Rebecca kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”
But when she returned a few moments later, she discovered Brody was once again sound asleep. She watched him for a minute, marveling at the sight of him. With one arm thrown over his head and one leg bent at the knee, Brody Dixon was a sight to behold. Then he shifted and the sheet slipped, offering her a view that had her tongue darting out to wet her lips. But as much as she wanted to crawl back into the bed, waking him with a trail of soft kisses along his inner thigh, she stopped. They’d been up half the night, and with Brody leaving for training camp later that day, Rebecca knew he needed all the rest he could get.
He was also going to need food. Rebecca had dined with Brody enough to know the man ate more in one meal than she did in an entire day. Combine that with the number of calories he’d burned the night before, and one thing was certain—when he did wake up, Brody was going to be hungry.
Rebecca reached for the room service menu that had been left on a table by the door. As she began to read, something Brody had once said about missing the big breakfasts his mother used to make him on the ranch popped into her head.
How in the world is a guy supposed to get through the morning on nothing but avocado toast?
The hotel’s king-size bed might have been preferable to her double, but at the moment, Rebecca would have loved to have been back at her apartment, because then she could have made him a proper breakfast instead of having to order one from a menu that showcased an egg white omelet garnished with an orchid. She flipped the menu over, hoping to discover French toast and pancakes tucked away on the back, but no luck. Not even the whole wheat variety. Jeesh, she thought, it’s not like she was expecting them to have a Dutch apple pancake…
And then it hit her. How had she not thought of it sooner? The best breakfast in town was only two blocks away. She could be there and back before Brody even knew she was gone, and after feasting on a proper plate of breakfast carbs, they could spend the rest of the day in bed. At least until he had to leave for camp.
Rebecca grabbed her duffel bag and quickly changed into the sweat pants she’d worn the day before while setting up at the aquarium. But when she reached for her shirt, she remembered the Oceanarium mishap that had left her with a sizable mud stain across the front.
Surely Brody had something she could borrow. Rebecca slid one of the dresser drawers open. Bingo! She grabbed the T-shirt on top and slipped it over her head. It fit more like a dress than a shirt, but Rebecca couldn’t have cared less because it not only belonged to the man snoring softly behind her, but it smelled like him too. She would have taken a moment to breathe in the rich scent, but she was a woman on a mission. Not to mention she would have looked like a nutjob if he had woken up to find her sniffing his clothes.
She was still smiling at the thought as she made her way out into the early morning sun. The streets were damp from the rain that had rolled through sometime during the night, leaving the city feeling fresh and new and full of possibilities. Rebecca felt the same way, something she’d no doubt analyze at great length later, but for now, she needed to get moving, because the sooner she got the food, the sooner she’d be back in Brody’s arms.
She made her way through a small triangular park before taking a sharp left. Nestled between skyscrapers, the one-story restaurant would be easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there, something the owners never had to worry about. The Original Pancake House had been a Rush Street mainstay long before Rebecca had moved to the city. On weekends, the white clapboard cottage with the bright-blue awnings had a line down the block. The one exception: arriving when they’d just opened.
Rebecca had expected to be the only crazy person ordering pancakes at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. Which was why, as she came through the door, she was surprised to see a few customers already seated in padded vinyl booths. She was even more surprised to see her brother standing at the cash register.
“What are you doing out so early?” she asked him. He was leaning with his hip against the counter, phone in his hands and a scowl on his face. Seemed like both were ever-present. Unless, of course, Olivia was by his side.
Cole looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled. “Hey!” He shoved his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and gave her a hug. “Sorry to have bugged out so early last night, but between my jet lag and Olivia’s swollen ankles, we were far from party animals.” His grin widened. “Great event though.”
“Thanks. I wanted it to be perfect for Cassie and Hank.”
“Mission accomplished, I’d say.”
“How’s Olivia feeling?”
“She’s good. Aside from waking up with a wicked craving for an apple pancake.” He nodded toward the open kitchen, where a woman was packing up a sizable to-go order. “And I got the distinct impression she does not intend to share.” Oven-baked with Granny Smith apples and cinnamon, the famous dish was definitely enough for more than one person. Then again, Olivia was eating for two.
The first trimester may have left Olivia puking up her guts in their marble bathroom, but the second trimester appeared to be all about the food. And sex. Rebecca’s no-boundaries sister-in-law had shared enough of those details to know that while her brother was a sweetheart for running around catering to his pregnant wife’s whims, he was also enjoying more than a few perks.
“What about you?” he asked. “This isn’t exactly your neighborhood.” The man behind the counter punched a bunch of numbers into the register. “Although it could be,” Cole added before tapping his credit card on the small black terminal. Rebecca braced herself for another round of “Let me buy you a condo in a suitable area.” But when Cole took the brown bag from the waitress and he turned toward Rebecca, it wasn’t her accommodations that were at the forefront of his mind. It was her wardrobe.
