Chapter 16

Kali

We're at a new axe throwing bar I recently helped with the opening publicity of. I talked Wade into coming here after Brooklyn, the owner, agreed to give us a private room so we can get a little privacy and allow Wade to let his hair down a little. Not that he has a lot.

His chocolaty brown locks are clipped short on the sides into the perfect skin fade, with a little length on top which looks perfectly styled and messed up at once. He keeps it shorter than any of the other players on his team, which tells me he's not superstitious about cutting it until game season is over. He is his own individual, which I love about him.

Like.

Not love.

Today has been fun. Not very often, but sometimes, shopping by myself can get a little hectic, as I often get stopped for selfies and autographs, hence my security staff who I can call on at a moment's notice if fans get a little excitable, but shopping with Wade has been next level pandemonium.

Turns out I don't need security when he's around. He was protective of me the entire time, wrapping his arm around me, his hand at the bottom of my spine, which made me swoon.

"I can't believe you made me do this." Wade yields an axe my way, pretending to be mad about it, which he isn't. He's even laughed, like full on belly laughter. It's the first one I've heard from him and was kind of magical in a way it made his whole face light up.

"You should come here and throw axes instead of punching hockey players and people in dive bars."

He chuckles again. "I might just do that." Moving over to the starting line, getting ready to throw his axe, with two hands, he positions it above his head, then propels it forward, making the axe somersault through the air before hitting the far wall with a loud thunk. "We're even."

Walking to the target, he yanks the axe out of the wood before he saunters back and calls, "Sudden death."

I'm pretty good at axe throwing. I won the first game, then Wade won the second, and this is the decider.

"Where the fuck do you put it all?" He points at the plate of dirty fries I'm stuffing my face with.

"I'm hungry." On the rare occasions I have been hungover, I find eating makes me feel better. Luckily, I didn't upchuck this morning. I hate being sick. I stick another two fries in my mouth and mumble around my food, which is very unladylike of me. "I have a super-fast metabolism or something. I can eat whatever I want whenever I want. If I don't eat, I lose weight real fast."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope." That's one of the reasons brands loved hiring me; I maintained my weight.

I take a swig of my water, which I have had several bottles of today to rehydrate myself. I feel all the better for it. "Are you going to throw that or kill me with it?" I point to the axe he's still holding.

"I'm going for bullseye." He winks, then pretends to lick the edge of the blade as if he's lubricating it or some shit. What I would like him to do with that unholy tongue. I am momentarily speechless as I choke on my fries.

Rushing my way, he drops the axe, then slaps me on the back to help me to dislodge the blockage. "You good?"

"Yeah." I cough hoarsely. "Went down the wrong way." I croak out my lie, wiping under my eyes that have watered as I struggled for air.

"I'm fine," I say, then finish the contents of my bottle and let out a huge breath. If that's what simply looking at his tongue does to me, imagine what he would do to me if he licked me with it. I might have a heart attack and die.

Death by Wade's tongue.

Doesn't sound so bad.

What the hell is happening to me?

"Do you do much with your downtime, like this?" I ask, motioning to the room we are in to distract me from my inappropriate thoughts about his tongue.

"I'm usually busy training, and with Ezra and Myles living elsewhere, I only go out when they are in town. I don't socialize with my team much anymore."

Looking away, he continues, "I did before. Before, you know… Gretchen passed away." It looks like it physically hurts him to say her name. Grabbing his bottle of water, he takes a sip and places it back on the table, and I take that as my cue to change the subject.

"Our friends hit it off. That was a bit of a surprise, wasn't it?" I stick another fry in my mouth, enjoying the melted cheese stuck to it.

Wade sits directly opposite me on the bar height table. "Yeah. Didn't see that coming."

"The age thing didn't seem to bother any of them." Pointing it out is more of an inquiry than a statement.

He stops mid-bottle lift and eyes me curiously, and just as I think he's going to say something, he presses the rim of his water bottle to his mouth instead.

After taking a few long glugs, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and finally says, "Age is just a number, Kali." Adding, "Ezra has always dated women older than him." He crosses his arms and lays them on top of the table.

I like how he's more relaxed than when I first met him a month ago. Irritation bounced off him like a pinball machine, but he appears less tense recently. It suits him.

Leaning forward, he adds, "Ezra maintains older women are more confident, know what they want in the bedroom, and are more fun to be around."

"That right?"

"Apparently. I wouldn't know. I"ve only ever had one girlfriend."

What the hell? Really, just one?

He continues, "And she was the same age as me." He thinks for a bit. "I"ve only been with one other girl, and you probably read about the court case involving Britney from marketing." His cheeks fill with color.

