Stealing Sawyer

by Samantha Christy

  The redhead snorts loudly. “I’ll bet there is,” she says.

  I step away and look at Sawyer like he disgusts me. “You buy a girl a drink and you expect her to sleep with you?”

  “That’s usually how it works, yeah,” he says, sounding like an arrogant asshole.

  “Not with this girl,” I say, noticing that everyone is watching us.

  “What makes you so special?” Sawyer asks.

  “Maybe I should be asking you that,” I say. “You think because you’re a famous ball player you can just have anything you want? Well, it doesn’t work like that. You want a quick lay, go find someone else.” I fish around in my purse until I find what I’m looking for. I had scribbled out my phone number on a scrap of paper earlier in preparation. “You want to take someone out for a nice dinner and conversation, call me. Otherwise, don’t bother.”

  He takes the scrap of paper from me, looking dumbfounded as I walk away.

  I try not to smile as I pass by Caden and Brady who both wink at me and laugh silently.

  I turn the corner and walk right into Bass.

  “Shit, Penny, that was awesome. I saw it all go down from here.”

  “Bass! You scared me.” I swat his arm.

  “I know you don’t think I was going to let you walk home alone after midnight,” he says.

  Of course he wouldn’t. But then I look back at the group of guys walking the other way and I think of how they were okay with it.

  “Plus, Sawyer texted me earlier telling me he was going to put you in a cab if I couldn’t be here to walk you home.”

  “He did?”

  Bass nods. “But I got the idea he’d rather have me here, and now I see why. You walking away was far more dramatic than him putting you in a cab.”

  “I wasn’t aware he had your number.”

  “He got it from me on Monday. Maybe he’s not so bad after all,” he says.

  I turn around and see the redhead getting in a cab with Conner. Then I think about all the other redheads Sawyer must have been with. All the blondes and brunettes. How many of them are there, I wonder?

  “Yeah, he is,” I say, threading my elbow with my best friend’s before we walk home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sawyer

  I wake up when the flight attendant comes by and tells me to prepare for landing. I love it when we take the red eye. I can sleep anywhere, and it gives us a full day of free time which we rarely get during the season.

  As we taxi up to the gate, I pull out my phone to check the time, calculating how long it will take for me to get home, shower and eat breakfast. Then I send a text.

  Me: I’ll pick you up at noon.

  Aspen: Noon? I thought we were doing something tonight. It’s barely nine AM.

  Me: Were you sleeping?

  Aspen: No.

  Me: Then what’s the problem?

  Aspen: What if I have other plans today? You don’t own all my time, you know.

  Me: You have other plans? You don’t want to go shopping with me?

  Aspen: No, I don’t have plans. I’ll go with you, but it would be nice if you would ask me instead of tell me.

  I roll my eyes.

  Me: Aspen, will you go shopping with me today?

  Aspen: Yes, Sawyer, I’d be happy to. See you at noon.

  ~ ~ ~

  “So, what are you shopping for?” Aspen asks as we walk down the sidewalk.

  “I’m not shopping. You are.”

  “Me?”

  “Didn’t you read the contract? It says I’m to buy you clothes so you can play the part.”

  She looks down at her t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “My clothes aren’t good enough for you?”

  “Uh, they’re fine,” I say, looking at her jeans that fit her curves like a glove. “I guess I just thought being a girl, you’d like more shit to put in your closet.”

  She laughs. “I’m just kidding, Sawyer. And you don’t have to buy me anything if you don’t want to. You’re already paying me a lot of money. But my closet is pretty bare and I suppose if we’re going to be seen together, I should get some stylish stuff.”

  “Stylish stuff that I’m paying for.”

  She shrugs. “Okay, I’m not going to argue. But I’m telling you right now, I’m not getting shorts or skirts that show my ass cheeks.”

  “How about a little thigh – is that okay?”

  “Nothing above mid-thigh. And I won’t get any tops that show too much cleavage or risk a wardrobe malfunction.”

  “Do you negotiate everything?” I ask.

  “I just don’t want to come off looking like those girls from the other night,” she says.

  “Right. No slutty clothes. Got it. We should look for a few formal dresses, too. There are some benefits we’ll need to attend.”

  “I have plenty of dresses. We have to dress formally for performances.”

  I raise my brows at her. “Performances? I’m envisioning a black dress that starts under your chin and hits the floor.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, I guess I might want to buy a few. The ones I have might be a bit conservative.”

  “Lead the way,” I say, pulling my hat down low on my forehead.

  She watches my movement. “Do you always get recognized?”

  “Not if I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact. But, yeah, it happens a lot.”

  We turn the corner and cross the street, heading towards a major department store.

  “What did your friends think of me?” she asks.

  “Nobody said anything.”

  “Really?”

  “They are used to me picking up girls, so Wednesday night was no different.”

  “They weren’t surprised that I turned down your offer?”

  “No. It’s happened before. Rarely, but it’s happened.”

  She rolls her eyes melodramatically.

