Chapter 27 Everett
EVERETT
My breath catches as I hear the words that fall from my lips.
I don’t know where they came from, or why I said them. But they…they feel right.
“I have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ve never been to a salon in my life. But from what I saw yesterday, yours looked amazing. And you have some great reviews online and—”
“You looked the salon up?” Bea asks. I don’t need to look over to know she’s smiling; I can hear it in her voice.
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I started scrolling, and that’s where I ended up.”
“Often stalk salon pages, do you?”
“No,” I confess with a laugh. “I just…wanted to get to know you better.”
“And what did you learn from your online stalking?” she asks curiously.
“Well, not a whole lot. Other than your salon pages, I couldn’t find anything about you.”
“Just the way I like it.”
“Hiding from something?” I ask. It’s meant to be a teasing question, but the way she tenses beside me tells me it’s much more serious than that.
“More like someones.”
“Ah.”
“My family and I…we don’t really see eye to eye.”
“Fair enough.” Curiosity burns through me, but I keep my questions locked down. If she wants to tell me, she will. Although I must admit, after what I’ve discovered this morning, I can’t help questioning whether she will or not.
“You look really happy in the few photos there are of you on the salon page. It’s obvious how much that place means to you. And now I know you own it, it makes more sense as to why.”
“It’s my baby. I’ve been planning it since I was a little girl.”
Understanding rushes through me. Childhood dreams don’t have to involve sports, scoring goals, and playing games for thousands of people to watch multiple times a week. They can be so many things, and each is such an incredible achievement when you make them happen.
“So what does a day at your salon look like for you?” I ask, curious about her job.
“Clients all day. I’m probably not going to get a lunch break today. But I love that it’s busy. Even if I’ll barely be able to stand up by the end of the day.”
My grip on the wheel tightens. “You need to look after yourself. You’ve got to have a break. You’re growing another person.”
“I know. And I will, just not a long one.”
“Have you had breakfast? I thought about getting something with the coffee, but I didn’t know what you’d want or—”
“I’m okay. I haven’t been great at eating in the mornings.”
“You can’t go to work without eating.”
“I’ve got a cereal bar in my purse. That’ll be fine.”
“Like hell it will. That’ll be full of sugar and refined carbs. You need nutrition, a balanced diet of all the good things to help our baby’s growth.”
I glance over as I stop at an intersection to find her mouth opening and closing, but no words come out.
“What time is your first client?”
“Ten, but I need—”
“I’ll get you there in plenty of time,” I say, quickly changing lanes and taking a left instead of the right that would take us to the salon.
“Everett,” she warns.
“You know, my friends usually call me Rett.” I don’t know why I say that.
But I can’t help feeling like I’m being told off every time she full-names me.
Only my mom, Parker, and Hailee use it regularly.
And it’s only because I’ve annoyed them in some way, something I manage to do without even trying most days.
“You think we’re friends?” I’m not sure if she’s shocked or offended. I’m hoping it’s the former, but honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the latter.
“Uh, yeah. I guess. Does that mean I can change your contact name in my cell?”
“Hell no,” I laugh. “You might confuse me with all your other friends.”
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” she mutters as I take a right into a diner. “I don’t have time to have a proper breakfast. I need to get to the salon.”
“They do takeout, don’t worry. Come on,” I say after I’ve parked and killed the engine.
I’m still annoyed by how our morning started. But as I lift her from the cab and the sweet scent of her perfume fills my nose, I realize that I care less now that she’s beside me.
I was pissed when she confessed to lying to me. But the second I saw her with her shoulders hunched and her head low outside of her rundown apartment building, I let most of it go.
She wants me to believe she isn’t like the gold-digging puck bunnies out there, and while I believe she isn’t, catching her in a lie so early on isn’t going to help.
“You know, you really should get a more sensible car that’s not designed for giants.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve got short legs.”
“I’m not even that short,” she argues. “I’m five-six.”
“It’s not six-four, though, is it?”
“No, because it’s normal.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I’ve always been an overachiever.”
She rolls her eyes as I throw my arm around her shoulders and guide her toward the diner.
“Do you remember what you said about my super sperm?”
“I never said anything like that,” she argues, despite the fact we both know she did.
“I’m pretty sure you used that exact term.”
“Doesn’t sound like me.”
“That it defied the odds of lots of protection,” I add smugly.
“Shut up.” She’s trying to chastise me, but her laugh breaks through as she throws her arm out to smack me in the chest.
I catch her fingers with mine and tug her in front of me, forcing her to walk backward for a few steps.