"I did." I also know she's currently serving a prison sentence. "She's a piece of work, huh? Trying her hand at a little extortion with some of the players?"

He looks everywhere but at me. "She got what was coming."

"She's one tent short of a circus," I confirm.

I followed the story in the press at the time and how Britney was fired following the discovery of her with Wade in Ash's home; she then went on to send Ash's wife, Lily, who I've met at several events, a photo of Wade. With his face blurred out, Britney implied it was Ash in the photo and that he was having an affair with her.

She didn't realize Ash's chest is covered in tattoos, which Wade's is not, confirming it was Wade in the photo and not Ash.

Playing with the label from the bottle, he keeps his head down. "I'm better off by myself." He sounds completely deflated and I hate how lonely he must be.

"You have your team."

Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically replies, "Great," and follows it with a fake smile.

I limber gingerly into my next question. "Can I ask you about Amelia?"

Shoulders tighter than a witches' coven, he shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

"It's for professional reasons, Wade, to make sure nothing comes out in the press I don't know about. So I can prepare myself, be one step ahead of it. Just in case, you know?" I chatter on because that's a lie. I have my reasons.

One, because I'm a nosy bitch.

And two, I'm slightly jealous she's been on the receiving end of his hands and his mouth and his tongue. I suddenly feel very hot, images I don't want to think too much about pop into my head, sending a pulse so strong between my thighs that I have to squeeze them together to regain control. I try to convince myself that I want to know about her and why they split up. According to Wade's social media statement, it was a mutual decision, but I have my suspicions.

"You don't have to tell me." I should have kept my mouth shut. The silence between us grows louder by the second.

"It's fine." I'm relieved when he speaks but his words drip with pain. "Amelia and I dated all through middle school, high school, and when she went off to study in Vancouver. She promised me we would last the eight years of study she would be away for and were strong enough to survive the distance. But itwas all lies. I flew to Vancouver to surprise her between games one weekend and caught her in bed with another man. Her study buddy turned out to be her fuck buddy." Tearing pieces of the label off his water bottle, he fiddles with it.

I reach out to lay my hand on top of his, then think better of it, instead placing it on top of the table. "I'm so sorry, Wade." I know how that feels when someone blows your heart into smithereens like tiny pieces of confetti.

Dropping his voice, he says, "She wanted something different. A dentist it would appear."

I jump in because fuck Amelia for cheating on him and making him feel like he wasn't enough. "I'd choose an elite hockey player over a dentist any day of the week."

"Nah, she wanted someone stable who could offer her the American dream. Someone who didn't have a crazy schedule. Someone who had a perfectly straight nose, which I don't have." He points to it. "Had a fight with a hockey stick when I was fifteen."

"It gives you character." I lightly chuckle and then he finishes up by explaining, "And of course the one thing she hated the most, which she mentioned several times is how much she wanted someone who didn't train on and off the ice until you're a dead weight and unable to string a sentence together. I couldn't give her what she wanted."

My heart breaks for him.

"I still feel like a dick for not seeing what was in front of me all along."

I feel the same way about Michael. I didn't see it either. I was a fool.

"She wasn't meant for you, Wade. You need someone who will stand by you regardless of your profession. You want someone to cheer you on from the side of the rink, someone who loves what you do and loves you for you." Isn't that what we all want and need?

"She didn't love me in the same way."

"Do you still love her?"

"Do you still love Michael?" he bites back, surprising me with his question.

"No." My response is firm.

"We split over a year ago." Avoiding my question, he doesn't confirm or deny if he still loves Amelia. My guess is, he does.

"Haven't thought about Amelia for a few weeks, since we started to work together actually." Face serious, I think that revelation comes as a surprise to him.

"I try not to think about Michael." Which is difficult when he constantly slides into my DMs, texts me, and keeps turning up when I least expect him. If he opens a rival talent agency, he'll be difficult to avoid because we'll work in similar circles.

Wade peels the last of the label from his bottle, scrunches it in his hand, and drops it on the table. "Your ex is an asshole."

I don't disagree. "He's with Darcy now, and I'm guessing they'll get married soon if they are having a baby together." Maybe not though, knowing Michael, he'll take off at the first sight of baby puke. "Is Amelia still with the guy she cheated on you with?"

"Myles told me last night they're getting married."

Music drifts through the speakers as we let Wade's news settle between us.

"I loved Amelia," he finally says.

His use of the past tense doesn't go unnoticed.

"But looking back, I think it was the familiarity of her that I was mainly obsessed with. She knew me, I knew her, we shared friends, and we could reminisce about our childhood. All of it was history-based, but she had no intention of spending her future with me."

