Chapter 10 #2
Immediately, Garrett’s grin vanishes. His lips are a ruler.
He raises both hands, the gloved one still holding his club.
“Do not tell me two of my clients got into a scuffle. Do not even tell me there will be video surfacing of you guys roughing him up. I don’t need you behaving like assholes.
” His voice doesn’t rise. It deepens. And I know this guy.
He’s the picture of unruffled chill no matter what, where, or when.
But when he uses that voice, he means business.
He whips his gaze from me to Ledger. “What have I told you? There are cameras everywhere. Also, no. Just no.”
These are the roles we’ve played our whole life. Garrett is the straightlaced man. I’m the troublemaker. “Dude. We only roughed him up a little bit outside an ice cream shop. Relax. I don’t think anyone was watching. Ledge, did anyone see?”
“Not that I saw,” Ledger says, selling it perfectly.
Unflappable, unbreakable Garrett draws a deep breath. “No big deal. I’ll call the agency’s PR team. We’ll sort this out. It was a misunderstanding,” he says to himself, already planning the spin.
I put Garrett out of his misery. “Seriously? I save all my fight for the ice. We brought him a cardboard dick.”
Garrett jerks his gaze my way. “What?”
I give him a brief rundown of events, and pretty soon, Garrett’s cracking up on the course. When he recovers, he grabs his golf bag, drops his club into it, then slings the bag over his shoulder. He doesn’t like to use a golf cart; his life’s mantra is why take the elevator when there are stairs.
Mine too.
“I appreciate you guys giving him a talking to,” Garrett says, shaking his head in obvious disgust as we grab our bags, too, and walk up a small hill with him. “The amount of cleanup I had to do yesterday was insane.”
“How did it all go?” Ledger asks.
“Let’s just say it’s a damn good thing Aiden’s leaving town. He’ll never be able to show his face at his dad’s pie shop again. And listen, thanks for looking out for Aubrey. She’s gotta be hurting right now. It’ll be good for her to get away. I’d go with Sophie and the girls but…”
“Lina and Rory are starting preschool this week,” Ledger supplies. “How are my godchildren doing?”
Garrett smiles proudly. “The best.”
I clear my throat. “Ahem. Lina is yours. Rory is mine.”
As we walk under a giant willow tree, Ledger stage whispers, “Right, right. You’re totally not a figurehead godfather when I’m the real one.”
“Now, now, kids, there’s enough of me for both of you,” Garrett says as we near the next hole. But he goes quiet, his brow creasing as if he’s considering a problem. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you guys.”
“Sure. Hit me up,” I say, eager to please after he gave us his blessing.
Garrett turns to us when we reach the tee. “If I left CMT to do my own thing, would you guys follow me?”
His tone is stripped of his usual cool control. There’s real vulnerability there.
“I’d follow you anywhere. You know that.” I mean it from the bottom of my heart. “You’re the man.”
“Thanks,” he says, clapping my shoulder. “And you know I’m always looking out for you. We’re going to get you the best deal possible at the best team this year. I promise.”
I believe him with my whole heart. I’ve had a good run with the Golden State Foxes, and I intend to keep having one. Besides, hockey is my whole heart.
Ledger clears his throat, his tone a little gruff. “You know you’re stuck with me,” he says, then casts his gaze down toward his knee before he meets Garrett’s gaze again.
“Ditto,” Garett says, then pulls him in for a quick bro hug.
When they separate, both guys smooth their hands over their shirts, like affection is too hard for them.
“Seriously? You two should have been raised by shrinks. Bring it in,” I say, spreading my arms, waggling my fingers. “C’mon. Group hug. You can do it. Show your feelings.”
Garrett snorts a no.
Ledger steps away. No, he jumps.
I mime hugging one, then the other. “There. I did it for us.”
“Thanks,” Ledger mutters.
“And thanks again for taking care of Aubrey,” Garrett says sincerely.
“Of course,” I say, studying the ball as I set it up. Not sure I want him to see my face. Not as I fight to keep my mind on this moment. I don’t dare let my thoughts stray backward to the high striker game yesterday.
I keep them fixed on our promise to her last night in the parking lot outside an airport hotel: You’re our friend now too.
And I keep them on the promise Ledger and I made last night at the bar.
We’re not going to act on our attraction.
She’s not a fling who’ll happily wave goodbye to her two hockey hunks before she boards a jet back to Beirut at the end of the summer.
“We think of Aubrey like a good friend,” I add as I eye the ball, then my club, then the guy I’m traveling with. “Don’t we, Ledger?”
“Sure do,” he says, then swallows and looks away. Bet he’s still thinking of that kiss she dropped on his cheek yesterday. How good it felt. What it’d be like if he’d just turned into it.
Like I’m thinking, even in spite of that damn promise we made.
“That’s great,” Garrett says. “If anyone sees you two taking her on a honeymoon, it’s a damn good thing you’re all friends.”
Yup. We are definitely friends.
Later, when the short round of golf ends, Ledger pulls me aside. “I had this idea. Something we could get Aubrey for the flight.”
I jump all over that. “Tell me.”
He gives me the details of the little something, as he calls it, and it sure sounds like he’s as eager to get this show on the road as I am.
“I’ll be in Sausalito. I’ll pick it up,” I offer.
“Perfect. We’ll look for the right moment to give it to her.”
“It’s a plan.”
“It’s a nice, friendly thing to do,” he says. “And we’re going to make sure she has the honeymoon she deserves.”
“Right. A nice, fun, friendly honeymoon.” Those are the rules and we’ve set them.
Too bad I still feel tense all over. And I’d really like this feeling to go the fuck away.