She popped another grape in her mouth, watching his face as he struggled to find an answer. He finally gave up and crossed the room to Elton.
“How can I help?” he asked.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Elton said with a sigh of relief.
Cilla tried not to look at Adele but didn’t need to see her face full-on to feel her disapproval. “What are you doing?” she whispered, tossing a look at Pax.
Cilla examined her fingernails. Time for a manicure if she was going to be on camera this week. Maybe a blowout for her hair as well.
“Cilla.” Adele’s voice felt like concrete, crushing Cilla’s chest.
“It’s going to be fine,” she whispered back.
Saying the words out loud felt like the biggest lie she’d ever told. Which was really saying something. Because Easton hadn’t been wrong about anything he’d said. Cilla had been lying to herself and everyone around her for years.
She was furious with Pax. And she definitely hadn’t forgiven him. No matter how this all ended up, she wasn’t sure she ever could.
Would that really leave her stuck, as Easton had said?
Just as she thought it, E came back in through the screen door, closing it carefully. Elton heard him anyway and turned to face him, handing over a platter of hamburgers. “Oh, good. You’re back. Here are the burgers. Pax’s got the fixings.”
Pax brought over a platter with freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, onions, and cheese. He sat down next to Cilla again. Easton brought over bottled waters and then sat next to Cilla, leaving the head of the table for his twin.
Elton stood behind his chair and turned his gaze from person to person in the room. “Now, we are going to all sit down and have a meal together like we aren’t a bunch of animals. No one else is storming out the back door or dropping emotional bombs or pulling the rug out from anyone else with a stunt. Are we all clear on the house rules?”
Adele giggled. “Yes, Dad.”
Elton shot her a glare, followed by a bright smile that made Adele’s cheeks turn pink. Easton nodded. Elton turned his gaze to Pax and Cilla. El pointed a spatula between the two of them. “How about you two troublemakers? Can I count on you for a peaceful, no-drama dinner?”
Pax grunted, and Cilla bit her lip before answering. “Probably not, but I’ll try.”
“Good,” Elton said, laughing. “That’s about all I can ask. Now, let’s eat.”
Chapter Ten
“This is my boyfriend,” Cilla said, clutching his arm. Pax flinched. Not from her touch, but from the sickly-sweet way she was introducing him to the twentieth co-worker. “You probably know him better as Pax Shaw, linebacker for the Texas Rebels. Pax, meet Mark. He handles all the finances. And plays a mean game of basketball.”
“Good to meet you, man,” Pax said, giving him a fist bump. The man’s eyes lit up behind his glasses. He looked to be in his forties and had a wedding ring on his hand. His smile made him look like a kid. “You play basketball?”
Mark glanced at Cilla and his cheeks got a little red. He wheeled himself forward and back, an inch at a time, in what looked like a nervous habit. “As often as I can. Have you gotten to see this woman race? What am I saying—I’m sure you have.”
Pax’s gaze shot to Cilla, who looked suddenly uncomfortable. Elton had mentioned racing, but he hadn’t ever seen a wheelchair race. His mind was suddenly filled with questions. He wanted to know where she raced and if she used the same chair or had another one. Were there competitions? Was she good?
That shouldn’t even be a question—she was the same competitive, tough-as-nails woman she had been. He would have laid good money down that she was good.
“Oh, Pax is much too busy to come to many of the races,” she said. “You know how football is.”
Mark looked back to Pax. “I’m such a huge fan. The only player I like more is J.J. Watt. But it’s a slim margin.”
“I get that a lot.” Not true, but an easy response. With his rough play on the field and surly attitude off, Pax didn’t have the kind of fans that the always smiling J.J. Watt did.
Pax smiled, trying to focus on the man’s face instead of the heat radiating through his body from the place where Cilla’s fingertips rested on his arm. Did she feel nothing? Was it possible to touch him so casually? Because her touch and even her presence had an impact on every part of his body.
