Chapter 7
SADIE
“Nope. You’re not wearing that.” Ali snatches the blouse out of my hand and shoves it back in my closet. “The email from what’s his face, the agent guy, said ‘casual shopping excursion.’ You don’t wear a freaking blouse and dress pants to spend the afternoon with your boyfriend.”
I drop back down on my bed, already exhausted, and it’s not even noon. “This is crazy, isn’t it? A staged outing to a farmer’s market with a man who would probably rather be doing anything else with his Wednesday evening.”
“A hot man who needs you. Don’t sell yourself short.” Ali tosses a tank top at me that I catch at the last minute.
I look at it with a frown. “I can’t wear this.”
“Yes, you can.” She passes over a pair of shorts that I’ve worn exactly once, last summer when we went to the beach for the day.
“Ali, these barely cover my butt,” I protest, but my alleged best friend is ignoring me, whipping out a sheer kimono and throwing that at me as well.
“Listen, babe, I know you’re used to covering up and blending in, but it’s okay to let loose a little. Relax and have a good time,” she says, trying to be soothing, but honestly, it just makes me feel defensive.
“Blending in is safer,” I grumble.
“Blending in is boring,” Ali fires back. “And that’s the last thing you want to be called ever again. Right?”
I huff, but nod. “Right.” But it’s not really that easy. A lifetime of never wanting to cause trouble or draw attention to myself isn’t so simple to move on from. Still, I’ll let her win this time.
“You’re going to look hot as hell. Maverick King will be tripping over his own feet.”
“I don’t want him tripping, I just want him not laughing,” I mumble half to myself as I pull on the darn shorts.
“No one is going to laugh.” Ali’s hands land on my shoulders, and I look into her eyes.
Obviously, the anxiety I’m feeling is clear on my face because she pulls me in for a long hug.
“You’re beautiful, smart, kind, and all-around amazing.
Is it crazy to pretend to date Maverick freaking King?
Yeah, maybe. But think of what a cool story you’ll always have. ”
“NDA, remember?”
Ali just snorts. “Okay, fine, so when we’re eighty and in our rocking chairs on the porch of an old folks’ home, we can let everyone think we’ve lost our marbles when we talk about those few weeks you had the hottest guy in baseball on your arm.”
We both dissolve into giggles. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” I quickly finish dressing and go to braid my hair, but Ali’s already shaking her head.
“Leave it down. Trust me.”
I certainly don’t trust my own judgment right now, so I do as she says, grabbing a small purse and stuffing my keys, wallet, and sunglasses in it. We make our way to my door, and I check my phone to confirm nothing’s changed, although why it would’ve in the past half hour, I don’t know.
Sure enough, the last message about today is the email from Colin.
Sadie and Mav,
You’ll meet one street over from the market at 5pm.
Hold hands, look cute. This is a casual outing, not a planned PR event, which means you need to act like no one’s watching.
But they are. I’ve got photographers staged to grab a couple of shots that we can control, but guaranteed there will be more taken that we don’t know about.
It’s showtime, kids.
Colin
Look cute. Act natural. Sure, that sounds simple enough.
And I repeat that to myself the entire short drive to where I’m meeting Maverick.
But when I see him leaning against a black SUV, any semblance of calm I had dissipates in seconds.
My hands are still gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white, and I’m staring straight ahead when I hear a light knock on my window.
Gulping in a breath, I let go and unlock the door.
Maverick takes that for the invitation it is and opens the door before crouching down beside me. “Hey, Specs.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, but it’s a feeble request. Part of me kind of likes the pet name, even if I suspect he initially meant it in a derogatory sense.
“You ready for this?” he asks, not even acknowledging my request. I should be mad at the dismissal of my complaint, but all I can focus on is how good he smells.
Like a walk in a forest after it’s rained, with a hint of something deeper that has me leaning forward before I can stop myself.
