“The details of your current football contract are public.” From his signing bonus to his earnings. His endorsement deals were not public. However, she could name four commercial products she’d seen him in campaign ads for. Chase could buy any home he wanted, including this one. He could also buy any image he wanted.
“I bought my mom a house.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator.
Nichole moved to the kitchen table, glanced at the floral-patterned couch on the sun porch and remembered. How many times had she sat beside Chase at the oak table? The couch had been off-limits to food, pets and teenagers. “Then you took your mom’s furniture.”
“She wanted all new furniture for her new home.” Chase ran his palm over the scratched kitchen table. “This stuff is great. Still usable. I wasn’t throwing it out.”
His fingers lingered over a particular notch in the table. His face relaxed as if the history comforted him. Nichole turned around, scanned the living room, recognized even more from his family’s home. “You have all your mom’s original furniture, don’t you?”
“It fits perfectly for what I need.” He folded a hand towel and slid it over the handlebar on the oven.
But he could have a chef’s kitchen. Eight-burner stainless steel range. Double ovens. Modern leather sofas. Glass coffee table. He should have that. The headline-making Chase Jacobs certainly had that house. Not this. An outdated unit with used furniture that looked more like a college apartment than an all-pro football player’s home.
“You don’t like my place?” A playful note swerved into his voice.
“It’s not what I expected,” she hedged. Chase was not who she’d expected. Despite his mother’s cozy furniture, a loneliness filled the space. “It’s sparse.”
“What did you expect? A house that doubles as a nightclub?” Again, that tease swayed through his words.
“Yes,” she admitted. That would have made more sense. That wouldn’t have made her curious about him. That wouldn’t have made her wonder what else he might be sentimental about.
“I have all the essentials.” Chase indicated the counter. One plate, a fork and a single cup rested in the steel wire dish rack. “Everything I need.”
“You’re living like a college student on a slim budget.” She’d lived that life for too many years. Microwavable soup for dinner and scrounging together enough quarters for one load of laundry. Her paycheck from her library attendant job would arrive, but the money would’ve already been spent. Until she’d earned her degree and accepted her first and only teaching assistant job in graduate school. She’d gotten a raise and met the professor she’d believed she’d share her life with.
It was too late when she’d discovered his contradictions were not so easily overlooked.
“Don’t underestimate the merits of a good dorm room.” Chase set his hands on his hips and grinned. “The dorm room is like a tiny house in a building of other tiny houses. And a built-in entertainment center. There was always something fun going on in our dorm.”
Nichole laughed—the good kind, not the nervous or awkward or forced kind. The kind of laughter that rolled from deep inside and speared delight into every cell inside her. Chase had always been able to make her laugh. Even when she thought she couldn’t. Finally, she found a real connection between the man standing before her and the boy she once knew. Nichole relaxed, settling back into the comfortable friends-only zone.
Chase rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready to take on the car line.”
Nichole chuckled and followed Chase to the front door. “It’s not that bad.”
“Should we practice what we’re going to tell Wesley?” Chase locked his front door.
That conversation could be bad, or at the very least, awkward. “Can we give him the truth? We’re two old friends helping each other out.”
“What about the marriage piece?” Chase opened her car door and walked around to the passenger side.
“You’re supposedly married, but no one knows it’s to me.” As it should be. She buckled her seat belt and started her car.
“Except my family, your friends and the Fund Infusion guys.” Chase slipped on a pair of sunglasses and drummed his fingers on the center console.
“You think the press is going to figure out it’s me in that photograph,” Nichole guessed. She had no experience with the media. Chase had achieved expert status. She wanted to hope he was wrong. Wanted to ignore her gut that agreed with Chase.
“In case I didn’t tell you before, I never contacted the press.” Chase pulled out his cell phone and typed on the screen. “The media wasn’t part of my need-to-know category.”
“I’m going with the waiter or busboy.” Nichole’s need-to-know category had consisted of two people: Vick Ingram and Glenn Hill. Then she’d fabricated a story for her best friends. And she feared how much larger her need-to-know category would become. “It’s a pretty bad picture. Maybe the press won’t identify me.” Nichole pinched off that bud of hope.
Hope and wishes were a waste of energy and time. Time that could be spent actively working toward achieving a goal. Nichole had done nothing that morning to help the sale of her app. She’d have to work into the night to keep up with her schedule.
“Local news reporter Vanessa Ryan has located one of our high school yearbooks.” Irritation fueled Chase’s tone.
“That’s not a problem.” Nichole relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. She had more time before the press identified her and more time to enhance In A Pinch to ensure Vick and Glenn couldn’t say no. “The media won’t put us together from an old yearbook.”
Chase and Nichole hadn’t interacted much at school on purpose. Chase had wanted to preserve his popular status and Nichole had wanted the same for herself. She hadn’t wanted her advisors or peers to ever question her dedication to her studies or her judgment. She hadn’t wanted her future derailed by a boy. And falling for a boy like Chase could’ve done that