  “Spencer made a comment about it being for the best considering the fact that I’m walking on eggshells at work.”

  “What do you think they’ll say when they find out you took a girl out twice?”

  “I’ll take a lot of flak. They’ll ask when the wedding is and shit like that. But it will blow over in a few weeks, I’m sure.”

  We reach our destination and I hold the door open for her, ushering her inside quickly after I see someone snap our picture.

  “Where are we going tonight?” she asks, sorting through a rack of blouses. “What should I look for?”

  “We’re going to dinner at Eleven Madison Park.”

  Her mouth opens and I reach out to close it. “You’ll catch flies,” I joke.

  “Why are we going there? It’s so expensive.”

  “Because we’ll get noticed,” I tell her. “Murphy and Caden are going, too.”

  She puts back the blouse in her hands. “Looks like we’ll need something better than this. LBD maybe?”

  “LBD?”

  “Little black dress,” she says.

  She finds a rack of dresses and pulls a few out, holding them up for me to see.

  “I don’t know. You pick. I couldn’t care less what you wear.”

  She scolds me with her harsh stare. “Listen. I know this whole thing is for show, but it would do you good to learn a thing or two about women. I assume someday you’ll need it. So, a bit of advice, never tell a woman you couldn’t care less about what she wears.”

  “First, I won’t need your advice. Ever. And second, I only meant it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’d look good in anything.”

  Her lips curve up into a smile. “See – that’s what you should say.”

  She studies a shirt that has a large screen-printed butterfly on it.

  “You like that?” I ask.

  “No. I just … well, it’s silly, but I’ve been dreaming about butterflies lately. Not colorful ones like this one, different ones. I can’t really explain it.”

  I touch my ribcage and wonder if my tattoo has anything to do with her dream
s.

  A few hours later, we walk out of the store carrying one bag and a few dresses. I hold up the bag. “Two hours and this is all you could find? Why are women so damn picky?”

  “Lesson number two – never call a woman picky. We’re discerning. We like what we like, Sawyer.”

  “Quit trying to groom me.”

  She laughs. “Somehow I get the feeling it might be too late to teach this old dog new tricks.”

  “Who are you calling an old dog?” I wink at her. “Besides, I don’t need any tricks. I do just fine.”

  “Fine if you want nothing but one-nighters the rest of your life.”

  “Yup. See – no problem at all.”

  She stops walking and puts her hand on my arm. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t want to settle down. As in ever? Not even when you’re older?”

  I shake my head. “Not even then.”

  “So why bother with this whole charade if you’re just going to go back to your old ways? Won’t they just fire you next year?”

  “Trade, not fire,” I correct her. “And I’ll just be more careful.”

  She pins me to the side of the building with her stare. “As in you’ll make every one-night-stand sign an NDA?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  She laughs disingenuously. “That doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

  “Good thing you’re not me then.”

  “Yeah, good thing.”

  We reach her building and I hand her the bag I’m carrying. “Be ready at seven.”

  She chews her bottom lip as she stares me down.

  “Can you please be ready at seven?” I ask.

  A smug little smile creeps up her face as she spins around and walks through the door. “I was wrong!” she yells back at me. “You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Dressed and ready for our night out, I follow someone into Aspen’s building and walk up the two flights of stairs. When she opens her apartment door, I’m speechless. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone wear an ‘LBD’ as well as she is right now. I appraise her from head to toe. Her dark hair looks like silk as it cascades down to her chest in soft waves. The dress she’s wearing has thin straps across her shoulders, exposing her toned arms. The hem falls right to mid-thigh, as short as she set her limit. And, Holy God, the hint of cleavage she’s showing has me fantasizing about being in her bed. She’s gorgeous.

  For a second, I’m glad she put the no-sex clause into the contract, because – fuck dinner – I’d take her to bed right now.

  Her roommate comes up behind her. “Cat got your tongue?” he asks, laughing.

  I shake off the fantasy in my head, hoping I can tamp down the rising problem in my pants considering Bass Briggs is staring at me right now.

  “You look very nice, Aspen.”

  She takes in my dress shirt, tie, and khaki pants. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  “Shit, you guys will look amazing on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow,” Bass says.

  Aspen’s face goes ashen. “Oh, God,” she says.

  “You’ll do great, Penny,” he says. “Just don’t look around and you won’t be bothered by the fans, the photographers, or the dozens of horny women who want to be you.”

  “You’re not making this any better,” she tells him.

  “It won’t be that bad,” I say. “Nobody knows where we’re going. We won’t make a big deal out of it. And when the photographers get wind of us being there and try to take our picture on the way out, we’ll dazzle them with our gorgeousness.”

  “Our gorgeousness?” Aspen says, raising a brow.

  “Yeah. You’re gorgeous. I’m gorgeous. Our gorgeousness. Like Bass said, we’re going to make one hot couple.”

  She shakes her head. “Good thing you’re so humble about it.”

  “Are you saying I’m not gorgeous?”

