The Catching Kind (23 page)

"Thanks."

I snuggled under his arm trying not to enjoy being there too much. Trying not to let the happy glow of just the two of us mean anything.

"But, Hails, where have you been? That woman had been trying to sink her claws into me for half-an-hour. You were supposed to come rescue me."

"Connor, you're not exactly known for fighting off the attention of beautiful women."

“Exactly.” He winked at me and turned to lead us back over to where the others milled around the bar.

Well, crud.

TWENTY-THREE

Mac pulled to the curb outside my door and threw the car in park. I knew there was no way I was getting upstairs without Connor right behind me. Him and that stupid bag sitting in my bedroom.

I tried not to think about the extra toothbrush in my bathroom or the oversized t-shirts that still managed to be tight on him that somehow made it into my laundry basket this week.

As if I wanted to have even more stuff to carry to the basement and back.

Mac went to open his door, but Connor reached over the seat and patted him on the shoulder.

“No need to be all official with us.” Connor slid out and reached back in for me.

“Thanks for the ride, Mac. I’ve never been driven around in such high class before.” I grinned, knowing he wouldn’t be insulted by my lack of fancy-schmancy’ness.

“Ms. Tate, it was an absolute pleasure. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed driving Connor around so much before. I hope we see a lot of each other.” 

I took Connor’s hand and let him help me out of the low car onto the sidewalk. He gave a last wave and turned me toward the building.

“You know,” I started, knowing this was a losing battle. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Oh, I’m staying.”

“It’s gotta be an even harder decision knowing how uncomfortable the couch is now.”

“I’m a stronger man than you give me credit for.”

“Connor—”

Before I could finish whatever I was going to say to try to get America’s Sexiest Athlete to not sleep at my place, a bright flash broke off to my right blinding me for a quick second.

Connor’s arm went around me, tucking me into him as he rushed us toward the front door. When we got there, he stalled, realizing he didn’t have keys. Another light flashed behind us. 

“Hailey, your keys.”

I tried not to let him see my hands shaking as I struggled to dig them out of the bottom of my tiny clutch with all that stuff shoved in it. As soon as they’d cleared the edge of my purse, he pulled them from my hand and unlocked the door, all but pushing me through it.

“Go.” He gave me a small shove. “Around the corner and up a few stairs.”

Flash
.

“Hailey. Go.”

Flash
. 

I rushed to the stairs and climbed three while I listened to him pull the door shut and give it a tug making sure the lock fell into place.

I sunk down on the step, shocked that this is what my life had become. Paparazzi. Who in the normal world was staked out by paparazzi?

I pictured my life narrowing down to my tiny—
cozy
—apartment for fear of dealing with the flash and click of cameras again. The loss of privacy reaching all the way to my home and invading it, pulling my private life onto tabloid pages and viral websites.

No freedom to go out alone. To walk to the gym. To throw on a cap and avoid makeup and hair and matchy-matchy clothes. To have to go the long route to see the girls or hang out at The Brew.

It narrowed and narrowed and narrowed until I was getting anxious just sitting there on the stairs.

He barreled around the corner, stopping short of stepping on me as he began to rush up the stairs. 

“Hey.” His voice softened, floating down to where I sat at his feet. “Hey, Hailey. It’s okay. I know it takes some getting used to. And, we’re so low profile, it might hit a website, but that’s about it. It’s not like it was TMZ or something.”

Getting used to? I hated having my picture taken at book events when I’d had time to prepare. Having some strange guy hiding behind a post office box to take your picture in the middle of the night was just insane. I couldn’t imagine any more invasions of privacy that were legal…and had the threat of becoming constant.

“I know it’s a big adjustment,” he continued. “I know we talked about this and you probably didn’t think it was really going to be an issue. This isn’t what you expected even as everyone told you this was how it would be. I guess…I guess I’ve just learned to block it out.”

“You can block that out?” My own voice sounded smaller than I expected.

“Well, block it out might be a little bit of an exaggeration.” He turned and sat beside me. “But, don’t forget, what I do means having my picture taken all the time. For a large part of the year, I’m on TV several times a week and that’s a week where all I do is play ball.”

“There aren’t a lot of live book events.” The joke fell flat even to my own ears.

“Well, that’s true.” I could hear him trying not to humor me but still stay positive. “Also, the girls I’m usually out with are with me so someone will take their picture. I typically have to stop for them or act like I’m excited or attempt to give off some vibe for whatever the purpose of the date is that night.”

“What about when you’re really dating someone?”

I thought about the way he rushed me into the building, keeping me as much out of any shot as possible while getting me out of sight, and then staying to secure the door. If he was that protective of my privacy and safety, he must go all out for his girlfriends.

Connor loosened his tie and leaned back on the stairs behind us, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Some of the women I’ve gone out with have become good friends, but as for really dating—the way you mean it?” He glanced away as if he didn’t want to have this talk…or maybe felt guilty. “That’s not really what I want. I’m not that guy. I told you, I’m not looking for the white picket fence.”

I thought of my brick walk-up and laughed. “Is anyone?”

“You know what I mean, Hailey.” He wasn’t meeting my gaze as he rambled on. “I’m not that guy. I’m not looking to settle down or for the love of a good woman. I’m not feeling lonely or less than I am because I’m not one-half of a marriage or partnership. I like my life the way it is.”

I stared at his overly photographed profile and realized what he was doing. He was warning me off. 

“Yeah, well. I like my life the way it is too.” I stood, brushing the dirt off the rear of my dress. “I like my privacy. I like coming and going as I please. I like having my space be
my
space. I like that if I allow someone in it, I know that he and I share certain priorities. So, Mr. I’m Not That Guy, don’t worry. I’m not looking to fence you in.”