“Ah, come on, Bea. Admit it, you’re impressed by my super sperm.”
“Shocked and stunned is more like it. If I knew spending ten minutes in heaven with you that night would end with me pregnant, I might have thought harder about it.”
My brows lift.
“I’m not going to argue about the heaven bit,” I mutter as I keep moving forward, giving her little choice but to keep backing up—until she hits the wall of the diner. “But ten minutes?” I shake my head. “I gave you a lot more than that.”
She screws up her nose as she pretends to recall that night.
I loom closer so our bodies are only inches apart.
“If you can’t remember correctly, I’ll have no choice but to remind you exactly how it went down.”
“Oh, I know you didn’t go down. That I would remember.”
Fire shoots through my veins at the thought of getting on my knees for this woman, throwing her legs over my shoulders and making her scream.
“Oh, sweetheart, that can certainly be arranged. You just say the word, and I’ll show you exactly what you missed out on.”
She keeps her expression neutral, but her pupils give her away. She wants it. And fuck, do I want to give it to her.
Would it complicate things? Hell, yes. But would I care, and would it stop me? Absolutely not.
“Believe you’re an overachiever in that department too, huh?”
“I don’t believe it. I know it,” I state confidently.
“You know, there is a very thin line between confidence and arrogance.”
“Trust me, I’m aware.”
My eyes hold hers, but the second her tongue sneaks out to wet her bottom lip, my gaze drops.
Goddamn, this woman has no idea how hot she is. She’s not even trying and I want her.
Wanting a woman for a second time is almost unheard of for me. It’s never as good the second time. It’s familiar and predictable. But with Bea, something tells me it would be anything but either of those things.
“Hailee thinks we should pretend to date,” I blurt.
Bea’s brows draw together, and as much as I know I should probably take a step back and let those words sink in, I can’t. The warmth of her body draws mine to hers.
We’re standing outside a diner where anyone could see us.
For all we know, there could be a photo going up on the internet right now.
Hell knows it would be a first for me to be caught taking a woman to breakfast. If they make it to sunrise with me, they’re usually being kicked out and embarking on a walk of shame from whatever hotel I’m staying in.
I’m certainly never taking them out for food.
The story would go off like a wildfire. Hailee knows it, too. It’s exactly why she’s suggested this.
The question is, though, could I do it?
Or would I fail at even faking being in a relationship with a woman? Hell knows I don’t have the first fucking clue how to be in a relationship. And more to the point, why would she want to, anyway?
“She wants us to…pretend? Why?”
Finally, I release her hand, in favor of rubbing the back of my neck, and take a step back. I don’t know why I said that. Now isn’t the time to talk about it.
“She…she wants me to clean up my act, and she thinks that if we make it look like we’re together, then I’ll come across in a better light and there’s less chance I’ll get traded again.”
I swear fear flickers through her eyes.
“You’re going to get traded?”
“I don’t want to. But apparently, our GM and owner are fed up with my behavior.”
“But they just got you.”
I shrug one shoulder, unable to explain that.
Obviously, they had their reasons, but what I can bring to the team isn’t enough to overlook my extracurricular activities.
“It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Trying to forget that I brought it up, I turn away from her and march toward the door.
“Come on, we need to feed you,” I shoot over my shoulder, waiting for her to join me.
It takes her a few seconds, but eventually, she pushes from the wall and walks into the diner.
After explaining that we want takeout, we’re directed to a couple of barstools at a counter that overlooks the kitchen.
I watch Bea as she hops up and immediately reaches for the menu. Her eyes widen as she takes it all in, and I smile, knowing that I did the right thing.
Whatever crappy cereal bar she has in her purse was never going to be enough.
She places an order for a breakfast burrito before adding a strawberry milkshake to drink while we wait for it.
Too distracted by her to look at the menu, I order the same, although I make my milkshake chocolate.
“Copycat,” she teases.
I shrug. “It sounded good.”
“I’m starving,” she confesses, and the second I raise my brow in an “I told you so” kind of way, she rolls her eyes at me.
We sit side by side and slurp on our milkshakes as the chef makes our breakfast.
When we get to the bottom of our glasses, we keep slurping, trying to outdo each other with the noise like we’re a couple of little kids.
The laughter that follows feels so freaking good.
“Two breakfast burritos to go,” the server says, passing over two perfectly wrapped parcels.
“Thank you,” we say simultaneously as we reach for our food. After helping Bea from the stool, which she’s adamant she doesn’t need, we walk out together, and I then help her back up into my truck.
And this time, I might accidentally grab her ass. Whoops.