Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Sitting in the balcony area of the football stadium’s VIP suite a week later, I said, “Personally, I think Drey’s team has this in the bag.”

On my left, Alicia nodded. “They’re on form today.” Miss I don’t want any popcorn plucked a handful out of my almost-empty box, the scavenger.

“Yup.” Harri, sitting on my other side, bit into her hot dog. “The players on the other team don’t seem to have their head in the game.”

I was relieved it was half-time, since it meant I had a brief break from all the cheers, catcalls, shouts, boos, curses, and whistles. Add in the shots that were fired each time our home team scored and the noise-level could get insane during the game.

It was loud even now. Chatter and laughter came from the crowd. Music, voice-over ads, and game highlights blared over the loudspeaker. Those same highlights were replayed on the jumbotron while ad-banners scrolled at the bottom of the screen. Such noise wouldn’t normally bother me, but my head was throbbing like a mother.

In the suite’s indoor space behind us, Dax, Caelan, their parents, Jag, and Maverick were talking and knocking back beer while waiting for the game to resume. Dax owned the suite, and it was mega cool.

Feeling a smile curve my lips as an idea came to me, I said, “We need to snap lots of pictures of the suite to show Ollie. He’ll sulk.” Our brother had his own VIP suite, but it wasn’t as luxurious as this one.

Alicia chuckled, adjusting the position of the jacket she’d slung over the seat back. “Definitely. He’ll become pals with Dax just so he has access to it in the future.”

“It would come as no shock.” I dipped a finger beneath my sunglasses to ease the slight itch on the side of my nose. We were in the shade here on the balcony area but still hotter than the devil. The humid air carried the scents of popcorn, beer, onions, hot dogs, warm metal, cinnamon, and nachos.

Like many of the fans who sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiered seating, we were also wearing Drey’s team jersey. I hadn’t planned to paint my face, but Alicia had talked both Harri and me into it.

Many of the excited fans sported ballcaps and foam fingers. Some held up signs and flags or were recording the goings-on with their cell phones.

I glanced down at the hectic field below. TV crews and cameras could be seen. Mascots waltzed up and down, and cheerleaders were performing clever routines while a marching band went to town.

“Damn, he’s pretty,” Alicia said with a dreamy sigh.

Tracking her gaze, I saw that she was watching the game highlights. “Who?” I asked before tossing popcorn into my mouth.

She shrugged. “All of them, really. I mean, look at them. So many, many muscles.”

As Drey popped on the screen, I gently elbowed Harri. “How’re things coming along with Drey’s dog?”

“Good, I’d say.” Harri sucked a little mustard from her thumb. “Sabre is very smart. Like super smart. But he wants to be top-dog. Leader of the pack. So he sort of fights Drey for the alpha position.”

“He has a lot of energy, too,” I remembered.

“That’s one of the problems. Drey is very stern with him. But when you’re dealing with an animal who has that much energy, it’s hard to be consistent with them at all times because by the end of the day you’re damn tired.”

“I noticed you get along well with Drey.”

“We have a lot in common,” she said. Not with the excitement of a woman who’d clicked with a guy, but with the casual contentment of someone who’d found a new buddy.

I felt my lips part. “Oh my God, you friend-zoned him.” I had not seen that coming. “You did, didn’t you?”

Harri raised her shoulders. “Um …”

Alicia gaped at her. “How could anyone possibly friend-zone someone who looks like him? Not that I’m complaining. He’s—”

“Too old for me,” Harri finished with an eye roll. “Right.”

“Alicia’s question is a good one.” I set my popcorn on the floor and then lifted my soda from the cupholder. “How did you actually manage to stick him into a friend box?”

“I guess he’s just not my type.”

“Fuck that, he’s everyone’s type.”

“What I mean is he reminds me of some of my exes. His career comes first—anything else is a distraction to him. Being with a guy who’s so singularly focused on his job isn’t an issue for a girl if, like Drey, she doesn’t do more than ‘casual.’ But I’m the opposite.” Harri’s tongue flicked out to collect the crumb sticking to the corner of her mouth. “Not that I don’t still think he’s sex on a stick, I just don’t feel at all inclined to act on it.”

“It’s for the best,” Alicia told her sagely, clearly pleased that our sister would remain single.