I understand what he means. "I think I feel the same about Michael. It was more of a convenient partnership. He was a good traveling buddy and kept me company, but there was no spark."

"There was a spark once, or never had there been?"

"Never had been." I lick my lips, feeling guilty. I've never told anyone that before.

"And you gave up modeling when you caught him cheating?"

"Yeah. Also, not strictly because of him." I can feel my voice becoming lighter as I get the opportunity to talk about my business. "For years I had been studying for my business management degree. Evening studies, between shoots, I squeezed in my assignments anywhere I could. I knew what I wanted to achieve and wanted to do it before I made the switch. It was all part of my long-term goal. I knew I wouldn't model forever. Every model has an expiration date. I chose to leave the industry myself and go out on a high note. I studied business management, accounting, marketing, internal and external communications, and crisis management. I loved it all. When I qualified, I poached two publicists from an agency in New York to help me set my business up in Canada. I worked in between modeling contracts, day and night, to make it happen. Then I moved back to the city I grew up in." Smiling, I continue, "It has been one of the best decisions I have ever made. I loved every minute of traveling the world, meeting people from every corner of it, the food, the culture, everything about my job was exciting, but I finally feel settled for the first time in years." I copy Wade's position, folding my arms and resting them on the tabletop. "Retiring from modeling was inevitable. It would have happened sooner rather than later, and I'm happy I did it when I did. The timing was perfect and when Michael cheated on me it gave me an out of sorts. Does that make sense?"

He nods.

"And we are about to open a new talent management agency. The PR side of the business is called KRPR and we're opening KRTM in the next couple of months. It will be a talent agency with a difference."

"How so?"

I shift into sales mode, feeling excited about my audacious goal. "We're going to focus on people who are visibly different. We'll be a full-service talent agency ensuring models, actors, and sports personalities are managed, represented, and publicized in the slickest and most ethical way possible. Right from the start, I've been committed to working with brands who were ready to change the face of fashion; different is beautiful. Our mission is to show the world exactly just how beautiful it looks, no matter the disability, color of someone's skin, or gender. At KR Talent Management, we are going to change the face of media and fashion."

I've had dozens of inquiries already. Clients and brands are leaning into the underrepresented, and we are signing talent quicker than we can hire agents and managers.

"Wow. That's pretty cool."

"Isn't it just?" It's the best idea I've ever had. "And the added bonus, my friends and family are here. I love being able to drop in for coffee or take my niece to have waffles. It's the best feeling in the world. I never knew how much I missed them until I returned home."

"I remember you said your mom and dad are archeologists. Is that right?"

"Yeah." I scrunch my face up. "It's weird right?" When I was growing up, my friend's parents were doctors, teachers, and lawyers who worked in offices, but what my parents do is… different. "They're currently living in London and working for The British Museum. I haven't seen them in a while." I'm hoping to visit them next summer. "They met at college and have been inseparable ever since." Separated from their children but not from each other. "They are super eccentric," I explain when there really is no need.

"And you lived with your grandmother? Isn't that what you said the day we met in the boardroom?" I love how interested Wade seems in my life, something Michael never cared about.

"My parents won a grant to dig in Cairo, and left me and my sister, Dana, with my grandmother, and that was that." I never did understand how they could leave us. "My grandma was very special. She loved us like her own."

"A bit like Gretchen with me?"

"Yeah." I ask my next question. "Do you not speak to your mom at all?"

The mood shifts between us. "Haven't spoken to her since the day I left home."

"That surprises me. Your mom is never out of the gossip pages. I would have thought she would use your fame to climb the celebrity ladder." It's an honest observation.

"She didn't need to after she signed that stupid television deal." Looking less than pleased about that, Wade runs his hands across his cleanly shaved jaw, which I much prefer to the stubble he grows sometimes and imagine how his soft face would feel between my thighs.

Stop it, now not.

I watched Rich and Reckless in Canada once and never again. I'd rather lick toxic paint and die a slow and painful death than watch a bunch of rich women teeter about in high heels while they boast about how wealthy they are. Classless cows.

I can only guess how it makes Wade feel. "It gives your team easy ways to screw with you. Like the fight with Zane?"

"Zane is a prick. He's the worst."

I"ve met Zane a few times. But from what I've seen of him, I think he's full of shit. Underneath lies a deeply insecure man who covers up those insecurities by saying hateful things.

Wade adds, "Daddy is always bailing him out of trouble with women."

I lift my eyebrows, interested as Wade spills Zane's secrets. "Paid a one night stand he got pregnant to keep quiet about it, apparently."

