by Liz Lovelock
“I’m sorry, Lachlan. I’m just not ready for anything more.”
He glances around the room and then comes back to me. “I understand. You’ve had a lot going on lately. I don’t want to cause you any upset. Let me just be a friend.”
“Okay. Phew, I thought for a moment that you were mad.”
He reaches for my hand, which is resting on the table. “Not mad, just a little deflated. You popped my hopeful balloon.”
“Like I’ve said, we hardly know each other, and last time was a big mistake. Massive mistake.”
Lachlan raises his hands in defense. “All right, I get it. I get it. Nothing serious.”
I nod. “That’s right. Nothing serious.” Though, deep down, I wonder how long this whole ‘friends’ thing will last.
Reggie brings out some huge-ass burgers. The smell makes my mouth water and stomach growl.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat all of this.” I stare down at the mammoth-size burger neatly placed on my plate with fries in a little basket on the side.
“That’s okay. They still taste good as midnight snacks. Trust me.” Lachlan shoves a fry into his mouth and licks his lips.
I wonder what he tastes like. I become entranced, watching him eat like it’s some sort of food porn movie.
After picking up the knife, I cut my burger in half, lift one piece of meaty goodness to my mouth, and devour my first bite. The juices dribble down my chin, so I quickly lean farther over my plate so I don’t destroy my dress with oils.
“Good, huh?”
I moan.
We finish our meal, and I’m still left with half a burger on my plate, so Reggie pops it into a takeaway box for me.
“How about I get you back to your place?” Lachlan asks.
I deflate at his words; I don’t want tonight to end.
“How about some dessert?” I counter.
His eyes heat. “I thought we were playing the friends game.”
“Ha ha. You’re so funny.” I laugh. “I think we should find some cakes or ice cream. Something more along those lines.”
“Damn, you like to kill my vibe.” He groans, wriggling in his seat again. “Dessert it is, then.”
“But can I get mine takeaway as well? I’m not sure I can manage to fit any more in at the moment,” I say quickly.
Lachlan orders some homemade mud cake in takeaway boxes, and I add it to my leftover burger.
“Now it’s time for me to take you home,” Lachlan says.
“I can take an Uber. It’s okay.” Pulling my phone from my glittery clutch, I see I have a heap of messages from Dylan, Theo, and Vivian. “It seems my phone has been going off. My friends back at the charity event have all contacted me.”
“What did they say? Also, I’m taking you home so I know you got there okay.”
I don’t argue. Spending time with Lachlan is easy and fun.
I open the messages.
Vivian: You got partnered with Craig. Talk about paying off the organizers. I wonder if it was your dad’s doing or Craig’s.
Theo: Dad’s pissed. You ran off, and Craig has been stalking around like the grumpy ass he is looking for you.
Dylan: You dodged a bullet, leaving when you did. You should have seen Craig’s face when he realized you weren’t here anymore. Him and your dad got into a massive argument.
My heart sinks. “Great! That’s all I need.”
“What is it?” Lachlan’s concerned blue eyes watch me.
I read the messages to him. He becomes silent for a second as I watch the vein on the side of his neck pulse crazy fast.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I can handle both of them.”
Leaning across the table, he says in a low rumble, “Why can’t they take no for an answer? I don’t know the full story, but after what I witnessed tonight with your dad, I’m pissed off.”
“Me, too, but it’s got nothing to do with you. This is my problem. I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t be treated like this. You’re a grown woman and can make your own damn decisions.” He points his finger down on the tabletop, making his point.
I sigh and attempt to keep my voice even. “I get that, but I don’t need you to be my defender in this instance. I can handle it.” Rising from my seat, I collect my things.
“Scarlett—”
“I’m just going to go. It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to help me. I don’t need it, though.”
Lachlan rises and escorts me out of the restaurant with a wave to Reggie.
When I step outside, I spot a lady getting out of a cab, and I head straight for it.
“Wait! Scarlett, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really.” He pauses at the door, and the cab driver asks for my address, which I give. “Thank you for tonight.” I climb in and shut the door.
Why can’t my life be simple? Why do I have to have a jerk of a father and a dickhead of an ex-husband? I don’t need this.
My phone rings, and it’s like a thunderous drumroll vibrating through my brain.
Prying an eye open, I scramble to pick the damn thing up. “What the hell? What time is it?”
My fingers skate across the smooth glass screen, so I grasp it and swipe answer before even checking the caller ID. “What?” I snap.
“What the hell, Scarlett?”
I blink and jerk upright.
“What do you want, Craig?” I groan.
“What do I want? I want my wife back. You left with another man last night. That’s adultery.”
I roll my eyes at his stupid words. “Craig, I shouldn’t have to remind you that we are now divorced. All paperwork is signed, and we’re officially O.V.E.R. I’ll get Vivian to send you another set of the papers if you find you can’t get that through your thick skull.”
“You didn’t even give me a chance to fix things,” he roars.
My chest seizes, and I clutch it. He was never this kind of possessive and demanding person. My father has apparently been in his ear. He’s the master of manipulation and demand.
“Because I don’t want to fix things.” I keep my words even. “This conversation is over.”
