Chapter Five
Sloane stood to exit the room a few minutes later. Thank God.
Being across from her had rendered him more silent than he usually was.
If she hadn’t forgotten what happened between them all those years ago, she’d clearly moved on. As she should have. If every now and then he wondered about what could have been, well, he was taking it to the grave. When she lived in Chicago, it had been easier to forget their friendship. But she’d been back for three years. And they both deserved Emmys for pretending the past had never happened. She teased him, threw out droll comments. Slowly but surely, over the past three years, that attraction had snuck up on him and sunk its unforgiving claws into him. Today, it was at an all-time high.
As she took the few steps to the door, he tracked the long length of her legs, her pants emphasizing her noteworthy butt and the smooth curve of her hips. The way her braids swayed across her back. The door closed behind her.
“August? August?”
He started, and turned his attention to Donovan. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked how you were doing.” Donovan’s eyes probed his for the truth.
“And don’t shrug,” Donovan and Nicholas said simultaneously as August shrugged.
Having best friends who knew you as well as they did sucked sometimes. Donovan and Nicholas exchanged a glance before turning back to him. He refused to flinch. “Why are we talking about this now?”
Nicholas lifted a shoulder. “We were trying to be nice and give you some space to process everything, but you’re still as surly as ever.”
August’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks.”
Donovan held up a hand. “Look, we were thinking that maybe your, uhh… speech might have had something to do with your dad.”
Damn it. August forced a casual shrug. “He called. Said some shitty things right before those guys showed up. I’m fine. It’s over.”
They wanted him to say more. He could see it on their faces. But he’d said all he intended to say. Still, their concern warmed the cold, hard cockles of his heart. They were his brothers in every way that counted, but he had no desire to relive that conversation, or any conversation really, that involved his father.
“Well, it’s not quite over,” Nicholas said.
“Right. And since you say you’re fine—” Donovan paused like he was giving August time to contradict him. When no response was forthcoming, he continued. “We have to talk about the aftermath. Do you have any ideas on how to handle our latest viral moment? We need to do something to capitalize on the extra attention we’re receiving, especially with the new location opening soon.”
Guilt burrowed under August’s skin. Donovan wasn’t wrong. He had no desire to be the face of their franchise, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t invested in making Sugar Blitz a success. “You can’t find someone else to fake-date? Worked the last time.”
Donovan side-eyed him. “An idea that has some merit, but I have a feeling Jada might object. Besides, I’m not the one trending on social media.”
“Yeah, SugarBae,” Nicholas chimed in with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
August recoiled at the nickname. What had he been thinking, going on that rant? He’d asked himself that question a billion times in the past forty-eight hours. While he wholeheartedly believed everything he’d said, he never courted attention to himself.
All he’d done was tell the truth because some jackasses had pissed him off with their nonsense. He sure as hell hadn’t said it with the goal of earning fans . But in his desire to knock some sense into those knuckleheads, he’d forgotten they were now living in the Time of Camera Phones and Social Media.
And now his anonymity was blown to hell and back. Fuck.
He’d turned off all notifications on his phone and basically gone into hibernation mode, only coming out because of his loyalty to his partners and best friends. Though he might have an opening for one of those positions soon. August glared at his other best friend. “Why don’t you find someone to fake-date since you’re throwing out ideas?”
Nicholas’s shit-eating grin spread wider. “We all know I only do the real thing, and I do it so well, we’d have a rebellion on our hands if I let down the ladies by taking myself out of the dating pool for a scheme.”
August met Donovan’s gaze and they rolled their eyes in unison. They were back on familiar ground. The tension in his shoulders loosened ever so slightly.
“You are a fool,” Donovan said, shaking his head.
August looked around for something to chuck at Nicholas’s head, the heavier the better, but a knock sounded on the door before he found a suitable object.
Ella popped her head inside. “Y’all have to come out here right now. Especially you, August.”
August exchanged glances with his friends before hurrying out of the room, with Donovan and Nicholas hot on his heels. When he turned the corner into the store, he came to a screeching halt. He barely registered someone—Nicholas, based on the sound of his bellow—plowing into his back.
Holy shit. The room was packed with women. And, as if sensing new helpless prey nearby, they all turned in unison. To face him. And descended on him like a pack of rabid wildebeests.
“Oh, my God, it’s him!” A lady in a hot pink romper yelled about three inches away from his face.
“SugarBae!” yelled an older woman in jeans and sneakers.
“I can’t believe you said all that,” a lady in tight yoga pants and a crop top whispered breathlessly in his ear, as she pressed her boob into his arm. Maybe that part was unintentional. Then she pinched his butt. Maybe not.
Her lips landed on his right cheek. The one on his face. Thank God for small favors.
“How did you get to be so amazing?” someone else shrieked in his other ear.
“I’ve watched your speech a million times,” Butt Pincher said.
Romper clasped her hands together at chest level. “It was so empowering. That’s what true allyship looks like.”
