Chapter Five

Saturday morning, Kaiden texted her that he was downstairs. Thoughts of the night before drifted through his mind. Truthfully, the date last night went a thousand times better than he expected. She didn’t seem to care about him playing football, had a brain in her head, and her compassion blew him away.

A moment later, she came sprinting down the stairs of her apartment complex wearing a sundress and a straw hat. Her long hair was braided down her back and there wasn’t a bit of makeup on her face. She exuded innocence and wholesomeness, while being sensual at the same time. He might have pursued her as a means to an end, but he had no trouble whatsoever treating her like she was a real girlfriend.

She directed him to Carroll and South Eighth Street, where he was lucky enough to immediately find a parking spot. He put on a baseball cap and donned sunglasses before walking over to her side and helping her out of his SUV. Then he entwined their fingers, holding her hand while they explored rows and rows of products and goods for sale. Stalls of flowers, fruit and vegetables, arts and crafts, and sports swag were lined up in rows. Romilly took her time, picking out produce to buy, and chatting with the vendors. Clearly, she was a regular here. At one stand, he found his jersey and held it up for her to see, but the blank expression in her eyes told him she had no clue whose number she stared at.

He leaned down and whispered. “It’s my number.”

“Oh!” she said, smiling. “That’s really cool.”

Even though he was fairly certain the jersey wasn’t officially licensed, he bought it for her. She thanked him, her smile genuine and warm.

In the center of the farmers market were several bakeries. She stopped into one and bought two square slices of soft dense cake, golden in color and dusted with powdered sugar. He took a bite and it melted in his mouth.

“This is amazing,” he said around a mouthful of cake.

“Ooey-gooey butter cake. Best thing in the world.”

The sunlight filtered behind her, illuminating her smooth skin and golden-brown hair. He let out a whoosh of air, unable to take his gaze off her. Perhaps this fake girlfriend ploy wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Sure, in the past there’d been a girl or two that called him their boyfriend, but personal relationships never truly factored into his life because he was too focused on his career. Having Romilly next to him felt nice. If felt right.

Several times he thought he saw someone following them, and any other time he’d resent the intrusion. In this instance, however, he needed the media attention showcasing a different side of him. That his anger issues were nonexistent and he was ready to play football. Trying to be as subtle as possible, he guided Romilly to a place that allowed him to look around. Sure enough, a man followed with a camera around his neck. Unexpected guilt filled him. Being with him would upheave Romilly’s life. She deserved to be able to make an informed decision if she wanted to date him or not. Even if that screwed up his plan.

“Don’t look now, but we’re being followed by paparazzi.”

“Really? Why?”

He loved that she was clueless. “Because I’m newsworthy right now. I’m sorry I’m dragging you into my mess…”

She laid a finger over his lips. “Stop. You’re not dragging me anywhere.”

He kissed her fingertips. “Being with me means your private life will be splashed everywhere. Paparazzi is going to dig into your background and gossip about you. I need you to think about it.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Do you want to be with me?”

Guilt hit him, but he pushed it aside. He may have started this for an image makeover, but the more time he spent with her the more he enjoyed being with her.

“I like you, Romilly,” he said seriously. “Our conversations have been the most honest I’ve had in … well, a long time.”

“I like you too, Kaiden, so I’m not going to worry about the camera.”

He wanted to kiss her badly, but he wouldn’t do that with the paparazzi lens trained on them. Instead, he slung his arm around her shoulders and continued their stroll through the market.

“What are you doing this evening?” he asked.

“There’s a gallery opening tonight that’s showcasing a local artist I like,” she replied and looked up at him. “Wanna come with me?”

Mentally, he went through any plans he had but he had nothing going on. He’d probably end up watching porn and jerking off. Which was a whole other sort of loneliness.

“I’d love to,” he said. “But you might have to interpret the artwork. I’m not very good at abstract concepts.”

She smiled up at him. “No worries. I’ve got your back.”

Once upon a time he thought everyone had his bac k— his coach, his agent, his lawyers. When you’re popular and on fire, everyone loves you. It was a hard lesson to learn that if you fall on your face, no one was there to help you up.

“I’ve got your back . ”

She didn’t even know him, but he saw the truth in her eyes. Leaving him to feel her simple yet unassuming acceptance deep in his soul.

****

Later that day, when he’d returned to the hotel to wash up before the date, his phone rang and his mother’s name flashed on the screen. He connected the call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Sweetheart. Have you settled yet?”

“Not really. Still living in the hotel.”

“What did the coach say?”

He walked over to the balcony and stared out over the city. The Arch was barely visible. “On Monday I’m practicing with the quarterback.”

“Training camp is several weeks away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but they want me to audition, for lack of a better word, in a minicamp.”

Silence followed, and he waited to hear what she’d say. “What do you mean by audition?”

“There will be many undrafted free agents, plus some released players, all vying to get onto the training roster of ninety. My veteran status has no bearing. I’m just as desperate as the rest of them.”

“I see,” she said. “Then you’ve got to wipe all thoughts out of your head when you set foot on that field. Your dad and I don’t matter. The arrest video doesn’t matter. Being drunk and stupid doesn’t matter.”

“I know, Mom.” He let out a sigh. “I’m a little terrified. What happens if I don’t mesh with Crew? What if I’m cut? What do I do then?”

“Don’t think like that. You are a fantastic ball player and your old team is going to realize how much they messed up.”

He smiled, even though she couldn’t see. His mother always knew the right things to say.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime. Have you done anything fun in St. Louis?”

Romilly flashed through his mind, but he wasn’t ready to put any kind of label on them. He decided not to say anything until he was confident in their relationship.

“Had this butter cake that’s amazing. Apparently, it’s a regional dessert. And tonight, I’m going to an art exhibit with a friend.”

“It’s good to get out, just make sure you don’t drink. The last thing you need is more bad press.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Keep me posted about Monday?”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He disconnected the call then jumped on social media. Sure enough, there were pictures of him and Romilly at dinner and at the farmers market. The snapshots painted a picture of very intimate moments. In the comments, people were speculating if the woman he was with prompted his move to St. Louis, just like Pace had hoped. As usual, there were more than a few rude comments, but it seemed more people were interested in his date rather than the stupid arrest video.

Perhaps having Romilly as his shield just might work.

A text message came through from Pace: Good job.

Now, all he had to do was not fuck up and his life and career would be back on track.