He Loves Me...KNOT Read online

  His features cloud as he observes my response, his large hand reaching up to tug his cap lower. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to sell some seedy story about seeing me in a gay bar to a stupid gossip rag.”

  “Of course not. I’m just…” I falter for a moment. “Surprised.”

  His chin lifts, gesturing to a couple of guys standing nearby a jukebox, laughing and talking. One of them is wearing a shirt with bright pink flamingos printed on it, along with a yellow feather boa draped around his neck.

  “I’m with my brother, Brantley—the one who insisted on that crazy getup—and his roommate, Vonn, whose birthday we’re celebrating.” His eyes flicker to them briefly, obvious affection in his gaze, before returning to me. “I drove in from Jacksonville late last night to join them.”

  I nod politely, not sure what to say. “Well, I hope you guys have a great night.” I turn back to my drink and studiously take another sip of the dangerous concoction, acknowledging Casey and Becket have fixed their attention on me with unfettered curiosity. This drink is deliciously sweet and I know it’s masking the copious amount of liquor Casey put in it. And I can’t get hammered. I should—and I really want to—but I can’t. I have bigger fish to fry.

  Like figuring out my freaking life.

  With a long sigh, I unzip my wristlet and withdraw my cell phone—whose ring had been silenced—to face the “music” I know is about to blare at me.

  Let this be noted as mistake number one. Because I’m certain my phone is going to overheat from the number of text messages and missed calls I’ve received already. Mainly, the ones from my father.

  Dad: You’d better get back here now, young lady.

  I continue scrolling past all his other messages until I get to the last one, time stamped from about five minutes ago.

  Dad: Consider yourself disowned. Don’t even think of coming back to this house after the way you’ve embarrassed everyone.

  Huh. Well, thank heavens I’d already thought of that and had made a quick stop at the house before driving here. I’d scooped up the items I’d need most, knowing my father’s reaction would be extreme. Maybe I was delusional, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

  Just as I’m about to place my phone back in my wristlet and avoid the remainder of the painful messages sure to come, another one comes in.

  Dad: Forget your job at the magazine. It’s done. You’re done. You did this, Emma Jane.

  My chest tightens, and my stomach churns sickly. I knew it was coming but it doesn’t make it any less devastating. I’d worked my ass off for Southern Charm Lifestyle magazine at their new location in Mobile. I know I have the potential to rise up in the ranks.

  But now it’s gone. Poof. All because of my father. The one and only Davis Haywood, city councilman, owner of the local newspaper and the city’s largest magazine, and commercial developer galore. He has the money and power to make things happen in Mobile.

  I just never thought he’d use that money and power against his own daughter one day.

  “So.” Becket startles me from my own drama-filled thoughts. “You might not know this about me, but I was brought up to be a gentleman.”

  I regard him warily, unsure where he’s going with this. “O-kay,” I drag out the word slowly.

  “This means I can’t leave you sitting at this bar, staring down at your phone, looking like your puppy just died.”

  I shoot him a hard glare that would normally cause people to rear back…but then I recall that this man faces the risk of being tackled by two-hundred-plus-pound men on any given game day.

  So as much as my dangerously narrowed eyes might flare with the “Don’t even go there” vibe, my glare does nothing.

  He looks around first before slipping his ball cap around on his head, the brim now at the back. And honestly, on any other grown man, it would look juvenile. On Becket Jones, however, it actually looks cute.

  Casey slides a bottle of water to him, which Becket uncaps before downing half of it. Resting his arms on the bar, he playfully nudges me with his shoulder.

  “Go ahead. Spill.”

  Exhaling loudly, I peer up at him skeptically. “You really want—”

  “To hear all the sordid details?” He grins at me, nearly blinding me with his pearly white teeth. “Absolutely.”

  Shaking my head at him, I take another sip of my drink and toy with my straw, making the ice cubes clink together in my cup. “Fine. But don’t you dare give me a bless your heart that’s chock-full of pity.”

  “Deal.”

  Letting a long sigh loose, I answer, my voice muted and laced with pain. And I hate the way it sounds.

  “I’m running from a man who doesn’t really love me.”

  ONE HOUR LATER

  “Well, hell, girl…” Brantley looks on with widened eyes at the culmination of my tale of woe. He and Vonn had sidled up to the bar next to me and Becket just as I’d begun to divulge everything.

  “I’m still stuck on this dress.” Vonn waves his hand, gesturing to my attire. “The organza is breathtaking. So delicate.” He lets out a dreamy sigh. “Perfect for a summer wedding.”

  Brantley promptly shoves him. “Dude! Salt in the wound.”

  I heave out a breath, blowing some stray strands of hair away from my eyes, and half-heartedly wave him off. “No biggie.”

  “So what now?” Brantley asks.

  “That’s the million-dollar question.” I slump my shoulders and rest my elbows on the bar—everything I’ve been lectured not to do my entire life. The ladies of The Women’s League would have a field day, as would my lead cotillion and debutante instructors. Heck, those women gave Emily Post, the queen of etiquette, a run for her money with their stringent doctrines.

