neither paid well enough for the amount of work and commitment they required. But how could he explain that to Hannah? He hadn’t even talked about that with Chris or Lance. For all they knew, he loved his job. But surfing for a living? Not possible, at least not for him. If he couldn’t go pro, how could he get paid to surf? No, he just needed a good enough job to save some money and get some experience, then he could move near the ocean and find a job there. Somewhere with g
reat beaches and perfect waves.

  Hannah’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. “I’m just saying, Matt. You’re too young to give up on yourself already. Just promise me you’ll think about it. Figure out how to enjoy yourself more.”

  He let a wicked grin come to his lips. “I enjoy myself plenty with you.”

  In the low light, he could just make out the slight wash of pink on her skin, but she wouldn’t be distracted. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Promise.”

  He sighed. “Okay. I promise.”

  Obviously pleased with herself, she smiled and she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, a voice interrupted them.

  “Hey, you two. Fancy running into you here.”

  Matt’s stomach clenched, nausea gripping him. He thought he might be sick right here all over the table.

  Sandra, Hannah’s supervisor and mentor in the marketing department, stood next to their table, her brown eyes far too perceptive behind her glasses, cataloging him, their table, Hannah. Shit. Shit shit shit fucking shitty shit. He was so screwed.

  Hannah straightened in her chair. “Hey, Sandra. How’s it going?” Her voice came out remarkably calm, but he could detect an undertone of panic.

  Sandra nodded, crossing her arms over the slinky purple sheath dress she wore, her dark hair tied up in a knot on the back of her head. “Good. I’m out with my husband for Valentine’s Day. And you two are on a … date?”

  She raised her eyebrows at him on the last word. He swallowed convulsively, fighting down the bile in his throat.

  Hannah pushed her chair back and stood. “Sandra, can I talk to you?”

  Sandra pulled her eyes from him slowly, looking Hannah up and down again. “Sure. What do you need?”

  Hannah led her away from the table toward the restrooms at the front of the restaurant. Matt sat at the table, sucking down his ice water, trying to fight back the panic. If Sandra said anything to anyone, he’d get fired and Hannah wouldn’t get offered a summer internship, if she was even allowed to finish this one. He was pretty sure they’d let her finish, blaming him for the relationship since he held the position of power. It would reflect badly on her, but she wouldn’t be overtly punished. He definitely would.

  Fuck.

  When Hannah sat back down she gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry. She won’t say anything.”

  “Good.” He was so thrown off by the whole thing that he couldn’t manage more than one word replies.

  The waitress came and cleared their dinner plates. “Ready for your dessert?”

  He gave a nod and a tight smile. “Sure.” If they hadn’t already ordered dessert at the beginning, he’d suggest leaving now.

  They both picked at their desserts in silence. He was still reeling from Sandra’s appearance despite Hannah’s reassurance that everything would be okay. He didn’t know Sandra well, so he wasn’t sure how much he could trust her to keep her mouth shut.

  Glancing up, he noticed that Hannah had set her spoon down, her creme brûlée only about half eaten. She stared at him, her face blank, and he looked down at the mess he’d made of his own dessert, smashing into it repeatedly with his fork, only managing a few bites, his stomach still churning.

  Dammit, and now he was ruining what was supposed to be a romantic evening where he told his girlfriend he loved her. With his current attitude, he didn’t trust himself not to fuck that up, too, and decided he wouldn’t do it tonight after all. He’d save the necklace and those three words for another time.

  He set his fork down, meeting Hannah’s eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded, not speaking. As soon as their waitress came close enough, he caught her eye and asked for the check.

  She looked concerned as she took in the state of their desserts. “Was everything okay?”

  Hannah offered her a wan smile. “It was delicious. I think we’re both just full from dinner.”

  The waitress nodded and smiled back, setting the little black folder on their table and gathering their plates. Matt slid his card into the folder before she left, and she came back a couple of minutes later with the slip for him to sign.

  Scrawling his signature, he replaced the paper in the folder and stood. Hannah stood too, grabbing her coat and scarf and following him to the door.

  He drove her back to her apartment. With her fingers wrapped around the handle, she paused and looked at him. He tensed, bracing for the worst, his hands gripping the steering wheel, waiting for whatever she had to say. Was she going to break up with him? Is that the deal she struck with Sandra? That she would keep quiet if Hannah dumped him immediately?

