Page 31 of Rushing Into Love

My mind reeled and my muscles tensed, readying for a fight. I took a few deep breaths, trying to get a hold of my temper, before I spoke.

“There aren’t really any details to tell. She’s the aunt of one of my Pee Wee football players. I met her last week, we got drinks, went to breakfast. We kissed one time, yesterday morning, and that’s where those photos came from. I had no idea she had a boyfriend,” I said through gritted teeth. “If I’d known that, I obviously wouldn’t have gone there.”

“Obviously,” Matt said. I could tell he was making notes, already preparing his statement for the press. “So she told you she was single? Or you didn’t ask?”

I gazed up at the ceiling, thinking back. “She said she wasn’t in a serious relationship. I took that to mean she was available. I definitely had no idea she was dating some hot shot movie star.” I kicked at the desk, angry at Bree for putting me in this situation. She’d made my life complicated, and that was exactly what I’d spent the last four years avoiding.

“Okay, that’s good. At least you can claim ignorance.”

I bristled at that, not quite sure I appreciated the word or if I could exactly claim it. Shehadtold me it was complicated, I just hadn’t pushed the issue.

“Sort of,” I confessed. “She might have mentioned it was complicated.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could practically hear Matt calculating how much this could cost me in endorsement dollars.

“Ryder, I’m gonna be straight with you here, buddy. This isn’t good.” He exhaled loudly, then forged ahead. “We’ve worked hard on your image, rehabbing it after all the crap Shayna pulled, and we’ve managed to get some really good deals set up. But this puts you back on Page Six and not in a good way.”

I grimaced. “I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity.”

Matt let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, sure.” We both knew this wasn’t true.

“What are my options?” I asked, fists clenched.

“Couple options. Option one: You all are just friends, no big deal.”

I scrolled through the pictures on my laptop again. Didn’t really see too many people buying that story.

“Option two: You claim ignorance. You had no idea she had a boyfriend.”

My chest tightened at this option. Could I actually throw Bree under the bus like that? I was mad, sure, but could I really go all-out nuclear on her?

“Is there an option three?” I asked, running my hands over my head. Neither of those choices held much appeal.

“Option three: The ever-popular ‘No comment.’ But I’m going to have to tell your sponsors something,” Matt said.

The clock on my desk tick-tocked loudly. I watched the second hand march its way around the face as I tried to figure a way out of the situation.

“Ryder? You still there?” Matt asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. I still had no idea what to do. “Let’s go with Option Three for the moment.”

Matt exhaled again. “You sure? That could be risky—it gives the other two parties a chance to get ahead of this,” he warned.

“I know, but I can’t skewer Bree in the press like that. Maybe if we say nothing, this will go away.”

“I don’t think so, buddy, but we can lay low for a minute. I’ll call your sponsors, let them know there’s no story here, then we’ll circle up again in the next day or two and see if we need to make another move. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I have to go call my lawyer now. Thanks for handling this, Matt,” I said, my jaw tense.

“No problem. Remember, lay low.” Then he clicked off.

I disconnected, throwing the phone across the room. I was in no mood to call my lawyer right now. I needed to go for a run and let off some steam before I made that call.

* * *

My mom agreedto keep Charlie for a bit, so long as I was back in time for church. I didn’t take the time to explain the situation. I laced up my sneakers, grabbed my headphones, and snagged a hoodie on my way out the door. I threw it on, not due to the temperature, but more for aesthetics—I needed to keep a low profile, like Matt suggested. Someone knew where I was and thought I was an interesting story—I certainly didn’t want anyone following me to or from my house.

The sun was out, but the light was weak, the air chilly. Pulling the hood down low, I kept my eyes on the ground and set up a nice pace—one, two, one, two—rhythmic and methodical. I tried to focus on my feet and the run, but my mind kept going back to those pictures.Who had taken those photos of me and Bree?We were alone when we kissed, I was absolutely sure of it. Those had to be professional shots, taken with a long-distance zoom lens.Why would anyone want those photos?

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