Or maybe she saw the real me, and that’s just a little bit addicting. Which is why I’m here, with coffee, and I know it feels creepy with the money on the table, but I saw the overdue bill on the counter and did a little math. She’s broke. So, I could lie. Say she’s convenient. Already in the viral photo. Has the wedding dates I need.
But if I don’t put a little skin in this game, she’s going to walk. Or run. Or I guess, since this is her place, kick me out onto the street. She can’t be the only one sacrificing some pride for this win.
So I give her just a little of what I owe her. Honesty.
“Because I trust you,” I say. “I trust you not to sell this story to the tabloids. Not to use it against me. Because—” I stop. Regroup, because the way she’s looking at me now, all big brown eyes…I can’t think straight. “There was an incident.”
“What incident?” Chloe leans forward slightly.
I brace myself.
“About a month ago, I went to a charity gala. Met someone—a woman who seemed nice, normal. We talked for maybe twenty minutes. I gave her my number because she said she worked for a social media magazine and wanted to do an article about me. I was being nice.”
“Of course you were,” Chloe says, but it doesn’t sound like judgment. Huh.
“Turns out she was an aspiring influencer looking for her big break.”
Chloe’s brows lift, soften. Not quite sympathy. More like recognition. Like she knows exactly where this is going.
“She posted our entire conversation online—DMs, texts, everything—claiming we had this intense romantic thing and I ghosted her. Painted me as this serial charmer who uses women and throws them away.”
Because that’s not at all what I did to the woman sitting across from me six months ago. Completely different situation. Totally.
The irony is not lost on me.
“Did you?” Jessa asks flatly from the doorway. Arms crossed. Pajama pants with little hockey pucks on them, which wouldbe funny if she wasn’t looking at me like I’m a suspect in an interrogation room.
“No. I literally talked to her for twenty minutes. But after that night, we shared a few texts.”
Silence.
Jessa raises a brow.
“I…Okay, I flirted a little.” I don’t look at Chloe. “I was…charming.” Heat sears my neck. “It’s what I do with members of the media. But I was never inappropriate. And I never led her on. She asked about my game, wondered if we could meet for dinner. It was light.Polite. And then she started asking if she did something wrong and why I was ignoring her. Asking why I was rejecting her, because she thought we had a connection?—”
“And you answered her?”
“At first. I tried to let her down easy. But eventually…”
“He told her not to text anymore,” Jessa says, now holding up her phone. “I’ve seen the post.” She glances at Chloe. “I’m a little surprisedyouhaven’t. Even outside the sports realm, it went viral.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, and then she went on some podcast talking about how I led her on. It got completely blown out of proportion. I’ve got this reputation—I’m friendly, I smile for photos, I’m good with fans. So when someone claims I’m secretly a player who charms women and disappears…”
Jessa makes a face, reading off the headline. “‘Kane’s Contract Renewal in Question Amid Personal Conduct Concerns.’”
Yeah. That.
“And now she’s threatening to sue me.”
“For what?” Chloe says, frowning, and oh, I like that tone. It’s nice to have someone on my side about this for once.
“Intentional Infliction of Emotional Duress. For five hundred thousand dollars…” I trail off. Watch Chloe’s face carefully.
Her eyes flick away. Down to her coffee cup.
Yeah. She’s probably thinking it too. The charmer who disappears. That’s exactly what I did to her.
“So you need a girlfriend to prove you’re not a heartbreaker.” Jessa pockets her phone. “Interesting strategy, considering your track record.”
