Romancing the Running Back (19 page)

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’re amazing. I’m not sure how I got so lucky to win that coin toss to become best man and get stuck running errands with you.” He winced when she pinched him. “Ouch, woman.”

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Win the coin toss.”

He grinned, thinking back to it. “At the time, I think Stephen and I referred to it as losing. But having felt the outcome, I’ll amend that and call it a win.”

“It was rigged,” she said quietly.

He shifted a little to look down at her, but her eyes were closed. So he rolled onto his side, catching her head and moving her to the pillow before it dropped. “Rigged . . . what?”

“Cassie wanted us to hang out.” Anya grimaced. “She was playing matchmaker. I have a feeling Trey was talking about not being able to choose between the two of you for a best man, and she went in on this whole scheme.” She paused. “Did you actually see the coin toss? Was it a trick coin, maybe?”

“No,” he said slowly, “not a trick coin, but it rolled under a bench and Trey’s the only one who saw where it . . . landed.” He scowled at that. “That son of a bitch.”

“Maybe it was you anyway. Fifty-fifty shot, you know,” she pointed out helpfully.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, though. Damn.” He glared down at her, but when she shrank back, he tried to put it out of his mind. “I’m not mad. It worked out in the end. I’m just annoyed Cass thinks she needs to meddle . . . and shocked Trey went along with it.”

“He’d walk over burning coals for her, if you haven’t noticed,” Anya said dryly. “I doubt he would say no to just about anything.”

“Good point there.” He gathered her up in his arms again, then said, “Will you stay tomorrow?”

“No practice?” she asked after a yawn.

“None.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

It made him feel better to tell himself she meant that in the forever sense.

Anya set her cell phone down on the bedspread and stared at it. It rang again, immediately. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Josiah walked back into his bedroom—suddenly known as Command Central One—with a glass of water. “That thing’s ringing again? For someone who wasn’t even voted prom queen, you’re pretty popular today.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” she said dryly as the ringing stopped. Not that she actually had the chance to win prom queen. She wasn’t on the voting lists. “It’s this freaking blog post on the
Us Weekly
site, which Facebook picked up and then it went viral, causing other entertainment sites to pick up the photo and run with it.” Aileen, who had been the only member of the press allowed inside the event, had posted the photo to her employer’s blog.

“Because it’s a freaking great photo.” He leaned over and propped his chin on her shoulder, looking at the laptop screen. “Matt looks pretty pleased with his hot date.”

“Viola looks just as happy. The glittery oxygen tank is the real kicker, though. It’s so sweet how he held it for her.”

“That’s the kind of photo that goes viral,” he pointed out, “especially when at least half the subject of said photo is already famous. Big hulking guy who plays tough on the field dancing with a ninety-five-year-old widow during prom? It makes a good story.”

“Ninety-three,” Anya corrected quietly. “But either way, I’ve been getting calls to comment on the event all freaking day. At first, it was wanting to know about the event. Who attended, were there any problems, did anybody famous go home with anyone’s wife . . . gossipy crap.”

“Mmm, who doesn’t love some gossipy crap.”

That made her laugh, but in an amazed sort of way. “My number is on the nonprofit’s website, since it’s the only one I own. I didn’t think . . .” She paused as her phone started to ring again. Josiah simply reached around, checked the phone—nobody from her contacts—and silenced it, turning it facedown again. “I didn’t think I’d get calls like this. It never occurred to me.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and hugged her from behind. It felt so good to just ignore everything for a moment and relax. Josiah had been exhausted the night before, but Anya was still running on massive amounts of adrenaline and caffeine, not to mention nerves and anxiety. Eventually, her system would crash and she would end up sleeping for three days straight. But for now, she was wired. His touch was the first thing that seemed to calm the nervous energy whirling inside her mind.

“Then,” she went on, closing her laptop for a moment, “I started getting different types of calls. Calls asking about donations.”

“Which is exactly what you wanted.”

“The calls aren’t all from local people, either. People wanting to know how to donate dresses from places like North Dakota, or Florida. I mean, that’s impractical.”

“They love the concept. Natural you want something good to happen to an item you paid good money for and have an emotional attachment to.”

“Hmm. Then came the really weird calls.”

His arms tightened a little. “Like creepy weird? Asking what kind of underwear you’re wearing? That sort of thing?”

“No, unexpected weird.” She ran her fingers up and down his muscular forearms, letting the texture of the hairs, his tough skin, his warmth soothe her. “The ones who asked how they could start their own local Chance to Dance in their area. Indiana and Washington state, one from Hawaii . . . wanting to know if I could send them information so they could join the franchise.” She squeezed his hand once. “I’m not a franchise.”