This was torture. And Pax felt pretty certain she had planned it that way. He heard it in Cilla’s voice as she explained being his fake girlfriend to Lawrence on the phone. Just like her act of flinging herself into his arms the day before had been intended to make him uncomfortable.
Only in the picture that one of her co-workers had sent to the press, did she look genuinely happy to see Pax.
Last night, she made it clear that all this was an act. A passive-aggressive way of punishing him. He couldn’t believe that her anger was just about him leaving. If he hadn’t been fighting that night and gotten a concussion, he would have been driving, not her. She would still have use of her legs.
And if he hadn’t run away like a coward, then what? They would be … what? Married? It was hard to play that what-if game. It hurt too much.
Cilla had designed this fake dating publicity stunt to punish him, but she had no idea the ways it hurt him. Because he wanted more than anything for it to be real. He still wanted her. He loved her. He had never stopped. Only ignored and avoided.
Now that she was plastered to him, introducing everyone like she was so proud of him, it felt like the worst kind of tease in the world. All that he wanted right there in his arms, except it was all fake. A big show.
Every so often, like right now as her fingertips traced lightly up his arm to his shoulder, he got the feeling like maybe there was something there. But then she’d pull back, give a half-compliment or parade him in front of someone else who wanted a chance to adore him, and he’d remember that no, she was simply angry with him and wanted him to pay. And, because he deserved it, Pax wouldn’t fight her. It was the least he could do. It wasn’t that much.
No, those light touches or moments where she slipped were probably just an echo of their past and how she used to feel.
As Mark wheeled away, Pax turned to Cilla. “Want to tell me about racing?”
She pulled away from his arm. Not meeting his eyes, she began twisting her hands together in her lap. “You’ll see for yourself this weekend at the games.”
“I can’t wait.” He couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice. He’d always loved to watch her race. Though the memories pierced him, because Cilla should be leaping hurdles, not spinning wheels.
Cilla smiled up at him, eyes searching his face. It was the very first sincere smile she had given him and it kickstarted an immediate reaction in his heart, which began thumping wildly. For a brief moment, Pax was transported through time. Cilla had always made him feel more alive. Her laugh and wild spirit, the warmth in her touch.
“I meant to ask,” Cilla said, biting her lip before her eyes grew mischievous. “I’d love to use you for some of your celebrity contacts. Not that you’re not famous enough. But if you have any famous friends who might attend, that would be greatly appreciated.”
Pax ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I am friends with Sterling James. And I think he’s actually in Austin this week.”
Cilla’s eyes grew huge. She grabbed his forearm. Pax tried not to let the touch affect him, but that was like asking trees not to move when the wind blew. “You know Sterling James. The rock star.”
“Is there another?”
“You. Know. Sterling. James.” This came out practically as a squeal. Pax was torn between feeling jealous that she didn’t react that way to him and amused by how cute she looked when fangirling.
“And he knows me. Want me to make a call?”
She smacked his arm. “Do I want you to make a call? Stop asking ridiculous questions and get on the phone already.”
Pax stood, pla
nning to go out front and make the call in private. “Tell him I said hi!” Cilla called as he walked away. Nerves assaulted him. This was a long shot and a big ask the week of Christmas and with just a few days’ notice.
But a few moments later, Pax sauntered back into the conference room and took his seat. “Guess who’s going to be performing at the Wheels Up Winter Games?”
Cilla threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The movement was so quick that Pax put his hand up to his face as though he could hold on to the moment. Cilla’s expression moved from excited to surprised, as though she hadn’t meant to kiss his cheek, then back to guarded.
“How are the swag bags coming?” Anita’s voice broke the moment. She walked over, standing closer to Pax, clutching a stack of papers in her arms.
Cilla immediately pulled away from Pax as she smiled up at her boss. “It’s going. Guess who Pax just got to come on Saturday? Sterling James!”
