Be Mine Read online

  Lainey doesn’t answer right away. Bummer. She probably doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.

  “She does a little,” she reveals.

  “Really?” I perk up.

  “But…”

  “But what?”

  Lainey points to my chin. “I hate to tell you this, but she might not like the beard. She saw a picture of Hitler the other night and thought his mustache looked cute.”

  I wince. “What’d you tell her?”

  “That Hitler was a very bad man that hurt children. She now thinks he’s the devil and is eyeing every man with facial hair with suspicion.”

  I rub a hand across my bushy growth. I started growing it out last November and then, when I started winning, I was apprehensive of changing anything. Even Coach encouraged me not to shave. “You think I should get rid of it?”

  “She’s four. I think you can risk it. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a good ’stache. Look at Erik Estrada." Lainey wipes her brow as if the thought of this Erik guy gets her overheated.

  My eyes narrow. Is Lainey dating someone? I hadn’t thought of that possibility, but why not? She’s smoking hot and there are plenty of men out there who would love to wife her up. Still, as long as she’s not married, there’s still time for me to make a move. First thing is discovering who this dick is and pushing him out of the scene.

  “Who the hell is Erik Estrada?”

  Lainey’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Erik Estrada is a very hot Puerto Rican who played a motorcycle cop in Miami.”

  “Never heard of him.” A cop in Miami? Wait, did she say play? As in this dude is an actor? I swing around to locate Charlie. She’s got an actor friend who she met in treatment at the fancy Swiss hospital she went to as a teen. I narrow my eyes. Did she set Lainey up with an actor? She wouldn’t do that to me, would she?

  “My abuelita watched that show Chips religiously. Estrada was fine. Mami would have left Papi in a heartbeat if Erik would’ve rolled up to the house on his motorcycle,” calls Diane from the other end of the bar.

  Relief loosens my spine. My brow smooths out. Diane’s grandmother is eighty, at least. "I didn't know you were into geriatrics,” I joke.

  "Silver foxes are in right now." Lainey sticks her nose in the air. "Did you see the guy that Sandra Bullock is dating? Hotter than ninety-nine percent of the guys younger than him."

  "Amen, sister," Diane shouts. Lainey abandons me to go down and exchange a high five. I make a mental note to google silver foxes and Sandra Bullock later. Just out of curiosity, I want to know what cranks Lainey's engine, because it is not football players.

  Despite Stacks being a second home to many of the players, she never took even one of them up on their offers. And there have been a legion, much to my annoyance. The one good thing with her moving away was that I didn’t have to watch the endless parade of men hitting on her. The bad thing was that I couldn’t keep an eye on the endless parade of new men hitting on her.

  In my rookie year, there were rumors that Lainey was a groupie who was interested in hitching her wagon to a football player contract, but in the time I've known her, she hasn't slept with a single Mustang. We'd all know if she had.

  In the locker room, you're not supposed to talk about religion, politics, or money. A bad stock tip from one guy to another can put a real crimp in team unity. But who you sleep with is a constant source of heckling, particularly when it comes to the women who have more lust for the number in your contract than the stuff in your shorts, so there’s no way that Lainey could’ve hooked up with a Mustang without me knowing about it. Not that it matters. I’d take her if she’d slept with the whole team. After all, it doesn’t matter where a person starts—only where they end up.

  "Silver foxes, huh?" I say when she returns to bus my plate. "Thought you didn't believe in dating."

  Lainey gives a small shrug. "I don't know. I'm re-evaluating things. Cassidy could use a dad. Want a water or Coke for the road?"

  Before I can respond, Diane has to open her mouth again. "Honey, if you're serious, my brother's best friend is a trainer over at Planet Fitness. Sweet as pie and good looking to boot.”

  "You can't go out with a stranger," I object. If Lainey's interested in dating, then she should look closer to home. Someone that Charlie and I have fully vetted. Someone we can trust to be around Cassidy. Someone like me. “We don't know anything about him. Fuck, he could be a murderer.”

