Page 17 of Off the Mark
I dipped my head. Caught her eye. “What was that?”
“I need to clean up my reputation and I need to do it quick so I don’t lose this contract. And I thought maybe you could pretend to be my boyfriend for a few weeks.”
Charlie blurted this out in a rush, the words all shoved together so that it took me three whole seconds to realize what she’d said.
And thenreallyrealize it.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to repeat that,” I drawled. “Because I could have sworn you asked me to pretend to be your…boyfriend.”
Her pretty green gaze rose to mine, her cheeks red. “That is what I said.”
“Charlie…” I rubbed my forehead. “Back in the day, you made your lack of romantic feelings towards me well-known.”
“Right. That’s why the entire thing would be fake. I’m not trying to date you, Rowan. Or if I was, I wouldn’t invent some kind of orchestrated ritual to do so.” She arched an eyebrow. “I would just ask if you wanted to fuck.”
My back molars ground together in restraint. I’d gotten better at controlling my intense attraction to Charlie over the years, but a lifetime’s worth of erotic fantasies about her lived rent-free in my head.
Way too many of them involved sex on desks. Like the one I was currently sitting on, with its glorious flat surface and ability to support my favorite fantasies. Such as Charlie, perched on the edge with her legs spread wide. Or Charlie, with her palms flat on the desk and my fingers tangled in that long ponytail of hers.
And I’d give just about everything I had for her to shove me back and ride us both to orgasm. Just because she could.
Just because I wanted her.
Desperately.
I kept my focus locked on her. “I sorta thought you’d have another guy to ask. Figured you’d be with some adrenaline-loving boyfriend by now who could also help you charm the press.”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. A slew of new fantasies burst forth from the motion. “The last guy I dated was like a year ago. And only for a few weeks. I dumped him.”
“Was it because he wasn’t as handsome as me?”
Her lips twitched. “I was better than him at motocross. Turns out he was the jealous type. It was boring.”
I cracked a half grin. “Obviously you were better, Maddox. Though it’s interesting that you didn’t confirm or deny if I was hotter than him.”
Charlie shrugged one brightly tattooed shoulder. “I don’t think of you like that, Rowan.”
“But when you decided thatpretend boyfriendwas the solution to your reputation problem, you immediately came to me. Rowan O’Callaghan. Your hottest friend.”
She pressed her lips together, but amusement brightened her face. “I thought of you because you’re, you know…”
I waited, still smiling.
“You’re…very sweet,” she grumbled.
“Sweet? When the hell have you ever wantedsweet?”
“Hey, I contain multitudes.” She scowled, but then she raised her palms and took a breath. “I need to say that I believe our society’s obsession with romantic monogamy is problematic and the fact that I’m evenconsideringlying about some made-up fairy tale is also problematic. But…you’re an athlete. You know how this world works. It’s deeply unfair for professionals to get positive attention based on their personal life. Not their talent. But the fans love a romance and so does the media. If Bettencourt wants me to generate happy, nice news stories, showing off a new boyfriend at all these events might help. Even a little.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and dropped the grin. “It is totally, totally unfair. And Bettencourt’s the problem here, not you. So you went to some bars during your free time. Who gives a shit? They should be losing their damn minds over the privilege of sponsoring you.”
Her answering smile was small. But sincere. It made me feel like I was standing under the lights of Citi Field all over again. “Thank you. You always understand this stuff. On the one hand, I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. On the other…” She paused, jaw flexing. “I hesitate to even use this word because I’m worried it sounds too dramatic. But I need a miracle, Rowan. I need…I need your help.”
Over the course of our friendship, I’d seen the current expression on Charlie’s face all of, what, two times? And every time, including now, my chest ached in a way I still didn’t understand.
Physical pain? Yeah, I got that. Got the way the constant, dull throb of torn ligaments and tendons could make a person feel like they were out of their fucking mind, climbing the damn walls.
Whatever Charlie made me feel was similar but also…different. I only ever wanted the shoulder pain to go away. Whereas wanting to tear at the walls whenever Charlie was near was a sensation I enjoyed.
