12. Haylee
12
HAYLEE
A s I hide behind the racing car shelves, I wonder what the hell I’ve done. My phone rings, and I get a spike of anxiety at seeing Jaryd’s name on my screen, my heart rate increasing. It has been months since I left him, although he does call from time to time, all which I ignore. This one is no exception as I quickly decline the call, pushing him to the back of my mind, not needing to think about him right now.
“This is a bit much…” Jillian says, her eyes flicking everywhere as we think about how to control the situation.
My first date with Alex went well. Better than expected. We stayed together all night, walking through the various art exhibits, and he let me ramble about my thoughts on each of them. I met Maddison Miller, who was even more beautiful in real life, and when she said she wanted to see my art, I almost fainted on the spot. Thank God Alex was holding my hand; otherwise, I might have. I think back to the conversation, the way Alex stood at my side and proudly told her I was an artist. He has only seen the mural here, none of my other work, yet he pushed me forward, instilling confidence in me at a time and on a topic where I have very little for myself. It was a new feeling, a hard one to digest, but I am taking it for what it was, a nice gesture and a friendly offering of support.
I saw all the stiff people Alex normally associates with, so it’s no surprise he is the way he is. A bit grumpy, a business professional at all times. He keeps his distance from anything too real. But I would be lying if I said the way his hand settled on my lower back all night didn’t give me goosebumps. I had to really focus on the art so as not to get too comfortable in his arms.
“I didn’t think this through,” I admit to her as I see Mom and Dad rushing around, trying to get a handle on things.
“Probably something that needed to be discussed in the negotiations. Can’t you call him or something?” she prods as the bright flashes of lights continue to streak through the front window. Media are everywhere on the sidewalk outside, and while last night at the gallery, there were a few that approached us, Alex took care of it and somewhat shielded me from anything too full-on.
What he didn’t shield me from was the barrage on social media. My image was trending all last night and while I don’t think there is anything wrong with my normal appearance, I am glad that Laurent helped with something to wear and a professional blowout. Not only did I fit right in at the gallery event, but it made me feel good. It made me feel more feminine, well put together, and confident, not only in that room, but also by Alex’s side. It has been a long time since I felt any of those things. It makes the photos of me that are circling a bit easier to swallow. While social media was mostly positive, the common thread being everyone trying to work out exactly who I am and how I captured the heart of the city's most-wanted bachelor, my privacy has been totally invaded. Images of Alex and me from last night are on every gossip site you can imagine, and I had to private my social media profiles because people are messaging me constantly.
Now, though, he isn’t here. It is just my family and me locked in our store. Held hostage by the three-deep media ring that circles our front door. And while our customers can’t come in or out, I’m glad I did the Thanksgiving window already because images of that fireplace and the train circling will no doubt be viral before the end of the day. I see my mom race back to answer the store phone yet again. It has been ringing off the hook, and every time Mom answers it, it’s another journalist.
“No. I am not going to call him every time there is a hiccup with things. I can handle it,” I say, pushing off the shelves and stepping around to the front of the store. I have no idea what I am doing, but I have to do something. Rolling my shoulders back, I take in a deep breath and walk toward the front door.
“Honey… what are you doing?” my dad asks, frowning, spotting me from where he is near the door, most likely thinking the same thing I am.
“I have to do something,” I tell him, still not really sure what I am going to say or do.
“You don’t always have to fix things, honey. I think we should just close for the day.”
“They will just be back tomorrow, then the next day, and the next. Besides, this is because of me. So I need to make it right.” I have a feeling that the little love story Alex and I have created is one that people are very interested in. There is a loud knock on the door, and Dad and I look over sharply, spotting a familiar man in a suit.
“Alex?” Media go berserk as I rush to unlock the door, and he pushes inside, slamming the door closed before grabbing me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, puffing breaths like he ran here. He grips my arms firmly, looking me up and down, concern etched on his brow. I swallow, trying to keep my composure because no man has ever been this concerned about me. Ever.
“I’m fine. We are fine. Just… customers can’t get in,” I tell him, waving at the front door, which miraculously has now been cleared and two burly security men stand on either side of the door like we are a designer storefront or something.
“Oh…” I breathe out, surprised by the quick change in atmosphere.
“Mr. Tucker. Sir,” Alex says, shaking hands with my dad as I watch on, shocked, not keeping up with exactly what is happening.
“Ahhh, who are they?” I ask, looking back at the front door.
“Who?” Alex asks as he glances around the store, ensuring nothing is out of place.
“The two rambos at our front door,” I explain, frowning in confusion.
“Security. The shop’s security,” he states simply, and my head whips around to look at him.
“You got us security?” my dad asks, baffled.
“And I will have a team at your house by tonight as well. They will be inconspicuous, remain out the front on your street; you won't even know they are there.”
“Look, I don’t think we will need all that,” Dad says, giving me an unsure look.
“Well, it is my fault the media are like this, and while I should have expected it, I did think they might have taken it easy. But I prefer you to have support in case things get a little crazy. It might just be for a few days. Hopefully, it dies down a little once the surprise wears off,” Alex says, running his hand through his hair.
“It isn’t your fault,” I murmur as my mom and Jillian walk up to us.
“This is my wife, Wendy,” my dad introduces Alex to my mom, and I watch as she raises her eyebrows before looking at me, and then… she winks. My cheeks heat in embarrassment as my mom grabs his hand and gives it a shake.