  "He is not!" Diane exclaims indignantly. "He's super nice."

  "Then why aren't you dating him?" I shoot back.

  "Nick!" Lainey scolds. "They aren't going to hire a felon to train people at a gym."

  Charlie returns to lean against the bar, smirking as if this whole conversation is a hoot and a half. She can forget about the flowers I was going to buy her.

  "Dating a personal trainer is a big mistake. He's only going to want to date women who are super fit and work out all the time.” The words come out before I can stop them. Diane sucks in a breath and Lainey looks like I kicked her in the teeth.

  "So what you're saying is I'm too fat and ugly for this guy?" She rips the bottle of beer out of my hand and tosses it into the sink behind her. "Give me the number, Diane. I'll call him."

  “You’ve been sacked one too many times,” Charlie says in a stage whisper.

  I drop my head to the bar. She’s not wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  Lainey

  "Lainey, I am sure he did not mean you were fat and ugly. I know for a fact Nick thinks you're gorgeous. He's said so a million times,” Charlie exclaims for what has to be the millionth time today.

  “It doesn’t matter.” The car in front of me slows down without warning, and I mouth a silent curse as I slam on the brakes.

  “It does matter. Nick cares about you. When you left, he was just as anxious as I was to find you.”

  Charlie’s so desperate for me to get along with Nick, she’s resorted to lying. Sad. Swinging into the right-hand lane, I flash a one-fingered wave to the driver who is operating his vehicle like it’s his first time behind the wheel and speed down the off ramp into Houston proper.

  "I know, I know," I say placatingly, even though I don't believe it. Charlie's the sweetest person in the world. She'd try to see the good side of a serial killer. "Look, I'm sorry I brought it up. Anyway, Diane’s brother's friend sounds nice. He's gainfully employed, and they only hire good-looking people as trainers, right? Attractive and employed don't always go together. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Charlie doesn’t immediately respond. When she finally does talk, her words are reserved. "I didn't realize you were thinking about dating again. I mean…every time I’ve brought it up, you've said it was because you wanted to focus on Cassidy."

  "I did want to focus on Cassidy. When we met, I was working two jobs and seeing Cassidy only a few hours a day. Now, thanks to you, I only work this one job, and Cassidy and I have more time together than I'd hoped for."

  "I feel bad I'm making you go to Houston." Charlie sounds unnaturally guilty, but I guess it's part of her make-up. She's too giving and has a hard time asking for help.

  "This is part of my job and I'm grateful to have it. And Nick and Cassidy are probably having the time of their lives together.” Which is sort of dangerous. I can’t have Cass becoming too attached to the man. Is it really your daughter you’re worried about or yourself? A tiny voice says inside my head.

  “There’s not a woman around that doesn’t adore Nick. Present party excluded.”

  Both of us, I reply to the inner voice.

  “Cassidy’s too young to know better,” I say to my friend who responds with a happy chuckle. The GPS guidance tells me to turn left and the destination will be on my right. "I'm almost at the fish place. Anything else you want me to pick up while I'm here?"

  "No. Thank you." She hesitates, and I can almost see her bite her lower lip. "You really don't have to deliver it for me."

  "Charlie," I say with e
xaggerated patience, "I'm here. I'm picking up the fish. I'm delivering the fish. You go get new clients so your business makes lots more money."

  She laughs. "Okay. Love you, Lainey."

  "Love you too, Charlotte."

  "I'm going to kill that girl," I mutter under my breath as the manager of Stedman’s Exotics brings out the styrofoam coolers containing eight bags of exotic fish.

  "I thought maybe Mr. Jackson would come himself." The manager's round face is full of disappointment. "I suppose what with the season starting and all, he doesn't have time to come down to Houston. My kid's a big fan. Don't tell anyone though. We’re supposed to support the Texans around here.”

  "You have my word." I draw an X across my chest, my finger crossways across my chest, although I don’t know quite who he thinks I'll be telling.

  “Great. Great.” He sets the second cooler in the back of my hatchback and whips out a sheaf of papers. "These fish need to be transferred one at a time by acclimating the water in their current habitat to the new aquarium."

