Romancing the Running Back (23 page)

Anya made a few more notes in her hummingbird notebook, then closed the cover and stared at it. The hummingbirds seemed to mock her now, with their freedom and lightness. She hadn’t felt light since the day Josiah left for New England. That had been two games ago.

Games. She snorted. She was starting to think like Cassie . . . her life’s timeline being marked by the number of games in a season rather than days on a calendar. She knew, from Cassie, that the guys had arrived home from two wins—New England and Atlanta. Cassie hadn’t said anything specific about Josiah, and Anya hadn’t asked. They were in unspoken understanding that it was too raw to break open yet. Cassie hadn’t asked where Anya had gone, and Anya hadn’t supplied the information. It was a good trade-off.

One finger traced over the wings of the hummingbird on the notebook cover. He’d compared her once to the tiny, fast-flying birds. Efficient and beautiful. God, how she missed him. Missed his voice, his arms holding her. Missed his quirky eco-loving ways, even how they drove her nuts. She even missed that stupid ball cap of his.

Her own fault, she’d come to accept. Maybe if she’d tried harder for the divorce, or waited to get involved with Josiah, or not relied so heavily on the Bobcats to help her fund-raise for her nonprofit.

Chance to Dance would weather the storm. She’d taken action, and it felt good to be doing something there. After she made the choice to distance herself from Josiah for his benefit and the nonprofit’s, she started taking people up on their offers to speak at their meetings. The best part was, they paid for her travel and lodgings. She’d been to Wisconsin, Indiana, and Oregon so far, and was about to catch a flight in the morning to Texas. Each time, someone had asked about the “
love triangle
,” as the blog had so stupidly put it, but she’d simply dismissed it as nothing more than rumor and moved on. Not having been seen out with Josiah since that stupid piece of fiction had hit the Internet helped.

There had been no more articles or speculation, and she wasn’t sure if that was because of the distance, or the media had simply picked a new target to torture. Much as she didn’t want to think about it, she hoped it was the latter. Because if it meant space was the only thing keeping the negative attention at bay, it would be a long, torturous time away from Josiah.

Her personal cell rang, and she checked the readout. “Hey, Cynthia.”

“Anya, sweetie, how are things?”

“Things are good.” She shut her laptop down and flopped back on the bed. The room wasn’t exactly the penthouse in Santa Fe—she smiled a little at the memory, then wanted to cry—but it was comfortable and clean. And most of all, she wasn’t paying for it. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am that you’re still collecting dresses for me while I’m out?”

“Honey, with the press and acknowledgement my store is earning, I should be thanking you.” She paused. “I do think it’s time to consider hiring part-time help, though, dear, if you won’t be quitting your current job and working with the nonprofit full-time.”

That in itself sounded like a dream . . . but she wasn’t confident enough yet in the plan. If only she had more of a business background . . . “Not yet. Maybe sometime. A part-time person might be good, you’re right on that. I can’t keep relying on you to help out. You’ve already done way more than enough to get me started.”

“I’d be happy to help you interview when the time comes.”

Anya felt her eyes water and ground the heels of her hands into them to make it stop. “Thanks, Cynthia.”

There was a bit of a pause, then, “Honey, are you quite sure you need to be gone like this?”

“I’m promoting Chance to Dance,” she said brightly, forcing cheer into her voice. “It’s good, and I’m learning a lot from these people. Every group I run up against has questions for me that are making me think more long-term. I had this dream, and then it became a reality in an instant. I jumped first, then looked second. Now that I’m in, I’m playing catch-up with the knowledge someone should really have before they get started. It’s been really, really good.”

“I’m sure it has been. But we miss you here. And winter formals are only a few weeks away.”

“I’ll be back for those.” She still had to purchase the small trailer and truck, too. Another reason to hold off on shutting down the personal shopping. “I will, promise. Only two more speaking gigs for right now, then I’m back to business as usual.”

Except business as usual now meant doing it without Josiah. They’d be near each other again, but she wouldn’t make the first move. Not until she had divorce papers in her hands, officially signed, with every single loophole tied off. She couldn’t risk it all.