“Yet,” he corrected, and she had a flashback to Cassie’s insistence of the same thing.

“Yet,” she whispered, then closed her eyes because it felt so foreign, so wrong to say it out loud. Like it might be bragging, or cocky, or even inviting bad luck into her world or something insane. So much was going right in her life. Did she really want to invite even the hint of wrong?

“You okay?”

She nodded, then tried to lighten her own mood, and the subject. “The weirdest call I got was from a bunch of Gamma Kappa Kappas.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Huh?”

“As in the sorority, Gamma Kappa Kappa.”

“You were a sorority girl?” He made a thoughtful noise. “That could be hot.”

“First off, no, I was not a sorority girl in college. Secondly . . .” She pinched his arm hard and he yelped. “That’s for the hot comment.”

He grumbled, but pulled her back tighter against his chest. When her phone rang again, he picked it up and turned it off, setting it to the side. “They’ll call back.”

“I guess so,” she admitted, not sure if she was turned on by his high-handedness, or grateful.

“What did the sorority ladies of Gamma whatever whatever want?”

“Gamma Kappa Kappa. And it was their national headquarters. They wanted me to come speak at their national convention, where all the presidents of the separate universities come and spend like three days hearing about leadership and woman empowerment and stuff. That’s not until the summer, though. And they weren’t the only ones. I had a few chambers of commerce ask if I would consider coming to speak, a community college, another nonprofit . . .” She held up her hands. “It’s daunting.”

“Only if you let it be.” He rubbed her arms, supporting both her weight and her roller-coaster emotions easily.

Anya looked at her phone on the nightstand. “Maybe I should get a new personal number . . . devote this one to the nonprofit. It’s already been seen too many times to be considered private anymore.”

“Not a bad idea. After practice tomorrow, we can run by the store I go to for upgrades and get you a new phone. We
leave on Tuesday for New York, and I’d like you to have a new number before I go.”

“You’re with a different carrier,” she reminded him, agreeing, though, that it needed to be taken care of sooner than later.

“You’ll be joining under my account,” he said firmly, as if he knew there’d be a fight coming up. “Don’t argue with me on this, Anya, I’m serious. This is a step in the direction I want to be moving toward. I want to buy you a damn cell phone. It’s not a big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal,” she countered, scooting away from him so she could look him in the eye. “I pay my own way. I’m not in this for a handout. Sure, I used you for your name and connections when it came to the fund-raiser.”

He snorted at that.

“I’ll admit it up front, because it benefited the charity. But I’m not doing that with this. I’m not going to turn into one of those cliché-type girlfriends. That’s not what I want.”

“So then pay your bill. Just let me get you a phone. It’s an expense you weren’t expecting. Let me do this for you.”

She fought internally with herself. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“You shift the old phone plan to be paid for by the charity. It’s an expense. It’s a write-off. It no longer comes out of your pocket,” he said, all reason now. “So when you get your new phone number, you’ll just be paying one bill from your pocket again. But you weren’t planning on buying a new phone anytime soon. So let me do it for you.”

“You’re aggravating,” she muttered.

“Yes.” He took her by the arms and pulled her to him. “But that’s probably because I love you so much.”

“You . . . what?” She sat back on her heels, eyes widening. “You wanna run that by me one more time?”

She could tell from the scowl on his face, this hadn’t been something he’d been ready to talk about yet. Hadn’t been ready to discuss it at all. Might not have even meant to say it yet.

Did that mean it wasn’t true? He didn’t really love her?

“I love you,” he said again, sounding gruff and a little rusty. “Okay, I hadn’t really meant to say it while we were talking about cell phone contracts and business stuff, but there. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and felt such warmth and pleasure watching his face transform from annoyed at himself to surprised, to . . . love. That was the only way to describe how he looked at her. Love. “I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true. I love you.”

He gathered her close and just held her. Her ear pressed against his chest, she listened to the sound of his heart beating until, finally, her system crashed, and she was able to sleep.

*   *   *

Josiah couldn’t imagine what, in his entire life, he’d done to deserve this moment. The warm, comfortable weight of Anya’s drained body was a sweet pressure against him, and her declaration of love spun in his mind on a loop. She loved him. He
wasn’t in this alone. This beautiful, funny, thoughtful, passionate woman loved him.

It connected, for him, having watched Trey, Killian, and now Stephen fall in love, exactly what had each of them so crazy in the process, and then so blissful after the fact. The fall was enough to make any man insane . . . but the landing was pillow-soft, and perfect.

