Three more people pull me aside on my way to class. It seems everyone wants to be my friend today. I guess being a talented pianist and a good person wasn’t enough for them before. Hypocrites.
I’m ready to throw my phone against the wall, because by the end of the day it’s blowing up with texts and social media posts from so-called friends who recognized me. But then one text catches my eye. It’s from Murphy. She and Rylee want to take me out to dinner while the boys are away. I solidify plans with them and then shut my phone off. After all, I still have several more weeks of school to get through before graduation. I don’t plan on failing my finals and screwing up everything I’m working toward.
~ ~ ~
After my shower, I turn my phone back on in case Murphy or Rylee need to get ahold of me to change or cancel our plans. I’m not really sure why they want to go out with me. It’s not like we’re friends. I’m the help. The paid escort of their real friend. Why they aren’t treating me like that is beyond me.
I have quite a few more messages and texts than usual. I guess that’s to be expected. And if this is happening now, I can’t imagine what it will be like when the press finds out my name.
My phone immediately rings and my brother’s face flashes across the screen.
“Hi, Den.”
“Sawyer Mills?” he asks. “Is that really you in the pictures? They aren’t Photoshopped, are they?”
“Well hello to you, too.”
“Tell me, Aspen. What’s going on?”
I know he means business when he calls me by my real name.
“It’s me. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? You’re going out with a Nighthawk? What … how …?”
I laugh. But then I remember I can’t tell him anything. I have to tell more lies to my brother. Something I’d never done before meeting Sawyer. I think this is the worst part of the whole arrangement, that I can’t talk to Denver about it.
“We went out twice. I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how quickly he goes through women.”
“Jesus, Pen, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. But maybe that’s the only reason you got a second date. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he’s just keeping you around until you give him what he’s after.”
“Why would he want to do that? He can have anyone he wants. But maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s already done with me.”
“Shit, really? That’s a shame. It would have been so cool. Not that I could meet him or anything with me being stuck in Missouri.”
“Because it’s all about you?” I joke.
“You know what I mean. So he hasn’t asked for another date?”
“Not technically. But he did ask me to come watch one of his games this weekend.”
“Are you going?”
“I think Bass and I will go.”
He laughs. “Bass? Sawyer won’t mind you taking another guy to a game?”
“Didn’t you see the other photos?” I ask. “We already went out together. Bass and Sawyer have met.”
“He’s met your friends? Aspen, what aren’t you telling me?”
My skin crawls with all the lies I know I’ll have to tell my favorite person in the world over the coming months.
“Nothing. We met in a bar and I shot him down, but I gave him my number and now we’ve gone out a few times. Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, it’s not. You’re gorgeous and talented and one of the nicest people I know. But, Sawyer Mills? It’s just so unbelievable.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m trying not to make a big deal out of it. I’m sure it won’t last.”
“Don’t let him fuck around on you, little sister. If he does one thing wrong, cut him loose, alright? Damn, I wish I could come up there and make sure you’re okay.”
“I am okay,” I tell him. “You don’t have to worry. Bass is watching out for me.”
“I should be watching out for you.”
I sigh. I miss him so much and I know he feels the same way. I had planned on going home for a few weeks this summer. But I wonder if I’m allowed to do that. Would I be violating the contract in some way?
I look at the time. “Den, I have to go in a minute. I’m going out with some friends tonight.”
“Speaking of going out, do you have any big plans for your birthday?”
“Not really. I suppose Bass will take me out. What about you?”
“Like there’s anyone left here who wants to hang out with me,” he says sadly. “Why isn’t the baseball star taking you out?”
“I told you it’s just casual.”
“Okay, be safe tonight. Now that your face is out there, people might recognize you.”
I don’t tell him they already do. I know he will be beside himself when my name gets published and I become well known for the simple fact that I’m dating a ball player.
“Oh, and I meant to thank you for the check that came today,” he says. “It’s a lot more than I thought it would be. You must have gotten a good scholarship. I wish you didn’t have to spend it on me.”
“Of course I’m going to give it to you. And I’m working some extra jobs up here, teaching kids and such, so I should be able to send more money soon.”
“Aspen, no. I made my own bed here.”
“I’m not letting you go to prison.”
“It might not come to that.”
“Well, I’m going to make sure it doesn’t. We’re paying off your debts, come hell or high water.”
“I love you, Pen.”
“Love you too. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I finish getting dressed, sad that Denver and I can’t spend our birthday together. For the past few years, he’s come to New York and we’ve had a time of it. And now he has no one.
I grab my purse and then re-check the address where I’m supposed to meet Murphy and Rylee. When I open the door, I’m startled by a guy carrying a bag who looks like he was about to knock.
“Can I help you?” I say, looking up and down the hallway.
“I have a delivery for Aspen Andrews.”
“That’s me. But I didn’t buzz you up.”
He shrugs. “Someone was going out when I was coming in.”
