Safe Bet (The Rules #4)

by Monica Murphy

  “I don’t have any secrets,” Sydney says, her voice in full on defense mode.

  Huh. That makes me think she definitely has secrets she wants to hide. I can tell by the way her gaze cuts away from mine, the closed off expression on her face. But what could she be hiding? I really don’t know much about her beyond her parents and their shitty marriage. Oh, and that she’s from Texas and California and everywhere else. Talk about a vague answer. She’s completely closed off while I just spilled my guts like she’s my psychologist.

  I don’t normally do this—reveal so much. I can’t even blame alcohol for loosening my lips. I’m stone cold sober tonight, preferring to keep my head on straight what with the game tomorrow. So what gives? Why did I tell Sydney all about my past, then go off rails about attraction, like I want to get with her?

  Because maybe you do want to get with her? She’s beautiful. She seems into you. You could probably have her naked and in your bed within the hour.

  “I just don’t have much to tell,” Sydney continues, trying to play it off, I’m sure. “I’m not very interesting.”

  “Now I doubt that.” When her gaze meets mine, I say, “I find you very interesting.”

  Yeah, I’m trying to dig for information, but I’m also speaking the truth. I do think she’s interesting. Her mysterious ways only adds to my interest.

  “The most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me is what’s going down right now.” At my raised brows she continues. “The fake dating. Working for Drew and Fable. Ever since I started this job, my life has gotten a little crazy.”

  It hits me all of a sudden, everything that she’s gone through. I think of all the stories that have appeared all over the Internet involving her and Drew. They’ve said some pretty terrible things about her. Called her all sorts of names. I can’t imagine going through something like that.

  “Are you holding up okay?” I ask softly.

  She nods, dropping her gaze. “It hasn’t been easy, but Drew and Fable have been so good to me. And so have you. We all know the truth, and I guess that’s all that really matters.”

  The waiter chooses that moment to show up at our table to ask if we want dessert. I cut him off mid-sentence and ask for the check, which he sets on the edge of the table. I grab it, pulling my wallet out and placing my credit card within the small black blinder. The waiter smiles blandly and takes it from me and I nod distractedly, not caring about what else he has to say.

  I want to hear what else Sydney has to say.

  “What about your parents?” I ask once the waiter has left. “Have you heard from them?”

  “My dad won’t even acknowledge me right now. And my mother leaves me all sorts of voicemails. Sends me text messages, even writes me emails, but I still haven’t responded, despite my brother reassuring me she’s not mad, more worried.”

  “You should let her know you’re okay,” I suggest.

  “Honestly? I don’t know what to say to her. I’m afraid she won’t let me explain and the next thing you know, we’re arguing. That’s how it usually goes between us.” Her tone is bitter, as is her expression. I feel bad for her.

  I also can’t imagine having such unsupportive parents.

  “Give them time,” I suggest. “She’ll come around eventually.”

  “Maybe. My brother has been great, but I knew he would be. We take care of each other.”

  “At least you have him, right?”

  “Definitely.” She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine once more. “He’s a good guy. Like you’re a good guy.”

  “You think I’m a good guy?”

  “You seem like one.”

  “I have my moments. Both good and bad.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “True.” I nod. “I’m always honest. That’s one thing you can always count on. No bullshit here.”

  “Right,” she says weakly. “No bullshit.”

  Huh.

  The waiter reappears, returning my credit card and receipt. I add the tip and sign it before shoving my credit card back into my wallet.

  “You ready to go?” I ask Sydney.

  “Yeah.” She smiles, looking nervous. “Sure.”

  We leave the restaurant, her hand clasped firmly in mine. The moment we exit the building, there are photographers there, a handful of them rushing forward, their camera flashes popping, making it hard to see. I throw my free hand up, blocking the light as I grip Sydney’s hand tightly and push our way through the small crowd. They’re all talking to her, asking her a list of questions like:

  “It’s the Naughty Nanny! Where’s Drew?”