Without disrupting Anya’s sleep, he reached into his pocket for his phone. He scrolled down Facebook a bit, smiling when he found someone had posted a photo of him and Anya outside the venue before the prom had begun. She was looking up at him with such trust and gratitude, such emotion in her eyes, it was no wonder at all the press had gobbled it up. Though Matt’s prom-king photo had been the lead story, this photo was the one most outlets were using to describe Anya, Chance to Dance’s founder. It was a little disappointing they hadn’t used a photo of herself, solo. But he understood that the addition of
With her boyfriend, Bobcats running back Josiah Walker
to the caption added to the photo’s popularity.

She was worthy of her own accolades. She’d get them, once the charity took off and was successful. Because there was no way, with the amount of passion she had for the project, and the support she was garnering, it wouldn’t be successful.

Smoothing a hand down her hair, he kissed the crown of her head and settled himself down for a nap.

*   *   *

Josiah exited the locker room, ready to head back home for a full shower—rather than the quick rinse he’d done—and pick Anya up for dinner. When Aileen stepped in his way, he bit back a sigh. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly. He nodded, and followed her with his bike out to her car. A few other local reporters stopped him to ask about their chances against New England on Sunday, ribbing him about his humorous getup from the fund-raiser, or to ask—again—if he were really off the market.

He answered each question patiently, doing his best to not worry about the fact that Aileen’s face was somber. Freckles—as Killian called her—normally exuded brightness, with her laid-back clothing and Converse sneakers. But today, with her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets and her eyes looking every way but at him, he felt his gut clench. Was something going on with Killian? Killian’s son?

“What’s up?” he asked quietly, waiting by her car.

She looked at his bike, then at him. “Can I drive you home?”

“Uh, sure. If you think my bike will fit in your backseat.” He worked with her to muscle the bike in, already regretting the effort it would take to yank it back out again when they got to his place. He should have just had her meet him there. The instant he was in the passenger seat, with the doors and windows firmly closed, he asked, “What’s up, Aileen?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, pulling out of the parking spot. He noticed a worn spot on the steering wheel. Her car was an upgrade from the rattletrap she’d been driving last season, but still wasn’t a car he would have chosen for her. He wondered how much longer Killian would let her drive around in the hunk of junk before insisting he upgrade her car for her.

He thought of the cell phone fight from the night before, and grinned. “We’ve got about ten minutes before we get to
my place, so unless you want to come in, better get talking.”

She hissed, pulled into traffic from the parking lot and sighed. “I’m just not sure how to approach this. You really like Anya. Heck, I like Anya.”

His body tensed. “Yeah, I do. Aileen, I think you need to get to the point.”

“Did you know she was married?”

That took him back a step. He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “No, I didn’t. We haven’t exactly gone down the
what’s your past like?
road, so she hasn’t lied about it. Just . . . hasn’t mentioned it. I wasn’t expecting to be her first serious relationship.” Not at the age of twenty-nine, as Anya was. “It’s not a big deal to me, though. A divorce . . . just means she made a mistake.”

Aileen was quiet for a moment. “What if she wasn’t divorced?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I get it.”

“She was married. Almost three years ago. And there’s no divorce on record.”

He sat up straighter as she turned toward his neighborhood. “Run that by me again?”

“I got a tip.” She clenched her hands around the steering wheel. “Or rather, my boss got a tip and sent me after it. That she’s married. As in, still legally tied to a guy. At first I thought, ‘Yeah, right. Stupid tip,’ you know? But I looked into it, just really fast. According to public record, she got married three years ago, and there’s no divorce on file.”

“I . . .” He stopped, his brain scrambling to find a toehold with the new information. “That doesn’t feel right. Cassie wouldn’t have encouraged us to . . . I mean, she never would have . . . That doesn’t sound . . .”

Aileen merely nodded grimly.

He looked out the side window, watching the buildings pass as they neared his own apartment complex.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, rubbing his forearm a few times before pulling back. “I didn’t want it to be true. Maybe there’s still an explanation. But I looked under both names for a divorce—”

“Both names?” he asked dully.

“Her maiden name and married name.”

“Which one is Fisher?” he asked, then laughed. He didn’t even know.

“Maiden,” she said. “I . . . you should probably talk to her about it. I don’t want to go into details. I just wanted you to have the heads-up. I can hold off my boss for only so long on this. They know I’m friendly with you guys, and if he thinks I’m stalling simply because I’m doing you a favor, he’ll just sic someone else on it. I’m about five seconds from quitting this stupid gig, but I can’t abandon ship without something else to jump onto. It’s a fine line I’m walking, Josiah.”