“She’s twenty-eight years old, originally from Cleveland.”
“Ha, I knew that!” I said, feeling triumphant about the fact. “She told me she was from Cleveland.” I swiveled my chair, taking in the view of the playing field from my office window. It was a killer view, one that I didn’t want to lose. I swiveled back.
“One point for you.” Carson adjusted his tie and read his notes off of his phone. “She has quite a few dance credits, four music videos, one candy bar commercial with a flash mob scene, she auditioned for a dance reality show but got cut at the last minute. She quit the cheerleading team last season but then jumped back on this year when one girl got injured and the alternate was arrested for DWI. She lives in Harlem at fifteen—”
I interrupted him. “I know where she lives.”
Carson lifted his hand and drew me another point with his finger on an imaginary chalkboard. “Two points.”
“You’re a bitch,” I told him.
He looked unconcerned with my opinion. Carson was probably all of twenty-six, and wound tight. He also dressed like he was due to have brunch in the Hamptons at any given second. Or at least what I pictured you’d wear to brunch in the Hamptons. I had never been, personally. Today he was wearing a slim fitting lilac-colored suit, pant legs landing north of his ankles. He had on sneakers with no socks.
“She’s working with the cheer coach and our social media team here to have the cheerleaders visit a children’s hospital. It looks like she has been involved in organizing several events during her time on the team. She also volunteers with several children’s charities on her own time.” He looked at me. “She loves kids, apparently. And hey, don’t you happen to have two kids?”
Wow, he was just fucking hilarious today. I put up with him because he was great at his job, was a steel trap, and normally I found him amusing. Today, he was grinding on my nerves. “You’re really starting to annoy me.” I was also annoying myself because I was starting to think I could really like Dakota. Except she hadn’t called me, so obviously the feeling wasn’t mutual. “The charity thing gives me a reason to talk to her. Have her brought in for a meeting on Thursday afternoon.”
“Got it. I have her credit report here, do you want me to read the highlights?”
I dropped the pen I was holding on my desk, not even sure why I had it in my grip. Had I subconsciously planned to take notes on what Carson told me about Dakota? That wasn’t fucking weird or anything. “You have her credit report? No, I don’t want you to read that. It’s none of my business.” Even if I was curious.
“There is something really noteworthy.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“She’s being evicted,” Carson blurted out, clearly unable to stop himself.
So much for being a steel trap.
“Oh, shit.” I rubbed my forehead. “I didn’t need to know that.”
I didn’t. Because I couldn’t get emotionally involved with Dakota. I couldn’t catch feelings for her. It would be a total disaster. My life was busy and complicated. Hers appeared to be falling apart.
No. It couldn’t happen.
But then I said, “Find out how much she owes in back rent.”
Yep. I said that.
Carson’s eyebrows shot up but he just casually said, “Sure. No problem. Anything else?”
“Can you club me over the head and knock some sense into me?”
“You could just date her,” Carson suggested. “Maybe no one will notice.”
“Now I need to club you over the head.”
“Was the sex good at least? Was it worth it?” The little bastard looked genuinely curious.
“Yes,” I said shortly. “You saw her, right? In all your research.”
“I did, but I’m too short for a woman like that. I would literally feel like her boy toy.”
That made me laugh. “Get the fuck out of here. Arrange my meeting.”
“Yes, sir. And I’ll clear your schedule for an hour after the meeting.”
I started to protest, then figured it wasn’t a bad idea. This might not take a mere five minutes. I had to convince Dakota to keep what had happened between us a secret.
Plus ask her why the hell she hadn’t contacted me.
Chapter Seven
“He’s the head coach?” Isla asked. “How could you not know that, Dakota?”
I shrugged. I’d made the hike to Brooklyn to meet up with my girlfriends, Savannah and Isla. Felicia couldn’t make it because her baby was going through a teething patch, and Leah was in the Hamptons escaping the heat with her gazillionaire husband at his family compound.