  “Already moved onto a new guy?”

  “Do you still work for the Callahans?

  “Who’s the guy, Syd? What’s his name?”

  “Trying to shed that naughty nanny image, Sydney?”

  Every one of them is an asshole. I’m tempted to turn and sock them all in the face with my clutched fist.

  “Don’t say anything,” Sydney whispers fiercely as we keep walking. “They’re just trying to provoke me.”

  “I don’t want to say anything,” I tell her. “I want to hit them.”

  Her gaze meets mine and she laughs, keeping her steps hurried. She wants away from them as much as I do. “That would be even worse, though I appreciate you wanting to come to my defense.”

  “They’re awful. I can’t believe the stuff they say.”

  “And these guys are being mild.”

  It doesn’t feel like they’re being mild, but whatever. I gave the valet my ticket before we even left the restaurant and my truck magically appears, filling me with relief. I press a twenty-dollar bill in the valet’s hand and hold open the passenger door for Sydney so she can climb into the truck. I shut the door just as the reporters descend upon me and they immediately launch into even more questions.

  I whirl on them, putting on my most fierce face. “Y’all need to get the hell away from here and leave us alone.”

  “Who are you?” A guy with a camera slung around his neck steps forward, his expression defiant. “What’s your name?”

  Here’s my chance to set the record straight. My chance to tell the new narrative we’re trying to turn into the truth. “I’m Wade Knox—Sydney’s boyfriend.”

  Oh, they all rush forward then, a few of them with their phones poised as if they’re going to record me. The others have their big cameras in hand, ready to shoot about ten million photos.

  I tell them we’ve been going out for about a month, that I’m newly drafted with the 49ers and that Fable is an old family friend. They eat up every word I say, asking question upon question until I finally give up and tell them I’m done. Without another word I climb into the truck, settle behind the steering wheel and start the engine.

  “Did you really just talk to those reporters?” Sydney asks, sounding incredulous.

  “I really just did.”

  “Why?”

  I turn to look at her. “I told them I was your boyfriend. Fed them a tiny bit of information about myself and that was it.” When she continues to just stare at me, I wonder if I somehow made a mistake. “That’s what I was supposed to do, right? Bait them with new information so they’ll talk about our relationship versus your supposed affair with Drew?”

  She seems to mentally shake herself into agreeing. “Yes, of course. I’m sure that was a smart move.”

  So why does she act like what I just did was the worse move ever?

  “You don’t sound so confident.”

  Sydney sighs and I glance in the rearview mirror, noticing that the reporters are surrounding the back end of my truck. If they don’t move out of the way, I’m going to end up hitting one of them. And wouldn’t that suck?

  “Now they know your name. They’re going to dig into your background, search for any bit of dirt they can find,” she says.

  “They can’t find any dirt on me,” I say with confidence.

  Though the longer I think about it, the more
worried I become. I don’t have a squeaky clean past, but I don’t have a criminal background either. What if they root up a few vengeful girls who make me look like an asshole? Hell, what if they talk to Des, who’ll say he was my and Owen’s ex-roommate while we were in college and he also happens to be a fucking drug dealer?

  Okay. There’s the criminal element. I could look like I’m into some deep shit if they find Des. And then that’ll get me into some deep shit, stuff I don’t want to deal with.

  “Trust me, even if they don’t have any dirt on you, they can take something small and make it sound dirty,” she warns. “Don’t forget. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.”

  I look in the rearview mirror again, the reporters still there, lingering around like they want to capture a moment. My gaze drifts to Sydney, who’s sitting in the passenger seat looking uptight as hell. She needs to loosen up. I blame the reporters. I think they make her nervous.

  The girl needs to relax.

  “Hey,” I say softly, catching her attention. “Come here.”

  She frowns. “Come where?”

