Chapter Fifteen

Becca

 

I rub my eyes. I look like hell and I didn’t bother with makeup. But maybe Hale will let me freshen up at his place. I smile. Despite all the horrid things I’ve dealt with in Charlotte, that smile is always there when I think of Hale.

My Bluetooth rings, but I’m too tired and unfocused to listen to who’s calling.

“Becca Shields,” I say.

“You left before we could talk.”

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream. “Denver, we’ve said enough.”

“You don’t get it.” His voice changes from gruff to one I don’t quite recognize. “I love you.”

I roll my eyes. “You do not, Denver. And, Jesus, how many times have you used that line on a woman?”

“Look, I’ve made mistakes and I’ve been with other women. But only because you rejected me. You hurt me, Becca. No one’s ever hurt me this bad.”

If there was a wall within the confines of my vehicle, I’d beat my head against it. Better yet, I’d take it apart and throw a brick or two at Denver. “Denver, those women you’ve been with, especially the one taking you to court for whiplash or whatever the hell happens when you’re giving head and take out a few trees, may swallow all you give them. I don’t. This was all a charade.”

“A charade you came up with,” he barks back.

“No, shit,” I snap. “How the hell else was I going to save your sorry ass? Those good people of Charlotte were kind enough to love me. To give me a chance. As the son to one of the most successful and popular teams in the league, you could have been a hero. I would have posed you with the team at every game—”

“Waving the team flag like some kind of trained monkey? Fuck that.”

“No. Fuck you,” I tell him, flatly.

“You have no idea who you’re talking to,” he warns.

“No. You have no clue what you have. Where you talk about being a trained monkey, I talk about supporting a team, making a name for yourself, molding you into a Mark Cuban.”

“I’m not him!” he yells.

“You’re right. He’s a successful businessman who built that success from nothing,” I snap. “He not only owns an incredibly popular team, he’s brilliant and renowned. You could have been respected and admired like him, Denver. A few years of doing what I tell you, learning from your daddy, and keeping your nose clean, would be all it took. You could have been Mark. Your daddy would have given you the team and not thought twice. Now, what are you going to do? Spend whatever piddly inheritance he leaves you? Is that your grand plan?”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” he snaps.

“Neither does Mark, jackass. But he listened when he needed to. Learned everything taught to him and asserted himself when necessary. He’s outspoken. He calls the shots. Everyone listens when he says jump, because he earned that right. All you ever talk about is everything you’re owed and how life has been unfair.”

“Is that why you never gave me a chance? I tried with you, Becca. Yeah, yeah, this whole engagement thing was a stunt, and one I was forced to be involved in. But then I got to know you and everything changed.”

Jesus, take the wheel. “The only thing you tried to get to know about me was my body. Those dinners we attended? The events we appeared together? You were either leering at my figure, criticizing me for not dressing sexier, or looking at someone else.”

“Daddy is going to fire you,” he says.

He’s no longer yelling. He’s speaking the truth. I’ve pushed my agenda too aggressively with the Singletons. I know it and Denver does, too.

“Please, Becca. He doesn’t want to humiliate you. But he will.” He huffs when I don’t reply. “If you don’t want to do it for me, do it for the team and everything you’ve done to make it what it is.”

I blink several times. This isn’t Denver talking to talk or attempting to manipulate me. He’s serious. Mr. Singleton will fire me if I don’t do what he wants. I heard it straight from the big boss himself.

The first sign for Kiawah comes into view. I should feel a sense of elation, knowing I’ll be in Hale’s arms soon. But I’m no longer coming home a winner. If Mr. Singleton fires me, I’ll be disgraced, just as I was when I first left. And with Daddy being as sick as he is, the last laugh will be on me. He’ll leave this earth believing I failed without him.

“Becca. Come on,” Denver says. “Just one chance, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” I say. “And I need to do what’s right.”