Then he stands up and backs away, and I catch myself before I start to fall out of my darn car. I put my purse over my shoulder and climb out of my car.
There’s no missing the way his gaze travels up and down my body when I’m upright, and I inwardly thank Ali for pushing me to wear the shorts when he pauses on my legs.
I had a growth spurt when I hit puberty, but instead of growing taller, I developed curves.
It took me a long time to hit a point of acceptance for my midsize body.
But seeing Maverick stare at my legs with unmistakable heat in his eyes, longer than he probably should, is doing a lot for my self-esteem.
Of course, he doesn’t say anything, not even when he realizes I’ve caught him staring. Instead, he just turns in the direction of the market and starts walking.
Here goes nothing.
We slowly walk over to the rows of stalls that make up the local farmer’s market.
I love coming here on the weekend and taking my time wandering through while looking at everything.
But being here today with this man at my side has all of my senses heightened.
The sun is brighter, even from behind my sunglasses, the sounds and voices sharper in my ears.
I find myself tightening my hold on Maverick’s hand, my gaze darting around, trying to see if I can catch anyone paying attention to us.
When it’s not overtly obvious in the first few minutes, I force myself to relax.
But in order to sell this, we have to do more than walk around hand in hand with what feels like ten feet of distance between us.
Maverick is stiff next to me, not looking at me or saying anything.
Spying my favourite florist stall, I tug him in that direction.
“This vendor always has stunning flowers, I’d love to get some for my office,” I say brightly, hoping my cheery tone doesn’t sound as forced as it feels.
I spend a few minutes oohing and aahing over the bright dahlias and sunflowers. Maverick is a wall of silence behind me, and it’s becoming more and more clear that he’s not just uncomfortable, he genuinely doesn’t know how to act.
Has this man seriously never had a girlfriend or gone on a date? It’s baffling, really. But Colin’s words are in my ear. Act natural, look cute. And assume anyone and everyone is watching.
I pretend to be busy choosing between two bouquets as I try to come up with a plan of action. Somehow, I need him to relax and at least try to pretend he’s enjoying himself. But as I settle on a riotous mix of dahlias, a small voice reaches us.
“’Scuse me, are you Maverick King?”
I turn to see the big, tattooed man crouch down in front of a kid who can’t be more than six.
“Yeah, I am.” His voice sounds gruff but kind.
“You’re a really good player. I wanna be on the Tridents when I grow up.”
Oh my God, this kid is adorable. There’s no avoiding the smile growing on my face as I watch them interact. A woman is standing to the side, watching the kid like a hawk. She catches my eye and smiles nervously. I try to give a reassuring grin back to her.
“You want an autograph?” Maverick asks, and the way the kid’s eyes light up makes me want to melt.
He nods eagerly, and the mom steps forward, a pen and note pad already out and ready. A few minutes later and Maverick’s waving goodbye as he straightens from his crouch, turning back to me.
“Sorry.”
My head is moving side to side as I just clutch the bouquet of flowers to my chest. “Don’t be, that was really sweet.”
To my utter shock, pink colours his cheeks as he stuff his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Kids don’t come up to me that often. The tattoos, I guess.”
I take a chance he won’t push me away, and slip my arm back through his good one and lean in. “You’re not so scary, Maverick.”
His head turns sharply as he looks down at me, something like disbelief flashing over his face. It’s gone in an instant, but I saw it. And it makes me wonder when he last had someone tell him something like that.
Tell him that he’s not a bad guy.
“You gettin’ those?” he asks and I nod. Then he takes the bouquet from me and looks to the vendor. “How much?”
Before I can protest, he hands the vendor some cash, and then leads me out of the stall, the flowers tucked into his arm.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll pay you back.”
The hard look he gives me is obvious even from under the brim of his ball cap. “I can handle getting you some flowers, Specs.”
I gulp at the low rumble to his words. Maybe he’s not such a lost cause on this whole dating thing after all.
For the next hour, we wander through the market, sampling and buying a few things here and there.