“I don’t know. You know me. I don’t always pay attention when I should.” It was true and it was a problem. It was why I was being evicted. I hadn’t told any of my friends about that yet, which was also a problem. I needed to beg one of them to let me crash for a couple of weeks. It was either that or go back to Cleveland. Which would be horrible, because I hadn’t lived with my parents in a decade and there were no job opportunities for me there.
“I don’t follow football,” Savannah said. “So you could have told me his name and I would have had no clue.”
“Yeah, but you’re not a cheerleader for his team,” Isla said.
I waved my hand. “He’s a new coach. Whatever. The point is he ghosted me and now I have to stand there knowing he's very close to me physically and I can’t do a damn thing about it. It sucks.” I sipped my drink. “God, it’s hot in here. Don’t they have the air-conditioning on?” Maybe I was just hot from riding the train but I was wearing a crop top and shorts and I was still feeling the heat.
My phone was sitting on the table and it rang. It was a number I didn’t know. Probably a bill collector. My credit card company was on my ass hard core.
“I think it’s fine in here,” Isla said.
“I think it’s hot,” Savannah said. “But then again, I’m pregnant, so my temperature is off.”
I set my drink down hard. “What? You’re pregnant? Oh my God, that’s amazing! Congratulations!” I hadn’t even really noticed she hadn’t ordered a cocktail. I had been wrapped up in my own nonsense. “How is Maddox handling the news?”
Maddox was Savannah’s fiancé. Savannah had been a single mom when Maddox had reappeared in her life and they had instantly become inseparable. He had adopted her son, Sullivan.
“He’s thrilled. You know he wants like six kids.”
“Well, you’ll be a third of the way there,” Isla said. “Congrats. That’s amazing. When are you due?”
“April. We’re going to have to move. We cannot have two kids in a one-bedroom apartment. We need a two-bedroom, so if you know anyone who is moving and has a good-sized place, let me know.” She turned to me. “Dakota, do you want to take over our lease? I think it would be a perfect apartment for you and I want you in Brooklyn for selfish reasons.”
I wished I could. She had a cute apartment. It had natural light and a galley kitchen. Room for an actual coffee table. “I would love to, but I’m not really in a financial position to do that right now.” It pained me to say that out loud. “As a matter of fact, I’m actually a little behind on my rent. I have until September fifteenth to get caught up or I’m getting evicted.”
“What? Oh my God,” Savannah said. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
I shrugged.
“That’s only two and a half weeks from now,” Isla said.
I grimaced. “Trust me, I know.” I sipped my drink. I had ordered a vodka and soda water. I had gained a few pounds over the summer and needed to cut back on the sugar. The drink tasted like shit. I wanted something delicious and cold and fruity.
“How much do you owe?” Savannah asked.
That number got stuck on my tongue. “Three months,” was all I could manage. If I said the actual number, I would freak the fuck out. “Is it okay to feel this tired?” I asked them. “Like where it would just be nice to have answers about my life, where my next pay
check is coming from.”
“Oh, damn, honey, that sucks,” Isla said. “Do you need a loan? I can give you a few grand.”
“I can’t borrow money from you,” I said. “I know you and Sean are trying to open your own restaurant.”
“I can give you money too,” Savannah said, reaching out and squeezing my hand.
The very thought made my stomach turn. “No way. Don’t even think about it. You’re having your second baby, you need to move to a bigger place, you and Maddox are planning a wedding. I can’t borrow money. I’ll be fine. I don’t know what I’m going to do but something will pan out. It always does.”
Though I wasn’t sure what miracle would be coming my way this time. Even if I got a dance gig, it wouldn’t pay what I needed it to in two and a half weeks to get out of the hole I was in. It was a disaster. “The only thing I ask is that you let me crash on your couch for a week or two once I get thrown out.”
“Of course, sweetie, whatever you need.”
“You got it.”