I disconnect with him and wipe a tear. The large oaks stretch their long limbs, threading their branches to create an arch veiled with Spanish moss. I can maneuver blindfolded through these roads. I chuckle when I pass the fishing hole we’d visit as kids. Damn those gators. Poor Sean could have lost an arm.

My phone rings again. I only answer when I see it’s Trin. “Hey, Becks. How are you?”

I try to keep my voice even. “I’m almost home.” It’s an odd thing to say, but it’s my best answer.

“Oh, sweets, you sound tired.”

“I am,” I admit.

“Are you hungry, too? We just had brunch with Landon and Luci. We told everyone not to bring anything. Of course, both Momma and Luci did. It turned into a feast and I’m bringing leftovers to Hale’s.” She pauses. “Maybe you can eat together?”

I smile. “I’d really love that.”

“All right. We’ll be there as soon as the baby wakes up from her nap.” She sighs. “Becks, you don’t sound good. I know there’s a lot on your plate. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

My voice breaks. “Not right now. It’s just that, sometimes, it’s really hard to do the right thing.”

“I know,” Trin says. “But even the hard things pass. Until they do or when they’re at their hardest, you have me.”

I ignore the tears that stream down my face. “I know.”

“And don’t forget, now you have Hale, too.”

I laugh a little. “Yes. At least one thing is going right.”

I disconnect with Trin with a promise to see her soon. This morning began at the crack of dawn. I managed a shower before I received a text from Mr. Singleton demanding I reconsider pulling off the fake wedding or, at the very least, another fake engagement.

The press isn’t buying Denver’s broken heart. They would have, if he hadn’t gone out the night before and been photographed arriving at his million-dollar condo with yet another questionable woman. I told Mr. Singleton as much, slipped on a simple maxi dress and told him I was returning to Kiawah for the next few days.

He wasn’t happy. Neither was I. Goodness, I was so worked up, I didn’t even bother with decent shoes.

My spirits lift a little as I pull into the now familiar driveway. I tilt my head when I see a Porsche parked in front of his house. Mason. He must be there. He must have good news!

My sliders slap against my heels as I hop out of my car and hurry toward the house. Hale has seen me in worse, but if anyone can see past my disheveled appearance, it’s him.

I ring the doorbell, practically jumping in place and ready to throw my arms around him.

The door opens and—

A woman. A blond woman. Wearing panties and my dog pressed against her breasts answers the door. Her hair is tussled, as if she tossed and turned all night and in every position possible.

Her very perfect eyebrows lift, revealing very perfect makeup and a face Denver would be more than happy to introduce to his lap. “Yes?” she says.

“Ergah?” I respond.

She laughs. “My apologies. You must be the maid.” She walks merrily away, her bouncy butt cheeks poking through a semi-thong. “Don’t mind me, feel free to get started.”

I’m not sure how I walk in or if I walk straight at all. Never mind. I’m not walking. I’m storming, the door slamming hard enough behind me to rattle the windows.

I see red. No, this isn’t red. It’s a strobe light of magenta, orange, purple, and okay, red, too.

Like a queen, the blond falls into the comfortable couch. “Coffee?” she asks. “Yes, that sounds lovely. I take mine with just a splash of almond milk.”

My pulse pounds through my head. “Almond milk?”

“Yes,” she snaps, as if I didn’t hear her the first time.

Oh, my God. I’m going to kill someone and I know exactly who to start with.

Hale bounces down the rear staircase, the black athletic pants he’s in just barely staying at his hips. He scratches his head, his eyelids heavy as if he’s barely slept. My, I wonder what in heavens he was up all night doing.

I toss a glare at the blond. Never mind, I think I know.

“I’m going to work out,” he tells her. “Help yourself to . . .”

His steps slow when he sees me. Oh, he’s wide awake now. His large eyes zip from me to the blond. He does a double-take when he sees she’s wearing my dog and not much else.

“What-what?” he says.