  “Do—” She licked her lips. “Do you want to come in?”

  Blowing out a breath, he shook his head, cursing himself. He wanted to go in. But he shouldn’t. If she wasn’t going to break up with him, then he should probably be the one to do it. Even if Sandra didn’t say anything, how much longer could they keep this up? His head was spinning, and he didn’t know what to say, what to think, what to feel. He wanted to follow her in and lose himself inside her, but … “Not tonight. I’m sorry, I just … I’m all tense and edgy, and I don’t want to take that out on you.”

  She nodded, looking down so her hair swung forward, and he couldn’t see her expression. “Okay.” Her voice came out just above a whisper, and without leaning in for a kiss like she normally did, she climbed out of the car and slammed the door before he could do or say anything else.

  He stared after her as she walked toward the stairs to her apartment, wondering if he should go after her. But before he could make up his mind, she was up the stairs and hidden from sight.

  Cursing himself for being a jackass, he drove away.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hannah fought back tears as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. What was supposed to be the perfect romantic Valentine’s Day had turned into a disaster. Thankfully Elena had gone out after all. Hannah really didn’t feel like rehashing everything right now. She needed to process. Figure out her own feelings before she could share them with anyone else.

  The orange flower on the table mocked her. Closing her eyes and turning away, she went into her room, took a hot shower, and lay down in bed. She’d planned on doing the walk of shame tomorrow, spending the night with Matt, but instead lay in her bed and cried about how fast he’d changed just from the appearance of Sandra at their table.

  What would this mean for their relationship? He’d barely spoken after she’d gotten back from talking to Sandra, convincing her that her relationship with Matt had started before she’d gotten the internship. Since internships were decided before he’d even started working there full time, he couldn’t have influenced the decision committee, so Sandra had agreed that since she wasn’t a real employee and they knew each other outside of work, that she wouldn’t rat them out.

  “Be careful,” she’d warned. “If anyone else finds out, you’ll both be in trouble.” She glanced toward where Matt still sat at their table. “Him more than you.”

  Hannah nodded. “I know. Thanks.”

  On Monday, Hannah was nervous about how Sandra would act, but she treated her the same as always, checking up on her work, showing her new things, being her usual great self. She didn’t see Matt, but that was normal. They avoided each other at work, unless he checked in with all the interns, and they kept their conversations brief and professional.

  At the end of the day, she finally got a text from him. The first communication since he’d dropped her off the night before. Dinner tonight?

  The angry, spiteful part of her thought about telling him no, but she wanted to see him. If for no other reason than to figure out where they would go from here. Did he want to break up? Cool it until her internship ended? She needed to know what he was thinking.

  Sure.

  Great. I’ll text you when I get home.

  Apparently that meant dinner at his place. Well, after being seen while out on a date, she coul
dn’t blame him for being nervous about being seen in public together.

  When she got to his house about an hour later, she knocked on the door and let herself in. He came out of the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt that clung to the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders and faded jeans, his bare toes peeking out from the hem. This was her favorite look on him.

  She stood by the door, fiddling with the keys still in her hand, unsure what to say or do. He walked right up to her, pulled her into his arms, and buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry for last night, Hannah. Sandra surprised me, and I didn’t handle it well, and I fucked up the rest of our night.”

  Lifting his head, he met her eyes, his own filled with remorse and anxiety. “Are you mad at me?”

  She took in the mixture of pain and hope on his face, his blue eyes pleading, and shook her head. “No. I’m not mad. But when you pull away like that, I don’t like it. I don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re too good at hiding your thoughts. I don’t know where I stand with you, and I get hurt and confused.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I am. I never want to hurt you. I’ll try not to do that again.”

  She nodded, and he kissed her, a brief press of his lips to hers. Restrained. Chaste. Not at all like he normally kissed her. But being in his arms made her feel better, more settled, even if they hadn’t quite found their equilibrium again.

  “How did work go today? Did Sandra give you a hard time?” His hand rubbed up and down her back, like he couldn’t bring himself to give up touching her yet. Like he needed the reassurance as much as she did.

  “No.” Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. “She acted the same as always, like nothing was different.”

  “Good.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head and let out a long breath, his chest deflating. “Okay. Good. Do you think she’ll say anything to anyone?”

  “No. Sandra’s not a gossip.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “I told her that we’ve known each other for years and that you’re not taking advantage of me or anything. She warned me to be careful, but that’s all.”