“What about Courtney?” I ask.
“What about her?”
“Well, aren’t they sort of dating . . . or whatever?” Probably a lot of whatever.
“Is that what you think?” She shakes her head vehemently. “I told you, Mallory, don’t believe everything you hear. Pairing them as a couple is good for the box office. He’s told not to deny it.”
I look up at her, surprised. “What?”
She nods. “It’s all part of the game,” she says. “You really should be asking Chad about this. However, I will tell you that they did date briefly around the time of filming, but it didn’t work out. There were a lot of pictures taken of them during that time. They keep resurfacing. And if you ask me, Courtney likes it that way.”
I pick at a spot on the couch. “So they’re not . . .”
“Not for a long time,” she says.
I feel a huge sense of relief; like I’d been holding my breath since he walked into my life, but now I can come up for air. “What you whispered to me last night, about me being the one, what does that mean?”
“You must see the way he looks at you, Mallory. It’s the same way my husband looks at me. The man is completely smitten. I haven’t seen him so much as look at another woman since he saw you outside the club on Saturday.”
“But there are so many of them. Why me?”
She gives me a scolding look. “Why not you, Mallory? You are nice. You’re beautiful. You have a history together that nobody can even come close to.”
I eye her skeptically. “Did Chad send you here to get me to go out with him?”
She guffaws. “Lord no. And to be honest, Mallory, I’m not sure if I’m here to encourage you to date him or to warn you away.”
“Warn me?”
“Yes. Listen, I love Chad to death, but you need to know that dating a celebrity comes at a hefty price. You’ll lose your anonymity. Some of your freedom. As soon as the press finds out about you, every facet of your relationship will be plastered across tabloids, internet and entertainment TV. You may develop a fan base of your own. You may even get hate mail.”
I take in a sharp breath. “Hate mail?”
She nods reassuringly. “You have what others want.”
“I don’t have anything,” I tell her.
“Oh, but you do. You have that man’s heart.”
I find myself tearing up at her words. I wanted him for so many years. I think I fell in love with him when I was six, the minute he stood up to those bullies for me. Every boy in my life—every man—has been compared to him—the younger version of him—and none have measured up. I tried like hell to erase him from my life back then. I did stupid, destructive things. But no one has ever been able to take his place. Strings of failed relationships plagued me until I just gave up and stopped dating. I thought the problem was me, but maybe it was Chad all along—or the fact that he’d had my heart, making me unable to truly give it to anyone else.
Kendra takes my hand. “I know this is a lot to take in. And it’s unfair to you. You shouldn’t have to deal with all the crap that comes along with him. New relationships can be hard enough as it is. But it’s a package deal if you want to be with him. And it’s already started, you know. There is a picture of you out there.”
I’m completely caught off guard. “A picture of me?”
She nods reluctantly. “From the night of the premiere. It’s only your profile. You can’t even tell it’s you. But after Chad’s reaction to seeing you that night, some photographer took your picture and it ended up on the morning show Chad did yesterday. I’m assuming he didn’t tell you about it because he didn’t want to alarm you. And it’s not a big deal. Not yet anyway. But it will be. With him going to your school and then you showing up together at his brother’s residence—it won’t take long before the press put it all together.”
I sink back into the couch cushion trying to figure out how I feel about all of this.
“I’m not telling you this to scare you away,” she says. “But I do want you to think long and hard about it. If you don’t think you can handle it, please don’t get his hopes up any more than they already are. I don’t want to see him get hurt, Mallory. And I think you may be one of the only things in this world that can truly hurt him.”
I take in a shaky breath, still trying to hold back my tears. “It—it’s a lot to think about.”
She pulls a business card out of her purse and hands it to me. “I’m his publicist. It’s my job to know everything that’s going on with him so I can put out fires and get as much good press out there as I can. If you ever have any questions about what you see or hear, call me. Don’t jump to conclusions. Nine times out of ten what you see is not true, or at least it’s a twisted version of it. But woman-to-woman and not publicist-to-girlfriend, you can trust me to be straight with you.”
Girlfriend? My head is spinning.
“I like you a lot, Mallory. I think you’d be great for him. And to be honest, I think you’d be great for his career. People seeing him with someone who’s not an actor might be a benefit. Tone down that bad-boy persona and all.”
I fold my restless hands together in my lap. “That’s not what his manager thinks.”
“Who, Paul?” she scoffs with a rebellious look. “Don’t pay any attention to that stick in the mud.”
“But he’s not the only one who would disapprove,” I say. “His fans. Courtney Benson. God knows who else wouldn’t want him with me. I feel it would be an uphill battle.”
She nods. “It may well be. And you need to figure out if it’s worth it. If he’s worth it.”
My eyes snap to hers as I absorb the words she’s said. She gives me a sympathetic look as she stands up and slings her purse over her shoulder. “You do have a lot to think about. But remember this, just because he’s a celebrity does not mean his heart can’t break just like everyone else’s.”