“Pleasure to meet the man who seems to have swept my daughter off her feet.” She’s swooning, and I think I see Alex’s shoulders lower a little at her statement while remorse sinks into my stomach. Mom and Dad have been trying to talk to me about my new boyfriend ever since they found out. I have successfully dodged all conversations so far, because I can’t lie constantly to their faces. They know me too well; they will see the truth in my eyes if they look hard enough, and I can’t break this agreement. So I swallow the guilt that cramps my chest and remind myself that I am doing this for them. There is a method to my madness.
“A pleasure to meet you too,” Alex says, giving her a smile that is a little warmer than I’m used to seeing from him, and I take a deep breath.
“It is so nice for Haylee to have a new man in her life,” Mom continues, and I frown at her from where I stand behind Alex. I don’t want to think about the last man in my life. “You must come for Thanksgiving.”
“I’m sure Alex has somewhere to be,” I butt in, stepping up to him as he looks down at me. Our hands connect at our sides like they are magnets, his fingers entwining with mine with too much ease. I feel his thumb brush across my skin in the motion that has become like his calling card, and my heart thuds. As his gaze sweeps over my face, my breath gets caught in my throat. I lean into his arm, almost like I don’t have the stamina to stand on my own two legs at the moment, and his other hand rises, sweeping a stray hair out of my eye and brushing it behind my ear.
“I don’t,” he murmurs, watching me intently. I am surprised by that fact he has nowhere to be, because I thought a man like Alex would be busy with someone, somewhere.
“Oh. Well then, you should come,” I tell him, nodding, the two of us looking at each other, like my family isn’t all still standing right there.
“I’d like that,” he says, and I smile, feeling somewhat content. Oddly content.
The front door opens again, and a young family tentatively walks inside.
“Are you open?” the mother asks, and we all get our bearings as more people start to filter inside. The media frenzy out front has died down a little, and Jillian helps the customers while Mom and Dad get back to the office.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Alex asks me as we wander farther into the store, away from prying eyes.
“I’m fine. It was just a little unexpected,” I tell him honestly.
“Sorry. Laurent or I should have briefed you on that better. I will have security here twenty-four seven. Dan is available to drive you anywhere you need to go. No more taking the train. The media will just follow you and have a field day. Here’s my number. I should have already given it to you. Just call me if there are any other issues like today.” He slips me a card that has his number and Dan’s number, which I take and pocket immediately.
“I am surprised that people would be so interested in you and who you date,” I say, and his face hardens before he responds.
“Me too, but Laurent has started a bit of a spark, I think. I will speak to him,” he grits out, looking back out the window, clearly not happy. Slowly morphing back into work mode, he glances at his watch and then out the window again, almost like he is tucking the soft side of him back down and turning into the unlikeable billionaire who everyone thinks they know. I don’t want him to change, and so I think quickly, asking him the first thing I can think of that I’d like to know about him.
“What hobbies do you have?” I blurt.
“What?” he asks, looking at me like I am crazy. My question is obviously unexpected and a little out of left field.
“Well… you know that I paint. But I don’t know what you do for fun. So do you have any hobbies?” I ask again. “If my private life is going to be dissected through the gossip pages, I at least want to get to know the man who I am doing it for.”
“Work,” he answers firmly, and I chuckle.
“Anything else? Golf? Polo? Jet to the Bahamas at a moment's notice?” I tease him, having no idea what people like him do. People with money and freedom to go anywhere and do anything they wish.
“No. I work,” he confirms with a nod, and now I feel a little sorry for him. Doesn’t he have any fun in his life?
“Hmmmm. So can I pick our next date?” The smile on my face is genuine, because I can’t wait to get this guy out of his comfort zone. I step toward him, closing the distance between us, and he watches me carefully, his eyes not wavering from mine.
“I thought maybe dinner tonight?” he asks, taking a step forward too, and I pause as our toes touch, our bodies nearly flush. I take in a deep breath, smelling his now familiar aroma, as his eyes flick down to my chest before they look back at my face. I’m not sure what is happening, yet my body feels like it is betraying me with him at every possible moment. He clears his throat, causing my mind to snap back into place almost immediately.
“I have a better idea. I can be at your office after we close, and then we can take the train to—”
“No train,” he butts in.
“Fine. Dan can drive us to Benny’s Bowling Alley,” I tell him with a large grin.
“Bowling?” he confirms, narrowing his eyes.
“Yep!” I say, popping the P , taking some pleasure in how he squirms slightly.
“I don’t think—”
“You don’t need to think. I think it’s a great idea,” I say, my smile now almost taking over my face. I am now obsessed with the thought of seeing this suited man in bright-red and blue bowling shoes.
“But a fine dining dinner at the—”
“Benny’s has these mozzarella sticks that are sooooo good. Plus, their pub pretzels are to die for.” My mouth waters as I think about the food, and my need to go is now even stronger.
“Sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen,” he huffs out, and my eyes flick down his frame. There is no doubt that he is fit, but it is hard to gauge what’s underneath the shirt and suits he wears every day. Me, on the other hand, I am not what you would consider runway fit. My muffin top that sits at the top of my jeans is carefully hidden by the shirt I am wearing today. But it is worth it for Benny’s mozzarella sticks.
“It will be good for the media to see you doing something different. It will show them how in love you are with me. Besides, you owe me.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod toward the front windows at the few media left, and he sighs.
“Fine. I will pick you up here after work.” He says it like it pains him.
“Yes!” I do a wiggle dance, clapping my hands.
“Are you having another seizure?” he deadpans, and when I stop and look at him, that small glimmer of a grin appears again. I think I was right… Mr. Coldhearted may just be thawing for me.