Chapter 21 #3
It was obvious from the crowd that Jamie’s friend’s restaurant was the place to go and be seen in Boston. Trent scanned the people, some coming and going, some milling about, to check for media. That was one complication he hoped to minimize tonight, though he knew he always had to be prepared.
They were ushered inside and without going to the coat check closet, had their coats taken by a young woman with adoring eyes.
Then the uniformed man led them past the line of people waiting at the unmanned host’s desk that looked more like a podium.
Trent acknowledged with his automatic gracious smile the stares and the pointing.
He nodded automatically at the few who spoke up to wish him well.
With his hand on the small of Charlie’s back, he was aware of her tension. He bent his head and whispered to her.
“Don’t worry. Jamie said we’d have a private table.”
She gave him a stiff smile. It was ironic that being in the spotlight made her more uncomfortable than stabbing him with a needle or extracting a slice of his muscle. More evidence that she deserved someone better, someone more serious, someone as brilliant and important as she was.
As they wound through the tables, the host ushered them to a semicircular booth in a private area of the restaurant.
Jamie and Violet sat to one side of the booth.
Jamie slid from the booth with his athletic grace in one smooth move and greeted Trent in his usual loud voice, giving him a big hug and slap on the back before turning his attention to Charlie.
Trent kept his hand on her, resisting his temptation to hold her close and protect her from all the staring eyes. He’d expected her to look horrified at the spectacle, but when Jamie enveloped her in a bear hug, making her look the size of a twelve-year-old, she laughed and hugged him back.
Feeling a slight ease of his tension, Trent moved his hand to the small of her back, claiming her as much as he dared, determined to allow himself no other liberties, determined not to confuse their relationship any further than he already had.
Did that mean he wouldn’t sleep with her again?
That thought almost made him stumble as he slid into the booth after Charlie.
He stopped short, keeping a respectable distance from her while he noticed that Jamie had an arm around Violet as she snuggled into his side.
Damn. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to appear cold or distant, but he didn’t want to throw any more mixed signals to Charlie.
Or had they already gone too far down that road? He looked at her questioning eyes and wished to hell they could have a private word. He needed to clear the air between them, needed to clear his own confused head.
But only one thought drummed at his conscience. He should leave her the hell alone because he was not good enough for her.
The server came and took their order, saving him from any more self-persecution. He had no right to think of himself as unworthy. He worked too damn hard and knew better. Except he knew for a fact that she worked harder.
As usual, his table got special attention and their meal arrived before long, ahead of others who were still waiting, he noticed.
This was the kind of special treatment that Trent hated.
Once again the self-deprecation took hold, but not for long.
The server placed a plate filled to overflowing with a mouth-watering slab of ribeye steak.
“Y’all are so predictable, ordering the most oversized hunk of steak on the menu,” Violet said in mock disgust. “Even you, Snow White.”
Charlie snapped accusing eyes to him. He raised his hands.
“I never said a word. She came to the conclusion that you look like Snow White all on her own.” He winked because he knew it would make her more pink than she was, an inviting shade. “Must be something to it.”
“You may be surprised, but I have been compared to Snow White before. Ever since I was about twelve years old, in fact.”
Trent laughed. “So you’re a big fan, then?”
“I despise Snow White.” She stabbed her fork into her meat with added melodrama and they all laughed.
Eyes on her glowing skin, her smile, and her luscious candy-apple lips, he could hardly be blamed for being so distracted that he didn’t see the camera, didn’t see the reporter with his phone aimed their way, recorder light flashing.
Not until he was close and it was too late to ignore him or warn him off with a look.
He’d have to work hard at getting past his wariness after the last press conference.
Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he put it aside and smiled at the man.
And without reflecting or analyzing or second-guessing, he put an arm around Charlie’s shoulder, turning his body to shield her as best as he could.
“Trent, Jamie, folks—sorry to disrupt your meal, but I wanted a quick photo if you don’t mind.”
“Flash away, but make it quick. Don’t want this juicy hunk of steak getting cold,” Trent smiled, but it wasn’t his warmest smile.
The man gestured for his sidekick with the camera, a young woman, to take some shots.
There were a few flashes as she jumped into several positions to get various angles while diners at the surrounding tables looked on as if watching a show.
Charlie felt tense under his arm. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“It’ll be all right. Hang in there.” Several flashes exploded as the young lady caught him. Heaven knew what that photo would look like. His automatic response was anger, closely followed by worry about Charlie.
But what the hell was his problem? They were supposed to be engaged.
They were out at least partly to be seen and now they were seen.
Still, logic and reason didn’t quell his discomfort and the simmering anger at the invasion of privacy—or rather semi-privacy.
He never had actual privacy except when he was inside his own home or that of his parents.
“Thank you for being good sports,” the lady with the camera said as she retreated. She pulled on her friend’s arm, but the reporter still had his phone poised.
“One more thing, Trent. How’s your shoulder? I understand that Dr. Morneau is treating you. She’s a university medical researcher, right? How does that qualify her to treat your injury?”
The instant the man’s words hit him, unreasonable fury shot through him.
Trent rose from his seat like a mountain rising from the sea, enraged, white-hot seething anger blocking out any rational thought.