After she leaves, I head into the kitchen and sit at the table, eyeing the spaghetti dinner my dad has prepared for us. I try to get myself to eat, but find I’m mostly pushing food around on my plate.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Dad says.
I nod. “Sorry.”
“Did Mom ever tell you the story of how she and I got together?” he asks.
“You were a resident and she was a new nurse, right?”
“That’s right,” he says. “Residency is just this side of being in hell. Your life does not belong to you, it belongs to the hospital. You have no time to date. No time to do anything but learn. Your fellow residents become your family. They are who you spend all your time with. It’s no joke what you see on TV about residents sleeping together in on-call rooms. It happens. It happens because there’s just no time to do it anywhere else.”
“Then how did you have time for Mom?” I ask.
“I didn’t, that was the problem.” He gets up to put his plate in the sink, coming back with a bottle of beer for each of us.
I smile when he puts mine on the table in front of me. When I was younger, he’d set out milk and cookies when he wanted to have a talk. How times have changed.
“I was a new resident and your mom had recently started her nursing career. Neither of us knew what we were doing and both of us were trying to impress our supervisors. But as doctors, we’re supposed to know more than nurses. Especially new nurses.”
He settles into his seat and takes a sip of beer. “One day, a man was brought to the hospital for a supposed panic attack and none of the residents could figure out what was going on with him. Your mom was standing in the corner of the room and made a comment under her breath. Our attending physician heard her and made her repeat what she said. Her face turned red. Her hands were shaking. But she stepped forward and told us that maybe we should check his thyroid levels because based on his symptoms it sounded like he could be in hyperthyroid crisis.” He laughs, shaking his head at the memory. “Turns out she was right. This young, wet-behind-the-ears nurse put four residents
to shame by diagnosing our patient. And she taught us all a lesson, one that our attending never failed to keep reminding us of—to think outside the box. Men rarely present with thyroid disorders. Especially younger men as that one was.”
I smile, proud of the mother I only got to know for seventeen years. “Is that why you started dating her?”
“Oh, no. I think we all hated her for embarrassing us in front of our boss. But she did earn my respect. And I can tell you, from that day on, I looked at nurses differently. It wasn’t until a year later that I’d really noticed her. I was leaning towards orthopedics as my specialty and she happened to have transferred to that department so we kept crossing paths. My schedule was still hectic. I knew I wouldn’t get to see her much if we dated, but I took a chance and asked her out anyway. She turned me down for months.”
I look up at him, surprised. “She did?”
“Yes. She knew my schedule. She knew how second-years were tied to the hospital. She also knew I’d had a reputation for hanging out in the on-call rooms.”
“Dad, really?” I ask, my mouth hanging open.
He nods bashfully. “Sorry, did I just ruin my chances for Father of the Year?”
I laugh. “Of course not, that was before you dated her.” Oh, God, at least I hope so. “It was before you dated her, right?”
He pats my hand reassuringly. “From the moment I asked her out, I never even looked at another woman.”
I smile, thinking of how Kendra said the same thing about Chad. “So how did you get her to go out with you?”
“It wasn’t easy,” he says. “I basically stalked her at the hospital. I’d show up in the cafeteria when she was eating lunch. I made friends with the nurse manager who would put your mom on some of my cases. I’d leave funny notes in patient charts knowing she’d see them.”
“So you finally wore her down,” I say, amused to be hearing the story of my parents’ courtship. Especially since we rarely talk about my mom. It causes him too much pain.
“I did, but it didn’t come without challenges. She had a lot to overcome. My schedule. The demands of my job. My past indiscretions.” He finishes his beer and takes my plate over to the sink.
“So why do you think she did it?” I ask. “Why did she put up with all of that?”
He turns around and leans against the sink. He looks me square in the eye. “I guess she thought I was worth it.”
My eyes become misty for the second time tonight. “You were listening?”
He pulls on his earlobe. “Ears of a dog,” he says.
I get up from the table and walk over to hug him. How does he always manage to do that—give me advice without it being so obvious? As I hug him, I smile. I smile because I realize he’s just had the most wonderful conversation with me about my mother and it didn’t make him sad. In fact, from the look on his face, he enjoyed those memories. Maybe he’s finally healing. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”
He hugs me tightly, kissing the top of my head. “I love you too, pumpkin.”
Chapter Eleven
Chad
Mallory has turned me down twice since last night. Making excuses about being busy and how I’m only in town for a few more days. I don’t care if I’m leaving in two days or two years, I want to take her out on a proper date. I’ve always wanted to do that, ever since I was little. I’m just not going to beg.
That’s not true. I probably would beg. But I’m not quite there yet. No, I’ve got something else in mind.
I dribble the ball around her driveway, working on my trick shots. I’ve been to Ethan’s gym every day this week practicing for this moment.
I smile when I hear a car turn into the driveway behind me. And even though she shot me down, I’m pretty sure I see her smile through the windshield of her compact car. I step aside so she can pull into the garage. She exits the car, arms piled high with folders. I run over to help her out before she spills them all over the garage.
“Hi. Thanks,” she says, willingly letting me take the load from her.