The look of sympathy they both gave me made me both grateful for amazing friends and utterly humiliated. “I’ll be right back.” I didn’t need to use the restroom but for a split second I thought I was going to cry and that nonsense needed to stop. This wasn’t the end of the world. I was stronger than this.
In the restroom I blotted my face and listened to the voicemail I had just gotten. Might as well pile on more bad news.
Except it wasn’t a bill collector.
“This is Carson, assistant to Coach Brandon Macnamara. He’s scheduled a meeting with you for tomorrow, Thursday, at three p.m. Please check in at the front desk downstairs and you’ll be shown to his office.”
What the hell? I was being summoned? By the man who had ghosted me?
Rude.
That made my cheeks burn with anger. I freshened my lipstick and went back to the table, fired up. “Listen to this,” I told the girls. I put my phone on speaker and played the message. “That’s the call I just got. What does that even mean?”
They both looked as bewildered as I felt. “I mean, he wants to see you. That’s good, right?” Savannah asked.
“Is it? I have no idea.”
“That assistant really gave you no information. And like, excuse me, what if you’re busy?” Isla looked annoyed on my behalf.
“Well, sadly, I’m not, but I totally agree.” I sipped my drink and grimaced. Stupid vodka tasting like vodka. I like my alcohol masked. “It feels like it should have been a request, not a done deal.”
“Are you going to go?” Savannah asked.
“I don’t think I have a choice if I want to stay on the cheerleading team.”
“True. How are you going to approach it?”
“How sexy of an outfit do you think I can get away with at three in the afternoon without looking like a call girl?” I asked. “I want him to regret not giving me his number.”
He’d had fun with me that night. I knew he had. He kept coming back for another round. Which made it even more inexplicable as to why he would give me a fake number. I wanted to remind him that we’d had great sex. Amazing sex. All-night-long sex.
“Seems like a bad idea,” Isla said. “But I doubt anything I say is going to stop you.”
“You are correct, sir,” I said.
She laughed. “Sir? Oh, God, you’re getting giddy. I can see it. You like this guy, don’t you?”
Yes. “I don’t know.” I swiped through my phone. I may or may not have saved the picture of him with his daughters. “Look at this. Him with his kids. How cute is that?” I showed them the picture.
“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Savannah said. “They’re cute girls.”
“Yep, you’re down the rabbit hole,” Isla said. “I wish you well.”
“I literally have nothing to lose at this point,” I told her. “I’m wearing a super short skirt and heels. With a blazer, so it’s professional.”
“Oh, and have a plunging neckline to your shirt,” Savannah said. “Very rock star.”
“It’s at three in the afternoon,” Isla said.
“Hence the blazer,” I told her with great dignity.
Dakota came into my office wearing a black skirt that could have been professional if it had another eight inches added to it. My mouth went dry. That was a lot of leg and the skirt was so short, one false move and I would see her panties. And I knew from experience what kind of panties she wore. Ones that covered exactly nothing.
Her top was ivory, a soft classic material. But it had cleavage that plunged nearly to the waistband of her skirt. A black blazer did cover some, but not all, of her breasts. The thin ribbon of flesh between her breasts was visible from neck to navel. Her shoes were also black, but the heel was high and made her impossibly long legs seem even more so. The blond hair that I had run my fingers through and tugged was swept back into a sophisticated ponytail. She had on minimal makeup.
It was all together a mind fuck. I didn’t know what Carson had told her, presumably something about the charity, so it looked like she had come both prepared to discuss a charitable venture, and to drive me insane.
Look at what you can’t have again, Brandon.
It was definitely working.
I stood. “Hi, Dakota, thanks for coming.”
The double entendre was unintentional. But we both seemed to become aware of it at the exact same moment. Her eyebrows rose. I thought about her coming beneath me and got an instant hard-on.
“It didn’t seem like I had much choice,” she said. “Your assistant commanded me to appear.”
Oh, fabulous. Fucking Carson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you had no choice.” I came around the desk. “How have you been? You look amazing. I have to admit, I was shocked to see you on the sideline Sunday.”
