Page 31 of Just One Season
“What did you expect me to say?”
“No idea. Literally. But if I’d had a list, that would’ve been at the bottom of it. Or… not on it at all.”
“Right.” Kellen presses his lips together for a beat. “He thinks—but is completely wrong—that I am interested in his wife.”
“Oh. That’s… really bad.” I’d gotten the impression from Atticus that Kellen is a good guy, but is he?
“Yeah.”
“Are you?”
“No,” he says firmly and shakes his head.
I blink about a million times. Why is he telling me this? Kellen clears his throat. I push my hair off my forehead and sigh.
“Well, Paul and my father are friends, and I’m pretty sure he’s spying on me for him.”
“I’ve heard that.” Kellen nods.
“Atticus.” I make a mental note to chastise Atticus for sharing too much information.
“Yup. I also heard that your father is reporting what he hears to your ex-boyfriend.”
“Ex-fiancé. Shit, my brother really needs to keep his giantmouth shut.”
Kellen fidgets in his seat, smoothing his jogging pants and then scratching his forearms.
“Ok, I give up. I’m enjoying our heart-to-heart conversation, but how can I help with your problem?”
“I was hoping we could help each other.”
“How so?” I furrow my brow. “By murdering Paul? Or my father? Or my ex? Oh, all three??” I fake excitement.
“Nothing illegal.” Kellen’s eyes twinkle. “But what if there was a way for your father and your ex to hear how fantastically you are doing here in Fort Collins? How your life is happy and perfect?”
“That sounds amazing.”
Kellen swallows.
“Dude. Spit it out. You’re making me nervous.”
“If you and I pretend to date?—”
I literally gasp, and then laugh, and then quiet at the solemn look on his face.
“Shit, you’re serious. Okay, go on.”
“—then maybe Savannah will back off, and Paul will turn his attention away from me. Then I don’t have to worry about getting traded because the team owner hates me. And you can show your ex-life how happy you are without them.”
My eyes must be as wide as one of the communal dog bowls at the Delightful Doggy Palace. Which is kind of gross, when you think about it. All these dogs sharing drool and mixing it together in big bowls? Yuck.
“Then they’d think—know—how well you’re fitting in here. How great your job is going.”
I’m incapable of responding for a full minute. Is he serious?
“You want to fake date me?”
“Mmm, yes. That’s what I’m suggesting.”
