Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ivy
It’s early Friday evening, and I’ve spent the afternoon photographing Wyatt’s apartment and prepping everything to get the listing ready.
He’s been out for most of the afternoon, meeting with his publicist, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get everything organized.
I even had time to browse a few potential listings in Hope Creek.
There aren’t many that tick all his boxes, but there are a couple that show promise, and I’m excited for him to see them when he gets back.
I grab my overnight bag from where Wyatt left it in the entryway, along with the new dress I brought for tomorrow night, and head into the guest room.
The bed’s been freshly made since I was here last weekend.
He must have someone come in to take care of those things.
I hang my dress in the walk-in closet and set my bag down beside it.
Wandering into the bathroom, I notice something I somehow missed earlier while taking listing photos; a bottle of bubble bath and a jar of bath salts resting on the vanity. A smile tugs at my lips.
“When did he get those?” I mutter to myself, recalling the comment I made last time about the distinct lack of bath products. I’m surprised, and a little touched, that he remembered.
I glance at the tub. If he’s still tied up with his publicist, I might just have enough time for a quick soak before he gets back.
He didn’t say how long he’d be gone, only that they had a few last-minute things to go over before tomorrow night’s dinner.
I figure I can always get out if he comes back, not that he’d mind.
I’ve been soaking in the tub for about thirty minutes when I hear Wyatt’s voice call out from the front of the apartment.
“Ivy? You here?”
“I’m in the tub!” I shout back.
I hear him laugh. “I brought food!”
“I’ll be right out!”
A few minutes later, I step into the kitchen, still warm from the bath. I’m in my sleep shorts and a tank, my damp hair braided loosely down my back. Wyatt’s at the breakfast bar, unpacking what smells like Chinese takeout.
“Hey, something smells amazing,” I say, coming up behind him and peeking over his shoulder.
He turns around with a grin on his face, until his eyes skim over me, and something changes. His smile softens, then falters just a touch, and I can’t quite read his expression.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking a bath,” I say with a small, nervous laugh, suddenly second-guessing myself. “Maybe I should’ve waited until you got back…”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I want you to feel at home here.” Glancing away, he continues unpacking the food. “Did you notice the bath salts?” he asks, his tone a little quieter.
I smile and nudge his arm with my shoulder. “I did. When did you manage that? You haven’t been here since last weekend.”
He looks back at me with a grin. “I have my ways. Can’t have you thinking this place isn’t up to five-star standards.”
I laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely five-star.”
He smiles widely. “Did you get everything you needed for the listing?”
“All set,” I reply, reaching past him to grab a prawn cracker.
“Hungry?”
“Absolutely starving.”
“Let’s eat in the living room,” he says, nodding toward the cartons. “Grab a couple of those.”
I gather two containers and follow him, settling onto the couch and curling my legs beneath me.
“What did you get?” I ask, peeking into the cartons.
“Chow mein, orange chicken, sweet and sour pork, spring rolls, and fries.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Expecting company? There’s no way we’re finishing all this.”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“Well, you nailed it. I like all of it.”
“Good.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Wyatt stands. “Do you want a drink?”
“Sure. What do you have?”
“Um…wine, beer, or soda.”
“I’ll take a wine, please.” I grin. “I’m off the clock now.”
He laughs. “One wine coming up.”
He’s back a few minutes later with a glass of red wine and a bottle of beer.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the glass from his hand. “How did it go with your publicist? Cleo, right?”
“Yeah, Cleo,” he says with a sigh. “She wants me to sign up for some celebrity dating show.” He shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “It was an immediate no, but she’s not exactly letting it go.”
I frown. “I thought she just wanted to go over details for the dinner tomorrow?”
“Yeah… that’s what I thought too.”
My eyes go wide. “Wait, it’s not Wet and Wild, is it?”
He nods, looking annoyed. “That’s the one.”
“Oh my God, I love that show! Ash too!”
He gives me a look, amused by my reaction. “Seriously?”
I nod, grinning. “It’s totally addictive!”
He laughs but shakes his head. “Still not happening.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Just tell Cleo you’re not interested. Doesn’t she work for you?”
He lets out a heavy breath. “In theory, yeah. But I didn’t want to do the charity auction either, and here we are.”
I smirk. “Tell her you’re seeing someone, then. She’s not going to push it if she thinks you’ve already got a girlfriend.”
“She’s my publicist, Ivy,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “If I had a girlfriend, she’d definitely know.”
“Not if you’re keeping it low-key,” I say with a shrug. “Just tell her we’re seeing each other. It’s not like we’d have to put on a show. We’re in Hope Creek most of the time.”
His brows lift in surprise. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’re already doing more than enough helping me with the charity dinner.”
“You’re not asking,” I reply. “I’m offering.
I know I’m not your usual type, but if it’ll get her to back off…
” My voice fades as the weight of what I just said sinks in.
It was a dumb suggestion. He dates cover models and actresses, women with publicists of their own.