The hero worship in the woman’s voice and on her face was freaking weird. No one ever wanted to hear from him. He was the team fullback, the one who hit the hole first to block for Nicholas, who would then hopefully speed through the opening, run down the field, and score a touchdown as the crowd roared their approval and adoration.
Donovan and Nicholas were the ones the press went to after the game for their thoughts. August was the worker bee, and he liked it that way. Contribute in the background. Do his part to make the team go. Expect no praise for it. Desire no praise for it.
Heat crawled up his throat to his cheeks like the tentacles of scary robots in sci-fi horror movies. His face was going to burst into flames at any second. They were all staring at him, waiting for him to say something insightful. Something illuminating. Something meme-worthy. He gave them… “Thanks.”
A breathless collective moment of silence descended on the room, like they were waiting for him to continue, but that’s all he had to give. They were lucky they got that. Performing for a crowd wasn’t his thing.
Butt Pincher broke the quiet first. “We came down as soon as we heard you would be here.”
The others nodded, backing up her statement. As one, they inched a little closer, a considerable feat given their faces were only about six inches away from his.
How the hell had they known he would be here right now ? Nicholas and Donovan had agreed to tell inquiring “fans”—he was going to hurl using that word—that he was out running errands or taking a day off. Okay, yes, he was hiding, but what were words with meaning, really? He voiced aloud the question zipping through his brain. “Who told you?”
Butt Pincher blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “You did. I mean, whoever handles Sugar Blitz’s social media. It was on Instagram. Great post, by the way.”
What Instagram post? Who would post it? Why would they post it? Who was they ?
“You’re like the best man ever.”
The others nodded. “Total dream man,” the kisser said.
Not a dream man. Just a man who had his foibles like every other man on earth. A position Sloane undoubtedly would endorse. Hell, someone else—his ex-wife, Melinda—had already let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he was no longer her dream man. And while he didn’t mourn the relationship anymore, what could have been still stung. The inability to live up to his promise. The inability to be who his ex-wife wanted him to be. Who she needed him to be. That failure had left scars. They’d faded, but they were still there, discolored, jagged lines across his heart.
“Are you dating someone?” Yoga Pants asked.
“He’s not married, and that’s all that counts,” Butt Pincher countered. “No ring, fair game.”
“Well… umm…” He lost his train of thought as he was forced to use one of the footwork drill exercises they practiced during training camp to avoid Butt Pincher’s wandering hands.
“So you’re dating someone?”
If he said yes, odds were halfway decent they’d leave him alone, but as a general rule, he didn’t lie. Nothing good came from telling untruths. You had to remember the lie, and then expound upon it at some point, and yeah, as painful as it sometimes was, telling the truth was the way to go.
He should maybe make an exception in this case. It had worked out, eventually, for Donovan. Exceptions proved the rule, after all. He couldn’t smooth-talk and flirt with them like Nicholas or go the no-nonsense route like Donovan.
“Umm, well…”
“Excuse me, ladies. We’re so happy to have you here, but you’re blocking the entryway. It’s a fire hazard.” Sloane appeared out of nowhere like a fairy godmother and somehow managed to wedge her body in between him and his overzealous fan club.
“Who are you?” Yoga Pants asked, looking Sloane up and down, her lip curled.
“I’m Sloane Dell,” Sloane returned confidently, not in the least intimidated. Not for the first time, admiration for her bloomed in his chest. “Donovan Dell is my brother. I’m helping out here today. With that said, August will be happy to sign autographs and take selfies.”
He would? Before he could even think about voicing any objections, she continued. “However, we need you to back up and give him a chance to breathe.” Her face was pleasant, but a thread of steel underlined her tone. His “fans” heard it, too, and they backed up. Again, August was impressed.
She corralled the group into a back corner, away from people who’d actually come into Sugar Blitz to buy cupcakes. The women seemed content to chatter at him, which meant he didn’t have to put his rudimentary conversational skills to the test much. While he’d rather be back in the kitchen fixing the leak that was the bane of his existence or doing inventory, he could smile for pictures and scribble his name on pieces of paper or forearms. He drew the line at boobs, even with Sloane laughing at him.
“We’re so happy to have you here,” Sloane said, addressing the crowd of women. “If you buy a cupcake, which I have it on good authority August personally baked with his own two hands, then he will sign your receipt and let you know the secret ingredient for the cupcake.”
August just stared at her. He could interject and let the women know Sloane was full of shit. She had no clue whether he’d stepped foot in the kitchen that morning. But watching her work was pure magic.
“Really, you baked?” Butt Pincher asked breathlessly.
Sloane nodded emphatically. “He loves showing off his handiwork. Complimenting his baking is the way to his heart.”
Some of the women took her at her word, making a beeline for the front counter, where Donovan and Ella were waiting to take their orders.
Yoga Pants hung back and studied Sloane with narrowed eyes. “You seem kinda bossy. Eye on the prize and all. Was that Instagram post your handiwork?”
