3. Rory
3
RORY
TWO WEEKS LATER
I ’ve never seen a group of children sit in such mesmerized silence. I’m standing at the back of the bookstore, watching a sea of kids sit perfectly still, their eyes fixed on Aiden as he reads from his most popular picture book. His voice rises and falls with each character, and my pulse quickens at watching this side of him—the gentle storyteller who’s nothing like the cocky Stallions player he used to be or the boy who used to tease me.
It’s almost annoying how good he is at this. Not just the reading, but the way he has every kid in the room hanging on his every word. The former star athlete turned master storyteller. Because apparently being a professional baseball player and devastatingly handsome wasn’t enough—he had to go and be good with kids too.
These past two weeks have been...interesting, that’s for sure. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for the job. But telling Aiden about our past history that day on the plane to New York was so uncomfortable, and then when his old teammate Jackson assumed we were a couple? God, that was awkward. At least nothing else like that has happened since then. But there’s still a weird energy between us.
And, despite myself, I still keep getting lost in those damn piercing eyes of his.
Aiden closes the book and thanks everyone for coming. The spell breaks, and the room fills with excited chatter and applause. I slip into assistant mode, weaving through parents and kids to help manage the signing line. It’s my first book signing event, but the skills from my old executive assistant job translate surprisingly well, and I focus on keeping the line moving while ensuring each kid gets their moment with Aiden. I find myself falling into an easy rhythm, and it would feel completely natural if I could just ignore how my skin prickles every time I brush past Aiden.
I’m not the only one affected by his presence. The moms in line are all looking at him like they’re smitten, and honestly, I get it. The sight of this tall, athletic man kneeling down to get on eye level with their kids, giving each child his full attention—the swoon factor is through the roof.
After the event is over and Aiden and I are walking out to the car waiting for us, I can’t help myself from saying, “I think you broke some hearts in there today.”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused.
“Those moms were giving you serious heart eyes.”
He laughs. “I didn’t notice. I was focused on the kids.”
We climb into the back of the hired car, settling into the leather seats. The space shouldn’t feel intimate, but it does. I pull out my phone and start running through his upcoming schedule— baseball appearances, book readings, charity events—trying to focus on work instead of how aware I am of Aiden’s presence.
And then my phone rings.
Michael’s name on the screen stops my heart mid-beat. I decline the call, but moments later a text appears: Seriously, Rory? You’re going to ignore my call?
“Everything okay?”
I look up to find Aiden watching me, concern etched across his features.
“Fine,” I say, but my voice gives me away.
The truth is, Michael has been reaching out with increasing frequency these past few weeks. At first it was just apologies, but now his messages have taken on an edge I don’t like. He told me he wants me back, and apparently my complete lack of interest is a foreign concept to him. He’s not used to being told no, and definitely not by me.
“You sure?” Aiden’s voice is gentle. “You look rattled.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” His concern is sweet, but what exactly am I supposed to say? Hey boss, my ex-fiancé is having trouble with the concept of ‘no’? Besides, what could Aiden possibly do about it?
I set my phone on the seat between us and dig through my bag for the paperwork about an upcoming baseball clinic. “So about next weekend’s appearance?—”
Another text lights up my screen. Aiden and I both glance down automatically.
HELLO?? DON’T IGNORE ME RORY.
I snatch my phone away, but it’s too late. The flash of fury that crosses Aiden’s face makes my breath catch. His jaw tightens, and suddenly I’m seeing exactly why he was so intimidating on the baseball field.
“Who’s texting you?” His voice has gone hard with protectiveness.
“No one. Don’t worry about it.” I slip the phone into my bag.
“Rory. Someone’s clearly threatening you. I can’t just ignore that.”
I stare out the window for a long moment, my chest tight. “It’s my ex,” I finally admit. “He’s been texting me. A lot. He wants to get back together and isn’t handling rejection well.”
Aiden’s eyebrows push together. “How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks. It’s fine, really. He’s just?—”
“Do you feel safe?” Aiden cuts me off, his eyes intense. “At your place, when you’re alone?”
The question catches me off guard. “For the most part, yes.” I hear the hesitation in my voice and rush to add, “I really don’t think he would do anything scary.”
“Well, I’m still not comfortable with this.” He looks at me carefully. “How would you feel about having security keep an eye on your place?”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“But would it make you feel safer?”
“Well…yes.”
“Good. I’d rather be safe than sorry.” He pulls out his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. “I know a company that handles personal security. They’re discrete, professional?—”
“Aiden.” I reach out and touch his arm without thinking. “This is too much.”
He keeps typing, seemingly unfazed by my hand on his arm. I should tell him he’s being overprotective, that I can handle this myself. But watching him take control of the situation, seeing how seriously he’s taking this—I can’t bring myself to stop him. Maybe having someone watching my back isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Aiden: Hey. Just checking in to let you know that the security detail is in place.
Me: Thank you. I really appreciate this.
Aiden: Marcus will keep an eye on things. He’s one of their best.
Me: You didn’t have to do any of this.
Aiden: Look, I know this is your personal business and I don’t want to overstep...
Aiden: But your safety matters.
Me: Thank you. It means a lot.
Aiden: Of course. And hey, I have selfish reasons too. Can’t afford to lose the best assistant I’ve ever had.
Me: I’m the only assistant you’ve ever had.
Aiden: Details, details. But seriously, I realize I haven’t said this yet—you’re doing an incredible job. Everything runs so smoothly with you handling things.
Me: I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything you’d like me to do differently, though?
Aiden: Are you kidding? You’re so efficient I actually have free time now. It’s weird.
Me: Sounds like someone needs a hobby.
Aiden: Any suggestions?
Me: Knitting? I hear it’s very therapeutic.
Aiden: You mean like...sweaters and stuff?
Me: You could start with potholders.
Aiden: What other suggestions you got?
Me: Pottery? Origami? Rock climbing? Woodworking?
Aiden: I actually tried pottery once. Let’s just say there’s a reason I stuck to baseball.
Me: Wait, something you’re not good at? I’m shocked.
Aiden: Ha. Hate to break it to you, but I’m not perfect.
Aiden: Anyway, I’ll let you enjoy your evening. Just wanted to check in. And if anything comes up, anything at all, call me. Doesn’t matter what time.
Me: Thank you, Aiden.
Aiden: Good night, Rory.