Harri narrowed her eyes at her. “Jag looks hot today, don’t you think?”

Alicia’s lips pressed together. She flipped Harri the finger and then switched her attention to me. “How are things going with you, Addie? I haven’t seen you in, like, a week. You seem … I don’t know … more positive.”

I slurped some of my soda through the straw. “Things are just better all-round. I’ve got potential clients coming out of my ears. Plus, Felicity and her crew have stayed out of my way.”

There had also been no further contact or trouble from Mimi either. Knowing Dax wouldn’t want his situation with her to be shared with others, I hadn’t told anyone about it—not even my sisters, though I knew they’d keep it to themselves.

I returned my soda to the cupholder. My fingers a little slippery from the condensation on my cup, I wiped them on my jeans. “Also, me and Dax are more settled now.” Aspects of our budding friendship still felt forced at times—as he’d pointed out, it wasn’t instinctive for him to befriend people—but we were sticking with it.

“You do seem to have more of an ease with each other than you did before,” mused Alicia.

“We kind of …” I trailed off as a tickle built in my nose. I slapped a hand over my face right before the sneeze burst out of me. “Damn.”

Harri eyed me as she held out a napkin. “That’s, like, the third time you’ve sneezed in the past two hours. I think you might be coming down with something.”

I took the napkin and dabbed at my nose. “Nu-uh, I’m not sick.”

Alicia exhaled heavily. “You say it as if it would make you weak if you were. Everyone gets sick sometimes. Ew, don’t drop the germ-ridden napkin into your popcorn.”

“I’m done eating it.”

“I wasn’t.”

Demolishing the last of her hot dog, Harri looked at Alicia. “Why didn’t you just buy your own?”

“I didn’t feel like it.” Alicia retrieved her water bottle from the cupholder and unscrewed the cap. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

Harri’s brows inched up. “Is that why you ate half my mini doughnuts an hour ago?”

“I was being helpful. You could never have eaten all of them by yourself.”

“Helpful? Really?”

Alicia drank some water. “Really.”

“Did Jag tell you that?”

Alicia’s eyes flared. “Stop bringing him up every time I annoy you.” She placed the cap back on her bottle and then plonked it in the cupholder. “You know he and I have barely spoken.”

I shifted slightly on the plastic seat, grateful it was cushioned unlike those in the tiered rows—having a numb butt was no fun. “Speaking of Jag, I met his girlfriend. She glared at me like I’d tossed shit in her salad.”

Her forehead creasing, Harri swiped at her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, she did that to me, too.”

I felt my brows snap together. “What? When?”

“When I bumped into her and Jag at a grocery store,” Harri replied.

“What a whore,” snarked Alicia, her protective instincts clearly all stirred up. “Did you slap her?”

“No, I mentioned it to Drey and asked what her issue was,” Harri explained. “He said not to take it personally; that Leonie doesn’t like people who she terms ‘trust fund babies.’”

“Ah,” I said. “Got it.” It wasn’t uncommon for people to brand us spoiled, superior, and out of touch with reality … as if we grew up in a bubble where we weren’t exposed to the harshness of the world.

“Those people annoy me so much,” Alicia grumbled.

“Samesies.” Removing my sunglasses, I rubbed my aching temple. “But most do change their tune once they get to know us. Whether Leonie will bother getting to know us, I don’t know.”

I winced in sympathy as one of the people on the metal stairways stumbled, sending popcorn flying everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d slipped due to a soda spill—there was plenty of them. The steps were also littered with bits of food, wrappers, and receipt stubs.

“Whoa,” began Alicia, “isn’t that Trace Lacroix?”

Following her gaze, I noticed that the famous actor was indeed stood in the neighboring VIP suite. He wasn’t alone. His wife, Briar, and the other male in their triad, Kaleb, was with him.

Alicia stroked at her neck. “She is a lucky, lucky girl having two such fine specimens as husbands.”

Absolutely, but … “I don’t know if I personally could deal with two, though. One is enough.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Dax.

I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. Tipping my head back to find him stood directly behind me, I cast him a frown. “Stop sneaking up on me.”

“I didn’t sneak,” he calmly objected. “You just didn’t hear me.”

“Too busy ogling an actor,” Caelan teased from beside him.

