Chapter 18 #2
We bicker it out for a bit, but the same stubborn drive that made him the top draft pick rears its head, and I concede, fearing that I just might have a bit of a phobia over big changes.
He gives me points for accepting defeat with such grace.
His sarcasm is not amusing. Sadly, he can’t see me sticking my tongue out through the phone. But I have a feeling he knows anyway.
At twelve on the dot, he knocks and I answer. A wall of man flesh stands in the threshold.
“Pen,” Augusts says by way of greeting. “Meet your movers, Trent Gellis, aka Jelly, tight end. And Roderick Rhodes, wide receiver. He goes by Rhodes.” He cants his head toward me with a smile. “Gentlemen, my dear sweet Penelope.”
God. If I’m not beet red it’s a miracle.
“Miss Pen.” The tight end Jelly tips an imaginary hat as he gives me a friendly smile.
About two inches taller than August, he appears to have naturally pale skin that’s gone ruddy and freckled in the sun.
The ends of his spiky light brown hair are bleached almost white, as are his lashes, which makes his brown eyes seem stark. But they hold good humor and warmth.
Feeling awkward, I give him what I hope is a good smile—not too much teeth, damn that August. “Hey.”
Rhodes steps in with him. Rhodes’s copper-brown skin glows with good health.
He’s shortest of the three at around six feet, but incredibly built.
Muscles on top of muscles, but moving with such graceful swagger, I just know he’s more limber than I’ll ever be.
With curled lashes framing shining brown eyes and a deep dimple in his right cheek, he has a sweetness that belies his size. “Good to meet you, Penelope.”
Yes, I’m most definitely blushing. I shake his offered hand and return the greeting.
August fights a smile as he guides his friends farther into the living room, like he knows how disarmed I am and thinks it’s cute. “You ready, Sweets?”
“Yes, but it’s not that much.” I look at his friends. “You didn’t have to take time out of your day for this.”
“Of course we did,” Jelly insists. He glances around in interest, then his gaze returns to me. “I was looking forward to meeting you.”
I bet.
Rhodes gives me a lopsided smile. “It’s nothing. Happy to help, darlin’.”
He’s so pretty, I don’t know how to answer.
August clears his throat and gives me the beady eye. “Want to show us the way?”
Still a little miffed at his high-handedness, I sniff and am about to head for the bedroom when Sarah comes out.
“Penny, I wanted to ask if—” She stumbles to a halt, her eyes going round as moons as she sees the guys standing in her living room. “I . . .”
That’s all she gets out. She gapes as though struck senseless. The silence stretches.
“Ma’am.” Jelly’s greeting is a little less personal than the one he gave me but polite nonetheless. As is Rhodes’s brief, “Hey.”
Sarah gurgles like she’s choking on her spit.
At my shoulder, August leans close and murmurs, “Rhodes is a Super Bowl MVP. Team picked him up as a free agent this season.”
“Ah.”
Sarah whimpers, mouth agape, eyes wide and darting between Rhodes and Jelly.
“And Jelly,” August continues, “is the best tight end in the league.”
“Hmm.” I slide August a look. And find him smugly content. Shaking my head ruefully, I show the guys my room, and they stride past a frozen Sarah to begin grabbing boxes.
There aren’t many, and it’s soon apparent they won’t need multiple trips. Rhodes alone grabs almost half of them in one go. I stand back and let them work, knowing I’ll only get in the way otherwise. August lingers behind as his boys head out, leaving a paltry box for him to take.
I watch them go, then watch Sarah gurgle out a weak “oh, my God,” before trailing behind them like a lost puppy.
“You picked them on purpose, didn’t you?” I say to August, knowing this was a little tweak on Sarah’s nose before I left.
“I might have done.” He grins but then his gaze narrows coolly. “Besides, they wanted to help after hearing how you got abruptly booted.”
“You told them about that?”
He shakes his head in mild reproach. “Pen, I talk about you all the time.”
“Oh. Right. I guess you’d have to if we were engaged.”
“Sure that’s why,” he says smoothly.
Sarah comes back, clearly giddy but also wavering as though she might need a lie-down. “Oh, wow! I mean, Trent Jelly Legs Gellis and Roderick Rhodes in my living room!”
August straightens, becoming all polite business. “We’re going to get out of your hair now. Penelope, you got everything you need?”
“Ah, sure.” I put on my sneakers and grab my purse, and he picks up the last box.
When I set my keys on the hall table, I feel nothing but relief that it’s done and the rising anticipation of moving on.
“Well, Sarah.” August shuffles the box under one arm. “It’s been an experience I doubt either Pen or I will forget. While I’ll miss coming here, I am glad Penelope was able to move on to new lodgings so quickly.”
Sarah goes bright red. “Erm, yes. Well, that was good.”
“Hate to think what would have happened to her otherwise. But, luckily, she has a team behind her now.” He gives her his on-camera smile. “I have a little parting gift for you. From me and Pen.”
Smooth as silk, August pulls a small bag from the inside of his loosely zipped leather jacket and holds it out to her. Fingers trembling, she takes the bag with the delicacy of one handling a bomb.
As soon as she does, August clasps my hand. “Ready?” he asks me.
I nod, but my attention is on Sarah and the bag.
Gingerly, she reaches in and pulls out an envelope. I already know what’s in it, but her gasp still has me smiling. The woman lights up like Broadway as she fans out not one but four passes.
“Game’s tomorrow tonight,” August tells her. “Hope you can make it.”
Gently, he tugs me toward the door.
“Bye, Sarah,” I say as I go. She nods absently, eyes glued to her tickets.
We’re almost to the landing of the stairs when she calls out.
“Wait!” Huffing, she runs up to me and holds out two familiar mugs. “Lucy and Ricky. For your new place. I know you liked using them, and they should be together—with you.”
I take them with my free hand. “Thanks.”
She nods. “I’m . . . sorry for how I handled things. I hope you’re really happy with . . . everything.”
“Thank you,” I say again, with more feeling. “I will be.”
August leads the way down the stairs and out to the sunny street below. “That was good how you left things.”
Carefully, I tuck the mugs into the box he holds out for me. Wind coming down the wide boulevard whips the ends of his hair up in a mad mess. He’s impossibly beautiful and peering at me with kind eyes that shine bright. It’s all I can do not to hug him tight.
“August, that was all you.”