Anita smiled and the two of them began speaking quickly about the details needed to handle this change and what organizations might be willing to donate extra sound equipment.
Pax felt cold. Both from the way Cilla withdrew so quickly and from Anita’s presence. He hadn’t been any more impressed with her today than the day before. She seemed to be missing a massive dose of sensitivity. Not to mention the way she could hardly contain her jealousy and anger this morning when she congratulated them on their “surprise relationship.”
Pax tried to avoid her gaze, stuffing another bandana into a canvas tote bag.
Anita continued on, moving so that she was in Pax’s peripheral vision, even if he didn’t look directly at her. “I know that every few minutes it seems like someone new is stopping by to meet our celebrity guest.” Her eyes flicked to Pax and then back to Cilla. “That wouldn’t happen to be related to an email sent out to the employees, would it? I heard about it, but no one copied me into the email.”
Pax trained his eyes on Cilla. Had she? Her face looked neutral, but he didn’t need to see a guilty expression. Of course she had done it. Her end game was to make him pay. She knew him well enough to know how much he hated attention and having to talk with people. In high school when he shared his dreams of playing pro ball, she teased him endlessly about how much he was going to hate being in the public eye. She was right. He loved the game on the field but hated the one he had to play off of it.
“As long as you get things done before this week, that’s fine,” Anita said. “Pax, how are you finding the work here?”
He shifted uncomfortably, knowing that she was looking at him. “It’s a great company.” The words were true, but they sounded forced.
Cilla patted his shoulder. “He’s been doing such a great job and I think it’s really boosted company morale to have him here.”
“Mm-hm.” Anita seemed to be waiting for something. Pax suspected that it was attention from him, so he continued to fill swag bags, thinking instead about the way Cilla’s fingertips brushed the inside of his arm moments ago.
“Whatcha got there?” Cilla asked.
Anita looked down at the papers she had pulled to her chest. “Oh! Of course.”
She set a stack of Pax’s promotional photos down in front of him. He groaned inwardly. He had always hated this picture, caught when he had just taken off his helmet. Sweat dripped from the ends of his hair and his eyes had been giving the most intense glare to the photographer. He had been angry, but Lawrence had said the ladies found it sexy.
“Your PR guy had these waiting for me this morning. Sent them by courier and everything. These will go in the swag bags as well as in our donor and sponsor thank-you packets. Great idea, Cilla.”
Pax looked at Cilla, who smiled. “Larry and I are becoming quite good friends.”
Shaking his head, Pax picked up a permanent marker. “Guess I’ll get to work.”
Anita lingered near Pax, her hip almost brushing his shoulder. “Do you think you might sign one for me?”
“No problem.” Pax began scrawling his official signature.
“Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could make it out to me? With a personal message.”
Pax’s marker froze over the page after writing Anita’s name. The only personal message he wanted to say was that he wished she would back off. Another employee came over, taking her attention and giving him a moment to compose himself.
Cilla leaned in, whispering, “Keep it simple and general. Something like ‘glad to work with you’ or ‘thanks for everything.’ Nothing she could misconstrue or misrepresent.”
“Thanks,” he said. Her suggestions were simple, but in the moment, his brain had been too frozen to think of even these.
Anita turned back to him and Pax handed her the photo. Her smile widened. “Thank you! Oh, and I wondered if we could have dinner this evening. To talk about the future of Wheels Up,” she said in a rush, probably seeing the panic on his face.
If there was anything Anita wanted to talk about, he doubted it was charitable. Cilla circled her hand around his arm possessively. He relaxed into her touch, but only for a moment. Her next words had every muscle in his body tensing.
“I’m afraid he can’t. We’ve got dinner with my parents tonight. You know how it goes. He’s only got so much time off. With his days being spent here in the office, our week is completely crazy.”
Dinner with her parents? Pax waited until Anita excused herself before he turned on Cilla. She pulled her hand away from his arm and dropped her gaze, going back to stuffing swag bags.