“Dear, I know you think this is for the best, but the storm has passed,” Cynthia began. “Nobody has even mentioned it again. There are no, oh, what do you call them, bogs out there speaking about it any longer.”

“Blogs,” Anya corrected automatically.

“And I have to tell you, I don’t believe your young Bobcat cares much for what the blogs say.”

“He says that now, but . . . wait.” Anya sat up straighter. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

Fighting for patience, Anya took a deep breath. “How do you know what Josiah cares about? Or doesn’t care about, I mean.”

“He called in earlier. I believe it was Thursday, perhaps Friday.”

Days ago, and Cynthia hadn’t told her until just
now
? “What did he say?”

“He said he was still on the road—whatever that meant—but that he was desperate to find you. Something about proving you wrong, and that it was important.”

She relaxed a little. “He’s just being stubborn. I knew he would be. It’ll take a while for that to pass, but it will.”

Cynthia made a sound that told her exactly how much credit she gave that idea.

“He needs distance, and so do I. I’m getting a lot more work done, now that I can think clearly.” Total lie, as she was struggling to maintain the same amount of productivity as before, because her head was a total mess. But eventually, the
mess would calm down and she would think clearly and it would be fine. The scales would balance.

Or she would walk around for the rest of her life with this big gaping wound where her heart used to be. Either-or.

Almost as if she could tell where Anya’s mind had wandered, Cynthia asked in a soft voice, “Is everything all right, Anya?”

She bit her lip.
Don’t cry, seriously, don’t cry.
“Yeah,” she choked out. “I just miss him.”

“Of course you do, honey. That’s natural. I still think this could all be worked out, though, if you would simply come home.”

“I will,” she promised. There was no way to stay away forever. Not only because she couldn’t afford to, but because she refused to run away. These speaking engagements weren’t her running, but testing. Testing her own capabilities to make this nonprofit bigger than she’d ever imagined. “Just one more, and then I’ll be home until after the new year. I can’t take any more boardrooms full of people asking me questions I can’t answer or have to bumble through.”

“We look forward to seeing you,” Cynthia said genuinely, then said good-bye.

*   *   *

“She’s miserable,” Cynthia said, setting the phone down in its cradle. Folding her hands on the desk in front of her, she shot Josiah a steely-eyed glare. “I hope you didn’t think I had that conversation in front of you for nothing.”

“No, ma’am,” he said automatically. She’d done him a huge service, calling Anya to make sure she was going to be following the itinerary she’d emailed Cynthia a week earlier.

When Josiah had heard she’d taken off, he’d panicked. He’d been ready to rip the world apart to find her. But after Cassie found out where Anya had gone, and told him she’d taken off on an impromptu speaking tour—taking up on the offers of those who had called in to offer her speaking gigs—he’d relaxed a little. She was still invested in the area, still invested in the nonprofit. He believed her when she’d said in her note she wasn’t running away.

But he needed her back, damn it. No, wanted. Wanted her back. Fine, it was both. Cassie had remained firm on not giving up her location. But Cynthia . . . Cynthia was another matter entirely.

“So? What do you plan to do about it?”

He started to speak, then froze.

Watching him with a look of quiet chastisement, she went on. “I believe you are not a brainless jock with an empty head, and so I’m led to believe you came here for advice from a more experienced woman. And even if you haven’t, I’m going to give you advice anyway. That’s the privilege that comes with age. I can say what I want to without being held accountable.”

He smiled a little. Anya adored her, and he could see why.

“That girl loves you to the moon and back. She’s bright, spirited, and between her move across the country, the planning of her best friend’s wedding, having a new man in her life, fighting tooth and nail for a divorce she should have been
granted ages ago, going full-time in an independent business, and starting a nonprofit organization, she’s bitten off a bit more than she can chew. Now she has to decide whether to spit something back out, or keep fighting through the pain to make it all work.”

“She can spit out the ex,” he muttered, then jolted when Cynthia laughed. He hadn’t meant her to hear that.