That is scandalous. Daddy clearly has a thick checkbook to keep that under lock and key. I can't deny I'm loving the gossip. Just as long as it doesn't involve Wade, I'm here for it.

He then says, "I don't want to ruin my day. I've had a nice time with you today, so let's not talk about Zane Edwards."

"You've had a nice day with me?" I point to my chest. That surprises me. He wears a virtual shield, making it difficult to get close to him, but he's right about today. It's been great.

"Yes. Best day in a while."

I feel myself smiling brighter than sunshine.

"We should have met your friends and mine for brunch. We could have had a six-some and would have started the day right."

"My day started perfectly."

My day started perfectly. I'm biting my tongue to prevent myself from asking if it was because I woke up in his bed. I don't suppose so. It's wishful thinking on my behalf.

"Ellis and Joy said they had fun last night."

Wade chuckles. "I bet they did. I haven't heard from either of my friends today, which I am taking as a good sign."

I run my hands through my hair. "It's weird how in sync my friends and I are. We all got divorced within the space of six months of each other and we are all now devastatingly single. Maybe me meeting you and them meeting your friends was all meant to be."

"You don't actually believe in any of that shit, do you?"

"I believe in fate, and everything being meant for a reason."

"So, you think catching Michael in your bed with Darcy Humberston and breaking your heart was all meant for a reason? To teach you a life lesson or something equally universal and cosmic?" His directness catches me off guard.

Heat spreads through my body, making me feel uncomfortable. It's so embarrassing. How could one of the world's top supermodels, classed as one of the most beautiful women in the world, get cheated on? I assume that's what Wade is thinking right now, and I hate it.

"I read it online. I knew he cheated on you, but you told me more of the story last night when you were drunk. What an asshole." He pauses, his eyes locking on mine. "If you were mine, I would never cheat on you, Kali." His sincerity is evident in the low and steady tone of his voice. "I'd fall at your feet and worship you. That's what he should have done."

Catching me off guard, my hands move to my chest as a gasp leaves it.

He's far from a poetic man, but his words burn into my brain, and it makes me want to be more daring than I am. My body aches to move closer to him. To lean in and kiss him.

But I shouldn't.

Can't.

Won't.

Most definitely would like to.

I turn away, in an attempt to avoid the serious route our conversation is taking. Although I did ask for this; a day together to get to know one another better.

We're two professionals working together. There is no likelihood for if you were mine. He's far too young for me anyway. Maybe for a bit of fun, but nothing serious.

To avoid any awkwardness, I steer us back on course. "Show me what you got." I point to the axe throwing stall. "Sudden death." I place my feet on the floor and wiggle my toes inside my new black and white Nike Dunks I was somehow talked into buying by Wade. Just as well we did, or I would never have been allowed to throw an axe with the open-toe heels I had on from last night.

I"ve turned into a dirty all nighter, without the dirty part. Ain't that a shame?

"I'm going to whoop your ass, Wade Collins." Walking over to the stall, I try shaking off the feeling that something has shifted between us. As if our confessions have brought us closer together or pushed us further apart. I can't work it out. And this is why I never mix business with pleasure. Perhaps it was a stupid idea of mine to spend time together outside of work.

"When you throw yours, imagine it's my face. Because you're not going to like the next animal sanctuary visit I have planned for you next week." I whoop with glee as I push my hands in the air in mock celebration.

Lifting my axe off the ground, I get in the zone and focus on the target like an Olympian javelin thrower who is going for gold. "If I hit this and you miss your next shot, I win the game." I look back over my shoulder at him as I line myself up with the marker on the ground.

"I won't miss." Confidence shoots out of his mouth. "Whose face are you imagining?" He walks over to the edge of the stall, crosses his arms in front of him and stands wide.

"Yours," I joke.

"No, you're not. Deep down, I think you like me."

"It's sweet of you to think that way, but I don't. You're a pain in my ass."

I'd like him to spank me and cause pain across the skin of my ass.

Oopsie. There go those crazy thoughts again.

"Wade pain in the ass Collins, right? That's what you confessed to calling me last night."

I rest the wooden handle of my axe on top of my shoulder. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." He shrugs, replying with heavy irony.

I step closer and lay my hand over his. "Genuinely, I'm sorry for calling you that. It's very unprofessional of me, and despite what you might think, I do really like you. I've had fun today."

"No more name calling, please. My mother did it to me all my life." I can tell he's trying to school his emotions as he clenches his jaw together, something I've watched him do a lot since I met him.

