The cold air outside felt good on my heated skin, and I took a deep breath to quell the rage building inside me like a storm. My relationship with Clara was fake, but the jealousy I felt was very real.
She joined me on the sidewalk. “Are you mad at me?” she asked quietly.
“Maybe this idea was a mistake,” I said. “We should call the whole thing off.”
“What? Why? Because I mentioned another guy?”
I shook my head, still not looking at her. “Because you’re way more excited about seeing my driver than seeing me. If you can’t muster up that sort of enthusiasm for our pretend relationship, I think I chose poorly.”
I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting of Clara. I had known her most of my life and I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t tucked in a pocket of my earliest memories from boyhood, but that was where she stayed—the studious, somewhat nerdy little sister of my best friend who ran in a crowd so different from mine.
I was the sports star and my life had always revolved around football, even now that I wasn’t on the field, but she had changed.
She was prettier than ever, even in the trendy, slightly baggy jeans I loathed and a green and gray sweater under a khaki wool trench coat. People walking past kept stealing glances at her as they passed. Even fucking Lenny, who had just emerged from the SUV, seemed to focus on her in the morning sunshine.
Clara put her hand on my arm softly. “Look at me.”
My instinct was to refuse and keep pouting like a child, but that realization cracked through the jealousy smothering me. No woman was worth getting this twisted up over, especially a woman who was technically my employee. In that respect, she had more in common with Lenny than with me.
Fucking Lenny with his exotic accent. Ladies went nuts for that shit.
I looked down at Clara and tried to soften my glare. “I’m looking.”
She met my gaze. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please know that I’m eternally grateful for this opportunity. And I’ll do my best to be whatever you need me to be to show your bosses you’re reliable. I’m sorry I made you jealous.”
I scoffed and looked away. “I’m not jealous.”
“Okay,” she said, holding up her palm. “Of course not. I just mean, I want to be a good fake girlfriend. So if ground rule number two needs to bedon’t talk about other guys, I can do that.”
Hearing her lay it out like that made me feel guilty. I let out a long breath and looked at her again, this time putting my hands on her shoulders gently. “That’s not going to be ground rule two, okay? That’s insane.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders relaxed a little under my grip. “Can we still get coffee?”
I nodded and her smile outshone the winter sun. “However, I just remembered a really good café nearby,” I said. “So we’ll be walking.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, laughing, but she grabbed my arm and leaned against me. It made my anger melt away like snow on the sidewalk in spring.
We walked around the block to a little bistro and grabbed a table. The day’s schedule was already thrown off. Might as well feed the poor girl. Besides, if I wanted her to act like my girlfriend, it would help if we did some couple things, like sharing a lazy morning meal.
Once we had our coffee and were waiting for our food, Clara smiled at me. “Sorry about the mix-up last night. I didn’t know that was your room. You don’t have anything personal in there. It looked like a hotel room.”
“I like to keep things tidy. No crime in that.” I took a sip of coffee.
“Sure, but no pictures, no art on the walls, not even Chapstick on the nightstand?” She shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that’s how you live?”
“I should have given you the tour,” I said. “It’s funny. You’re the first woman to ever sleep in that bed.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second. Despite your name, you’re no saint, Luke.”
“Exactly. I get around. The last thing I want is for any of these women to know where I live.” Her nose wrinkled and I chuckled. “In my defense, I’ve had a lot of stalkers in the past. I kept having to move. Hmm, maybe that’s why I’ve stopped personalizing my home. Maybe part of me still worries I’ll have to leave with very little warning.”
Clara’s eyes were wide. “I can’t believe you’ve had stalkers.”
“Yeah, it started way back in college, once I made a name for myself playing ball.” I chuckled and shook my head. “At first, I thought it was great. Woman tracking me down and throwing themselves at me. But, man, I found out real quick what kind of whackadoodles are out there.”
“What kind of stuff did they do?” she asked, coffee in hand.
“Where do I start? Middle-aged women driving three states over to try to bang a teenager. That was kind of gross. One girl cut off a lock of my hair while I was asleep. Another stole all my underwear. And I mean all of it.”
