Chapter Three
“Do you think he figured it out?” Ryan’s best friend in the whole world sipped her chai latte and eyed him with a keen blue stare that could sniff out a lie no matter how good it was.
Ryan was a terrible liar, and after being friends for three years, he’d learned it was always better to tell Tabitha King the truth.
“Do I think he figured out that it was weird I happened to pick him up the night before the interview? Yeah, he’s not an idiot.
He figured out something was up. I guess I should have told him it wasn’t planned.
I recognized him from the photo they’d sent with his resume, and well,” Ryan shrugged, “he was so cute in person and suddenly it made sense. Two birds, one stone. A chef and a boyfriend.”
Ryan pleated the empty sugar packet next to his coffee cup and wished that he’d texted Tabitha like he’d planned and canceled their coffee date.
He was feeling weirdly guilty over his hookup with Wyatt, even though it had been unexpectedly spectacular, and he didn’t want to rehash all his ugly emotions with her.
The first problem was that he’d chickened out at the last moment and went anyway, and the second problem was Tabitha was the universal expert at rehashing ugly emotions.
“You like him,” Tabitha stated, looking very delighted at this turn of events.
Ryan was not delighted at all. He was regretting the whole damn thing, even while acknowledging that it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.
And all that conflict was making him feel queasy.
The three sugars he’d thoughtlessly poured into his coffee weren’t helping.
He pushed the cup aside, wishing he could get something else to wash away the overly sweet taste lingering on his tongue.
But Tabitha already knew something was up, and also that he really didn't want to talk about it.
“I thought that was the point,” he pointed wryly.
“I still think you should have picked one of those randos you like hooking up with.”
Ryan was glad he’d stopped drinking his coffee because he might have choked. He’d known Tabitha for three years now; he should long be used to her frank way of speaking, but she still managed to surprise the hell out of him once in awhile.
“First off, they’re not randos, and second,” Ryan paused with exaggerated faux affront, “I don’t like hooking up with them.”
“You don’t like it?” Tabitha raised a flawlessly groomed blonde eyebrow. “That must be rather odd. I had this notion that sex was generally an enjoyable act.”
“It is.” Ryan ground his teeth together. “You know what I mean. I don’t enjoy it because they’re random guys, but a relationship just isn’t for me.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Just because one relationship turned sour doesn’t mean that every relationship will.”
“It didn’t turn sour. It became too damn boring,” Ryan said.
“And yet, a relationship is exactly what you are hoping to achieve,” Tabitha said, setting her latte down with a pointed click on the marble tabletop. “How do you propose to stay un-bored with Wyatt?”
“It’s not going to be a real relationship,” Ryan said. “You know that.”
“It’s real enough that you like him. It’s real enough that you hired him to cook you egg white omelets every morning and grill your chicken every night. He’s going to practically live in your backyard. That seems pretty damn real to me.”
“I’m attracted to him. The sex was fantastic.
If it’s not serious and it’s not real, I can’t imagine why the sex wouldn’t stay fantastic.
And once in awhile, he’ll come with me and we’ll hold hands and get papped We’ll host dinner parties and post sappy Instagram pics. And that’ll fix all my problems.”
“Sappy Instagram posts and holding hands in public once in awhile aren’t going to solve everything,” Tabitha said, sounding faintly exasperated. “You know that,” she echoed him. Her eyes flitted to the coffee cup he’d bought and hadn’t drank.
His stomach was still churning with all the sugar he didn’t usually drink, but he still picked up his cup and took a healthy gulp, meeting Tabitha’s eyes with a challenging glance of his own. “It’ll fix enough,” Ryan said. “The rest, I can fix on my own.”
Tabitha let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe Eric fucking Talbot convinced you that you had to do this.”
“You just don’t like him,” Ryan said. Which was true.
Tabitha had hated his agent since day one—before Ryan and Tabitha had even met the first time, she’d hated Eric Talbot.
But Ryan couldn’t deny that the guy had done a very good, very aggressive job as his agent.
He’d known that was what he needed, considering that even before the draft, Ryan had planned on coming out of the closet.
To his credit, Eric had not flinched once when told this, and had proceeded to make deals and eke every dollar out of Ryan’s promo deals, despite that he was going to be the first professional baseball player to be out.