"I promise," I whisper as I circle my thumb across the skin on the top of his hand. I can't work out why I am touching him or why I like the feeling of his giant hand in mine so much. "I'm sorry, Wade. I'm sorry for making you feel less than you are, and I'm sorry for how your mother made you feel."

"Don't be and don't feel sorry for me." He jumps on the defense.

"I don't. I feel happy that you had Gretchen instead. Your mother didn't deserve you. She's missed out on all your greatness."

"I haven't been that great lately." Weary eyes stare back at me.

"You're wrong about that. You did a great thing today, Wade. You made little Rory's entire year. You have greatness within you. It's just been hibernating for the past twelve months. You're like a snail."

"A snail?" he scoffs with a chuckle.

"They can hibernate for up to three years."

"You know a lot of random facts."

I've spent a lot of time by myself over the years. "I've watched lots of British documentaries on the BBC. David Attenborough is the greatest."

"Yeah?"

"And I know a thing or two." I squeeze his hand. "Trust me, Wade. I've seen guys and girls like you fall off the rails of stardom, self-sabotaging themselves and their careers. I meant it when I said I wanted to help you. You took the first step by saying yes to allowing us into your life. Meeting with Thomas was the biggest hurdle, and allowing me to enhance your visibility and credibility, I feel honored."

He scoffs, so I remind him, "You're an elite athlete. You're special. One of a kind. Hell, Calvin Klein wants to sign you for a campaign. That's a huge deal. You should feel proud of yourself." I beam a smile, knowing no one tells him how incredible he truly is. Beneath the surface is a guy full of promise with a huge heart that he's chained up so no one can get to it anymore.

"I don't feel proud of myself," he confesses.

My heart cracks open for him. "Perhaps, not yet. But we'll get you there. And no more name calling, I promise."

"Thanks." His face softens, showing me how grateful he is. "When I throw my axe, I'm going to pretend the target is my mother. I think that would help."

I bob my head in response. "How about we throw it together? That way, we both win. I can pretend it's Michael's face and you can pretend it's your mom's."

"I think I like the sound of that." Looking down at our conjoined hands, he says, "You seem to like touching me." It's an obvious observation because I've been a little too handsy today. Shoulder touches, hand gripping, squeezing his biceps. I can't help myself.

"Sorry." I pull my hand away, disconnecting us. "Let's throw this." I tuck my hair behind my ear and bite my lip because, around him, I feel nervous, like a giddy teenager. I'm behaving like one too.

I make my way back to the standing marker and wait for him. Anticipation rolls over me like the crest of a wave, my stomach feeling as if it's doing somersaults.

What feels like an eternity passes before he steps up behind me. Pressing his front to my back, his mouth finds my ear. "I'm going to have to touch you, Kali. That okay?" Chin resting on my shoulder, he tucks himself into my neck. His gravelly lower tone causes a throbbing sensation between my thighs and the way he says my name sounds like a vow.

"It's okay," I whisper, unable to look back at him from fear of my mouth finally touching his, which is what it's been threatening to do since last night. It's very tempting.

He runs his hand down my right arm, to my wrist, finally finding my hand where he wraps his strong digits around it. I gasp when his firm hand rests on my waist.

"Are you thinking about him?" he asks, lips so close they brush my skin.

"No."

"Who are you thinking about?"

"You." It feels good to confess that he's all I've thought about for days. "Can't stop."

With his crotch pressed against my ass, I feel every hard inch of him as he holds me tight. "Pity I'm a client then, eh? Because I can't stop thinking about you either and all the things I would like to do to this beautiful body of yours."

His words cause a wave of arousal between my thighs. I want him to do despicable things to me; with his tongue, his fingers, his lips. I want them all.

Moving his hand from my waist, it travels across my hips, then moves south, stopping at my inner thigh. He drifts his hand back up the fabric of my jeans, almost touching the place I'm desperate for him to be between my legs. My clit throbs, begging for his attention.

I let out a whimper when he rubs his hard cock against my ass and bites my ear lobe. "But we can't, Kali." The way he draws out my short name has me panting.

"Who says?" I ask, my voice low and raspy, not sounding like myself, my body longing for his touch.

"Me. You're too much of a distraction during the season."

"Like you said, you're too young for me anyway." I push my hips back to rub his cock with my ass, making him groan and dig his fingertips into my upper thigh.

"And you're too old for me." I feel him smile against my skin as if he's mocking me. Licking my neck, I moan as pleasure dances through my veins. I desperately want him to kiss me.

This sucks because he's right about our ages, although I'm a glutton for punishment. "If I was yours, Wade," I repeat his words from earlier. "What would you do?"