I shot the tattooist a Don’t stir the pot look that only make him grin.

Walking onto the balcony with her husband, Kensey subtly peeked at Trace. “He is a treat to look at.”

Blake gave her a hard stare. “I’m right here.”

She widened her eyes in innocence. “It was a clinical observation.”

Blake snorted. “Sure.”

Just then, Trace glanced our way. His gaze zeroed in on Dax, and Trace then offered him a quick nod before going back to his conversation with his wife.

Again, I tilted my head to meet Dax’s gaze. “You know him personally?”

“To an extent.” His eyes zipped to my baby sister. “Do you have any experience at training cats, Harri?”

Twisting her head to look up at him, she blinked, seeming surprised by the question. “A little. Cats can be tricky creatures, but they’re not very difficult to train.”

“Even if they’re psychopathic?” he asked.

I shot him a glare. “Hey! Gypsy is not a psychopath. She needs some love and understanding.”

“She needs a therapist,” he countered.

“No, she—why are you nodding your head, Alicia?” I asked my sister.

She froze. “Uh, no reason.”

I would have branded her a liar, but my nose chose that moment to tickle again. Another sneeze—this one much less delicate than the last—fairly erupted out of me. Again, I gratefully accepted a napkin from Harri.

Skirting around the row of seats to stand in front of me, Dax studied my face carefully. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” I replied, gently wiping my nose.

He squinted. “You’re pale, your eyes are watery, and your nose is red.”

“Don’t flatter me so.” I dumped the napkin in the popcorn box at my feet. “I’m not sick.”

One of his brows slid up. “You’re sure about that?”

“Positive.”

∞∞∞

Slumped in my office chair the following afternoon, I silently winced as I swallowed around my dry, aching throat. “I think I’m sick,” I said, my voice a little raspy.

“I know you’re sick,” said Sabrina, standing in front of my desk, her arms folded, a stern expression on her face. “The coughing, sniffling, sneezing, and glassy eyes gave it away. Which is why I told you to go home the very moment you first got here. What on Earth possessed you to come in today?”

“I felt fine earlier.”

She gifted me an impatient look. “No, you didn’t. Pretending you’re well won’t make you well, you know. The power of positivity only goes so far.”

I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead. “Stop shouting, my head hurts.”

“I’m not shouting.”

“And stop glaring at me.” I paused as a cough racked my throat. Ugh. “You’re supposed to be sympathetic.”

“Tough love is more my thing, you know that.” She gestured at the door. “Go home. Get some rest. And stay there until you’re better.”

I pouted. “It feels like admitting defeat.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Just get your ass out of here. I’ll handle everything while you’re gone. You can’t exactly go meet clients and vendors looking all disgusting anyway.”

I felt my brows draw together. “I don’t look disgusting.” I felt it, though.

“No, you don’t,” she admitted. “But I’m feeling mean because I resent that you manage to look cute while ill. It isn’t fair. I look like the living dead when sickness strikes.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re lying, and we both know it.”

I gave a weak shrug. “It seemed like the nice thing to do.” The last word came out on a croak as another upcoming cough scratched at the back of my throat. Oh, hell.

Ever the drama queen, she reared back when the cough finally burst out of me. “Get out of here. Go on, go.”

I pushed out of my seat. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I freaking insist.”

Seeing that enough time had passed for me to take my next round of painkillers, I chugged them down with water before gathering my stuff together. Only then did I leave the building and head home.

Pulling into my driveway, I frowned at the sight of Dax’s car in its usual spot. It would normally be another three hours or so before his workday ended. Maybe he’d just popped home to grab something.

My shoulders drooping, I pretty much shuffled into the villa, my footsteps dragging. I found Dax on the patio reading something on his cell phone, a bottle of water on the table in front of him. “You’re home early,” I noted as his gaze snapped to mine.

“So are you.” He arched a superior brow. “Finally willing to admit that you’re sick?”

I narrowed my eyes at the gorgeous bastard. He’d earlier recommended I take the day off, swearing I’d regret it if I didn’t and predicting I’d return home earlier than usual. I’d insisted I was “fine.” Over and over, actually. He’d eventually shaken his head and left for work.

“Do we really have to talk about such things?” I asked.

