I told myself I was being selfish, that I hadn’t just lost a national championship and been subjected to the relentless abuse of so-called fans and the tabloid media.
Yet there was a part of me that feared Baird was ultimately one of those guys who was really good at apologizing but who never really changed.
A trailer had been set up for us, filled with the outfits I’d helped select from our line-up. Becky had wanted me in something showy and expensive from the store, but I’d convinced Hilary and Christina that because the announcement was a big, over-the-top production, we should find ways to advertise items that were more affordable. We already had access to data that told us there were people who didn’t even step inside Pennington’s because they thought the products were out of their budget. Yet we had a vast range in our stores, and I wanted to appeal to the market we were currently missing out on.
I won that argument. And the evil eye from Becky.
Once my hair and makeup were done, I dressed in a fairly inexpensive pale green, calf-length cami dress that didn’t flash a lot of skin but molded to my body. It was sexy without being too sexy for a retailer ad campaign. As I slipped on the brown leather flat sandals we’d chosen, Gail, the production assistant assigned to me, popped her head in to let me know Baird had arrived ten minutes ago. They were rushing him through hair and makeup.
Relief and irritation flooded me, and I felta little dizzy. After downing my third glass of water, I excused myself to use the portable restroom. We were supposed to have warm, clear skies all day and I was already feeling it. It was a surprisingly balmy morning for the first week in June. When I came out of the restroom, assistants were fussing over Baird. Fixing his hair, brushing lint off his shirt.
I’d also chosen items for him to select from and was weirdly happy to see he’d picked my favorite shirt among the lot. It was an army-green cotton short-sleeve button-down, with turn-back cuffs and a Cuban collar. On Baird, the sleeves were a little tight around his biceps, but he looked exactly how I imagined he would. Cool as hell but classy. He’d paired it with dark denim jeans with turnups and kept his biker boots on.
The look worked for him.
He was hotter than hot.
As if he felt my attention, he turned his head ever so slightly to meet it. His eyes roamed down my body and back up again. My breath caught at the heat in his gaze.
I reminded myself not to take his perusal too seriously. Especially as I didn’t know where the hell he’d been last night.
Knowing we had a bunch of cameras to face while we pretended to be in love, I didn’t approach Baird with the intention of arguing. However, every step I took toward him, I grew more and more irritated.
“Hey, babe. You look amazing.” He drew away from the assistants to place a hand on my waist. He bent his head to brush his lips over mine.
It startled me for two point five seconds before I realized we were supposed to be an engaged couple. My lips tingled and I tried not to tense.
“You ready for this?” Baird asked.
I glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone in immediate earshot and then I turned to him and asked quietly, “Where were you?”
His hand fell away from my waist at my tone. “I know I’m a bit late. Traffic was busier than I thought it would be.”
“I know traffic was busier. I know this because the taxi cost me over a hundred quid to get here.”
Baird winced. “Shit. Sorry.”
“I don’t need to rely on you to take me anywhere, but next time, give me more notice so I can arrange better transport.”
“Maia—”
“Were you out carousing last night?” I studied him, looking for signs of a hangover.
Baird’s eyebrows pinched together. “No. I wasn’t.”
I waited for him to tell me where he was.
At his silence, I shook my head. “This is a disaster. This is going to fall apart. I’m going to lose my job.”
Suddenly, he took hold of my right biceps and tugged me toward the trailers.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “People are watching.”
“Fuck them.” He threw open the trailer door, and I hurried in after him, my cheeks blazing with embarrassment. Baird released me to stride through the trailer, checking to make sure it was empty, and then he turned to me. “I had the worst fucking weekend of my career. We thought we had it. And we lost. You have no idea what that feels like. And it would be nice if you could think beyond yourself for just one bloody second.”
I swallowed hard at his uncharacteristic reprimand. “I … I am really sorry about the championship, Baird. You know I am. And you know I feel that for you. But this”—I gestured around us—“is terrifying. And the first day we start it, you’re nowhere to be seen and you’re off getting fucked somewhere on who knows what with who knows who. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t and that you could do this for three months. Just three months, Baird, and then you can go back to your empty parties and as many women as you want.”
Suddenly, the air in the trailer grew thick as I watched Baird’s eyes darken with the kind of anger I’d never seen from him. At least not directed toward me.
