Chapter 2

TWO

"No! Twenty-five thousand dollars!"

Noah Hudson slammed his eyes shut, trying his damnedest to keep his cool. The last thing he needed was another viral video, this one of him going off at a bunch of PTA moms.

It'll be a boost for your image, his agent insisted.

Everyone on the team needs to pull their weight with community relations , the Blaze GM had declared.

All you have to do is show up and smile , his coach told him.

They were all fucking morons. This evening had been nothing but a humiliating shit-show since he'd taken the stage.

And that was before she opened her mouth.

But, Christ, she had the most spectacular mouth. Full, soft lips that were meant to be kissed. And, oh, the things she could do with that sassy tongue of hers.

He wrenched his eyes open, trying to focus on the fracas in front of him. Anything was safer than thinking about Charlotte Davis. Especially because his reaction to the woman was about to become quite noticeable with him on the stage and everyone else practically at eye level with his crotch.

"This concludes the evening," the auctioneer was saying, raising his voice to be heard over the din growing within the large room. "Thank you all for coming."

"Can she do that?" one woman demanded.

"Yeah. What's the sense of donating something for the kids when you are going to just buy it out from under us?" another woman shouted.

The principal wrenched the microphone away from the auctioneer. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said in her sternest teacher's voice. "Please go ahead to the lobby to pay for your silent auction items. We will announce the final tally from tonight's event on Monday. Good night." She spun on her heel and glared at Noah. "You. Come with me."

Christ. Was he really being commanded to the principal's office?

Since she appeared to be heading in the opposite direction from the parents, Noah decided it behooved him to follow. She led him backstage and down a deserted hallway until they ended up outside the front office. When she punched at the numbers on a keypad, the glass door clicked, and the principal ushered him inside. With a resigned sigh, she plopped down onto one of the leather sofas in the reception area.

"No one has access to this part of the building at this time of night. You're safe here."

Noah bit back a laugh at her comment. He faced down three-hundred-pound linemen every week. No way was he scared of a bunch of over-sexed soccer moms with too much disposable income on their hands. Besides, his reputation couldn't get any lower in this town.

He was counting the days—nine—until the season started. Then he would show the sports media, Blaze fans, and the football world that he had what it takes to lead the team to the championship. No amount of smack talk was going to force Noah to pack up his helmet and go home. Not even a thirst trap video that asshole Bucky Kincaid invaded Noah's privacy to score.

"Allow me to apologize for the parents tonight," she continued. "I tell them every year to dial it back on the alcohol, but do they listen?" She held up a finger. "Although we'll be able to replace most of the staff's laptops now. I guess we have you to thank for that. Provided Princess Charlotte comes through, that is."

"She will."

The words slipped out of his mouth with the same force and cadence he used when he was calling for the football to be hiked. The principal slowly lifted her eyebrows. Noah could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she jumped to all the wrong conclusions about him and Charlotte Davis. His defense of her was simply a knee-jerk reaction, that's all. There was nothing between them. A woman like her only toyed with guys like him. She'd made that point crystal clear three years ago.

Time to move this conversation along.

"I'm still willing to host the bowling party." No one in the Blaze front office could say he wasn't doing his part for the team's community relations. "Maybe we can tie it to a charitable campaign? Food banks always need cereal. How ‘bout the class that brings in the most boxes in a designated week goes bowling with me?"

The principal tilted her head as she carefully appraised him. Most people assumed, because he was quiet, he was just another dumb jock and the only thing he knew how to do was throw a football. That because he chose his words carefully before he spoke, he was slow. Or, because he was a "hick" from a southern small town with small-town values, he lacked the aptitude to understand the team's playbook.

None of it was true. Not that he really cared what people thought of him. As long as they gave him the football, life was good.

"My mom is an educator," he offered as an explanation.

"Aw," she said with a knowing smile. "I wasn't aware of that. You're a bit of an enigma off the field. I know your dad is a high school football coach, but not much else."

If she was expecting him to give her the lowdown on his life story, she was out of luck. Noah had a hard and fast rule when it came to maintaining his private life: It wouldn't be private if the entire world knew every detail.

The silence stretched until she heaved herself up off the sofa with a sigh. "You followed instructions and parked in the staff lot, I hope?"

He nodded.

After retrieving her bag from her desk, she led him out one of the side doors to the staff parking lot. Her yellow beetle was parked two spots away from Noah's Bronco.

He jerked his chin toward the whimsical excuse for a car. "Nice ride."

She smiled and shrugged. "My midlife-crisis toy." She patted him on the biceps. "Your idea of the cereal drive is a great one. We'll run the contest at the end of the month once everyone is settled back into school. I'll be in touch to set up the details."

Noah reached behind the principal to open the car door for her. "No need for parent chaperones, either. The team will provide them."

Her laugh rang out through the night as she got into the car. "Well played, Mr. Hudson. Well played." She waved at him through the driver's window as the little car sputtered away.

