Chapter 31 Kelsey
Chapter thirty-one
Kelsey
I glance over at him as we near the end of the second mile. His face is flushed, but he’s keeping up, looking like he’s barely breaking a sweat. I’m impressed.
“You’re doing good,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath as we wait at an intersection. Turns out, I might actually enjoy the challenge of having someone running beside me, someone who’s not only holding his own but looking completely unbothered.
“Yeah, well,” Carter says with a teasing grin, “I didn’t get into the Rangers on looks alone.”
I laugh. “You’re insane. I’ve been running for years, and when I take a few days off, it feels like I’m starting from zero.”
“Well, I’m in this for the long haul now. Maybe I’ll run a half-marathon when we get back.”
We both laugh, knowing there is no way in hell Carter’s training for a half unless I convince him to do one with me.
We keep going, both of us silently pushing through the last few miles. We slow to a walk as we get close to the hotel, and Carter lets out a dramatic sigh, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he says, still walking beside me. “I could do more cardio in my daily life.”
I chuckle. “I thought for a second I’d have to call an ambulance.”
“Hey, it was your idea to drag me out here at seven in the morning. I offered a number of options to get your blood pumping, you know?” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of affection in his voice. “Ones that would’ve been a lot more fun.”
I smile, feeling that familiar warmth at how easy it is to be with him.
The morning breeze rustles through the trees and the city slowly wakes up as we make our way back to the hotel.
Carter stays at my side, still grinning like a dork, and I can’t help but enjoy the simplicity of the moment.
For once, there’s no crisis, no tension.
Just us, a run, and the quiet hum of Buenos Aires.
By the time we reach the hotel, the post-run endorphins are kicking in, and I feel lighter, almost ready to take on whatever the day throws at me.
We head to the small restaurant in the lobby and sit down at a corner booth, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a golden hue over everything.
I order my usual: a kids’ size coffee, fresh fruit, and some eggs. Carter orders a ridiculous amount of eggs and avocado.
As we sip our coffees, waiting for our food to arrive, Jaxon and his assistants Annie and Andre come in, his assistants taking a table in the far back corner of the room.
Eddie takes a seat at the table between them and the door.
Without thinking, I check the front entrance, ensuring the other two members of their team are in their positions.
A month ago, I wouldn’t have any idea where each member of Jaxon’s personal security team should be, but now I think I’ve got it figured out.
“Good morning,” Jaxon says, sliding in the booth next to me while Nash shoves in to sit next to Carter. “Fancy meeting you two here.”
Carter harrumphs something into his coffee that has both Nash and Jaxon chuckling.
“I was promised people would kiss my ass when I became a superstar. Where’s the ass-kissing, Carter?” Jaxon asks.
I laugh this time, and Carter rolls his eyes. “You hired the wrong security firm—hell, the wrong security firms—if you were hoping for ass-kissing.”
“Turns out, I like straight shooters.”
“We might be more equipped for that,” I say.
“Anyway,” Jaxon says, pulling us back to the real reason he joined our table.
“I got news from the PR team that the public has been eating up Carter’s statement.
They’re also patting themselves on the back for how well they’ve shut the story down, though I feel I owe you an apology, Kelsey, for not getting them working on it quicker. ”
“That’s not their job,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee for something to do with my hands. “I appreciate their help on the cleanup, though. Thank you.”
Jaxon waves away my thanks and nods to Nash, indicating he’s ready to go back to the table. Nash stands, and Jaxon follows, tapping a fist down on our table.
“I should’ve known that you’d defend Kelsey’s honor again, Carter.”
My eyes snap to Carter’s as I take in the word again, and I’m quick enough to catch the look of shock that crosses his face before he schools it into neutrality.
Jaxon just walks away, apparently unaware that his parting words have left us both shaken.
“What did he mean, again?” I ask, my throat dry at the thought of Carter having to defend my honor on a regular basis. I can defend my own honor, damn it.
Maybe it was after the first issue with the comms—but no. He didn’t say anything then.
The words hang in the air, unanswered, as I stare at Carter.
“What did he mean, again?” I repeat, my voice rough. My fingers grip the bright white coffee cup tighter, the cool porcelain against my hand doing little to steady me.
Carter’s eyes dart to mine briefly before he looks down at his coffee, swirling it in his cup, his jaw tight. “I—” He pauses, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to find an answer other than the truth. “I don’t know what he meant, Kels.”
“That’s a lie.” Of course it is. I saw the look on his face. It wasn’t even a good lie, though I’m starting to understand Carter just isn’t a good liar.
I sit back in my seat, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrow. “It obviously can’t be bad if it involves you defending my honor. Most people consider that to be a good thing.”
