Page 13 of Call the Shots
I’d never jeopardize King’s football career. Ever. Especially for something as dumb as getting back at my ex.
“Xavier’s my problem,” I insisted. “I’ll handle it.”
Something shattered inside. Muttering under my breath, I left for my garden. My pride and joy. They weren’t just pretty flowers. I specifically grew indigenous Texan plants for a pocket prairie, so birds, lizards, and butterflies flocked to my garden. Every morning after my parties, I’d dig in the soil. I loved it. It was a great cure for a hangover. Being out there always made me feel real again.
I slipped on my gloves as King sat on the bench.
“Thanks for coming,” I whispered.
He mussed up my hair, quiet, his mind elsewhere.
With a sly glance his way, I dug up one of my small esperanza bushes for the move, careful of the roots. “Tell me about the angel again.”
A flush crept up King’s neck, which was so funny. I’d seen him throw down football players and tackle people bigger than him like it was no big deal, but mentioning the girl he was texting had him blushing hard.
“She’s so pretty.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I called yesterday and started rambling about Houston traffic.” He groaned. “She told me it’s okay to be nervous, how embarrassing is that?”
“Awww.”
He grunted, exasperated. “I can’t talk to her like a normal person.”
“Disgustingly sweet,” I teased. Something crashed from inside the house, and I ignored it, nudging King with my trowel. “Keep talking. I want to hear everything.”
King told me the adorable details until my phone rang from my back pocket. My mom. It was just one of those days when everything wanted to come at me. I loved her, but I didn’t want to hear about the endless brunches and lunches to be checked off for Dad’s campaign—hopefully, his last.
Good thing I had the perfect distraction.
“Hey, Mama,” I cooed into the phone. “Guess what? Your favorite person’s sitting in my garden.”
She sucked in a breath. “King?”
He snorted and held out a hand, gracefully taking the phone, even if it meant he’d just grunt along to my mom endlessly talking.
For more than two years, King and I had been in a fake relationship, putting on a show as one of the biggest couples at Marrs University. When I originally created the idea with Cleo, I had another football player in mind because we were already friends. But he said no, and I figured—well, that’s that.
Instead, Cleo came up with King.
The idea was simple. It’d look great for my dad’s election cycle. We’d get to cement ourselves as important people on campus. And I’d get to work directly with one of the biggest football teams in the nation, one my family proudly supported. We thought it’d last three months, max.
Except we kind of went viral.
The longer the relationship went on, the bigger the opportunities and paid promotions became. There were government dinners to attend, business lunches, Houston ribbons to cut, and he became my best friend.
The one I whispered to over schnapps on the rooftops at parties, the one who held my hand when I had my pregnancyscare last year. His mom was like a second mom to me, his little sister was one of my favorite people in the world, and my familyadoredthe strong, silent, and incredibly loyal man.
Xavier had liked the gifts, money, and donations to our organizations that the fake relationship provided, but he’d been ready for it to be done with. But when the fake relationship was almost done, King had a hiccup from his past, and we decided to keep the charade going for another year. I just couldn’t abandon King.
I watched him while he listened intently to my mom. King was the steady rock I never knew I needed. I had no idea what I’d do without him.
CHAPTER 6
BEAR
BETTER OFF