“It’s over when I say it is.”
“No, it’s over now.” I end the call before he can spout off more stupidity again and shoot a message to Vivian.
Scarlett: Can you please contact Craig’s lawyer and have them send him the divorce paperwork again? He doesn’t seem to get the picture that things between us are over. He just called me. Viv, he yelled at me and it was frightening.
Vivian’s reply is instant.
Vivian: I’ll email his lawyer today, and he’ll get it when he goes into the office. Do we need to put a restraining order out against him?
Scarlett: No. I don’t want to do that, but if he continues this possessiveness, I might have to do something more forceful about it.
Vivian: Okay. How was your night with the football god?
I can’t help the cheesy grin that spreads across my face at the thought of Lachlan. I give Vivian a rundown of how it all went and how it came to an abrupt end because of my reaction.
Vivian: Damn, girl. Sounds like you need to message him to apologize.
Scarlett: I know. I’ll do that later. How was your night? Did Dylan behave herself?
Vivian: Can Dylan ever behave herself? A truckload of single, rich men made an appearance, and we both went home with some hot guys. One of them plays on Lachlan’s team. Dylan called dibs on him pretty quickly. I can’t remember his name. I caught up with one of the security guards, Kobi Miller. We’ll have to get together and discuss. How about tomorrow?
Scarlett: Tomorrow sounds good. Let’s do lunch. I’ll message Dylan and let her know.
Vivian: Perfect. Also, message Lachlan and apologize. You ran off without thinking properly. And running off on him like that was just mean. LOL.
I relax back against my pillows and bring up Vegas Husband in a text message.
A
flutter rolls through my stomach like a steamroller. “It’s only a damn message; pull yourself together.”
My fingers tremble as they type.
Scarlett: Hey. It’s Scarlett. I want to apologize for last night. I’m sorry for running away. You were just looking out for me, and I get that, but I don’t need you to protect me. Friends, remember?
I swallow and hit send and then toss my phone to the end of the bed as if it’s given me a shock. “Urgh, what the hell did I do?”
My hands cover my face and run through my bed hair. My head screams at me to check the phone, but I’m not going to hover. I won’t be that girl.
After kicking off my blankets, I head for the bathroom and turn on the shower. I strip off and attempt to push the text message from my mind. Like that’s going to happen. Since running into Lachlan at the restaurant, it’s as though he’s been at the forefront of my thoughts—daily. How is that even possible? Maybe I’ll find he’s a jerk if I really get to know him. I don’t think I’d like that very much.
After washing and dressing in a pair of white shorts and a purple fitted t-shirt, I finally pick up my phone to see there’s a message from Craig. It’s a picture. I groan. Will this man ever get it? Opening it, my mouth drops to my bare feet. A picture of Lachlan and me at the Burger Bar comes up. Lachlan is holding my hand across the table.
Craig: Didn’t take you long. How dare you?
My pulse speeds up as his words sink in. A pounding throbs in my ears. I’m not sure what makes me angrier: the fact that Craig thinks this is his business, or that someone has shared this photo. It doesn’t appear to be one from a media station or anything. I forward a screenshot of Craig’s message, along with the image, to Vivian and Lachlan. Could Craig have someone following me?
“Great session today, boys. Showers and head off. See your sorry asses tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.” Coach leaves the locker room, and I think the burger is still sitting in my stomach; it kept trying to revisit me while training.
“Good arm today, Lachy,” Connor says as he walks past me.
I give him a nod. “Good catching, Birdy.”
“Thanks, man.”
After showering, I collect my things from my locker. When I pick up my phone, there’s a message from an unknown number. My heart leaps into my throat. Is it from her?
Hell yeah! She finally messaged. While reading her first one, the smile strains my cheeks, but then it drops at the sight of the second one. I shouldn’t be surprised by this image. I’ve had worse ones taken of me. I quickly check the usual links that would put something like this up about me, and it’s not there. Not even a mention of me with a mystery girl. Nothing.
Craig’s message makes me want to go and confront him then lay into him. My free hand flexes. I take a breath and remember her first message about me not stepping in. I hit reply.
Lachlan: Sorry, I’ve been at practice. You’re forgiven for leaving me on the sidewalk last night. I get what you’re saying. I’ll try to rein it in. But sending me that message from Craig makes me furious. Like, want-to-punch-him furious. I have checked the media outlets that like to lay into me over these kinds of things and there’s nothing on there. Maybe one of Craig’s friends was there. Sorry about this.
She must have been waiting by her phone, because her reply is almost instant.
Scarlett: It’s not your fault. I’m the one with a stupid ex-husband. I have Vivian handling it. I have no doubt that I’ll be hearing from my father about it because Craig is in his ear. Joys of being a part of this family. Gee, I miss my mom.
I leave the training center, jump in my Dodge Charger, and start the engine. It purrs to life.
Lachlan: You shouldn’t have to put up with that douchebag. Can I see you today?
“Please say yes,” I beg the universe.
The phone stays silent as I drive back to my place. Parking the car, there’s still no return message. I hit the call button.
She answers after the first ring.