The idea that he’d pretend to date me is absurd.
I wave it off quickly. “Forget it. It wouldn’t be believable anyway. ”
“Why the hell not?”
His tone throws me. He almost sounds offended, and I glance up, startled to find him staring right at me.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the carton in my lap.
“I mean… look at you. You’re a famous football player.
People expect you to be with someone who lives in your world, someone glamorous who turns heads on the red carpet.
I’m just… me. A real estate agent from a small town who’s scared of elevators. ”
I let out a nervous laugh, but Wyatt’s expression softens. He sets his food aside and turns toward me.
“Ivy, you’re more real than anyone I’ve ever met.
And the truth is, that world, the red carpets, the headlines, all of it, it’s not something I ever brought into.
It’s a world I want to leave behind, so believe me, the small-town thing?
That’s not a flaw for me. I love the football, but the noise that comes with it?
I wouldn’t miss it. Not for a second.” He nudges his knee against mine.
“If anyone’s out of their league here, it’s me. ”
My face warms, and I duck my head with a quiet smile. “I don’t think that’s true, but… thank you.”
“It’s true, Ivy. Believe me,” he whispers.
Before I can respond, Wyatt’s phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and groans.
“Cleo,” he mutters, holding it up. “Think she knows we’re talking about her?”
I laugh. “You should get it. She’ll just keep calling.”
He sighs. “Yeah, probably.” He answers. “Hey, Cleo. What’s up?”
I can’t hear her side, but Wyatt’s expression darkens almost immediately. He starts pacing, his jaw tight.
“No, Cleo. I’m not meeting anyone. I’ll be back in Hope Creek by then anyway. And I already said no. Reality TV isn’t the direction I want to take my career.” He runs a hand through his hair, the tension radiating off him in waves. “I don’t care,” he snaps. “It’s not happening.”
Before I can think it through, I set my food aside, stand up, and walk over to him. I hold out my hand.
“Give me the phone,” I mouth.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got this.”
“Sure you do,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
Without waiting for permission, I pluck the phone from his hand and bring it to my ear. “Hi, Cleo. It’s Ivy James. We met at the charity auction last weekend.”
There’s a pause, then, “I was speaking with Wyatt.”
“I know. Sorry to hijack the call,” I lie. “But there’s something you need to know.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” she asks, voice edged with boredom.
“Wyatt and I are together.”
“Together?” she cuts in, suddenly alert. “What do you mean, together?”
“Dating,” I say simply. “We’re a couple. Boyfriend, girlfriend. Sharing a bed. However you want to phrase it.”
I glance at Wyatt, his eyes wide, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. I hope that smile means he’s okay with this.
Cleo’s voice cuts back in, clipped and cold. “So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying he’s not available for any dating shows. He’s taken. And I don’t share.”
Wyatt’s smile grows, but there’s something unreadable in his expression, and I wish I knew exactly what he was thinking.
Cleo laughs, but there’s no humor. “I think you’ll find he belongs to the Arizona Cardinals, sweetheart. And this is his career you’re screwing with.”
My heart pounds, but I keep my voice steady. “No, Cleo. His career is football. Not some cheesy TV stunt. If you think he’d ever go along with that, then you don’t know him at all.”
There’s a pause. “I’m not paid to know him. I’m paid to do what’s best for his career. Tell Wyatt I’ll call tomorrow, hopefully when his cheerleader isn’t in the room.” She hangs up.
I drop the phone on the sofa, my hands trembling.
“Hey,” Wyatt says, stepping closer. “You okay?” He takes my hand in his, concern in his voice. “Ivy?”
“I can’t believe I just did that. She said I’m screwing with your career. Am I?”
He sits beside me, still holding my hand. “No, Ivy. You were amazing. Not many people stand up to Cleo like that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if ‘amazing’ is the word I’d use. Thank God I don’t have to face her in person.”
Wyatt winces. “Uh… about that. She’ll be at the dinner tomorrow.”
“Of course she will.” I groan and drop my head into my hand. Wyatt laughs beside me.
“Don’t worry. She won’t start anything with the press around. She’ll be all smiles.”
I look up at him. “You’re not angry?”
“Angry?” He grins. “You just saved me from weeks of dodging her calls.”
I exhale a laugh. “So I guess we’ll need to act like a couple tomorrow, huh?”
His gaze flicks to my mouth. “Yeah. I guess so. Think we can pull it off?”
My eyes meet his. “We’ve been friends forever. I think we can pretend to be more, for one night.”
I don’t doubt we can pull off pretending for one night.
But even though this whole thing was my idea, I can’t shake the feeling that I might have just started something I’m not ready to deal with.
I never planned on faking a relationship in front of the press.
I figured it would just be Cleo, not an entire room full of people with cameras and opinions.
Maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.
But it’s too late now. The story’s out there, and there’s no taking it back.
Ash is going to lose her mind when she finds out.