The blond giggles, because why the fuck not? “Hale, you know I get hot in bed.”

Hale races down the stairs, holding out his arms when I march toward him. “You weren’t supposed to be here until Thursday.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“Hale,” blondie says. “Who’s this?”

“Who am I?” I practically hiss. “Who the fuck are you?”

To the public I serve I’m a right-bred Southern lady, as sweet as nectar dripping from a bumblebee’s chin, and as poised and refined as a seasoned ballerina. In my defense, we’re not in public and there is a naked woman holding my dog in my almost lover’s house!

I veer on Hale, my finger out, pointing it like a weapon. “You. Speak. Now.”

My semi-possessed demon voice does absolutely nothing to ease the tension. Hale’s jaw slacks open. “I know this looks bad,” he begins.

“You think?”

The front door opens. “Hey,” Trin’s voice sings. “Y’all decent?” She skips in, her baby tucked against her chest and her little boy’s hand held gently in hers. Callahan follows, balancing several casserole dishes in his arms.

Everyone stops in place. A naked woman wearing a dog has that effect.

Trin’s mouth pops open, her attention bouncing from Blondie to Hale to me. Callahan barely blinks. He places the dishes on the counter and turns around, scooping his son up in his arms. “We’ll be outside,” he says. “Trin?”

“You may be outside,” Trin tells him. “I’m not going anywhere. Take the baby, will you, love?” She narrows her eyes at the blond. “She might not like the sight of blood.”

Callahan reaches for his daughter. “Nice,” he tells Hale, not meaning it.

Hale covers his face, looking up at the ceiling.

“Who are you?” Trin asks, so livid she barely gets her mouth to work.

Blondie flips back her hair and smiles. “Hale Wilder’s fiancée.”

“What the fuck!” I say.

“That’s not true,” Hale says. “Becks, please, I know this looks bad.”

“No shit!” I reply. I’m not someone anyone would call a screamer. But my voice is no longer a voice. It’s taken on a life on its own and is about as murderous as I feel.

Hale curses, rubbing his face as if annoyed. Oh, he’s mad.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” I say.

“Becks, you don’t understand—”

“I can’t believe I fell for all your ‘I miss you’ shit!” My eyes sting with tears.

“You’re not the maid?” Blondie asks, cuddling Rosie closer.

“Bitch, get away from my dog!” I yell.

“Your dog?” she asks, like that’s the problem here.

“You heard her,” Trin says, her chin out and her hands on her hips where they belong. “Drop the dog and get the hell out of my house.”

“Your house?” Blondie asks, ignoring Hale and his pleas for everyone to calm down.

“Did I stutter?” Trin demands. “Leave the dog alone, put some clothes on, and get out.”

Blondie adjusts Rosie, her focus drifting to Hale. She’s not afraid of me or Trin, but she should be. “What exactly is going on? Who are these people?”

“These people?” Trin says. “Ma’am, are you messing with me right now? I hope not. Just ’cause you saw me holding a baby doesn’t mean I won’t smack you all the way back to New York if you keep gettin’ lippy.”

“How dare you?” Pris says.

She rises, dog and all and takes a step forward. I take a step, too. “Oh, sugar,” I say. “No way in hell are you getting anywhere near her.”

Hale shoves his way between us, cursing as Trin and I lay into Blondie. Blondie puts Rosie down, screaming, waving her arms and breasts.

“Stop,” Hale says. “All of y’all just stop.”

The fire burning within me surges, blurring my vision. “You cheating, whoring, little—”

“I didn’t cheat,” Hale says, his sharp tone instantly silencing me. His expression is weary, but it’s the guilt that stills me in place. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Blondie says, fluffing her hair.

Blondie’s words are a rough strike upside my head. I jerk away from Hale when he reaches for me, feeling more emotional than I want to be. He hurt me. My God, all I did was leave him a handful of days and he did this to me.

“Don’t touch me,” I tell him. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”