“Damn,” she curses on the other end.
“Scarlett?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was making something to eat when you rang. I was distracted and sliced my finger. Clumsy me.” She sighs.
“Do you want me to come take you to the emergency room?”
“Oh, no. It’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute. You distracted me.”
“I’m good at distractions. So, how about an answer to my question? Can I see you today?”
Silence. I can hear her shuffling around. “Umm . . . Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Sure. I have the best place to go. Dress casual. Send me your address, and I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Okaay,” she says hesitantly.
“Trust me. You’ll have fun.”
“If you say so. I’ve just texted you my address.”
My phone vibrates with an incoming message.
“Sounds good. Get ready to have some fun. See you soon, beautiful.”
We end the call, and I realize my mistake. I called her beautiful. Maybe she won’t like that.
Stop trying to mess things up, Lachlan. I felt something special between us last night. I don’t want to risk losing that.
Scarlett is something new—and I can’t wait to make her mine.
“Stupid Scarlett,” I curse while gripping a cloth to my finger that doesn’t seem to want to stop pouring blood. My countertop already looks like a murder scene because of my stupidity. Maybe I’ll blame Lachlan; it was his call that caused me to be distracted.
Blood spots splatter my top and pants. “Damnit.” I grab my first aid kit and patch up my finger as best I can. I hope the bleeding stops soon. “Calm down, Scarlett. It’s just a friendly get-together. Nothing to worry about.” What about Craig?
This is probably a bad idea. I don’t want to poke the bear. Craig’s obviously hurting, hence the reason he’s being how he is. But he’ll let go eventually.
I race off to my bedroom and change. I dig out a pair of knee-length denim pants and a simple black top. At least, this time, if I somehow cut myself again, no one will see the stains. Just as I pull my top over my head, there’s a knock at the door. I take off at a run toward it, as though if I don’t get there quick enough, he’s going to leave.
I turn the knob and pull the door open, and I’m slapped in the face with Lachlan’s god-like appearance. A white shirt hugs his bulging biceps and stretches across his large chest. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Muscles upon muscles. The complete opposite of Craig.
“Hey there. Come in.” I step aside and realize I have blood spots on my kitchen counter. “Uh, sorry about the mess over there.” I raise my left hand where my patch is. “Clumsy me.”
His eyes shine as a smile spreads across his face. My stomach flips around like someone is doing a somersault in there.
“Let me take a look.” He reaches for my hand.
I reel it back. “No, it’s fine. I’ve patched it up. Give me a minute to clean and finish getting ready. Are we in a hurry?”
Lachlan shakes his head as he glances around my apartment. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
“Nice place you have here.” He wanders over to my wall of bookshelves. “Have you read all of these?”
“Uh, more or less. I’ve edited and published some, and others are just my favorites. I can’t help myself; books are my weakness.” I grab the dishcloth, wipe down the counter, and toss the vegetables covered in blood specks. “I ruined my food. Did you want to grab some lunch on our way out?”
“Like a date?” he asks, hopeful.
“Sure. Or like an event where one party distracted the other, nearly resulting in the loss of a finger, and now is starting compensation,” I tease, but I love his words. Like a date. That sounds all too appealing.
He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m sure that finger will be fine.”
“My fingers are precious. I need them for work. This week is going to be i
nteresting when I have to type.”
He imitates me attempting to type. “The two-finger typing will work wonders for you.”
“You obviously don’t understand the importance of these babies when it comes to my work. It’s like, if something happened to your arm, you’d be in some trouble.” I throw the wet cloth in the sink and face Lachlan.
His head hangs, and he stares at his feet. “I always worry I’ll get hurt and my career will be over. I’m not sure I’d know what to do if I couldn’t play football.”
“I was only joking, sorry. My finger will heal soon.” Walking over, I grip his arm. “You’re built like a Greek god. I don’t doubt it’d take a lot to break you. Now, I’ll grab my shoes and purse and be right back out.”
After racing to my room, I grab a pair of strappy flats from my closet and my bag from the end of my bed. I stop at my dresser and contemplate some earrings. Opening my jewelry box, something catches my eye, buried under a necklace I’m eyeing. A plain, gold band. The band I got in Vegas when I married Lachlan.
With trembling fingers, I pick it up and move it around between my fingertips. I’d completely forgotten it was in there. Wow, that’s weird and crazy. It’s been in there for years, and it caught my attention now, when he’s in my home.
Lachlan steps around the doorframe. “What’s taking you so long?”
I jump and clutch at my chest. “Damn, you scared me.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrow and then shoot wide when he sees what’s in my hand. “Is that your wedding band from Craig?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s from you.” My voice is breathless and low.
Without permission, he strides toward me then stops. He reaches around and grabs his wallet from his back pocket, unzips the coin pocket, and proceeds to pull out a ring similar to mine, only larger.
“You’re kidding me, right? You kept that in there all this time?” And why does that idea feel kind of . . . nice?
“Well, I took it off and put it in there, and that’s where it stayed. What are you doing with yours?”
“It caught my attention when I was looking for something to wear.” A silence stretches between us. “This entire situation is crazy, right?” I finally say.