He heaved a relieved sigh while making his way over to his truck. His relief was short-lived, however. As he rounded the hood, he nearly collided with none other than Charlotte Davis, leaning her perfect ass against the side of his Bronco.

It figures.

Noah scanned the parking lot warily.

"Jay has gone home, if that's what you're worried about," she said.

"Your brother doesn't scare me." Nope. It was his potent physical reaction to this woman that gave him the willies.

She stepped away from the truck, the light from the lamppost behind her casting a halo around her head. Noah almost laughed at the incongruity.

"He's not mad at you," she added quietly. "He's—" She made air quotes with her fingers. "—disappointed with the situation."

She huffed out a breath. It was so desolate sounding, it riled up all of Noah's nerve endings. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his fingers firmly beneath his armpits, so as not to act on the strong urge to reach out and comfort her. That would be a mistake.

And Noah Hudson never made the same mistake twice.

"Although I'm sure he's pretty pissed at me for making a scene," she continued. "Apparently I haven't quite buried my impulsive nature."

Noah could have told her that three years ago when she'd pretended that he was her date and kissed him senseless in a London elevator. Only to walk away hours later as if they'd never even met, much less touched. He didn't trust his words, though, giving her a noncommittal grunt instead.

Her chin rose slowly as her big blue eyes locked with his. Hers narrowed. In fact, she was beginning to look a little ticked-off that he wasn't fawning all over her like every other dude in her life.

Too bad.

"Wow," she said, her tone clipped. "Not even a ‘thank you, Charlotte?'"

"For what?"

An ugly sound escaped the back of her throat. "For saving your ass back there!"

He scoffed. "My ass didn't need saving, Princess."

Her pique kicked up another notch. He'd obviously hit a nerve with the "princess' remark. Not that he cared.

"Are you kidding me? Surely even you understood what those women were intimating when they were bidding on you?" she retaliated.

Noah absorbed the hit without letting his body react. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"My agent would have taken care of it," he bit out.

"Of course he would have. And that would have given your reputation a boost." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"It's not like it's the first time a woman used me as a plaything."

It was a low blow and Noah regretted it the instant the words left his mouth, especially seeing the devastated look on her face.

"I was attempting to pay you back," she snapped. "For London. When you...helped me out of a difficult situation."

Just as he suspected, he had been "the help." A convenient male body when she needed a decoy. Nothing more. It's what he'd figured for years now. Still, it stung to hear her say it out loud. And that feeling pissed him off.

He sucked in a deep breath. "Got it. Your little stunt back there was so we'd somehow be even."

She all but stomped her foot. "You could at least be a little more grateful."

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his chest. Christ, his mom would be so ashamed of him right now. He was being a total dick. Charlotte and her ilk played by different rules than everyone else. Sure, Noah was a starting quarterback on one of the premier football teams in the US. He didn't earn the money of a superstar—yet. Even when he did, though, he still wouldn't be in Charlotte Davis' league.

Tonight wasn't her fault. She'd obviously believed she was helping by interjecting herself into the auction. Least said, soonest mended, his Meemaw always says. The smart thing to do would be to put them both out of their misery by offering up a gracious thank you and moving on.

He was about to do that when he spied the light of a cellphone camera pointed in their direction. A few more Looky Lous were clustered behind the man, several of them fumbling with their own phones.

Noah quickly unlocked the door to his truck. "Get in."

"Wow, you really know how to woo a girl." She crossed her arms and cocked her hip defiantly.

This damn woman…

He jerked his chin past her shoulder. She glared at him before turning and spotting the amateur paparazzi. With a softly uttered curse, she hurried into the Bronco and crawled across to the passenger side. Noah climbed in beside her, shoved the key in the ignition, letting the engine roar before peeling out of the parking lot.

Luke Combs was on the radio, appropriately singing about a fast car as Noah sped down the school's long driveway. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he didn't see anyone behind him. Charlotte turned toward the back window to look for herself.

"It's getting more and more difficult to have a private life," she murmured.

"Tell me something I don't know."

Charlotte groaned, slumping down in her seat. "Bucky Kincaid appears to have made it his life's mission to troll you. And it feels much more vindictive than with other athletes he calls out. I can't help but think it's because of me."

Her tone was contrite, as if—wonder upon wonders—she did feel a minuscule amount of guilt.

"And everything that went down that night," she finished.

Noah stopped at an intersection, sighing as he leaned his head back against the headrest. That was his theory, too. The douchebag sports talk host didn't appreciate being rebuffed by Charlotte. More likely, Kincaid didn't like being tossed over for the nobody second-string quarterback Noah was back then.

Even though Kincaid wasn't a loud voice in sports media at the time, the undrafted former college star managed to worm his way into locker rooms, pestering players for the inside scoop that would help him elevate his status. He'd spent the three seasons since positioning himself as wunderkind podcaster and fan-favorite talking-head on "Football Sunday," the pregame show most of America watched every week. The gig gave him a bigger platform to carry out a grudge.

One that appeared to be entirely focused on tearing Noah down.