by Ellie Hall
“So what would you do?”
“Huh?” he asked, dazed, entranced, lost in her.
He straightened, dismissing that odd longing that had suddenly appeared. Was it because he was bored? Because he’d been told to follow certain rules aka the playbook. The playbook. He was a jokester, a rascal if there ever was one, but no way would he do anything to compromise the guys on the team. Especially not Grey. The game was all he had.
On second thought, in many ways, it was all Declan had too. “What was that?” he asked.
“If this is going to work you have to accept my coaching and pay attention.”
That was part of the problem. All he could pay attention to was her.
She explained the personality test that would help them better understand his motivations, desires, and behavior. “It says here that if you don’t know how to answer think back to when you were a teenager.”
He shifted uncomfortably. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
She closed the folder. “Or not. We can just sit here in silence until you’re ready.” Her eyes narrowed and her mouth puckered like she hated what she saw.
“No, it’s fine. Ask away.”
For the next half hour, he answered all her questions that had to do with how he’d respond or react properly in certain situations. Thankfully, he didn’t have to delve too deep into the past.
“Okay, I’ll have your results when we meet at—” She consulted the folder. “The Seaview dining room at seven for our first meal together.”
“Like a date?” he asked even though he knew it was foolhardy with the playbook rules and all.
“No, like an evaluation.” She stood to leave, holding her chin high even though she was still wet from his water guns. “And no pranks allowed.”
He couldn’t help it; his lip curled into a smile, but he quickly wiped it away. He didn’t intend to prank her. No, he was just looking forward to spending more time with her even though he knew it was against the rules.
Chapter 3
Maggie
If Maggie had a chance, she’d have been dwelling on what she’d gotten herself into. As she stepped into the Blancbourg school hallway with its plush carpet, cream-colored walls with wood detail, and glowing scones, everything had happened so fast she hardly knew where she was or which way to go.
On the flight over, she’d vaguely imagined the finishing school consisted of teenagers wearing uniforms—the girls in plaid skirts and knee socks and the boys in tailored jackets.
She did not picture the beast of a—
A willowy woman with dark hair and the posture of someone who’d spent plenty of time balancing a book on her head as she walked down a set of stairs (Maggie’s imagined version of finishing school) appeared from the other end of the hallway.
With sharp eyes, she took in Maggie, disheveled and drenched. “May I help you?”
“Yes, you may,” Maggie said. “I’m a new employee and I met —”
“I’m Katerina Kuznetsova, the headmistress at Blancbourg.” She held out her hand to shake. It was cold. In many ways, it matched what Maggie had seen so far of her personality.
“I’m Maggie Byrne. It’s nice to meet you.” She wanted to say more, ask about a dozen questions, and possibly quit, but Katerina interrupted.
“You’re Nadia’s friend from Florida.” She had a slight Russian accent.
Maggie nodded.
She softened a bit. “I’m glad you’re here.” She paused as though she was going to say more. “Have you been to your room yet?”
Maggie shook her head. She wanted to tell this woman what a dreadful encounter she’d had with Declan, but Katerina started down the hall, motioning for her to follow.
“At the moment we’re short-staffed so you got lucky and will have a larger suite than what we normally offer new teachers.”
They made several turns down various halls and up flights of stairs. The building had a classic, palace-like feel with lots of rooms and accessways. She soon lost her sense of direction. They stopped in front of a door with a brass plaque that read Regency Suite.
“Here we are.” Katerina opened the door. Late morning light flooded the space. She gave Maggie a second look. “I take it you understand the importance of appearance at Blancbourg and what we have here is a result of you meeting your new pupil.” She gestured to Maggie’s damp clothing as though not entirely surprised given the bad boy football players’ reputations.
“That beast of a man child,” she said, finishing her thought from when she’d left the meeting room, “doused me with water guns.”
Katerina’s eyes flashed. “I see how it is.” She practically growled. “My new pupil is tardy. This shall be interesting,” she said, turning on her heel and storming down the hall as though preparing to go into battle.
The door to the Regency Suite opened to a furnished space with hardwood floors, woven rugs, and polished antiques. Maggie set her purse and the file on a table by the door.
In addition to the living area, a small bedroom with a single bed and a tiny bathroom were to one side of the suite. It was smaller than her apartment in Florida, but the windows and view made Maggie feel like she was on top of the world.
The mountain vista was unlike anything she’d ever seen. They started out wide and sprawling with a band of evergreens at the base, graduated to sheer rock, and then disappeared into the clouds. They loomed. They stood sentry. They were magnificent. She stared at the scenery and decided that she preferred it to flat land and the humidity that she’d left behind. Although she did miss Haleigh and even Nadia.
Maggie’s belongings had been stowed by a silk upholstered sofa.
Maggie plopped down. She needed a moment to catch her breath. To think.
Not about Declan or how she was sure that he recognized her as the Cinderella character from the viral video who fell into the fountain. She then worried that he also knew her from the embarrassing home video that put her face on national television when she was too young to speak up for herself. Her parents knew it would boost ratings of their own show so they humiliated their daughter.
