“Yeah, I remember you sent a list to Lindy when I asked for the scoop on him.”
“I sent a partial list,” she corrected. “I don’t know if he was fully sleeping with everyone, and I bet not, but he did get around. Let’s see, since I met him when I started working for the Woodsmen…” And there she went again, naming names, with Britney chiming right in to pad out the list if Katie forgot anyone.
“Sadie, Fiona, Maddie, Lola, Sierra, Coco…” Katie intoned.
“Coco Caputo or Coco Martin?” Britney inquired.
“Both,” Katie told her. “That was a busy weekend. Gianna, Marley, Kimora…”
I’d heard more than enough and I was so hot I was fanning my face. “I have to find a bathroom,” I said. “Be right back.” I had no intention of coming back.
I wanted to leave the party, but that would have meant finding César, and I wasn’t really in the mood to see him at the moment. Instead, I wandered to the back of the big house and out through a French door onto their deck to get a little air. It reminded me a lot of New Year’s Eve when I had escaped the party back then, too. There was a lot less snow now, because so many months had passed, and so many other things had changed in my life since that night. I thought briefly about if I would ever want to go back to what I had been doing before.
“It’s none of your business, Davis.”
That was César’s voice, and I turned my head to listen.
“What you did was rude and disrespectful,” the quarterback answered. “You embarrassed the greatest Woodsmen to ever play in front of a crowd of fans. You made an ass of yourself in front of your new coach, the CEO, and half of the ownership group. What in the hell were you thinking?”
The greatest Woodsmen ever? That was my father. I had been walking toward their voices, but now I froze.
“I’m not going to catch a pass from Warren Wilde,” César said stubbornly.
What? I remembered him telling me that his childhood dream was Warren Wilde throwing to him.
“Why the fuck not? It was ceremonial! All you had to do was go downfield fifteen yards and stand there. Instead you made a problem where there didn’t have to be one, walking off and embarrassing him.”
“I’m not going to catch a pass from him,” César repeated. “I have my reasons.”
“What, you’re too fucking good for Warren Wilde?” Davis asked sarcastically, and that was enough.
“Damn straight he’s too good for Warren Wilde,” I burst out. I went around the corner of the deck. “He’s one million times better.”
“I should have known this would have something to do with you,” Davis growled. “You haven’t done enough?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“Don’t say another word,” César told him. “Camdyn, we’re leaving.” He guided me back toward the door to the house. Before we turned the corner of the deck, he stopped and looked back. “Davis, you’re my friend and my quarterback, and I love you, but if you mess with her, you mess with me.”
Davis shook his head. “Man, you know I think she—”
“Don’t fucking say it,” César bit out, and we left the party. I didn’t think I wanted to know what Davis had wanted to tell him about me.
Chapter 11
“You should do it. Take it.”
“Really?”
César nodded. “Absolutely,” he told me.
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe that the Woodsmen offered me a job,” I admitted.
César looked up from chopping vegetables and grinned. “It’s amazing. You can’t say no.”
“But the human resources lady told me that it was only part-time,” I countered.
“So do it part-time.” He put a salad on the table, full of his new favorite thing, the tiny bean sprouts. “We’ll be busy enough with us moving, and I want you to take more of a break, too. My mom said that at the end of her pregnancies, she was so tired that she wanted to teach her courses while lying down. You’re getting close to the last trimester.”
That was just about what Lindy had just said to me, too, when we talked about the baby shower that she and Katie were throwing on Sunday. Her exact words were, “I have the energy level of a pebble.”
I bit my lip, considering. “Part-time, I wouldn’t make as much money as I do at the winery.”
“You don’t like working there,” he reminded me. “And the smell of wine makes you sick.”
Yeah, that was true about the smell. “I like wine when I’m not pregnant. And I do like working there when we’re busy,” I corrected. “I loved it over the summer when I first started. It was parties and events all the time. And for all that I bitch about Euna, I’ve learned a lot from her. But yeah, I don’t like it now. I’m sorry to go there every day.” I considered more. “But the money…”
“Maybe this will turn into full-time when they see what a great job you’re doing. But until then, stop paying off your asshole father every month, and you’ll be fine. And also, no more rent when we move into the new house,” he reminded me.
I bit my lip more. Right, no rent or utilities or anything else at the new house, César buying all the baby gear, paying for everything...
“What?” he asked me.
“Nothing.” It wasn’t a good idea to be dependent on a man. It was how Soleil and I had ended up stranded in Denver, after one of her boyfriends had flown us out there. They had gotten into an argument (because she always fought with her boyfriends) and he’d cancelled the return portion of our tickets. We had slept in the airport, on the floor next to one of the boarding gates because she’d maxed out her credit cards buying a whole