“Dinner with your parents? The ones who hate me?”
“Some things change,” she muttered.
“Yeah, and pigs might fly. Was that a joke or are you for real?”
She sighed. “I wish I were joking. They saw the news. To say that they made me an offer I can’t refuse would be putting it mildly. I’ve been ordered to deliver you to dinner, come hell or high water.”
Shaking his head, Pax put the cap on the marker, then took it off again. He had gone along with this whole fake relationship thing, refusing to argue with her when she had Lawrence on the phone. Though everything in him had been screaming about this being a terrible idea. He’d met every single person in the office today and was now signing what looked to be hundreds of photographs.
But dinner with her parents? He might have to draw the line.
Throughout the three years they had dated, they didn’t spend time together at either of their houses. Her parents hated Pax sight unseen because of his family background, so he wasn’t welcome in their home. He could hardly blame them. With no father in the picture and his mother’s boyfriend living in their falling-down house, Pax wasn’t up to Worthington status. They spent most of their time trying to fix Cilla up with other people or convincing her to break up with him.
His home life was a mess, which was exactly the reason Pax and Cilla avoided his place. Byron, his mama’s boyfriend, used Pax as his personal scapegoat and the outlet for his anger. While his mama did nothing about it. When he finally left after Pax’s sophomore year, Jazz, too young to understand, blamed Pax. She had hardly spoken to him since.
As though following the track of his thoughts, Cilla spoke without looking up from the T-shirt she was folding. “Been home yet?”
“Nope. I need to, but …” He shrugged.
He didn’t need to explain. Despite all the tension and heavy emotion between him and Cilla, it was nice to be around someone who didn’t need an explanation. Cilla knew how Jazz’s father had hit him, and how his mother didn’t care. He didn’t need to tell her how much it hurt to provide for his mama and Jazz without so much as a thank you.
“I could go with you,” Cilla said. “If you want.”
Pax suddenly had trouble swallowing. He set down the pen and placed his hands flat on the table, needing the hard surface for stability. “I won’t ask you to do that,” he managed to say, his voice low and gravely.
“You didn’t ask. I offered. I
t’s the least I could do.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Cilla.”
Didn’t she understand that he already owed her a debt that could never be paid? Any kindness on her part only made him sink deeper. He could take her anger, but her kindness broke him open and spilled him out.
And yet … he wanted her kindness more than anything. Selfish or no—and it definitely was—he wanted her with him when he went home. Even though going to the new house his paychecks bought wouldn’t be as painful as the house he grew up in, it was the people, not the place that he dreaded most. Maybe the subdivision had nicer homes, a community pool, and a strict HOA, but anywhere that Mama and Jazz were held the weight of his past. The thought of having Cilla beside him took his stress down a few notches. Still—he couldn’t do that to her.
“No,” he said. “I don’t want you to come.”
“You know, forget what I said.”
His shoulders sagged with disappointment and relief at once. “Thanks for offering, though.”
“Oh, you misunderstood,” Cilla said with a firm smile. “I mean you should forget when I said, ‘if you want.’ I’m coming. Why don’t we go as soon as we finish here. We’ll take care of the awkward parental visits and then not have that hanging over either of us. Will they be home?”
“I haven’t told them I’m in town. I’m sure they know, but I haven’t called.”
His phone had been sitting on the table and Cilla slid it across to him. Pax looked at it for a moment, then looked at her face. She was so beautiful when she was stubborn, and she had really dug her heels in on this. Which meant that more than anything, Pax wished that he could close the distance between them and kiss her. He hadn’t realized that his gaze had fallen to her lips until she cleared her throat and tapped the table.
“Right.” He picked up the phone, considering, and finally settled on a text. He couldn’t hear Mama’s voice right now. He tapped out a message letting her know that he wanted to stop by at four. Within thirty seconds, she had responded with one word: Sure.
Forgiving the Football Player Page 8