  "What does that entail?" I’ll drop these off, pick up my kid, and let Nick deal with this mess.

  He shoves one of the papers into my hand. I scan the instructions as he hits the highlights. "An hour. You first insert the bagged fish into the tank for approximately thirty minutes so the water temperature stabilizes within the bag. Then open the bag, placing the tank water into the bag, and let the water mix together for another thirty minutes."

  I fold the instructions and place them in my purse. "Sounds good. We can do that."

  "If you'll sign here." He flips the forms in front of me.

  "I'll be sure to give Mr. Jackson the instructions."

  The papers are dragged away.

  "Wait, I didn't sign."

  The manager sniffs in disapproval. "It's your signature. You agree to the above tasks. Not Mr. Jackson, but you. It’s why we prefer the owner of the aquarium to come. These are very rare creatures and it's extremely important to us to make sure our friends are going to good homes—homes of people who will take appropriate care of them. Perhaps…" He taps the papers against the table and I can see the idea forming in his head that he shouldn't sell these to me. And I'm not going to be the one that Nick Jackson blames for not getting his "special fish." Oh no.

  "I swear to you, I will do all of the things." I hold up my fingers, not sure if I’m doing the scout pledge or the Star Trek greeting. Fortunately, the manager must be as ignorant as I am.

  He narrows his eyes and assesses my trustworthiness. "Including the thirty-minute wait time between each fish.”

  "Including the thirty-minute wait time?” I repeat incredulously.

  “If you don’t, you could kill these fragile beings and cost Mr. Jackson thousands of dollars.”

  I smile brightly and as benignly as possible. Why am I not surprised that Nick is buying thousand-dollar fish? “Mr. Jackson is going to be so thrilled. Why don’t you give me a card and I’ll make sure that he sends you a signed photo.”

  The manager beams back at me. I sign the papers quickly before he can change his mind.

  “Could you have the photo made out to Joe? That’d be perfect.”

  I look at his nametag. “I thought the photo was for your son.”

  The manager, aka Joe, according to the tag on his shirt, flushes. “We have the same name.”

  Sure you do. “No problem,” I reply blandly. I hold out my hand. “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem.” He shakes it a little hard, as if he wants me to report back to Nick that Joe was a man’s man with a firm grip.

  After telling me that braking hard could concuss the fish, I pull out of the lot, making sure not to go more than a few miles an hour. I don’t want Joe running me down and ripping the fish out of the back of my trunk.

  At the first stop sign, I call Charlie. “You’re a dead woman.”

  "I told you that you didn’t have to do it."

  "You conveniently left out this errand was for Nick.”

  “I said it was for a client,” she parries.

  Harrumph.

  "I don't know why that would bother you," she continues. "After all, you are immune to his charm, right?"

  "Right," I mutter through clenched teeth. “But, Charlotte, throwing us together could result in us hating each other. Have you thought of that?”

  “But you could end up loving each other,” she counters.

  “If you’re trying to hook us up, stop. I’m not ever going to date another football player. Did you forget what I told you about my past bad experience?”

  “No, I didn’t, but Nick is not that asshole. Nick’s a decent guy. He’s been wandering around Dallas like a lost duck these past two years.”

  “Charlie, he won the Super Bowl last year. How is that wandering around like a lost duck?”

  “It’s not the same thing. Besides, for all the women that he’s, well, entertained, none of them have lasted. But when I told him I’d found you, he wanted to come down and see you two right away. He fell for you all those years ago. I never told you this before because I knew you would find excuses not to come back up here.”

  The thought of Nick loving me sends an inappropriate thrill coursing through my body to settle between my legs. A forgotten muscle pulses in reply. My body thinks Charlie’s plan is awesome. Ruthlessly, I tell my body to shove it. My head’s in charge here.

  “Nick and I can be friends, but that’s all, Charlie,” I tell her firmly. “I love you, but don’t push us together—”

  “Ohh, you’re breaking up. I can’t hear you. Whoops!”

