Page 59 of He Has Charm

“I have a statement prepared for you,” Delaney says.

“What about Harper? I don’t want to say anything that she’s not okay with.” Delaney nods at me and I see a small muscle spasm in her right cheek which on another person might qualify as the start of a smile. For her, it’s probably the devil pulling some strings.

“Either way,” Jett says, “In my opinion the bigger problem for her is that she is sometimes referred to as your girlfriend and sometimes as your agent ,and the social media debate on that matter is gaining popularity and starting to spread to mainstream media. We just got a call from ESPN and two of the networks about the issue, which, as you know, could be an ethical one for our agency.” I look between the two.

“So you want me to say in a statement to the press that there’s nothing between us except our professional relationship and I would have punched the guy out same as if she were my sister or a stranger?”

“Perfect. I’ll use that,” Delaney says. Jett looks grimmer than I’ve ever seen him.

“Say it if it’s true. If it’s not—”

I interrupt Jett.

“Of course it’s true. I like Harper, but she’s absolutely not my girlfriend. If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do girlfriends. I’m a very committed bachelor.” I clamp my mouth shut and hope he doesn’t question me further. I want her to be more, but I don’t know what, or whether she’ll want, what I have to give.

I’m skating circles around the issue of what Harper really is to me. It’s a good question met with a fog of confusion every time I ask myself. Especially since fucking Easton laid his hands on her.

Truth is I don’t remember ever being that fucking pissed in my life. Not since my dad died, anyway. I shrug to dispel the uncomfortable questions and put a hand to my heart to reassure myself it’s still beating properly.

“Fine,” Jett says and he sounds like he means the opposite.

“I’ll arrange the press conference for later this evening,” Delaney says. “I’ll text you the time when I set it up. Wear a suit and tie and shave your face. I don’t want you looking like you’re on your way to another barroom brawl.”

When I get home, Harper isn’t there. Later that evening, I make my statement. I tell the press that I intervened because Easton didn’t back off when she asked him to and that my relationship with Harper is strictly professional, that I wasn’t at the event with her that night and that I was protecting a woman in need of standing up for same as I would if she were my sister. We didn’t take questions, thank fuck.

According to the sports reporter commentary and social media following my press conference, no one believes me. If anything, the tide is turning to more people thinking there’s something going on. Fuck.

Of course they’re right.

Nineteen

Harper

“Of course,” I say as I mute the stupid guy on ESPN. “A romance makes a better story, even if it’s pure speculation and flat-out not true.” I pace a circle around the parlor while he’s sprawled on the old-fashioned sofa, pillows propped to make it half comfortable, still watching the TV.

“Well mostly not true,” he says, furrowing his brows. “Maybe we should talk—”

“Talk? What for? There’s nothing to talk about, Maddox. We’ve already covered all of this. We can’t be anything more than—” I wave my hand because damn if I know what we are. “See what happens when there’s even a rumor of that kind of thing? Children’s Hospital cancelled our commercial shoot, Maddox. I told you it doesn’t get much worse. Now we’ll probably lose the Mamma Regina’s account again.” I stop in front of him, hands on my hips, trying to control my breathing. “Imagine what they’d say or do if they ever found out…” I can’t say it, can’t continue fighting.

He stands up and takes me in his arms and there’s no escape because I want to feel his strength, to lose myself in him, to not worry about losing everything in my life: my job, my family’s financial security, my heart.

He murmurs in my ear as he holds me.

“It’ll be all right, sugar buns, I promise.” Sweet words, the kind I need to hear, the kind that soothe my soul, calm me enough so that when I’m ready, I can face the fact that the only way everything will be all right is if I make it that way. I gather strength, taking from him whatever he’ll give me. It’s only fair because I’m losing everything I have to him. And he can have whatever he wants. Though I’m not about to tell him he’s already taken my heart, hoping to keep it my little secret in the name of self-preservation.

I crave his charm, his gorgeous blue eyes, and his Adonis body. There’s more to him of course, but I’m not sure how much of it he’s giving away. Or for how long.

And there’s the rub.

“Are you going to be okay?” he says.

I snort.“Of course. You know me.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to stare into those dark-fringed eyes of his and it’s not fair. His eyes are like magic, they disarm me no matter what shields of defense I put up. Common sense, reason, rational thought, none of it matters.

“I know you’re feeling vulnerable,” he says. My knees go weak in corroboration. He lifts me.

He actually scoops me into his arms. Even as I snort in disbelief, my arms automatically go around his neck and my head rests against his shoulder. He carries me to his room without a whimper of protest from me, without any of the rightful indignation that filled me weeks ago.

When we get inside his room, he kicks the door closed. It’s a symbolic gesture that I understand as he lowers me and my feet hit the plush carpet.