Page 27 of Off the Mark
An unreadable emotion rippled across his face. “I don’t feel obligated at all. But you said you needed a miracle, right?”
“Yeah. A big one.”
He grimaced. “So do I. A big one. I was hoping we could find a way for this arrangement to benefit us both.”
Something about the raspy edge ofbenefit us bothhad a hot flush working up my throat.
“What do you want from me then?” I asked. Casually. Carefully. And for only a second, as the two of us huddled together, his gaze flared seductively. It wasn’t the easy charm so prevalent in his bar flirting. It held a darker texture that had my stomach hollowing like I was performing a trick on my bike.
“Hi there,” Dempsey called out.
The sound of her voice pushed us apart, had me pinning her with an apologetic smile. I held up my bandaged hand. “Don’t worry, it’s a non-critical wound. But I am sorry I came in fifth. I couldn’t get past that pack of three.”
Her cool blue eyes were sliding back and forth between Rowan and me. “It was a tough one, babe. They clearly boxed you out. But are you going to introduce me or what?”
I shot a quick glance at Rowan, but he was already extending his hand. “Rowan O’Callaghan. I’m just here to perform minor surgery, ma’am.”
Recognition dawned on her face. “Hey, I know you. You were a rookie pitcher for the Mets what…three, four years ago?”
His eyebrows flew up. “Four years ago, yeah. I’m guessing you’re a big Mets fan then?”
“Huge. Lifelong. Die-hard,” she replied, crossing her arms. She sized him up. Sized me up. “Charlie, is this who I think it is?”
I gulped. It was now or never. Rowan slid a loose arm around my waist, and I knew he was sayingyes.
“It sure is,” I said brightly. “Dempsey, please meet my new boyfriend.”
9
CHARLIE
Rowan knew a bar nearby where we could talk—small, dark, and private—so I hopped in my truck and followed him there. It was just past four in the afternoon, but my nerves were shot and a cold beer would probably do me some good.
Thank god Dempsey had begged off to meet with another client, so she wasn’t able to grill us on relationship details we hadn’t figured out yet. I didn’t miss the tiny smile of approval she’d worn while chatting with us though. The warmth of that gesture was indication enough that I’d been floundering without it.
Leave it to Rowan O’Callaghan,of course, to swoop in, bandage my knuckles, and charm my agent all at once.
We parked side-by-side in front of a bar that looked like it hadn’t updated its decor since the seventies.Maximillian’swas scrawled on the sign out front. We were somewhere in the suburbs, near the track, but far from the prying eyes of racing fans.
Rowan held open my door while I climbed down. “This place could give Jolene’s a run for its money in the shabby looks department.”
“Thought you’d appreciate that,” he replied. “I figured it was smarter to hash out the details of a fake relationship without the public sniffing around. Or the nosy busybodies of South Philly.”
I cleared my throat. “If I didn’t, uh, make this clear, I’m in aone more strike and you’re outsituation with Bettencourt, per Dempsey’s meeting with them this morning. Finding out I invented a relationship to win them over while lying to the media would be that strike.”
“Let’s make sure they never find out then,” he said, pulling open the door with one hand and flashing a notebook and pen in the other. “I came prepared, Maddox.”
I slid past him into the dimly lit bar. My boots stuck to the floor, and there were baskets of peanuts on the counter I could already tell were stale. The clack of pool balls, the glasses drying on the counter, the low bass of rock music—all of it had memories of Jolene’s washing over me, made stronger by Rowan’s reappearance in my life.
“Seem familiar?” he asked, voice close to my ear.
“Very. I’ll have to be on the lookout for a smug pitcher, constantly looking to score.”
Rowan laughed, the sound as contagious as I remembered. I pressed my lips together and hopped onto a barstool, rapping my non-bandaged knuckles on the wood out of habit. Rowan slid onto the next one, left leg stretched long, his foot hooked around the lower rungs of my stool. “And I’ll be on the lookout for the smokin’ hot bartender who was way out of every customer’s league.”
I hummed under my breath. “Oh yes, even yours.”
“As you informed me within seconds of us meeting.”