I turned and started climbing the stairs waiting to see if he’d follow me up, knowing that—in his head at least—he didn’t have a lot of options. 

And suddenly, I felt out of options too.

TWENTY-FOUR

It’s the oddest thing to wake up in the morning and know that the night after a real fight your fake boyfriend is asleep on the couch.

I stretched in my bed wondering how he was going to play it this morning. Wondering how
I
was going to play it.

There was too real a chance that he was going to take from last night’s argument that I was looking for something from him. And that was definitely not true. I wasn’t looking for a fence or a ring or even a real date. The flash of the photographer was just a reminder of how different we were and that what we wanted wouldn’t ever line up.

Not that it mattered. 

It would only matter if we were really dating. Or if we were interested in really dating.

But I wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t changing, so it was all good. 

I got out of bed knowing I couldn’t put this off all morning. Know that after an event we’d have to go out together and there’d be more pictures and we’d have to look all happy and comfortable together.

So, it was time to be reasonable.

I headed out to the living room to find Connor playing some type of game on my TV…a game I didn’t own. With controllers. 

“Hey. I had this delivered last night.” He gave me a quick look. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I don’t even want to know where a millionaire called to have video games delivered in the middle of the night.

“Listen—" I started and waited for him to pause the game.

And waited. 

“Connor, for real.” I might have to demand my place stay a video game free zone. 

He paused the game and tossed the controller on my table to give me what, he made clear with an exaggerated sigh, was his full attention.

“About last night—”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have—”

“No. Stop.” I cut him off, knowing if I didn’t go first this wasn’t going to go the way I wanted it to. “I want to talk first this time. I was upset. I don’t like surprises and I hate having my picture taken or being the center of attention. Together was horrible. But, here’s the thing. I get it. I do. I don’t want you to think that this,” I waved a hand between us, “is something that’s confusing me. We’re friends. Great. But that’s it. And, I get that. I more than get it. I
agree with it.
We’re on the same page, but that doesn’t mean that even as your friend I like your world. It’s going to make me uncomfortable and that sucks for me.”

I took in a breath, figuring that was really all I had to say. Everything else, about how unbalanced our deal was and how he didn’t have to do uncomfortable book stuff, wasn’t going to change even if I complained about it. So, I left it where it was and hoped that Catherine was right. That at the end of the day, I really was going to walk away from this with some advantages because I was beginning to wonder how I was going to walk away from this at all.

Before the flash, before everything, we’d just been feeling so…
right
. And there was nothing more wrong than that.

Last night’s disastrous end couldn’t have happened at a better time. 

Connor rose from his slouch in the leather chair and stuck his hands in the pockets of his track pants. 

“Right. So.” He cleared his throat. “I was out of line last night. You didn’t need a lecture about what kind of guy I am. You’ve been really clear about the fact that I’m not your type. Which is great, because we’re not each other’s type and we can just hang and it’s cool. Right? I mean, it’s not often I get to just have a chill out with a friend. I don’t want you to think I assume just because I’m me, you’re going to go mad with lust and throw yourself at me.”

He was saying all the right words, but part of me thought the last bit was exactly what he thought would happen. I fought back the desire to roll my eyes at him.

“Good.” There was no sense arguing if he was saying the right things. “So, is there a reason we’re always here? I’m betting you have a perfectly nice apartment with a guest room I could live in if I wanted to.”

Because, getting him out of my space might help to keep him out of my heart.

“That’s true, but I also have a housekeeper who comes in every other day, a nosy doorman who I’m pretty sure has a contact at the tabloids, and I’ve never had a girl stay over.”

He…what?

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For real. My family stays there when they visit, but that’s it. If you stayed over, they’d think we were getting married. And since we just hit their radar, that might be weird even for what we’re trying to pull off.”

“You
never
have a girl stay over?”

“No.”

“So, you always go to their house?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a bit…” I wasn’t sure what that was.

“Guys think it’s genius.” Connor wasn’t typically one to smirk, but he did now. 

“Yeah, that’s not the word I was looking for, but thanks for trying to help me out.”

“Well, either way, that’s what it would look like. And, by the time we’d be willing to have them think that, it would be time for us to break up.” His gaze shifted away. Just like last night when he thought he was telling me something I didn’t want to hear.

Ha! I should let him sweat it out. 

I gave him the sweetest smile I could and headed toward the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower and we can go get coffee. I’m shocked you were able to have an entire conversation without caffeine.” I gave him my best
in awe
look. “Impressed even.”

“Right. Thanks. Glad to see
something
impresses you.”

I shut the door since I didn’t have a witty come back and started getting ready with Casual Outfit #7A and a new found attitude to just go with the flow.

Because, this was a ride with an end date and I wanted to enjoy every moment.

~*~

“A Parisian blend, a green tea, the banana, and a heated up chocolate muffin.” Connor slipped Abby a twenty and shooed me away from the counter as if I were going to ruin his coffee experience. 

Which was probably true. This was the third time we’d been in and the third special blend Connor had tried. I think he was about to hire John to make special caffeine deliveries to my place in the morning so he wouldn’t have to suffer while I did things like, wake up and brush my teeth.

You know. Really high maintenance stuff.

I settled into my chair, picking up a copy of the paper someone had left behind and flipped through the pages, trying to find the arts and entertainment section. I loved to follow the book reviews. It wasn’t the same getting the updates on line. There was just something about having a newspaper in print that said chilling out on a Sunday morning.

I skipped right to the second to last page where the reviews always were hoping they’d picked up a YA. It happened so infrequently that I tried not to get frustrated. I’d considered offering to do a monthly guest post, but the idea of publicly reviewing my peers was just…bad. So very, very bad.

And potentially career damaging.