  With a weary groan, I fold my arms upon the smooth surface of the bar and lay my head down on them. I close my eyes, wishing this was all just a bad dream.

  If this doesn’t work, I can always try the whole Dorothy click-my-heels-together thing.

  Brilliant. Maybe I should also ask Casey for a side of desperation with my next drink.

  “I could help.”

  I slowly raise my head to stare warily at Becket. He’d kept quiet as I told the guys about the whole ordeal. “How so?”

  He shrugs. “I know people.”

  A tiny laugh bubbles up from me because he doesn’t realize who my father is.

  “My father is notorious in Mobile. He owns the local newspaper, The Bay magazine, and is a major commercial developer for properties all over the area.” I break off and avert my gaze wearily, dejected. “He’s already ensured that my job’s been terminated and that I’ll be shunned if I go back.”

  “Blue.”

  My head swivels slowly to stare at the famous quarterback who has apparently given me a new nickname. His dark eyes study me with utter seriousness as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. And it dawns on me why he’s calling me Blue.

  In yet another act against my father’s dominating ways, I dyed a streak of my hair for my “something blue.”

  “I have a good friend who’s VP of marketing and advertising for Fit & Fashion—in Jacksonville. I mean, you’d have to prove yourself to her, but I could get you an interview. She’s searching for reliable staff.”

  “You’re…” I falter because, well, this guy doesn’t even know me. Not really. We’ve been in each other’s company for a little over an hour now. Not to mention, F&F is a well-known magazine with a far larger readership than Southern Charm Lifestyle. “You’re offering to help me find a job? In a different city?”

  A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he tips his head to the side, those dark eyes shining with kindness. “We all get knocked down. Sometimes, we get knocked down hard enough that we need help back up.” He shrugs. “Plus, it sounds like a fresh start, away from everything, would be a good thing.”

  “But you don’t even know—”

  Becket interrupts me, and leans in closer. “
I know you never once asked me for my autograph, didn’t take a chance to snap a photo of me or text anyone about me or my brother and Vonn.” He pauses and I notice his eyes have flecks of gold amidst the deep brown. “In my book, that speaks volumes.”

  Leaning back, he holds my gaze. “We’re friends, Blue.”

  “Friends,” I repeat slowly, a bit stunned.

  Now, it’s not like helping others in need is foreign to me. Heck, I was born and raised in the Deep South. We’re known to stop alongside the road to help strangers change a tire and offer a cool glass of sweet tea to the mailman when he stops by on one of those “fry an egg on the driveway” kind of days.

  But this is different somehow. Bigger.

  My lips press thin as I ponder Becket’s offer and I cock my head to the side. Finally, I hold up my index finger.

  “If we’re going to be friends, I want us to be as equal as possible. You’re helping me in a huge way. What can I help you with?”

  “You could be his beard.”

  Both my head and Becket’s snap around to where Casey is mixing up drinks for the new patrons sitting on the far side of the bar.

  My eyes dart back and forth between Becket and Casey.

  With an eye roll, Becket’s attention returns to me. “What he means is that I need a woman, a ‘plus one’ who would attend functions with me and—”

  “Not be a paparazzi whore or an embarrassment.”

  Becket narrows his eyes at Casey before finishing with, “Not expect a relationship or a proposal.”

  Amusement spreads across my features. “Honey, I can assure you that’s the last thing I’d ever expect or want.”

  His lips quirk into the grin that’s graced magazine covers and billboards, and he holds out his hand. “We have a deal then?”

  I reach out, and the instant I place my hand in his, it becomes engulfed. We shake briefly. Then, Becket slings an arm around my shoulders loosely, giving a quick tug-like hug before he backs away and smiles down at me.

  “I have the feeling that this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  And I have the feeling that maybe not everyone’s fairy godmother is of the female variety.

  1

  Emma Jane

  EIGHT YEARS LATER

  JUNE

  JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

  “We’re looking forward to working with you.” I shake the hands of the four ESPN representatives I’ve managed to dazzle in order to seal a mutual advertising agreement. By far, this is the largest deal I’ve signed since working at F&F.

  As the two men and lone woman file out, one man lingers and it takes everything in my power to bite back a weary groan.

  Teegan Rodriguez. A former pro-baseball player, he’d slipped right into a position with the well-known sports network, putting his college degree in business and communication to good use.

  “Any chance you’re free for dinner tonight?” Teegan flashes me a grin that I’m sure drops panties by the dozen.

  Not mine, though. Probably because I know he’d lose interest as soon as my panties dropped.

  “Sorry, Teegan. I have to attend a benefit this evening.” I offer my most apologetic smile as I gather up the thick file with the necessary documents for our legal team to finalize.

  “With Jones,” he finishes, a slight bite to his tone.

  Geez Louise. Jocks and their grudges. Just because he came in second to Becket winning ESPN’s Fan Favorite Athlete. You’d think someone just peed in his grits or something.

  I narrow my eyes with the slightest warning in my voice. “With my best friend.”

  “Right.”

  Okay, I’m done here.