He presses his lips together, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Who knows why Jaxon says half of what he says. He probably thought it sounded lyrical or some nonsense like that. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I consider letting him off the hook. I trust Carter—even if he’s still my biggest rival—but I just know there’s so much more to whatever he’s trying to hide from me.
Honestly, I even believe Jaxon didn’t mean anything more by it, but somehow, it meant something to Carter, and I want to know what it is.
“Carter,” I say softly, using the same voice I would to convince a small child to show me where they hid stolen cookies. “When have you defended my honor before this?”
Carter goes quiet for a long time, and I wonder if I’m going to have to wait and seduce it from him tonight, but then, finally, his gaze flicks up to meet mine, and I see something—maybe shame—in his eyes before he starts talking.
“This isn’t a big deal, which is why I never told you about it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But, back in high school, there was this one time in the football locker room. And, well, a few guys in our class—Trent, for one—were claiming they’d slept with you.”
I snort. The notion that I slept with any of the guys in our high school class, most of all Trent, is utterly absurd. I thought they were all idiots then, and only Carter seems to have made his way off that list even now.
“Anyway,” he says, running his hand through his dark hair. “They were getting more and more detailed. You know how assholes are—just trying to one-up each other. It got…graphic.”
I blink, stunned into silence for a moment. Those fucking assholes. I wouldn’t touch one of them with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole, let alone let them do graphic things with me.
His voice hardens as he continues, as if the memory still angers him. “It pissed me off. We all fucking knew you wouldn’t sleep with any of them, but I couldn’t let them get away with saying things like that. So I stepped in. Told them to shut the fuck up. Punches may have been thrown.”
Suddenly, a memory from high school resurfaces, a picture that was in the newspaper of Carter on the football field, a look of lethal determination on his face. I can only imagine what it must’ve looked like when he was mad enough to actually try to hurt someone.
“The coaches came in when they heard the yelling and broke things up. They were going to suspend Trent, Byron, and me, but my sperm donor came in and convinced them it was just a fight between brothers, nothing more than a little family squabble that Byron happened to be in the middle of, so nothing ended up on my permanent record.”
Fucking Trent and Byron Linton. I mentally add both names to my list of people to make pay when I finally have the time.
Izzy’s always coming up with creative ways to make people’s lives hell, like changing their autocorrect to make mundane words like home turn into my mistress’s house.
I’m sure she can come up with something good to make them pay for being complete dicks almost twenty years ago.
“How did I never hear about that?” I ask.
“I think everyone there was so ashamed they weren’t the ones to make them stop that no one wanted to talk about it.”
Unlikely. My experience with high school guys is that they rarely have that kind of self-awareness.
Plus, that’s the type of news that Wild Bluffs students would’ve spread like wildfire—Carter had a reputation for being an overachiever with a strict moral code and no need for friends.
Which begs the question, why? Why would he have stood up for me back then?
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you risk everything you were working toward to stand up for someone who you probably said ten words to that entire year?”
He snorts, taking a bite of his eggs from the plate the waitress just set in front of him. “Honestly, I like to think I would’ve told them to stop if they’d been saying it about anyone. No one deserves to have lies told about them behind their back, especially as demeaning as those were.”
I nod my head in understanding, realizing standing up against bullies aligned with everything I know about Carter.
He rolls his head to the side, considering.
“But, if we’re being honest, I doubt I would’ve actually fought them for anyone but you.
I told you about my crush on you. It’s probably why Trent even picked you.
He was probably trying to see how far he could push me.
It was one of his favorite pastimes—seeing if he could piss me off.
Though looking back, I’m guessing it’s because his dad would say shit to him about me being better in sports or school when he was trying to get him to work harder. ”
“Well, thank you,” I say. “I can’t believe you risked the future you were working so hard for on me, but I really appreciate having you in my corner, even if I didn’t know it.”
He shrugs. “Of course. Plus, you did the same thing for my mom.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“There was a time, the end of senior year, when a few of the men in town were in the diner, and apparently one of them said something rude to my mom—I never learned exactly what they said, but I’m sure I could guess.
Anyway, you stood up for my mom. Made the guy feel like shit.
Honestly, I think it was that, seeing how effortlessly badass yet kind you were, that made it so I could never get over what I thought was just an innocent little crush in high school. ”
“Oh. I do remember that. It wasn’t a big deal. It was a totally inappropriate thing to say to anyone, let alone your sweet mom,” I reply.
“Well, thanks anyway.”
“And thanks for having my back with this most recent incident,” I say. “I…as much as I hate that we are, at the end of the day, still competing for a contract we both really need…I’m really glad you’re here.”
The noise of the restaurant fades, and I realize I mean it. Every word of it. I wouldn’t trade this time with Carter for anything, even the final contract with Jaxon—and I’m not sure if that is heartening or absolutely terrifying.