I nod to the heavy pile of papers in my hands. “How much homework do you give those kids? I thought you’d be one of those cool teachers who doesn’t pile a ton of work on your students.”
“First off,” she says, scolding me with a hot-teacher look that has me needing to adjust my pants, “Cool teachers do give homework. And second, I’ve been a bit otherwise occupied this week and haven’t had a chance to grade these papers yet.”
“Otherwise occupied?” I ask, looking down at her with raised brows. “I only occupied you for two nights. Whose ass do I have to kick for occupying the other two?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “No one’s,” she says, walking towards the door to the house. “Come on, you can put those down in the kitchen.”
I follow her in, happy to have my foot in the door so to speak. I put her things down and turn around to face her. “Why won’t you go to dinner with me?”
She sighs, shaking her head. “It’s not a good idea, Chad. Someone could see us. I don’t want to cause a stir. And you’re leaving soon.”
“You keep saying I’m leaving soon. But why does that mean we can’t be friends?”
She stares at me. She stares at me hard. Her eyes tell me everything she’s thinking.
“Shit,” I say, finally realizing the obvious. “I’m not going to do that again, Mal. I promise to stay in touch this time. I’ll even come back. Or you can come see me. Don’t shut me out. Please?”
Okay, so maybe it is time for begging.
“I don’t know,” she says, leaning against the counter. “It’s just all so complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I tell her.
She sighs again. She’s going to say no, I can feel it.
“Let’s play for it,” I say, nodding towards the garage.
“You want to play HORSE to get me to go to dinner with you? You do realize you never win, don’t you?”
My lips curve into a devious smile. “I’ve never been this motivated before,” I say. “Plus, I’ve been practicing. And I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day, so can we hurry this along?”
Her eyes go wide. “Tonight? You want to do dinner tonight?” She looks over at the pile of papers on the counter. “I can’t, Chad. I have so much to do.”
“First, it’s Friday. You have all weekend to grade papers. Second, if you really need them graded that badly, I’ll help you.”
She gives me that scolding hot-teacher look again. Damn, she has to quit doing that. “You’ll grade papers?”
“It’d be fun,” I say. “I always wanted to be a teacher you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I know everything about you.” She looks down at the floor, frowning. “Well, I used to.”
I step up next to her. “You can again, Mal. Just give me a chance.” I nod to the door that leads to the garage. “Come on. Let me try to win that date.”
She shakes her head. “Not a date,” she says. “Just dinner. If you win.”
“Game on, Mal.” I take her hand and drag her behind me out to the driveway.
~ ~ ~
Mallory stares at the orange ball as it rolls off the driveway and lays to rest in the bushes. “I can’t believe you won.”
“Believe it, baby,” I say, smiling from ear to ear. Although if I’m being totally honest, and I hope I am, I’d say she had something to do with it. I look at my watch. “You have exactly one hour to get ready. Now find me a red pen so I can play teacher.”
For the next sixty minutes, I transform into Chad Stone—school teacher. I have a ball grading dozens of papers that are dated all the way back to Monday. Was she really so distracted by me that she hasn’t been able to do anything since then?
For a while, I wonder what life would have been like for us if I’d have stayed here and followed that dream. Would we still live in this town? Maybe even in one of these houses? Life would be so simple. So perfectly normal. No. I love what I do. I just don’t always love t
he crap that comes along with it.
I hear her heels click on the hardwood as she comes downstairs. I put the papers away, happy that I’ve made a good dent in them for her. When she comes around the corner, my heart stops. “Uh, Mal . . . if you don’t want this to be a date, don’t wear shit like that.”
My eyes travel the length of her from head to toe. She has another green blouse on, this one darker than the one she wore to Ethan’s. It makes her eyes stand out. But tonight, instead of jeans, she’s wearing a black skirt. A short black skirt. I can see her shapely legs. Legs that beg to be wrapped around a man. And that man better bloody well be me.
“You didn’t say where we were going, so I hope this will do,” she says.
I tamp down my boyish fantasies about fourth-grade teachers in sinfully short skirts. “You’re gonna kill me, Ms. Schaffer.”
Mallory rifles through the papers I graded, smiling as she flips from one to the next.
“What?” I ask. “Didn’t think a college drop-out could grade a bunch of nine-year-olds’ math problems?”
She shakes her head laughing. “It’s not that.” She flips one of the papers around and points to the upper corner. “I just didn’t think a big movie star would draw smiley faces on them.”
“Well, I didn’t have any of those gold star stickers. Do they still use those?”
“Not so much anymore, we use stamps and, um . . . smiley faces,” she says, rolling those gorgeous emerald-green eyes.
“Ha! See—I’m so an awesome school teacher. I missed my calling.”
She straightens the pile of papers and puts them back in a folder. “No, you definitely did not miss your calling.”
Now I’m the one smiling. “Oh, really? Are you telling me you’ve seen my movies, Ms. Schaffer?”
Stone Promises (A Stone Brothers Novel) Page 10