Humor flickered in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not liking the gloating note in his voice, I gave him a haughty sniff … which came out sounding a little bubbly, since my nose was partially blocked.

“Have you taken painkillers?”

“Yes. They’re kicking in as we speak.” My headache was now more of a dull throb—horrible, but more bearable. “What cut your day short?”

“I was supposed to go somewhere with Jag, but he had to cancel—he didn’t fully explain why. It was something to do with Leonie.”

As it occurred to me that he would have given me a less detailed response once upon a time, I inwardly smiled. We were definitely making progress with the friendship thing. He hadn’t merely been paying me lip service when he assured me he’d work on it.

“On the subject of Jag and Leonie,” I began, “I don’t suppose you know if they’re serious, do you?”

Dax’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“Surely you’ve noticed the vibe between him and Alicia?”

He sighed. “He’s unlikely to act on it, single or not, so I wouldn’t bother playing matchmaker if I were you.”

I arched a brow. “He has something against ‘trust fund babies’ like Leonie does?”

Dax’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “She said that to you?” he asked, his tone pure silken menace.

“No, Drey told Harri about it when she asked him why Leonie gave her a dirty look.”

“And has she given you a dirty look?”

“It wasn’t a death glare or anything, so don’t go confronting her. Does Jag share her view?”

“No.” His brow creased when a cough crawled up my throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

I waved the idea away, just as I had earlier when he first suggested it. “There’d be nothing a doctor could do. It’s only a cold. I just need to rest, stay hydrated, and wait it out.”

Dax let out a displeased hum but didn’t argue. “Fine. Take a bath, change into sweats, and go relax and distract yourself with a book.”

I blinked. “It’s freaky how you have my exact plan in mind.”

Just then, his phone rang. Leaving him to take his call in private, I dumped my satchel in my office before going upstairs. In the en suite bathroom, I took a hot bath. The steam helped, making my throat hurt less and my nose clear a little.

Afterwards, clad in comfy sweats, I retreated to my office and settled in my plush, upholstered chair with a brand-new paperback that I’d recently ordered online. I’d originally meant to get started on it later tonight. I loved the author—her books always drew me in.

Losing myself in the story proved to be a fabulous distraction from how bad I felt, though I wasn’t impressed by how often a cough or sneeze dragged me out of a scene. At one point, Dax entered the room with a mug and a bottle of water—both of which he set down on the small table beside my chair.

I looked at the steaming cup. “What’s this?”

“Hot water with honey and lemon. It’ll help soothe your throat. My mother swears by it.”

I stared at him as warmth trickled into my chest. I hadn’t expected him to do, well, anything other than maybe avoid me until I was better. It wasn’t as if he was an attentive person, or as if he’d feel in any way obliged to baby me. He’d only come bearing fluids, sure, but it wasn’t something he’d have done a few weeks ago.

I was about to thank him, but then his gaze dropped to my paperback and his lips quirked. I frowned. “What?”

He looked at me. “You read books by Nina Bowen?”

“Yes, she writes horror. She’s also the shit. You’ve heard of her? Oh, wait, your company publishes her books. I forgot about that.”

She’d once self-published her novels, but that had changed over the years for some … My thoughts trailed off when I noticed his mouth twitch again. There was a weird glint in his eyes. Like he knew something I didn’t. And he was clearly amused by that.

I felt my brow pucker again. “What? What’s funny?”

He gave a slow shake of the head. “Nothing at all.”

Not whatsoever convinced, nor in the least bit impressed that he appeared to be finding amusement at my expense, I decided to mess with him. Making an effort to look pitiful, I asked, “Will you read to me?”

His humor began to slip away. “No.”

“But it’s a husband-y thing to do.”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Neither am I.” He pointed at the mug he’d brought me. “Drink that. All of it.” He dipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks and dug out a box of the painkillers I’d been using. “And take more of those when you next need them,” he bossed.

I took the box with a sniffle. “Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but I won’t complain.”

“You just did.” With that, he turned and headed for the door.

“Dax?” I waited until he met my gaze before saying, “Thank you.”

He inclined his head.

“You can read to me another time.”

Sighing, he preceded to leave the room. “Let that dream die, Addison, because it won’t happen.”

Alone again, I snickered to myself and then delved back into my book.