The reporter backed away, but Trent grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him, ready to throw him across the room, heedless of anything else around him.
Before he got anywhere, the man was removed from his hands by Jamie who stepped between them.
“Let him go man,” Jamie said in a low voice.
He found himself breathing hard, every muscle in him tense, as he watched the reporter scurry away with his girlfriend.
In the next moment, he noticed the cell phone cameras all aimed in his direction, felt Charlie’s hand on his arm.
Recovering his senses, he shook his head, smiled and waved at the onlookers.
He gave an apologetic shrug. He couldn’t meet Charlie’s eyes as they slid back into their seats.
Tension still gripped him as he rolled his shoulders, feeling the extra twinge on the right side.
“Trent, don’t worry. It’s okay,” she said. He knew it wasn’t. He took a deep breath and finally looked at her to see nothing but concern for him in her eyes. But he was the one concerned for her.
“Damn, bro. You got to put a cork in that temper,” Jamie said, slipping back into his space in the booth across from him. “And since when are you so easily riled?”
“You put a cork in it,” Violet said. “Can’t you see he’s trying to protect his woman? That asshole reporter was trying to accuse her of being incompetent. I don’t blame you, Trent. If I were a man, I would have popped him.”
Trent laughed, deflating his tension somewhat. He lifted his glass of ice water in the woman’s direction. “To a sensible woman. You’re too good for that bum Jamie, Vi.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, laughing.
“Hey man,” Jamie mockingly whined.
Trent turned to Charlie, who hadn’t raised her glass of pinot noir.
Tilting her head, she sighed. “I have to give you all a lot of credit for putting up with all this attention, all this prying into your private lives. All this loss of privacy. It must be very hard.”
“At times,” Violet said before Trent could. “You’ll get used to it, girl.”
Charlie looked at him as she raised her glass and took a sip. They both knew she wouldn’t be getting used to it. Not with him.
He could use a drink. Something stiffer than beer, but he didn’t need even that.
Too many carbs. Running his mind forward, he got it back on familiar ground, to where he needed to be.
Relaxing. At least for a while in between his immersion in football game tapes, game charts, play sheets, statistics, and conditioning.
It was time to lighten up. Taking a deep breath, he turned to feast on the beauty that was Charline Morneau, to really appreciate her, all dressed up, glowing skin and pristine, classic, Snow White features.
“Charlie is the most competent doctor I’ve ever been treated by.” He winked at her. “Not to mention the prettiest.”
She rolled her eyes, but the grin was there and he felt the return smile on his face deep down inside him.
“Tell me about your work, Charlie,” Violet asked.
“I work in medical research—”
Trent bumped his knee into hers under the table. They didn’t want to talk so much about the nature of her research.
She added in a rush, “And I work at the Shriners Hospital in the children’s ward. I do skin graft surgeries and checkups. I haven’t done any surgeries in a while or been there since—in a while.”
“When are you going next?” Trent asked. A vision of Charlie working with children captured his imagination. He had an urge to see it, to see her in action, for once when he wasn’t the patient.
“Actually, I’d been planning to go in tomorrow to check on some patients and sign up for some surgical shifts.” She bit her lip and added, “If you don’t mind.” He could see she was having trouble with her role as his fiancée, that she was unsure of the rules, of herself.
“Sounds like a great plan. In fact, I’ll come with you. We have the day off. I’ll bring some balls and my autograph pen. I don’t want to brag, but kids love me.”
“I believe it,” she said. “You’re kind of a big kid yourself.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Their eyes held, their mouths etched in mutual grins. He felt the thunder in his veins rumbling and shit if he didn’t want to take her home right that minute. All plans to the contrary be damned.
“Ahem. Can I interrupt?” Jamie said. “I’m a fan of children’s hospitals—and the doctors who work there. Can I crash the party too? I promise to bring plenty of Vi’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.”
“Sold,” Charlie said. “I’m a sucker for homemade cookies.”
“You’re on, girlfriend,” Violet said. “I’ll come too and bring an extra batch just for you. Of course, that means our kids come too, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d love to meet your kids,” Charlie said. “I’ll make sure I introduce them to my patients. Visits from children mean the world to the patients.” Charlie spoke seriously, with such passion that she had them all mesmerized.
Trent’s heart tumbled around and his chest tightened. She loved kids. He knew it. What he didn’t understand was why the hell that should make him feel like he wanted to kiss her silly and hold her, why he felt a warm buzz?
It probably meant she wanted kids of her own someday. Whenever past girlfriends talked about kids, he’d flinched and gotten a bad taste in his mouth.
It wasn’t that he had anything against kids.
He loved them. But he had literally never contemplated having his own.
Same way he’d never contemplated getting married.
It was all in that murky distant future beyond football, beyond life as he knew it.
The dark abyss beyond the cliff that he had no desire to jump from anytime soon.
Balls to the wall meant no room for other ambitions beyond the singular focus on his goal.
Besides, he didn’t need to worry about Charlie’s future children because she wouldn’t be in his future. That calmed his buzz, killed the warmth he felt and made him reach his hand out and put it over hers. She might not be in his future, but she was in his now.
He should be happy about that. He was the kind of guy who lived in the moment, wasn’t he?