His smile slipped as his gaze narrowed on the gray T-shirt with “Bama” stenciled across the front in crimson letters. “Where did you get that?” She didn’t have to answer. Cole put the pieces together all on his own. “Fucking hell, Rebecca, did you spend the night with Brody?”
She glanced around, but fortunately none of the other early risers appeared to have heard her brother’s outburst.
“Will you please lower your voice?” She took him by the elbow and guided him out onto the empty sidewalk. In a matter of hours, the block would be teeming with tourists and power lunchers, and after that, with those seeking a fifteen-dollar cocktail to accompany their fifty-dollar steak. But for now, the only signs of life were the pigeons scavenging for crumbs left behind by last night’s diners.
“He’s not right for you, Rebecca.”
Her hands fisted at her sides. “When are you going to learn that you’re only the CEO in the office? Life isn’t one big boardroom, and you’re not in charge.” Her brother was a genius in the business world, but he could be a complete imbecile when it came to personal relationships. Olivia had changed him in ways Rebecca would have never thought imaginable, but he still had serious boundary issues.
“He’s reckless, Rebecca. With no regard for the people who get hurt along the way.”
Her nails bit into her palms. “I can see why the two of you get along so well.”
“Look, I know I’m far from perfect.”
She leveled her stare.
“Okay, fine, I can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”
She raised a brow.
“Okay, a lot of the time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But you know I mean well. And Brody does too, for the most part. A guy like him can hardly help himself. I mean, do you have any idea how much pus— How much attention he gets from women?”
No, and she didn’t want to.
“It was fine that the two of you were hanging out together—it’s like I told him, you needed something to do, and he needed to lie low. Plus, I knew you’d break at least one of my bones if I forbid you to see him.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open.
&nb
sp; “Okay, okay, so maybe forbid was a poor word choice.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You think?”
“My point is, I made it very clear to him that I did not want him to date my sister.” Rebecca listened as Cole rambled on about some man code and a line that can’t be crossed before recounting how Brody tried to wiggle around that line by telling him how much he liked her. “And that’s great and all, but it doesn’t change the fact that the guy is bad for you.” She was about to point out that the decision was hers to make when her brother let something slip that stopped her cold. “And even though I know you’re going to tell me that it’s your choice, he never should have come after you in the first place. You should be focusing on the next phase of your life, not putting it back together after he breaks your heart. And believe me, Becs, maybe not today or next week, but he will. I told him that your remission was a fucking gift and made it clear he should back off.”
Rebecca flinched. “You told him?”
The color drained from Cole’s face. “I, uh, well…”
“That wasn’t yours to share, Cole.”
“Becs, I didn’t mean to—”
She held up her hand. “Enough. I can’t deal with you right now.” With that, she spun on her heel and began running toward the lake. Her legs shook and her stomach rolled, and by the time she reached the intersection where the Magnificent Mile met Lake Shore Drive, she was grateful not to have eaten any food. If she had, there was little doubt she would have made a mess on the north end of the Magnificent Mile to match the one she’d made on the south the week before.
Rebecca used the tunnel to cross the road, emerging on the soft sand of Oak Street Beach. She found the bike path that snaked north along the shore and followed it until her lungs burned. Even then she kept going, pushing her body to its limits, not only to work off the stress she felt, but to prove that she could.
The sky grew darker as she ran, but she didn’t stop. Below her, the turbulent waves of Lake Michigan slammed into the stone retaining wall. She knew from experience she should have heard the crash of the surging water, but the only sound was the rush of blood pulsing through her ears. Her brother had overstepped his bounds and betrayed her privacy, but that wasn’t what had her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. What had her feeling as though she might pass out was the realization that the night she’d spent with Brody had been nothing more than pity. She finally stopped, gasping for air as she stared out into the charcoal waves. Rain began to fall, heavy drops that splattered against her skin. She was a goddamn pity fuck. His sweet words were sympathy, and his tender touches weren’t born out of affection, but from a fear of hurting her.
She’d seen the look dozens of times while she was sick, the sadness that would creep over someone’s face when they realized she had the dreaded C-word. The expression in their eyes was the worst. A combination of pity and concern. That was what she’d seen in Brody’s eyes last night. How could she have been such a fool? Had she really confused pity and concern with what, love? She shook her head. This was an all-time low, even for a romantic like her. Cole always told her she had her head stuck in heart-shaped clouds. And he was right. She’d been so blinded by her own emotions, she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.
She pressed her palms against her eyes. She didn’t blame Brody. How could she? Rebecca had made her interest very clear. Hell, she’d practically begged him to sleep with her that night at the bar. All he did was give her exactly what she’d told him she wanted.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She and Brody weren’t a couple—hell, they hadn’t even gone on any real dates. It had all been part of an elaborate agreement. She was crazy to let herself think anything different, and yet somehow, she’d allowed herself to get caught up in what Conor had referred to as the “famous Dixon charm.” That was all on her though. She’d been the one to propose their crazy arrangement. All Brody did was hold up his end. It was time to let the poor guy off the hook.
