9. Diego
I pulledinto the parking lot and scanned for Cassandra’s car. Of course, she was already there. She hadn’t even left work when I called her, overeager for an excuse to call her even though I’d just seen her a few days ago.
Finding the pictures hadn’t been a surprise. Sure, Cassandra thought the kids just wanted an autograph, but I’d been in the spotlight long enough to differentiate a fan from a gawker. Those kids weren’t fans.
Within an hour of the pictures posting, James called. He congratulated me on working so fast to find a low-key girlfriend for the season. He hadn’t even made the connection between the girl in the picture and Becca. Sure, he hadn’t met Cassandra, but the similarities between the sisters were there.
Then again, I’d never thought of Becca as anything more than a friend. Or drill sergeant. And there was nothing friendly about how I felt about her sister. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t have been sitting in the darkened parking lot of a dive bar, checking the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I should have been watching a movie or playing video games or hell, even been asleep. Instead, I pushed open the car door and walked into the bar.
Only a block past the bustling downtown Main Street, Lonny’s was a rundown bar with tacky floors, peeling seats, and bartenders who got aggravated if a customer asked for anything more complex than a beer. I’d fallen in love with the bar immediately. Unlike the Crown Copper, where I’d have gotten mobbed the second I walked in the door, no one so much as raised an eyebrow when I waltzed into Lonny’s.
No one except Cassandra.
She sat perched on a bar stool. Our eyes met, and her lips bloomed into a smile that hit me straight in the gut. I took a deep breath, fingers searching for the phone in my pocket and gripping it tight.
“Hey, I ordered a beer and a martini. Which do you want?”
“Beer,” I said, and she pushed the frosty glass in my direction before taking a sip of her drink. “How the hell did you convince someone to make you a martini?”
I searched the bar for some unknown bartender who would actually mix a drink. The owner stood at the end of the bar with a scowl.
“Oh, Lonny makes a great martini. You sure you don’t want a sip?”
I raised an eyebrow. “The owner?”
The guy had served me dozens of beers and never offered his name or told me he owned the place.
Cassandra nodded. “Yeah. Did you know he’s owned this bar for forty years? He said in the eighties, downtown was nothing more than dirty movie theaters and prostitutes, but then gentrification. Luckily, he owns the building.”
“It took me twenty minutes to get here,” I said, shocked that she’d gotten more information from the owner than I had in three years. “Have you been coming to this place since you moved into town?”
She cocked her head. “Nope. First time. I was bored, and a little anxious. I talk a lot when I’m anxious.”
“What could you possibly be anxious about?”
Gliding her finger along the foggy glass, she frowned, eyes on the olive in the drink. “I’m planning a heist, actually.”
“A heist?” I barked out a laugh that earned Lonny’s glare.
“What’s funny about a heist?” Cassandra asked, barely keeping her face straight.
“Nothing.” I settled onto the bar stool, taking a sip of foamy beer. “Nothing at all. What exactly are we heisting?”
“I’m assembling a crack team,” she said with a grin. She shifted closer to me, dropping her voice. “I want to hit a casino. It’s on a blimp and it’ll be flying over the Breakers stadium during your last pre-season game.”
“So, naturally, I’ll be distracting the crowd with a game-winning play while you board the blimp.”
“No.” Her green eyes glittered and she raked a hand through her hair. My fingers itched to thread through her hair and pull her closer. “During warm up, I want you to throw balls at the blimp.”
I nodded solemnly. “What will that accomplish?”
“There’s an emergency exit under the blimp we’re going to enter the casino through, but I need the driver?” She paused, furrowing her brow. “Pilot? What do you call a blimp operator?”
“Blimot.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. How about a Bilot?”
“Blimaptain?”
“Aeronaut. I think it’s an aeronaut.”
I shook my head. “This seems like the type of minutiae you should know before you plan a heist.”
She shifted in her seat, knees brushing my thigh under the table. “Well, I’m going to level with you. That questioning attitude is the exact reason I need you on my team.”
“You’re not just using me for my exceptional throwing ability?” I asked, body swaying into hers.
Her hair brushed my shoulder as she tilted her head up, eyes locking with mine and her bottom lip slipping into her mouth for a second. “I was sort of hoping to use you for both.”
The heat in my stomach raced through the rest of my body.
She blushed. “The fake dating thing. That was silly, wasn’t it? That’s what you’re here to tell me?”
“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “But I was going to try to talk you out of it.”
“Talk me out of it? Why? It sounds ridiculous. Right up my alley.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and swiped the screen awake, navigating back to the website that published our picture. “Because, people suck, Cassandra.”
I scrolled to the bottom of the article, tapping the box that read “Comments” and pushing the phone toward her. “It’s going to be like this, and worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think I didn’t read the comments already? Most of them are nice.”
I frowned. “For now. The tide’ll turn. It always does.”