I shake my head in disgust. I hate it when people get in without being buzzed. I wonder if it’s going to become a problem.
He holds out the bag for me.
I look at it skeptically. “Who’s it from?”
“I don’t look at the stuff,” he says. “I just deliver it. But I had to pick it up over at Hawks Stadium.”
I feel the smile creep up my face as I accept the bag and then dig inside my purse for a tip.
“It’s already been taken care of,” he tells me before walking away.
“Thank you!” I shout after him.
I go back inside my apartment, needing to see what’s in the bag before I head out. I pull out a couple of Hawks jerseys with Sawyer’s name and number on the back. I hold them up, wondering why he sent two. But I quickly realize one is too large for me. He sent one for Bass as well.
Underneath those are two Hawks baseball caps, and under those are several assorted ladies shirts. The last thing in the bag is a sleeper set that is shorts and a cami. I didn’t even realize they made things like this. He wants me to wear this stuff when I sleep? That may be going a bit too far.
I put my things in my room, leaving the jersey and a hat for Bass on the kitchen table.
On my way to meet the girls, I belatedly realize there wasn’t a card or even a note inside the bag. I find that strange.
That’s because he’s not your boyfriend, my inner voice reminds me.
I pass a few corner newsstands on my walk only to see my face prominently displayed on them. I hide behind other pedestrians so I won’t be recognized. It’s one thing to have acquaintances at school recognize me from the photos, it’ll be something else entirely to have strangers pick me out
of a crowd.
I arrive at the restaurant, giving the fake name Murphy asked me to use.
“I’m meeting Mrs. Brown here,” I tell the hostess.
“Your party has already been seated,” she says. “Please follow me.”
We order our drinks and then I have to ask them what’s been nagging at me all day. “Why did you invite me to dinner?”
They look at each other, both at a loss for words.
“Okay, now you have to spill. Why are you being so nice to me knowing I’m being paid to do this? If I were actually his girlfriend, I’d understand, but … why?”
Rylee looks at Murphy again and Murphy nods. “We like you,” Rylee says. “And I guess we’re hoping that maybe your relationship won’t end when the season does.”
I look from one to the other in disbelief. “Relationship? We don’t have a relationship. We have an arrangement. And from what I’ve read and what Sawyer tells me, he’s not looking for anything. And even if he were, I’m not sure I’d want to be it. You know him, you know his past. He’s probably a walking, talking STD. Let alone he’s arrogant and bossy. And, okay, so he’s a good kisser and he’s not so hard on the eyes, but there’s only so much that can make up for.”
Murphy’s brows practically touch her hairline. “He’s a good kisser, is he?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I guess. I mean, I didn’t really notice, but I assume he is.”
“Based on the pictures I saw from last weekend, combined with what Piper Lawrence told me, you know exactly how good a kisser he is.”
“You know Piper Lawrence?” I ask.
“We do,” Murphy says. “But don’t change the subject.”
“There is no subject,” I tell them. “I’m not in this for anything other than the money. I know that makes me a terrible person, but that’s how it is.”
“I don’t believe you,” Rylee says. “You can’t fake looks like the ones I saw in those pictures. There’s something there.”
“The man is trying to save his career,” I remind her. “He’d look at Freddy Krueger like that if he thought they’d let him stay on the team.”
“Who says I was talking about him?” she asks, with a smug lift of her brow.
The waitress brings our drinks, thankfully ending our conversation. For the rest of dinner, they tell me about Piper and her sisters and a few other friends, encouraging me to get together with all of them for a girls’ night.
I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, however. I’d feel awful lying to their friends who would think I’m genuinely falling for Sawyer. When this is over and I ‘leave’ him, he will get to keep his friends and I get to go back to being me. We won’t be able to co-exist in the same circles. So, my trying to fit into them now just doesn’t make much sense. Being seen with Murphy and Rylee is one thing, their husbands are Sawyer’s best friends. But I think it’s best to leave it at that. Less baggage to deal with when this is just a memory.
When I excuse myself to hit the bathroom, my phone vibrates with a text.
Sawyer: Did you get it?
Me: Get what? I got a delivery today, but there was no card. Is that what you’re talking about?
Sawyer: What was in the package?
Me: Some Nighthawks stuff.
Sawyer: And you didn’t think it was from me?
Me: Well, I wasn’t sure. Maybe one of your friends wanted to make sure I was dressed appropriately when I come to the game on Saturday. But then again, they probably would have included a note. Most normal people would.
Sawyer: Most normal people would just say thank you.
Me: I would have if there had been a note telling me who sent it.
Sawyer: I sent it.
Me: Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so? Thank you.
I laugh to myself as I send the text. I know I’m infuriating him.
Sawyer: You are one complicated woman.
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. Now I have to get back to dinner. Goodbye.
Sawyer: Dinner? With who?