If he wasn’t studying her so closely, he would’ve missed the guilt flashing in Sloane’s eyes a moment before she wiped her expression clear. “One, there’s no kinda about it. I am bossy, because I’m a boss, so thank you. Two, my brother and his partners have a company that handles their social media. Three, does it matter? The post was accurate and you’re meeting SugarBae, so it’s all good.”
That wasn’t a denial. Sloane was still on some bullshit.
He pinned her with his gaze. To her credit, she didn’t wilt under his hard stare. Her smile, though strained, never wavered. He didn’t have time to grill her, because the other women returned with cupcakes, receipts, and napkins they’d pilfered from the front counter for him to sign. He signed autographs until his hand cramped and took selfies until his cheeks rebelled against the terrible misuse. But he kept on keeping on, even as more fans arrived, thanks to good ole Instagram.
He did his best “Nicholas as running back” imitation as he weaved and dodged propositions, some made in good fun and others coming in at an OnlyFans level, as best as he could until his reserves reached damn near zero. He sent an SOS to Nicholas with his eyes. Without another word, Nicholas stepped into the fray.
“Ladies, why are we bothering August here when your real dream man is standing right next to him, single and ready to mingle?” Nicholas offered up the dazzling smile that never failed to make women swoon. Today was no exception. August’s fan club followed Nicholas like little ducklings while August escaped. But not before snagging Sloane’s wrist as she tried to slink away.
August sucked in a breath. Touching her was a terrible mistake. Her skin, so soft, scalded him. A ridiculous notion, but accurate all the same. But he didn’t let go.
Donovan was at the front counter, ringing up sales. Good. He opened his partner’s office door and wedged his body to block the hall passageway, so she couldn’t slide by him and make a break for the exit.
Sloane lifted her chin and swept by him into the office. He followed and locked the door behind him. No interruptions allowed. She swallowed hard, the line of her throat working up and down at the snick, but then she met his gaze defiantly.
That was his Sloane. No, not his Sloane. Never his Sloane.
Endeavoring to ignore the slight ache near his heart, he leaned back against the door. “You know I was going to apologize for blurting out that you’d quit your job.”
Sloane’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “August—”
He held up a hand. “Actually, I’m still going to do that. It wasn’t my place, as unintentional as it was, to tell your personal business. I’m sorry.”
“August—”
“However, I can only assume, based on some good context clues, that you are the reason the shop is currently being overrun with women, who are all ready to take a bite out of me, figuratively and maybe literally.”
She stepped closer, her gorgeous eyes pleading with him for forgiveness. August steeled himself, well, as best as he could. He would not be moved by the guilt swimming in her beautiful eyes. He was doing good-ish until her hand landed on his arm. The shock to his system was instant and unwelcome. Her hand sliding away as she stepped away was even more unwelcome.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve just been pushing Donovan to do more on the social media side since you opened Sugar Blitz. When he told me y’all hadn’t posted since your speech, my instincts took over. He gave me his phone, and it just… happened.”
“Without thinking how it would affect me.”
That was Sloane. She saw a goal and acted to achieve it, not letting anyone or anything stand in her way. He’d always admired her for it—from afar, of course. But now the tables had turned, and he’d inadvertently got caught up in her whirlwind. The truth sent a dart of hurt rushing through him. He ignored it. He’d been hurt worse, much worse, before. He’d always survived. This was no different. He would remain stoic. Unaffected.
Maybe he didn’t do a good job of hiding it. She came forward again, her hand outstretched like she intended to offer comfort. He braced himself but didn’t step away. When she touched him, the charge through his system was electrifying.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I was only focused on how to make the shop more successful.”
He shook his head, annoyed anew. “But not enough to come work for him. Us.” He didn’t know why, but it felt like a rejection of him, which was beyond ridiculous. He’d been the one to reject her years ago, and he’d been paying for that decision ever since, in small and gigantic ways. But that was his pain, his confusion to bear. It had been the right decision, and he couldn’t change the past. He knew that better than anyone. Obsessing about it solved nothing. He knew that better than anyone.
Her eyes skidded away. She seemed to realize she was still touching him because she yanked her hand away, leaving him feeling bereft. Lost.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I do?”
Her beautiful eyes pleaded with him. “Of course you do. Better than anyone.”
He did. Memories of those long-ago phone calls slipped through the lock he kept on them. She wanted to succeed on her own terms, which he understood, but he also understood his best friend’s point of view. She was terrific at what she did and would be an asset to Sugar Blitz. “Donovan respects you.”
She nodded. “I know. I just need everyone else to. I don’t want anyone to think I can’t succeed on my own, especially here in San Diego, where everyone loves my brother.”
He nodded. He didn’t necessarily agree, but he understood. Sloane was a go-getter, a prideful go-getter. She’d succeed on her own terms, in her own way. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”
“I know.” She made her way to the door. “Thanks.” She turned to face him again, her eyes seeking his. “And I really am sorry about siccing the hordes on you.”
And he was sorry about everything.
She slipped through the door, leaving him all alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that were never truly free of Sloane Dell, no matter how hard he tried.