Maverick isn’t approached again, but I start to notice the stares we get from some people and catch more than a couple of phones pointed our way.
Even though I know one or two of them could be the photographers Colin arranged, it still makes my skin crawl, having all this unwanted attention on me.
Maverick seems unaffected, his gaze straight forward, ignoring the whispers and finger pointing.
“How do you stand it?” I whisper as we stand off to the side, waiting for the coffee cart to finish our iced drinks.
To his credit, he doesn’t ask me what I mean. I guess he wasn’t as immune to the stares and murmurs as he seemed.
“Comes with the job. If it weren’t for the fans, I wouldn’t get paid to do the one thing I’m good at.”
His response makes me pause. “But they’re not always friendly like that little boy, are they?”
Again, he just shrugs. “Nope. Can’t please everybody.”
There’s so much he isn’t saying, but this isn’t the time to push him to explain.
We get our iced coffees and continue wandering through the market once again in silence.
But at least Maverick’s body language has relaxed.
He’s holding his coffee with his good hand but crooked his other elbow to the side for me to slide my arm through it.
I try to be gentle, aware this is his injured side, but if there’s any discomfort, he doesn’t let it show.
Until someone bumps into me, hard, making me collide with his bad arm.
His grunt of pain is brief, then he’s stepping forward, his hand on the shoulder of the man who knocked into me.
“Watch where you’re going,” he growls. The guy turns around, a scowl on his face that deepens when he obviously recognizes Maverick.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I say quickly, sliding between the two. It’s probably not the smartest place to be, but the last thing we need is a scene. “I’m fine, it was an accident.”
But Maverick ignores me, glaring at the other man for a second. Thank goodness, he backs off first, raising his hands. “Whatever. Sorry.” He turns and is gone, disappearing into the crowd of marketgoers.
Tentatively, I reach out and touch Maverick’s side.
“Come on, let’s go.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, but I watch his jaw unclench.
He’s still stiff as he pivots on his foot and starts to walk toward the street we parked on.
He’s a step ahead of me, but I wait until we’re a little farther away from the market before I call out to him.
“Slow down, please.”
He comes to an abrupt stop, and when I reach him, his stare is hard, unflinching. Immediately, I worry it’s because of his injury. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been holding on to your bad side.” My gaze roves over him, as if I could see the evidence of his discomfort.
But he steps back, looking at me like he can’t quite understand me. “I’m fucking fine, Specs.”
I raise my hand in surrender. “Okay, good.”
We stand there staring at each other for a minute before Maverick’s phone chirps. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks down at it for a long second. “Well, it worked.” Turning the phone around to face me, he exhales slowly.
It’s a text from Colin with a screenshot of a tabloid site and two words.
Good job. The photo is convincing, even to me.
Maverick has the flowers in his arms and I’m at his side, smiling.
We look every bit the happy couple. It’s startling how fast the press moves, seeing as that photo can’t have been taken more than an hour ago.
We’ve reached our cars by now, and an awkwardness descends, as if neither one of us knows how to end this. We might not be at the market any longer, but that doesn’t mean no one is watching. There could be people in the houses surrounding us or anyone walking down the street.
“I guess we should hug?” I say quietly when it becomes clear that once again, he has no idea what to do. Given Maverick’s jerky nod of agreement, he’s feeling just as weird about this as I am.
But he pulls me in against his chest, and the steady thump of his heartbeat is somehow soothing and familiar. His strong arms feel normal, safe. Even though he’s holding me somewhat stiffly, it feels good to just be held.
He lets me go and I step back. Feeling bold, I rise up on my toes and kiss the scruff of his cheek. That pink colour comes back, and I hide my smile.
“See you later, babe,” I say loudly, biting back a giggle at the slow blink he gives me. I open the back door of my car and set my bags inside, and when I turn back around, he’s already at his own car.
One fake date down, four more weeks of fake dates to go.