I put my phone away, not bothering to answer. He doesn’t own all my time. And as long as I don’t date anyone else, I’m not violating the contract.
I re-join Murphy and Rylee a minute later and they both narrow their eyes, studying me as I sit down.
“Why the big smile?” Rylee asks.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was. Just happy to be here, I guess.”
“I’m calling bullshit,” Murphy says.
I about spit out my drink. “What?”
I’ve not known Murphy very long, but I’ve never heard her cuss.
“You walk out here with a Cheshire cat smile and I’ll bet Caden’s right arm it has something to do with the text I just got.”
“Text?”
She hands me her phone and I read it.
Sawyer: Do you have any idea what Aspen is doing tonight?
I can’t help the smile that all but cracks my face in two.
Chapter Seventeen
Sawyer
I curse as I walk back to the dugout two bases too soon. I’m pissed at myself for falling a few inches short of second base. For being tagged out on the steal. I look up to where I know she’s sitting, but I can’t pick her out. I wonder if she’s having a good time. I wonder if she’s wearing the jersey I gave her. I wonder if she’s disappointed in me.
Then I wonder why I even care.
Some of my teammates give me a supportive pat on the back before I throw my batting helmet down and find a seat on the bench. Then I watch Caden and Spencer each get a single and I’m pissed all over again, knowing I’d be crossing home plate right about now if I hadn’t screwed up. After that, the Yankees turn a double play, ending the inning.
We have a couple more particularly bad innings and I wonder if we’re just snake-bit today. When I get up to bat again, I strike out. I glance up in the stands again. Yes – definitely snake-bit.
After the game, Rick chews our asses out. But nobody complains. We deserve it. It was our worst performance of the year. In spite of that, there is still a large crowd gathered outside the clubhouse when I emerge. I look around for Aspen. She’s supposed to meet me here.
I see a group of reporters huddled off to one side. One of them shouts, “Aspen! Are you going to be the one to settle him down?”
I can’t help but smile when I hear the question. Everything is going exactly as planned.
Question after question gets fired at her. And just as we discussed, she’s not answering a single one. And it doesn’t go unnoticed that they are calling her by her name. One of the reporters calls her ‘Miss Andrews’ so the cat is most definitely out of the bag.
A reporter shifts over and I see her. Bass is hovering protectively, but she looks terrified. I walk over to the head of security and nod to Aspen. “Drew, can you take care of that for me? She and the guy can come through.”
“No problem,” he says, before he signals to someone else on his staff and then they clear a path for Aspen and Bass to come around the barriers that separate us from the press and the fans.
I pull Aspen to my side and put my arm around her. Then I lean down and kiss her hello. I can see in her eyes that she’s still scared, but she looks relieved to be on this side of the gate.
“Drew, this is Aspen Andrews and Sebastian Briggs. They are both good to have access until further notice.”
Drew shakes their hands and pulls some business cards out of his pocket to give them. “Good to meet you. If you have any issues, call or text me at this number.”
“I’m gonna go sign a few autographs,” I tell Aspen. “You can wait right here and I’ll be back in a minute.”
When I head over to the fans, the reporters bombard me with questions.
“Are you dating Aspen Andrews?” they ask.
“Yes,” I say, trying not to make it seem like a big deal as I sign a few hats and programs.
“How many times have you been out with her?” one yells.
Normally I
wouldn’t bother to answer these sorts of questions, but in this case, these are exactly the ones I want to answer. “I don’t know. I don’t keep count. A few.”
“How is she different from the others?” one asks.
I look back at Aspen and smile when she gives me an awkward wave. I’m milking this for all it’s worth. Damn, I wish Rick were out here to see this.
“Have you seen her?” I ask.
“Are you in love?” a reporter shouts.
I have to keep from laughing. I couldn’t have scripted this better.
“Come on, guys,” I say, trying to look disgusted that he even asked. I do have to make it believable, after all.
A minute later, I’m back at Aspen’s side. “They are putty in our hands,” I say.
I lean down to give her one more peck on the lips now that I know all the cameras are on us.
“I’m very happy for you,” she says, looking up at me the way we discussed she would. Like she’s a woman in love. She pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “What happens now?”
I throw my head back and laugh, like what she said was funny. Then I brush a hair behind her ear and run my thumb down the side of her jaw.
“Now we’ll go out. Just you and me. Our first solo date. That will have them salivating.”
“What about Bass?” she asks.
“We can’t always have a chaperone,” I tell her. “People will talk. We need to keep this about us. You and me. Not a threesome.”
She nods. “Right. So, where are we going?”
“I hope you didn’t eat too much at the game, because I’m taking you for a late dinner.”
She looks down at her clothing. At the jersey that looks great on her, and her jeans. “But I’m not dressed for dinner.”
“You don’t need to be. You like pizza, don’t you?”
“Sure, who doesn’t? But won’t we get bombarded?”
Stealing Sawyer Page 13