  Crooking my finger at her, I indicate I want her to come toward me. She scoots a little closer, leaning over the center console that separates us and I take my advantage. I slip my hand around her nape and pull her face close to mine so our mouths are aligned.

  Sydney flicks her surprised gaze up to mine, but before she can say anything, I silence her.

  With my lips.

  And holy hell, this girl tastes like absolute heaven, just like I knew she would. I cup her cheek with my hand, caressing her silky smooth skin. Her plush lips are sweet and warm, and undeniably soft. I kiss her once. Twice. The third time, she parts her lips slightly, letting me taste her better, inviting me, but I don’t take my full opportunity. I can’t push her too hard, not with witnesses watching.

  What if my actions backfire and she freaks out on me and does something crazy? Like slap my face? Scream at me and call me a fucking asshole? We’d be totally screwed.

  No way can I take that chance. I gotta be careful.

  I finally break the kiss first, pulling away from her mouth slightly and she snaps her lids open, staring at me in wonder. “What was that for?” she whispers.

  “For them.” I tilt my head, indicating the reporters outside. And maybe I kissed her a little for me, too. Just to test her out. See what it was like—kissing her.

  It was pretty damn good.

  Forget that.

  It was fucking amazing.

  It’s way too early on a Saturday morning. I forgot to close the blinds last night before I went to bed, so the bright morning sun is shining into my room like an unwanted intruder, illuminating the entire space with too much cheerful light. Groaning, I roll over and pull one of my pillows along with me, covering my head and blocking out the light. I just want to go back to sleep, though I doubt that’s going to happen.

  I barely slept last night. Instead I tossed and turned. All I could think about was Wade kissing me. What a casual gesture it had been, almost like an afterthought. How he called me to him, leaned over the console and pressed his lips to mine, never bothering to give me a warning that he was going to actually kiss me. Like it was no big deal. He just—did it, and threw me for a complete loop.

  I’d been so startled at first, I didn’t know how to react. I hadn’t reacted, period. I just remained completely still, his perfectly warm lips gently coaxing mine to respond.

  And then…gradually…I did respond. I automatically wanted more. So much more…

  When he pulled away seconds later, I had to fight the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm me. It was over. He acted like what just happened was no big deal. That the kiss we just shared had merely been a part of our agreement while I sat there blinking up at him like a dork, thoroughly confused. What we’re doing is supposed to be fake.

  So why did that kiss feel so damn real?

  That’s why I couldn’t sleep last night. After all that talk about love and what a crock of shit it is, how relationships are nothing but trouble, he goes and kisses me like he means it and makes me want things I can’t have.

  I have no one to talk about any of this with either. No way can I turn to Fable. She’ll think I’m pitiful for hoping what Wade and I are doing might turn into something…I don’t know…

  Real?

  Yeah. Can’t go to her. Can’t go to Gabe either. He wouldn’t understand. First of all, he’s a guy. Second of all, he’s my brother. Yikes. Third of all, he doesn’t know how to give advice, or even listen for very long. Yes, his girlfriend Lucy has softened him, but he’s still my impatient, all-knowing brother.

  So instead I let the thoughts eat me up inside. Until I can’t stand it anymore and I leap out of bed, taking a shower and getting ready for my day so I can spend time with little Jacob and Autumn. Fable told me I could sleep in and that I only had to work a half-day taking care of the kids. Eventually we’re all going to the game together, though Fable will be watching it from the skybox with the children. I’ll be down in the stands and close to the field—as close as I can get, according to Drew and Wade. They want me to put on a big show, rooting for my new boyfriend and making a scene.

  It’s kind of lame, how excited I am to put on this big show just for my supposed man. The man who isn’t mine at all—but I’m pretending he is.

  Ugh.

  If I think about this for too long, I’ll realize just how lame and extremely pitiful it really is. What we’re doing is ridiculous. Worse? I can’t stop thinking about him. Ever since that kiss—which really wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of kissing—Wade Knox has consumed my thoughts.

