Chapter 48
WARD
P retzel purred contentedly on the couch next to where Ward sat with his laptop open. ESPN was on the TV and two talking heads were offering their round-up on that night’s games, including the Panthers’ less-than-stellar performance against Dallas earlier in the evening and lots of chatter about their new coach. While their analysis should have commanded his attention, he was barely listening.
He couldn’t get his mind off of Hannah, how goddamn stupid he’d been and how badly he’d misread the situation, completely confusing her attention as attraction.
You’re her job , his inner voice reminded him. She’s paid to pay attention to you.
He shook his head as if doing so would dispel his humiliation and he could conjure up an alternate reality. But what exactly? he pondered. One in which Hannah had come back here with him and they’d …
No, he realized, it was more than just physical, so much more. He’d been so sure there was something deeper growing between them, was certain of it; otherwise she wouldn’t have reassured him that she’d be there for him, or let him hold her like that.
Though she’d rejected him in the end regardless, hadn’t she?
He replayed that scene over and over again in his mind, the look on her face when she’d told him she’d been hurt by someone and was still getting over it. Ward wanted to tear the asshole limb from limb whoever he was. Hannah didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. He would never hurt her like that, or any way. Not in a million years.
Or would he? Wasn’t that his pattern? Fall for a girl and then love-bomb her, until just when he thought she was feeling the same way, she took off and left him for dust. Like Melanie had. He’d since told his ex that he didn’t think there was any point in hooking up when she was back in town. That’s all it would’ve been too – a meaningless, pointless hookup.
Because he didn’t feel the same way he used to about Melanie. The way he felt now about Hannah.
Jeez, this was torture. Women were torture. How did he always end up going from one bad situation to another? Granted at least Hannah had the sense to blow off his advances, though Ward did know enough about women to know that she’d been … thinking about it.
But ultimately he’d got it wrong. And she was a woman of principle. Someone who kept to her boundaries. Played it straight and between the lines. His mind continued to drift and he scratched Pretzel behind the ears absently, trying to regain control of his thoughts and the flurry of conflicting emotions he was feeling right then – about everything.
While he was relieved to know that his Panthers future was secure, he was still dreading the thought of having to work under JP again. But Hannah was right about that too, he wasn’t some stupid kid anymore and Ward just had to stick to his guns and ensure right from the get-go that he wasn’t going to be pushed around.
People could say what they liked but this wildcat was still in full possession of his claws. Mostly.
Ward then looked at the actual cat as if Pretzel could provide some inspiration, but she just stared back at him in disdain.
He figured he was antsy because he felt so removed from Hannah again now. He had got so used to opening up, dropping the mask and being himself around her. And again he wondered about the asshole who’d hurt her before she came here to the city. Recalling her mention once that she’d got an office transfer, he figured the relationship breaking up must have been the reason why. Some dude in LA then.
Conscious of how much Hannah knew about what made him tick, and how little he knew about her in return, Ward glanced at the laptop.
It could be considered overstepping and invasive, a form of snooping even. But Hannah herself was the one who kept saying that the internet meant nobody’s life remained secret anymore, and pretty much everything was laid bare for the world to see.
So it wasn’t as if he was being a creep or anything …
Pulling the device onto his lap, he fired up a search engine and typed in her name, hoping to hit on her socials, though given what he knew about her, plus her line of business he figured she was a private settings kind of girl. Still, you never knew.
It was a form of self-sabotage, of course, but yet Ward wanted to get a bead on the kind of guy who had captured Hannah’s heart. When lots of results bearing her name popped up, he modified the query, adding Lotus PR to the end of the search string.
And there she was.
Hannah’s gorgeous face with her hair tied up and huge blue eyes in a professional bio shot beneath a link to the company website, LinkedIn page and other business-related socials. No personals, which meant unfortunately for him no real insight as to what she liked to do, or what she enjoyed outside of work.
But then something at the top of the search result caught his attention. A YouTube video with the headline: Kendrick Catches a Birdy.
Ward clicked on the link and the clip opened up to the scenic backdrop of some golf course by the ocean somewhere, and that pro golfer Rob Kendrick standing on the grass, celebrating a shot. He was pumping his fists and high-fiving his caddy.
A reporter approached to get his thoughts on the triumph.
‘How does it feel, Rob? It’s been a while since your last big tournament win – what are you thinking right now?’
Grinning to the camera, satisfaction danced in the golfer’s baby-blue eyes. The sunshine glistened off his blond hair, his skin was tan, and his arm muscles rippled under his orange Nike golf shirt. Typical privileged Ivy League prick. He looked every bit the winner, a total champ at the top of his game. His whole demeanour screamed young, vibrant, and on the up. Ward could hear the crowd of onlookers screaming with delight and felt a reflexive stab of envy as he recalled what it was like to win on that level, to feel unstoppable.
‘Well, John—’ the golfer grinned at the reporter as he walked off the green and headed to the crowd ‘—I gotta tell you, it feels great. This is what I’ve been working towards and I just felt it today, you know? Everything was working. All of it came together. Honestly, I feel on top of the world.’
‘Congratulations on an incredible game. So how are you planning to celebrate?’
Something sparkled in Kendrick’s eyes then – a hint of mischief coupled with menace, Ward recognized. He didn’t know much about golf but he already knew in his bones he disliked this smarmy asshat. In sport, you learned to size up people within a split second, and his instincts were screaming right now that this guy was a dick.
‘You know what? I’m not going to tell you; I’ll show you.’
The golfer moved ever so slightly to the left of the frame, beckoning to someone off-camera. He reached out, his words garbled, clearly trying to persuade someone into the frame. A muffled voice could be heard protesting, but Kendrick persisted, his shit-eating grin only intensifying as he became more determined.
Finally, he yanked a figure into the frame with him, a woman with her back to the camera. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Kendrick pulled her close, leaning her backwards in a dramatic flourish and kissed her.
Showboating . . .
Ward’s lip curled in disgust. It was obvious the girl didn’t want to go along with it either and he felt bad for her.
Yup, his intuition was dead on. Guy was a narc of the highest order.
‘There you have it, folks,’ the reporter grinned raising an eyebrow, ‘PGA tournament champ Rob Kendrick, causing a stir here today in more ways than one.’
And as the camera panned away from the golfer and his reluctant squeeze as she wriggled out of his grasp, Ward frowned again. His vision blurred and he blinked, refocused and tried to zoom in on the woman, whose deeply uncomfortable face was now suffused with scarlet blush.
The woman on the screen was Hannah.