  “Good to see you, Teegan.” I stride toward the open door of the boardroom with him trailing me. At the last moment, he steps in front of me, drawing me to halt.

  “Maybe another time?” He reaches out and dusts his index finger along the back of my hand in what I assume he believes is a seductive caress.

  “Perhaps.” Perhaps never. I offer another polite smile, casually moving my hand out of his reach and sidestepping him. Then, I call over my shoulder, “See you later, Teegan.”

  It’s only once I reach the confines of my office and close the door that I exhale a sigh of relief. As soon as I drop down into my chair at my desk, I notice a text message notification light up on my phone’s screen.

  This time, my smile is genuine.

  Becket: Do I need to lay the smackdown on Rodriguez? I presume he asked you out for the hundredth time.

  Me: No need. I did it verbally. I swear that man can’t take a hint.

  Becket: That’s my girl. By the way, I sent over a dress for tonight’s shindig.

  Me: Beck. You need to stop. I thought we agreed I could wear the blue one I already have.

  Becket: I saw this one when I was in Miami and had to get it for you.

  I can’t restrain a sigh because, although my best friend is simply the sweetest, I really wish he’d get himself a girlfriend. Honestly, attending some of these events as his ‘plus one,’ being the subject of the continuous “Is she or isn’t she his girlfriend?” debate, can be more than a little exhausting at times.

  Me: I have a little surprise for you tonight.

  Becket: What is it? Two hot Brazilian women who have a thing for American quarterbacks?

  I laugh softly, knowing Becket’s most particular when it comes to women, especially after his painful past. Everyone automatically assumes he’s a ladies’ man since he’s such a charmer, when, in reality, he’s the furthest thing from it. I just wish he'd date more often than he actually does...which is occasional, at best.

  Me: I’ll give it to you tonight. It’s nothing spectacular like a dress but I think it’s pretty special.

  Becket: Then I know I’ll love it. Pick you up at seven and the dress should be delivered to your office shortly.

  Me: See you then.

  Picking up the ESPN file along with a few other necessary pieces of paperwork, I exit my office and hand them to my assistant.

  “Alissa, if you can please scan these and send them to Legal, that’d be great.”

  “On it.” She accepts the files with a smile.

  “How much longer, now?”

  Her smile grows brighter at the mention of the impending birth of her first child. “Only eight more weeks.”

  My expression sobers. “You let me know if you’re not feeling well or if I’m overloading you with work, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alissa is lying to me because she’s one of the hardest working women I’ve ever known. She insists on calling me ma’am even though I’m a few years younger than she is. But she’s the best assistant I could have ever asked for.

  As I turn to head back to my office to tackle some more work, Alissa stops me. She glances around before speaking in a hushed tone. “There’ve been some rumors about Martin selling the magazine to some media bigwig in the region, but they’re trying to keep the details hush-hush.”

  I cast a curious look at my assistant before lowering my voice. “Do you know if there’s any truth to that?”

  She shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. There’s been talk in the past that he’s not the best with money…” She trails off with a slightly worried expression.

  I purse my lips thoughtfully, since I’ve also heard that mentioned. “Well, I’ll see if I hear anything, but it might just be harmless gossip.”

  She nods and I return to my office with the niggling thoughts of that rumor clinging to the back of my mind.

  “You look beautiful.”

  Becket smiles down at me, and for a split second, the joy and affection filling his expression makes me forget that I’m upset with him for purchasing this dress for me.

  A dress that cost him well over six grand.

  Squinting up at him, I tsk. “Don’t think you can sweet talk me out of being sore with you over this dress.”

  “But, sugar,” he drawls, attempting to
imitate a Southern accent, “I knew this dress would accentuate the beauty you already possess.”

  “Smooth talker.”

  He flashes me a wide, toothy grin. “You know it.” Extending me his hand, he dips his head. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” I slip my hand in his and we exit the limo. Becket helps me out as carefully as possible to ensure my dress doesn’t get snagged.

  This strapless evening gown, as heinously expensive as it was, is too gorgeous for words. The deep-red satiny material shimmers as the light hits it, and the Swarovski crystals sewn around the waistline sparkle.

  I should be acclimated to the onslaught of flashes from the cameras after all this time, but it still takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Becket’s hand holds firm to mine and he glances down at me.

  “Ready, Blue?”

  “Ready.”

  With smiles firmly in place, we pause for photos, not responding to the shouted questions pertaining to our relationship or rumors of an engagement. The real blessing is the fact that Becket’s manager has assisted in preventing anyone from getting wind of my past, what I’d left behind in Mobile. I know that’s also very likely due to my father who would do everything in his power to prevent bad press from overshadowing his business.

  I swear, there’s always a stray rumor about Becket popping the question every other month, but I know that’s more wishful thinking on behalf of the local media, hoping their famed quarterback has found love. Although, I must admit I’m extremely grateful the “Is she or isn’t she pregnant?” debate has ended.

  Finally, we enter the large ballroom designated for the gala tonight to honor the athletes included in ESPN’s latest Body Issue. Becket—along with twenty-five other athletes—posed nude in the feature, strategically and creatively covering his crotch.