  Completely.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door just as I’m coming out of the en suite bathroom. I’ve already taken my shower and I’m dressed, though I haven’t dried my hair or put on makeup yet. I go to answer the door, but it opens before I can get there.

  Wade barges in, looking sheepish as he closes the door behind him. “Hey. Good morning.” He leans against the door, his gaze wandering the length of me and making me warm.

  “You’re lucky I wasn’t naked,” I tell him, resting my hands on my hips, pretending to be annoyed. I’m trying to be pissed that he just barged in here before making sure it was okay, but really I’m flat out thrilled to see him in my room. It’s like I conjured him up in my thoughts and he magically appeared. And I’m not protesting.

  Wade seems to eat up all the space with his massive presence, until he becomes all I can see.

  “I don’t know about that,” he drawls, making me blush. Ugh, this man. I can’t let myself fall for him.

  I can’t.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I had to show you what’s going on. Figured you’d want to know.” He takes a tentative step, and when I don’t run for it, he shifts closer, until he’s standing right beside me with his phone in his hands and he’s scrolling, looking for something. “Here, check this out.”

  Wade hands me his phone. He’s pulled up the TMZ webpage, and there’s a photo of the two of us together from last night, leaving the restaurant. The small article that accompanies the photo states that the Naughty Nanny has already found a new boyfriend—and that would be Wade Knox, an old family friend of Drew and Fable Callahan’s, and a recently drafted player for the Niners.

  That naughty nanny thing is such crap. It’s humiliating, how they won’t let that go.

  “See? It worked!” he says excitedly, taking his phone back from me. “I knew my talking to them would help. Seeing us together helped too, but letting them know who I am was the right thing to do.”

  “But they still called me the freaking ‘Naughty Nanny’,” I point out, using air quotes just like Fable did a few days ago. “They also mentioned I was caught having an affair with Drew, which is a total lie. They’re never going to let that go.”

  I try not to sound all doom and gloom but hello. I’m feeling pretty doom and gloom right abo
ut now. Despite the fact I have a gorgeous, sexy man in my bedroom. I should be thrilled.

  But we’re in a fake relationship. This is all…bogus.

  So why doesn’t it feel bogus? It should. I don’t want to get my hopes up.

  Too late. They’re already up.

  “We need to amp it up, and then trust me, they will definitely let all that bullshit go,” he says, his dark eyes sparkling. Why is he so cheerful this early in the morning? I sort of hate him right now. That’s because I desperately need coffee. “We need to put on a big display at the game tonight.”

  “How?” I go and sit on the edge of my still unmade bed, and oh my God…

  Wade sits down right next to me, making the mattress squeak from his weight. He’s sitting so close and he’s so hot—figuratively and literally. I’m still a little steamed up from the shower I took earlier, so he’s not helping matters. At all. Plus, this feels so intimate, him in my room, sitting on my unmade bed, and it’s not even nine o’clock in the morning. If I let my imagination run wild, I could almost envision us being like this after he stayed the night. In my bed.

  Though I’d rather still be in my bed. With Wade. Naked.

  Oh. God. My thoughts have seriously gone off the rails.

  “We need to act like we’re totally into each other,” he says, his face, his voice deadly serious.

  “Okaaaay.”

  “Like, way into each other,” he stresses, his gaze never straying from mine.

  “Uh huh.” That won’t be a hardship, especially after last night’s kiss.

  “It needs to be undeniable, how much we want each other.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?” I ask, getting a little irritated. I seriously don’t know what he expects me to do when he’s out on that field playing the game tonight and I’m sitting up in the stands.

  “Well, maybe we should run through a few things and practice first.” He scoots even closer, his thigh nudging against mine. It’s solid with muscle, and wide, and I’m tempted to reach out and touch it. Touch him. Just rest my hand on his thigh, slip my fingers beneath the hem of his dark blue athletic shorts and see how muscular he really is….