“We can both agree on that. Anya is . . . well, she’s special, isn’t she?” Cynthia smiled and propped her chin on one hand. The rings on her finger nearly dazzled him. She was refined and completely downplayed herself to let the clothing around her shine, but she still had something about her that screamed wealth. “She reminds me of myself at that age. Ambitious, and no idea how to use it. She’s got tools aplenty, and the drive . . .” She chuckled. “Lord, that girl has drive. But she’s missing an anchor.”

“That’s me,” Josiah said firmly. “I’m not going to pretend to know jack squat about fashion. Frankly it . . . confuses me . . . and that’s me putting it kindly. But I know how to find the information she needs. And I want her to be here. I want to be her anchor.”

“She’ll need to travel for work.”

“So do I.”

“She won’t be available all the time, at your beck and call.”

“If I wanted that, I’d get a dog.”

Cynthia laughed. “I do like you. I see exactly what Anya sees in you. Now.” She set her hands firmly on her desk. “I have to tell you, I cannot betray her trust and tell you where she’s staying. She asked me to keep the information confidential, and I plan to do so. The destination you seek will not cross these lips.”

His heart sank. Eventually, she had to come home. He’d heard Cynthia confirm with her just that. But he needed to see her now. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Having said that,” she added, standing. He stood with her. “I want you to understand how difficult this will be,” she patted the paper on top of her desk, “not showing this to you. I understand you want to find her, but I cannot just hand this itinerary over to you.” She patted the paper again. “You understand, don’t you?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes hardened. “You
understand
, don’t you?” she repeated, patting the paper harder.

“Uh, yes?” He looked around the room, hoping for a clue. Clearly, the woman was trying to tell him something, and he was not receiving the message.

“I have to help a customer now,” she added, a little stiffly. “I expect you can see yourself out.” She tapped her desk once more, then sailed out of the room, leaving him be.

“That was weird,” he said under his breath, then shot the door a guilty look. But she didn’t reappear. When he bent over her desk, he realized what she’d been doing.

Oh. Wow, Cynthia had been wrong. He
was
an idiot. Hustling around the desk, he quickly jotted down the address of
her last speaking engagement—Texas, huh—and left the paper where it was.

Bless you, Cynthia.

*   *   *

She couldn’t focus. There was no drive left. No . . . anything. The emotional tank was on
E
and she was miles from the nearest station. She attempted to calculate her mileage from Texas to Santa Fe—as Josiah was her emotional filling station—and gave up. Math, and all that.

How pathetic, that she was about to come up short on her last stop before she headed home. Finishing strong just seemed so . . . out of the realm of possibilities.

Anya let her note cards fall to the bed and curled up on her side. Maybe it was a pity party. No, no maybe about it. This
was
a pity party. She was entitled to one, though, wasn’t she? It had been nearly two weeks since she’d seen Josiah, which was bad enough. But two weeks without seeing him through FaceTime, without even hearing his voice . . . that was really bringing her down. It was as if he were the charger to her emotional battery, and she’d been unplugged for too long.

Her mother, father, and stepmother had all been thrilled to meet him, and what a kick that had been to hear he’d shown up at their homes looking for her, and wanting to meet them. Bring him back, they’d all said. Come with him next time, they’d all said.

Well, yeah, sure, make it sound easy, why doncha . . .

She’d fired her attorney, but hadn’t had a chance to hire a new one yet. Josiah had asked to take care of it, but she couldn’t hand that expense over to him now, after she’d . . . not broken up with him, but instituted some distance. It felt unfair, almost like she was putting a ransom on their relationship.

Her phone rang, and she looked at it. It was an unknown Atlanta number. Her first instinct was to ignore it—stupid-ass Chad—but then she realized it was her new personal cell, the one he didn’t have the number to. She managed to answer just before it kicked over to voice mail. “Hello?”

“Anastasia Fisher?” a gruff voice barked.

“Yes?” She checked her watch. It was nearly ten at night local Texas time, meaning nearly eleven in Atlanta. “Who is this?”

“Mortimer Patelli, your attorney.”

Attorney? “I’m sorry, Mr. Patelli, but I didn’t hire an attorney.” Or rather,
another
attorney . . .