  “I guess you don’t lack anything in the looks department. But we might have to work on your self-confidence,” she jokes.

  “Aw, come on, my confidence is part of the draw, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re mistaking arrogance for confidence.”

  “You don’t think it’s sexy?” I ask.

  “It might get you into a woman’s bed, but it won’t get you into her heart.”

  I laugh. “Good. I’m doing things right then.”

  Bass laughs. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?”

  I study him. He’s not afraid of me or my fame. He’s obviously very protective of Aspen. And they dated before. It makes me wonder if he’s still carrying a torch for her.

  I shrug. “Never claimed I wasn’t.”

  He hands her a black shawl. “You kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Or you mean what the contract doesn’t dictate,” Aspen says.

  I hold the door open so she can walk out.

  “Don’t forget the ‘dreamy eyes,’ Penny,” he shouts after us. “You gotta earn your keep.”

  Aspen looks irritated. “Sorry. Even though he knows I need to do this, he’s not exactly jumping up and down about it.”

  I grab her elbow and help her navigate the stairs in her high heels. “I’d be worried if he was.”

  “He’s a good man,” she says.

  “I can see that.”

  We leave her building and I hail a cab.

  “What, no car? Don’t you have one?” she asks.

  “I do, but I only use it when I leave the city.”

  “Do you leave the city much? I mean, other than for games.”

  I shrug. “A couple times a month, I guess.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “Connecticut mostly.”

  “Do you have family there?”

  “Come on,” I say, ignoring her question when a cab pulls up to the curb. “Our ride is here.”

  We make some small talk on the way to the restaurant. I can tell she’s nervous. She has no reason to be. So her picture will be in the tabloids and maybe on TMZ. But quite frankly, it should be. She’s got the face and the body of a model. She’s exactly the kind of girl people would expect me to date. Actually, she’s better. She’s smart and cultured. I couldn’t have picked a better woman to help fix my reputation.

  I smile thinking how Rick will have a conniption knowing he won’t be able to trade me.

  We pull up to the restaurant and a valet opens the door. I get out and offer Aspen my hand. She looks up at me, takes in a deep breath, and then grabs it.

  Just like I told her, nobody is expecting us. There are no fans on the sidewalk. No paparazzi taking pictures or asking questions.

  Not yet anyway. Not until we leave. Because it happens every time. A waiter or restaurant patron will notice me and before long, it’s all over social media. There are even websites dedicated to posting where famous people have been spotted. I predict by the time we’re done with dinner two hours from now, we’ll have to be escorted by restaurant security to our cab.

  I walk her into the restaurant, my hand on the small of her back. Her dress has an opening that reveals her lower back, so I’m touching her skin. It’s soft. I rub my thumb in circles and I feel a shiver run through her.

  This is going to be fun. The contract says no sex. But damned if I’m not about breaking the rules. If we break them together, it’ll offset the penalties, right? Nobody would have to know.

  “Table for Murphy Brown,” I say to the hostess.

  She smiles at me knowingly before she escorts us to the back corner of the restaurant. It’s private, but not so much that people can’t photograph us. Which is good. I want to be photographed tonight.

  “Murphy Brown?” Aspen asks. “Is that really her last name? Isn’t there an old TV show with that title?”

  “It’s not her last name. It’s Caden’s nickname for her. And we use it to make reservations when we go out together.”

  “Do you have a name you use for reser
vations?”

  “Yeah. Sawyer Mills.”

  She laughs. “Of course you do. But then why pull your hat down low when you’re out in public, like the day we met or earlier today when we were shopping?”

  A woman squeals at a table we pass. “Oh, my God!” She stands up to the embarrassment of her teenage daughter. “Can I get a picture with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss,” the hostess says.

  “No, it’s okay,” I tell her. “I can pose for a quick picture.”

  The woman shoves her phone into the hand of her daughter who looks mortified. “Mo-om,” she whines.

  “Just take the picture, honey. Your father will be sorry he was late.” She turns to me. “He’s your biggest fan.”

  The girl takes our picture and then we continue to our table, loud whispers of recognition from restaurant patrons following us as we walk.

  “I don’t mind being recognized,” I tell Aspen. “I just don’t want to be mobbed. Don’t worry, you’ll see the difference when we leave.” I nod back to the woman. “That was nothing.”

  “Great,” she mumbles. “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Aspen

  I’m relieved to see Murphy and Caden sitting at the table already. Caden stands up and kisses my cheek.

  I find it interesting that they are all treating me like I’m actually Sawyer’s girlfriend. Well, all but Sawyer, that is. Because I’m not. So he shouldn’t.

  But still, it’s nice that his friends are being so accommodating and supportive.

  “Did you get spotted yet?” Murphy asks me.

  “There weren’t any photographers out front, if that’s what you mean.”

  She nods to the people in the restaurant behind us who are staring at our foursome. “There will be.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Caden says. “You’ll do fine. Just like you did the other night.”