Early on, all she’d wanted was their attention, but after that incident, she did her best to be as invisible as possible.
However, lately, it was like the real Maggie was trying to dig her way out and reveal herself. When Declan had commented on doing his thing, she wondered what her thing was. Trying and failing at ten jobs in ten years. Falling into fountains? Running? Hiding?
Baking when she was upset? That was exactly what she wanted to do right then. She wanted to mix flour and sugar and vanilla. Add butter, eggs, and oil and achieve a wonderfully delicious outcome.
She’d once dreamed of having a cake shop, which had morphed into a mobile bakery. Though that business venture had failed like everything else.
Right then, she had to focus on her new job. Not the man who’d attacked her with water guns, infuriated her with his haughty celebrity attitude, and really didn’t seem to care that he’d shown the world his backside. And not the past. Not the future either.
Maggie couldn’t stand people who put the attention of strangers, fans, likes, and follows over what was important. Family. Integrity. Faith.
She had yet to see Declan’s true colors, but she had a pretty good idea of the kind of person he was. What she had also seen were muscles everywhere. He probably also had them in his pinky finger. His hair was blond with a hint of red much like hers, but his beard was full-on red. He had relatively straight teeth with a narrow gap between the front two. His nose was crooked like it had once been broken. But it made him unique and somehow fit his appearance. Like he had stories to tell. She sensed depth to his character that he hid from the world, showing them what they wanted to see. It made him look just another rough, tough, bad boy, hot football player.
She tried to sink into the couch, but it wasn’t the cushy soft kind at Haleigh’s apartment and resisted her as though bouncing her back to the last words s
he’d thought. Hot football player. She didn’t mean that he was hot. She scolded herself.
Even though she rarely dated, the couple of guys she’d gone out with had been toads—and not the kind that would turn into a prince when kissed.
Larry had also worked on the cast and it turned out he had a list, literally, and was checking off all of them so he could boast that he’d dated all of the Disney princesses. Before him, she’d been set up by a friend with a guy who’d learned who her parents were and seemed to be more interested in them than her—she’d moved to Orlando after that to avoid any further association. Then there was Xavier, who’d ruined everything.
She huffed and as soon as she shook those failures from her thoughts, Declan replaced them. The way he looked at her with his piercing green eyes. The way he’d said date.
Silly notion. She wasn’t there to check out the football player, especially not one who was mischievous, famous, or any other -ous. She wasn’t interested in dating and even if she was, she wouldn’t risk it. She had to keep her new job at all costs. She had nowhere left to go. She’d given up her apartment in Florida, Haleigh had bought her car, and she had little more than the belongings she brought to Concordia. More than anything, she didn’t want to have to turn to her parents for help.
Maggie remembered the little girl at the airport. She’d said I want to be just like you when I grow up. It wasn’t that Maggie was irresponsible. She’d supported herself completely on her own since she was eighteen. It went against her parents’ wishes, not that they ever really cared. They just wanted to use her to keep the cash and cameras coming at them. But it was hard, being on her own. She’d become fiercely independent, but that also meant she was lonely—though she could trace the feeling of loneliness back to some of her earliest memories.
The little girl at the airport had meant that she wanted to be like Cinderella when she grew up. While Maggie had been there, done that, and was most certainly all grown up and swiftly approaching her thirties, but she didn’t feel like she’d fully grown up. Who was she? What did she want? Those questions circled her thoughts.
Maybe she wasn’t a princess in title, but she’d rescue herself. That was for sure. She’d figure out a way to stop living paycheck to paycheck. To create a life she truly wanted instead of struggling to get by.
Her first task, how could she turn a pumpkin into a gentleman?
On the shiny oak coffee table was a book titled A Guide to Blancbourg Academy d’Etiquette along with a schedule for her week. She flipped through, learning more about her role, appropriate attire, and tips for dealing with various personalities. The book also explained each of the lessons she was to conduct, starting with the dinner that night. Thank goodness because otherwise, she had no idea where to begin other than Declan cleaning up his beard. Cinderella’s bluebirds could build a nest in there.
She consulted the personality test she’d conducted and matched it with the key in the book, which offered strategies for dealing with and appealing to Declan’s type: alpha male.
Afterward, she showered and dressed. Most of her clothing was better suited to the Florida heat and humidity than Concordia’s relatively mild weather. She didn’t have the funds to go shopping and buy a new wardrobe. A pair of simple black pants and a white blouse with pink polka dots would have to suffice. Haleigh had given it to her when she had to go to an event at her old job.
Declan’s comment about her cooling off had reminded her of what the creep had said when he’d sent her falling into the fountain. At first, she felt the crushing reminder of her embarrassment, but then it blazed through her, lighting her up with determination. She’d cooled off alright. After the shock of him recognizing her, her demeanor had turned downright frosty. She’d remain that way if she had to in order to keep the job. Taking a cue from Katerina, she marched into the hall, ready for war.