“I was shocked too. I didn’t know you were the head coach. Or maybe more like I didn’t know the head coach was you, Hater.” She tilted her head. “You know what I mean.”
Maybe? I wasn’t sure. “Of course.”
“I have a question. At what point did you realize you were there to attend my surprise wedding the night we met?”
“Honestly, when I finally got to the party. It was billed as a holiday party for the franchise, so I never even made the connection that your Dante was a player for the team.” I could see why she would wonder about that. If I had known and didn’t tell her, it didn’t paint me in the best light.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You could have told me on Valentine’s Day.”
“You’re right. I could have. But we seemed to have better things to talk about.” Sex. We’d had lots and lots of sex. “I wanted to talk to you now about, um, discretion.”
Dakota made a face. “Gross.”
“Excuse me?” I stopped walking toward her, thrown off. “What’s gross?”
“Did you seriously summon me to make sure I won’t tell anyone you boned me? I won’t tell. I promise. It’s not a big deal.” She actually turned, as if to leave.
“Dakota. Wait.” I reached out and touched her arm. “Did I do something to piss you off? I thought we had fun and now you just seem angry.”
“I thought we had fun too. But if you didn’t want to see me again, that was totally understandable. It was a hookup. You didn’t have to leave me a fake number. What was the point of that, exactly? To make me feel shitty? Because it worked.”
My jaw dropped. “A fake number? I did not leave you a fake number. I wanted you to text me. I was hoping to hear from you for weeks and kicking myself for not getting your number. Again.”
“You did so give me a fake number. The number you gave me belongs to a guy who asked me to send nudes.” She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her blazer and started swiping angrily. “Here. Look.” She shoved the phone at me.
You know what I don’t like? Mornings. But I had fun last night.
“That’s the text I sent you.” She pointed to the timestamp. “At three twelve that after
noon.”
“I don’t understand.” Reading her words made me want to fuck her all over again. She had thrown it back to the night we met, when she’d given me a laundry list of things she liked. My nostrils flared and my gut twisted. God, she was so funny and sexy and confident.
“Some jerk answered.”
I scrolled through and saw his request for a pic. “Holy shit, I’m glad you didn’t send him one.” The very thought made me rage.
“I didn’t because his texts didn’t sound like you. It felt… off. And it was.” She snatched her phone back out of my hands. “I thought maybe I had mixed up a number, so I tried a couple of combinations. I got a grandmother in Seattle and some very aggressive woman who swore at me.”
I was speechless. “I’m sorry, Dakota. I really left you my real number, I swear to God. I wanted you to get in touch with me.”
She fished through her phone again and showed me a picture. It was of the note I’d left her that morning. “Read this number to me.”
I did.
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me that’s a five?” She pointed to the fourth digit. “That is not a five.”
“It’s a five.”
She smacked her forehead. “Your handwriting is shit. I thought that was a six. I never even doubted it was a six. This number looked in question.” She pointed to the fifth number. “But that one? Never in a million years.”
“It’s a five.”
We stared at each other.
“So, you wanted to see me again?” I asked, still processing. For six months I had thought she’d wanted nothing more to do with me.
She nodded. “I don’t get my feelings hurt very often, but that hurt my feelings. I felt like you intentionally took a jab at me by leaving a fake number.” She poked me in the chest. “I gained five pounds because of you. I ate a disgusting amount of donuts that first month. A revolting amount. An utterly offensive and hideous amount.”
This was a hell of a turnaround of events. I fought the urge to grin. “I’m sorry. You don’t look like you’ve gained five pounds to me.” I ran my eyes over her. “In fact, you look… fantastic. I deeply, truly regret my bad handwriting. How can I make it up to you?” I really, really wanted to kiss her. I wanted to cup her cheeks and kiss that sweet mouth so she would stop talking about donuts in such negative terms.
Halftime Husband Page 7