  And, then, she actually hangs up on me. Dammit, Charlie.

  My dear friend wants us to be one big happy family. She misses what she had when she was a kid growing up with her first love and Nick. That’s what’s happening here. It’s not because she believes that Nick has feelings for me. What a ridiculous crock of crap. I need to remind myself of that because otherwise, it would be all too easy to fall into her trap. Nick loving me? Ha.

  The sky would turn green first.

  “Your fish are here,” I announce, as I fling open the door to the condo Nick and Charlie share. The doorman trails behind me, carrying the two styrofoam coolers. “You can put them over by the aquarium,” I tell him.

  Nick pulls his ass off the sofa and comes over to hand the doorman a tip. “Thanks, Brett.”

  Brett doffs a non-existent cap and backs out of the room. As soon as the latch clicks shut, I round on Nick. “Why all the subterfuge? Did you lie to Charlie, or did Charlie lie to me?”

  “Neither of us lied to you.” Nick lifts the coolers off the floor and carries them over to a giant glass enclosure that wasn’t installed in the condo two years ago. “I was going to pick the fish up today, but Coach told me yesterday I needed to come in for some lifting. And the only time he had available conflicted with the time I’d scheduled to pick up the fish. He’s worried about my throwing arm, given all the injuries that happened last year. Charlotte needed to go to San Antonio to meet with a potential client, and she needed someone to help with her existing client.” He points to his chest. “Me.”

  All of what he just recited is accurate, but it still grates. I’m trying to stay away from this man who causes my breath to catch and my pulse to race. In the two years I’ve been away from Dallas, Nick has only gotten better looking. I’m not sure what it is. His face is the same. His body is still hard as a rock. I guess it’s attitude? The way that he walks and carries himself is different than before—

  “You don’t have to stay if it bothers you so much.” He leans against the console table near the door. “I’ve read up on how to take care of the fish.”

  “I promised the aquarium manager I’d stay,” I mumble resentfully. “Where’s Cassidy?”

  “Napping. The trainer and I wore her out. We had her doing sprints and lifting those little travel cereal boxes. She sat on my back while I did pushups. The little shit had a great time and kept sa
ying things like ‘Unca Nick, why are you compwaining all the time? This is easy!’”

  I press my lips together to keep from smiling. I don’t want Nick to think I find his stories cute, even though they are. “I’m sorry she was underfoot.”

  “Nah. I think half the guys in the weight room went home and poked holes in their condoms.”

  “I hope not. They’ll forget about sabotaging their birth control and then blame their girlfriends in about three months.”

  Nick cocks his head. “You know, for someone who was around athletes a lot, you sure don’t like them. Is that why you left Stacks?”

  I flush lightly. The last thing I want Nick to find out is my problems with Chip. While I don’t want to fall into Nick’s bed, neither do I want him detesting me. “Ever think it’s because I’m around athletes so much that I have a low opinion of them?”

  “Not really. We both know 99% of athletes, even the professional ones, are decent men. It’s the 1% that make us all look like dicks.”

  I want to argue with him, but he’s right. For the most part, all the athletes I’ve come in contact with are okay. It only takes one bad apple to ruin someone’s life though. Chip romanced teenage me until I was dizzy and confused. I lowered my guard, let him in, and he torched my life. I lost my family, most of my friends, and my teen years. But I’d do it over again in a heartbeat because I got Cassidy, and she’s worth walking through fire and back again.

  If there’s one thing I can say in Nick’s favor, it’s that he is good to Cassidy. But I can’t forgive or forget what happened all those years ago with Cassidy’s father. No more football players for me, ever. There’s no point in arguing about it with Nick, though. It would require revealing more of my personal life than I feel comfortable with.

  “Here are the instructions.” I pull out the sheet handed to me by the fish guy. “This is going to take an hour. The bags go in first, and then once thirty minutes have passed, you mix the tank water with the bagged water and let those float for another thirty. Oh, and you need to send this guy a signed photo made out to his son, Joe.”