Rebecca dug her phone out of her jacket pocket. She started typing a half dozen times but struggled to find the words. She wanted to end things with her head held high. Last thing she wanted was any drama. The guy was her brother’s friend. She was bound to cross paths with him again, and when she did, she didn’t want it to be awkward. But even more than that, she wanted to end things in a way that kept Brody’s head in the game. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her or worrying about her. Hell, her brother had that territory covered. Brody was leaving for training camp later that same day. That was the only thing that should be on his mind.
Thank you for making me feel like the homecoming queen, prom queen, and belle of the ball all rolled into one, she typed. Good luck with training camp and the show. I’m sure both will be great!
The tears fell freely now, but Rebecca didn’t bother to fight them. She’d let herself cry over what might have been with Brody Dixon.
And then she’d try her best to forget him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Six weeks later…
Brody paced the blue and orange carpet of the home team’s locker room. The producers of the show had thought it would be “fun” to open the show with him emerging from the locker room as he made his way to the field, but nothing about the night was going to be “fun.” And now, on top of everything else, he was going to look like a total douchebag coming through the tunnel wearing a tuxedo and carrying a bouquet of roses.
He would have given anything to be anywhere else. Scratch that, he would have given anything to be anywhere else as long as he was with Rebecca.
Someone tapped on the heavy wooden double doors, and a moment later a guy wearing a headset poked his head through the middle. “Can I come in?”
If he wasn’t in such a foul mood, the question would have had Brody laughing out loud. No one ever asked permission to enter a locker room. On game days, there were dozens of people milling in and out, not to mention the press. “Yeah, man, come on in.”
The guy pushed through the doors. He was holding a clipboard and, judging from the look on his face, wasn’t having such a great night. I feel ya, buddy, Brody thought. His own night definitely ranked in the bottom ten percent, and that included the night last year when his team got knocked out of the play-offs. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was about to get a whole lot worse.
“They’re ready for you, Mr. Dixon.” He’d barely said the words when a small team burst through the doors, buzzing around him like a swarm of bees as they touched up his makeup, double-checked his microphone, and waved a little box he knew from doing commercials was meant for checking the lighting. Seemed everyone was suddenly in the locker room except Marguerite. He’d barely had the thought when…
“Are you ready to woo America?” Speak of the devil. Literally. He heard her before he even saw her, but then a few seconds later she was front and center. So was the show’s producer and director. The three of them started talking, but Brody was barely listening. He knew the drill. Smile, walk, talk. He’d memorized the script they’d sent over the night before, so there wasn’t much more he needed from the three talking heads. The only thing he didn’t know was which woman would be crowned his very own homecoming queen when the fiasco wrapped up at the end of the season. He’d gone on staged “dates” with all of them over the last few weeks. Location shoots that were supposed to be opportunities for him to get to know each potential Sweetheart. In reality, they were planned out about as well as any offensive play. All that had been missing was a whiteboard full of X’s and O’s. Nothing about it made him feel like he knew anything about any of the contestants except for the fact that none of them liked to be out in the hot sun and all of them were hungry, but would never eat the food.
And yet in a few weeks, he would have to choose one of these strangers as his homecoming queen.
The thought alone had him ready to hurl his lunch. Now wouldn’t that be something, he thought, nearly laughing at the i
mage of blowing chunks all over some cornfield debutante’s ball gown. Problem was, whether he bestowed them with a crown or puked on their dress, he still had to narrow the group down to one. At least he still had a few weeks to toss coins.
The show’s producers had told him that whatever he decided, the information was to be held in strict confidence. He wasn’t even allowed to tell Marguerite. Not that she cared. This whole farce was about rehabilitating his image. Whatever girl ultimately wore the crown was inconsequential to her. He couldn’t say the same for the network. They made it clear that there were a few “house favorites,” which he could only assume meant they would translate into higher ratings for the follow-up show. They’d also instructed him on who not to pick, specifically a young woman from Nebraska who at the end of the season would be named the latest bachelorette to star in the network’s sister program.
Someone behind the camera held up three fingers. “And we’re live in three, two, one.”
Brody couldn’t see the show’s host—he was waiting on set with the seventeen contestants, one for each week of the regular season—but he could hear him through the little transmitter one of the bees had put in his ear.
“Welcome to a special homecoming edition of American Sweetheart,” the show’s host said. A prerecorded segment began to play, and while Brody could only hear it, he could recall every cringeworthy moment from when they’d previewed it for him during hair and makeup. The montage was meant to build hype for his eligible bachelor status—showcasing photos from as far back as high school, including a few embarrassing pics of him being crowned homecoming king before the big game—but with the dramatic voiceover and the background music that sounded like it was straight out of the Top Gun trailer, the result was about as cheesy as it could get. No telling the amount of shit he was going to get from his new teammates, or the number of times he’d be forced to watch that clip while they rolled with laughter, but at the moment, he had bigger concerns. Like making it through the next hour with a smile on his face.
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