Maggie followed a raucous round of laughter coming from somewhere in the vast building, hoping it would lead her to the Seaview dining room where she was supposed to meet Declan. She took a few wrong turns, but eventually found her way with a minute to spare.
In the center of the dining room was a long table with enough space to seat at least twelve people. A fireplace was on one wall with a massive oil painting over the mantle, depicting an old-fashioned man—or was it a woman? Maggie couldn’t tell. Windows filled the other wall. In the far distance, the sun had nearly set over the water.
She had only seen a bit of Concordia so far but loved it. Apparently, it had it all: mountains, ocean, a city, towns, villages, and countryside.
The grandfather clock ticked. Candles flickered. Declan was late. She recalled Katerina’s comment. Figured. He probably valued his time above that of other people. Typical. Her parents were like that too.
A server brought her water and then hung back, the picture of a wallflower. Much like Maggie had been most of her life. But wasn’t that what she wanted? Not to be noticed? Then again, she didn’t want to be lonely or invisible either.
At last, the door swung open, silencing her thoughts. Declan entered as a raucous cheering filled the room like that at a football game. He paused, pulling his phone from his pocket and clicked it off.
“Your ring tone is the sound of a crowd cheering?” she asked.
“Good evening to you too,” he said with a wry smile.
She caught her blunder. No way would she successfully coach him in etiquette if the first thing out of her mouth was criticism.
She squared her shoulders. “Good evening. Thank you for taking the time to join me for dinner. In the future, please be punctual,” she said.
He sat down. His phone beeped.
She got up and left the room.
Chapter 4
Declan
Declan cursed his phone for blaring the moment he’d walked into the dining room. He’d been getting calls all day. People wondering where he was, why he’d left town, complimenting him or criticizing him for moon-gate.
Coach wanted the other guys to keep a low profile, but the incident on top of the team’s notoriety, and Declan’s own prominent position in the spotlight, made keeping off the public’s radar near impossible.
What had delayed him was an interview and photo opportunity with a local children’s charity that was connected to the Touchdowns for Teens program that he funded. Likely Maggie thought he was late because he was irresponsible, but he’d just been doing outreach. Sure, he soaked up the attention and liked to have a good time, however, he was a man of his word. He was also a person who went the extra mile.
A kid connected to the local charity that had been in a terrible accident and subsequently endured several surgeries was struggling. During his visit to the recovery center, the boy had asked Declan an important question. He couldn’t just give him a quick, superficial answer and leave it at that. He had to show the boy how to keep going when his hope was flagging. They took a walk around the block. Declan pointed out the natural beauty surrounding them, the impressive technology that was often taken for granted—cars, electricity, mobile phones. The former provided inspiration. The latter highlighted the fact that everything that existed came from somewhere—from creativity and from the minds of people. People like the kid. It showed that anything was possible. The world was at his feet. He could walk again. He had a second chance to live. Declan knew that lesson all too well. He’d told the kid that he needed to find his thing and go after it like his life depended on it. It just might.
He was supposed to be at the dinner assessment at seven and because he took the extra time with the kid, he was ten minutes late. He’d already started on the wrong foot with Maggie, but she didn’t have to run out of the room just when he’d arrived.
He got up to go after her. When he reached the door, she was on the other side of it, eyes closed, and drawing a deep breath as though she were at her wit’s end.
The words I’m sorry were on his lips when she blinked her eyes open. Up close, and in the flickering candlelight,
summer gold and threads of amber flecked her hazel eyes.
They stood there a moment staring at each other like the hallway was some kind of secret place where they could start over. Or where they were two people meeting for the first time.
Declan’s heart thudded hard and then like he’d been hit with a defibrillator’s paddles, it jump-started. Thump, thump. His hand involuntarily pressed against his chest.
Maggie’s voice was husky when she spoke. “We have to role play as if we’re meeting for dinner. In this scenario, you arrive first then I come in. You show me how you’d greet someone.”
If it were actually an option, Declan would rather throw the playbook out the window and show Maggie a lovely evening for real. Instead, he said, “So I can’t use water guns this time?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile.
“Definitely not.” Her tone was firm, absolute.
His phone beeped again. He ignored it.
She pointed to the table. “Ready for a do-over?”
“Definitely.”
He sat down and waited for her to come in as if she were arriving to meet him at a restaurant. The way her hips swayed, her hair swooshed, and how her eyes held his as though he were among a crowded room and he was the exact person she’d been looking for transfixed him.
When they’d met earlier, he’d noticed that she was pretty even when flustered, but before she wouldn’t look at him. However, her eyes didn’t leave him as she strode into the room. The intensity buffeting between them glued him to the spot. What was happening?
When she arrived at the table, she dipped her head slightly toward the chair opposite his.
He fumbled, confused for a moment and then realized what he was meant to do: get to his feet when a lady entered the room, pull out the chair, and act like a gentleman instead of a beast who was practically drooling over her beauty.