“I won’t read the comments,” she said with the confidence of someone who never had to avoid comments before.
“And this’ll get back to your sister.”
“I’m not scared of Becca. Unlike like some people.”
“Becca is fucking terrifying, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
“She’s a pushover.”
I snorted. “If she thinks we’re dating, she’ll lose her mind. Maybe even stop training me during the off season.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes, downing the last of her martini. Lonny slid in and replaced the empty glass without the requisite ten-minute wait and angry growl. “She’ll understand. Besides, I’m the baby of the family. She lets me get away with murder. I’ll explain that you needed some friendly press. And since I’m feeling charitable this fall, taking over her apartment lease and everything, I thought I’d help you out, too.”
I sighed. “You won’t get anything out of this. It’ll be a huge amount of aggravation.”
“Aggravation? What’s aggravating about free stuff?”
Setting my elbow on the sticky bar, I leaned closer to Cassandra. Even in the dank and musty bar, I could only breathe in orange and clove. My eyes slid from her face down to her white button up blouse, the top two buttons open and just a hint of pink lace underneath. “This is a mistake, Cassandra.”
The edge of her lip lifted. “So, we make a couple of mistakes. Why not? It’ll be an adventure.”
An adventure in frustration. An adventure that would end with me royally pissing off my off-season trainer and maybe my fanbase if, god forbid, they found out. But an adventure that would have me spending a lot of time with Cassandra. An adventure that wasn’t mapped out. Where anything could happen. With a woman who seemed to make everything light and fun.
“I still think this is a lopsided deal,” I admitted.
“Says the man who’s frequented many swag rooms.”
“You’d have to come to some games too. I’ll ply you with free beer.”
“You had me at free beer.”
My chest tightened, and I pushed the feeling away, waving at Lonny for another drink. He narrowed his eyes and grumbled under his breath as he replaced the sudsy glass. “There’s something else that’d need to happen. If you really meant it. You can still back out.”
“If you don’t want me to do this, say the word. But I’m not backing out.”
“You’d need to sign a non-disclosure agreement and a contract.” I rushed out the words with a wince.
I’d called my agent on the ride over, mulling over the consequences of pretending to date Cassandra. He’d been thrilled, as long as she signed some paperwork.
“It’d be for your benefit, too. To make sure you’re compensated for your time.” Parroting James’ words back to Cassandra made my stomach turn.
“Wow. ‘Compensated for my time.’” She leaned back, assessing me with a grin. “Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that?”
She laughed, drawing the attention of Lonny and half the crabby patrons at the bar. “Free beer, swag rooms, travel, the opportunity to sign an NDA? What more could a girl ask for?”
A guy who wasn’t too much of a coward to ask her out on an actual date? Not that I’d offer her that solution.
“Give me your agent’s number. I’ll sign whatever.”
“Don’t ‘sign whatever,’” I chided her. “Read the contract. Make sure you’re happy with it.”
She rolled her eyes. “So serious. Were you this serious in college?”
“I signed a contract for eight figures out of college, so yes.”
“Well, I have nearly four figures in my savings account, so I know a little something about wealth. Don’t you worry about my business acumen.”
I made a mental note to call James that night and double whatever he’d written into the contract. “I am worried.”
She laughed, shooting a look over at Lonny that had him stumbling over himself to make her another drink. “Don’t be. We’ve got this. We have chemistry.”
Too much chemistry. Enough chemistry that I should be scared shitless at the prospect of spending the season only pretending to date Cassandra. Instead, I only felt excitement.
“So, what’s our next step? What do I need to do? After I call your agent, of course.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Be seen together?”
“Well, that’s doable. I’m very visible.”
“The last pre-season game is this Thursday, but I’ll be back in town for the weekend. What are your plans for Saturday?”
“Saturday?” She winced slightly. “I’ve got a walking tour that evening.”
“Perfect. I’ll tag along,” I offered.
Cassandra drew her fingertip over the edge of her martini glass. “It’s a ghost tour. I’m not sure if that’s really something you’d be into.”
“Honestly, that sounds like a blast.”
“Are you sure?” She crinkled her nose, and I fought back against telling her I’d literally do anything if I got to see her. Competitive eating. Silent films. Full moon journaling.
“Absolutely. Is it your first ghost tour?”
“First in Norwalk. I did a bunch in Boston. I had a few bar stops incorporated into the walk. They were my favorite type of tours. Just silly and sort of unpredictable.”
“Well, I’ve never been on a ghost tour before, so I’m excited to get one by a seasoned pro.” I paused and checked my calendar with a groan. “I actually have something this Saturday.”
“Right.” A brief frown flickered over her face, and she replaced it with a smile. “No big deal. I’m pretty flexible.”
“No, wait. How many people can sign up for the tour?”
“I think this company caps tours at thirty people. Why?”
I typed out a quick text to Noa. “Perfect. I’m buying out the tour.”