Page 59 of The Fake Out

He homed in on me, his eyes narrowing. “Gianna Damiano?” His voice lifted at the end like he was happy to see me, though I didn’t have a clue why, and his serious expression contradicted the idea.

“Beckett.” Cortney growled.

“I know. I know.” He waved Cortney off and held a hand out to me over the half wall. “I haven’t gotten to meet you yet, but I’ve heard good things.”

For some people, a charming man’s attention would be flattering, but for me, alarm bells went off. “Why?” I demanded, keeping my hands at my sides.

Cortney tipped his head back and laughed.

That reaction only made me even more suspicious. Teeth gritted, I looked from one man to the other, scrutinizing them for their motivation. Why the fuck were these men talking about me at all? “What do you want?”

Cortney rocked back, looking at Beckett. “I like her. Dylan was right. Reminds me of Delia.”

Beckett huffed. “Dippy Doo is rarely wrong.”

“Did it hurt to say that?” Cortney asked.

Beckett glared. “No. I love your fiancée.” He shook his head and turned back to me. “Your brother has spoken highly of you.”

“Bossman.” Cortney’s voice was a growly warning. “Dylan first.”

I crossed my arms, my guard rising further. These two had some agenda, and I didn’t like it.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

Beckett crossed his arms, mimicking my posture, and narrowed his eyes right back at me. “We need a designer to create a new city jersey, and your name has been tossed around.”

I sucked in a breath. A project for the Revs? That would be huge. I knew nothing about jersey design, but ideas were already swirling in my mind. Play into the city, the team, and make it interesting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it. And if I did that and the logo for Little Fingers, I might get more side jobs. My contract with Doucette didn’t allow me to set up a website for myself or promote that I took on side jobs. They didn’t make them forbidden; I just couldn’t advertise myself. But if I could pick up a few more commissions, then maybe leaving Doucette wasn’t a crazy idea.

“I’d love to hear more about it,” I agreed.

“But…” Beckett cleared his throat.

Cortney puffed up, towering over him and looking like the only reason he wasn’t pummeling the Revs’ owner was because his arms were currently occupied by his sweet infant daughter.

“We aren’t looking to release until next season. Langfield Corp needs a Little Fingers logo first. And apparently Dippy Doo won’t work with anyone but you.”

My breath caught at that tidbit of information. She only wanted me? I couldn’t fathom how she even knew about me.

“So after you design for Little Fingers and Langfield Corp”—he smiled, clearly proud of himself—“the Revs want to chat. We want to be first in line.” Then he turned to Cortney. “See how well I did that?”

Cortney sighed. “Yeah, Beckett, you’re amazing.” The sarcasm was so thick I didn’t get how Beckett missed it.

“I am.” His green eyes flicked to Willow. “Now let me hold her.” He held his arms out.

“No.” Cortney stepped back and brought his daughter closer to his chest.

Beckett slumped, his shoulders sinking. “But I need practice.”

“Not on my child.” Cortney turned back to me. “We’ll see you soon?”

The question was laced with the need for assurance, so I nodded.

Seemingly content with that response, the two walked back into their box, bickering with each other the whole way.

“What was that about?” Pop asked.

“A logo for a daycare,” I said, leaving it at that. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. If I told him they mentioned the city jersey idea, he’d go nuts. He’d be so proud, and he’d tell everyone. The problem with that was that I didn’t have the job yet. Worse? I wasn’t sure I really had the capabilities. It was definitely outside my wheelhouse.

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