So when Eric said that Ryan had a problem with the new general manager of the Dodgers, and that he might choose not to sign Ryan to a new contract, Ryan couldn’t help but believe him. No matter what Tabitha said.
“I hate him,” Tabitha said, draining the final drops of her latte and setting the cup decisively on the table. “So when are you going to tell Mr. Blake that you’ve hired him as more than your personal chef?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan confessed. Eric had wanted to offer both jobs at the same time, and let Wyatt take his pick, but Ryan had vetoed that because after their hookup the night before, he wanted Wyatt. And Ryan knew Wyatt wouldn’t agree right away.
But if Ryan could work a little charm on him? Convince him it was necessary? Seduce him with another few rounds of really good sex? Ryan’s chances looked better.
“You’re not going to tell him right away.” Tabitha crossed her arms across her chest and looked even more pissed than when Ryan had brought up Eric Talbot.
“How can I and get him to say yes?”
Tabitha stood abruptly, and Ryan scrambled after her, as she gathered her purse and headed to the door of the café.
“Where are you going?” Ryan asked, even though he already knew.
“To go yell at your tiny-dick agent,” Tabitha said between clenched teeth, turning in the direction of her car, heels clicking determinedly on the sidewalk.
“If you don’t think I don’t see his ugly fingers all over this, then I’m a lot blinder than you were counting on. You’re better than this, Ryan.”
Despite already convincing Wyatt to take the chef job—or maybe because of it—Ryan’s day was already shitty. He did not want to spend the next two hours separating his best friend and his agent in order to prevent them from kicking the shit out of each other.
Tabitha had never explicitly told him all the unsavory things she’d had to do in her career as a sports journalist, but he’d heard enough to know she’d crawled through mud and shit and blood.
And not all metaphorically either. Men she hadn’t liked had touched her and they’d believed they deserved that privilege.
There was an underside to professional athletics that was dark and seedy as hell. Ryan had always prided himself on avoiding it, but he knew he was sinking into the mud with this fake relationship.
But the same panic that he felt every time he thought about being traded or his contract expiring streaked through him. Shouldn’t he do everything he could to prevent either possibility?
“I’m not saying don’t do it,” Tabitha said softer, empathy in her eyes as she reached out to squeeze his arm. “I’m saying how you go about it is the difference between sliding into the shit and rising above it. You’re a riser.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow and they both burst out laughing. “I’m going to text Cal and tell him you told me I was a riser,” he said and Tabitha made a face, but she was still smiling.
“Like my boyfriend would actually believe I saw your dick,” Tabitha retorted, rolling her eyes.
“I’m telling him anyway.”
Tabitha sighed. “I’m telling you—be honest. Lay it all out on the line. Give him the option to stay your chef. I wouldn’t complain if there was something edible in your fridge.”
“I’ll tell him in a few days. Give him time to settle in.
” Ryan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
If he said more, if he said he was also panicking at the thought of Wyatt turning him down, Tabitha would know he really liked him.
And she was suspicious enough as it was.
He didn’t need to give her any more reasons to deploy her well-meaning interference.
“Just . . . soon.” Tabitha’s eyes had softened, but they sharpened abruptly back into knife points. “And don’t let that fucktard convince you to do anything else.”
The fucktard was waiting in the driveway, having an intense conversation in his car over his Bluetooth.
It wasn’t like Ryan denied Eric was a fucktard, but he was Ryan’s fucktard, with Ryan’s leash tied really tightly around his neck. Ryan reminded himself firmly of this fact as he got out of his own car, and walked over to where Eric had parked.
Eric hung up with a barked order and Ryan braced himself for an argument, because basically everything with Eric ended up an argument. Sometimes Ryan thought Eric argued because he didn’t even know how to do anything else.
“I got a text from your new guy,” Eric said. “As expected, Aquino threw him out when he gave his notice, so he’ll be here sometime tomorrow. Probably afternoon-ish. Do you want me to be here, to go over the rest of the expectations?”
Rest of the expectations. What a nice, polite way of saying Ryan would expect him to pretend to be his boyfriend and definitely not pretend to fuck him on a regular basis. And how unlike Eric to shy away from putting it bluntly.
“Don’t bother. I’ll tell him myself.”
“You’re not changing your mind, are you?” Eric demanded.
“No. But I want to give him an out, if he’s not okay with it.”