Page 10 of Faking the Pass

Don’t Go Out There

P resley

The pain medicine they’d given me post-surgery usually knocked me right out, but not tonight.

I lay awake for a long time, thinking about Rosie.

I thought I’d had some bad luck. Poor girl. I’d only blown out my shoulder during what was supposed to have been a record-setting season.

Her whole life was destroyed.

And no one should spend their wedding night alone in a strange house.

I hoped she was able to sleep tonight—and that her asswipe of a fiancé wasn’t.

Although, who were we kidding? Guys like that didn’t have a conscience to keep them awake at night.

It didn’t seem right that he should get away with this scot-free. I needed to stop thinking about it. I was getting mad all over again. I’d never get to sleep at this rate.

At least Rosie had finally agreed to stay the night.

If anyone understood what it was like to be in the glare of the spotlight and have your worst moment play out for the entertainment of others, it was me.

It had happened to me just last week when my own personal nightmare was broadcast on national TV and then replayed for days.

I also thought about the sight of her in her wedding day lingerie.

Not the most chivalrous thing, granted, but thoughts were thoughts, and well, I was a guy.

Talk about a distraction .

Though it was years ago, I remembered clearly how distracting Rosie had been back in high school—it was even worse now that she had grown into the full potential of her womanhood.

She was literally the last woman I needed to have close by when I was supposed to be fully focused on my injury rehab.

Well, she’d be leaving tomorrow and getting on with her life—what was left of it—and I could go back to what was left of mine.

The next morning, I woke early as always and went straight to my home gym over the garage to do my prescribed rehab exercises.

In a few weeks, I’d start working with the team’s trainers again, but for right now, I was limited in what I could do—or what I was supposed to do anyway.

I tended to push the limits.

Isometric exercises done, I went to the kitchen to whip up a protein-and collagen-rich breakfast with the foods I had on hand. Eggs, cheese, several cans of Alaskan salmon. Some bacon on the side for flavor and energy.

I cooked all of it with plenty of butter. Fat was great fuel.

I hadn’t seen any sign of Rosie yet today.

A glance down the hallway told me she was still asleep. Or at least the door was still closed.

Since I was cooking anyway, I made her an omelet in case she had an appetite when she finally did get up.

Either way, I’d make sure she ate before she left.

I hadn’t been drunk since college, but if memory served, a greasy breakfast went a long way toward curing a hangover.

Finally, around ten o’clock, I heard her padding down the hallway. She came into the living area-slash-kitchen, barefoot and wearing my t-shirt, which was huge on her.

Still, her gorgeous legs were on full display, and she had the cutest feet I’d ever seen. They were tanned, and her toenails were painted a pearly white.

She’d belted the t-shirt in the middle with some lacy, sparkly thing—her wedding veil maybe—turning it into a short dress.

Here in full daylight I was able to take in the details I’d missed last night.

Rosie’s hair was shorter than she used to wear it in high school, about shoulder length, but it was the same creamy blonde I remembered, a mixture of honey and vanilla tones.

Her eyes, a beautiful shade of brown I’d never quite been able to forget, were underscored by the faintest shadows.

There was also a little blue mark on her forehead from where she’d run into the wall. Otherwise, her skin was flawless.

She looked… incredible, actually.

Pretty remarkable considering the empty bottle in my recycling bin and the way her head must have been pounding.

“Good morning,” I said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I drank all the wine in Rhode Island. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t thinking—you were self-medicating, and you did a thorough job of it.”

“Yay me.”

Rosie slid onto a barstool at the kitchen island, and at this close range I could see that she’d removed the bejeweled bra at some point during the night.

Yay me. White t-shirt for the win.

As soon as the lewd thought crossed my mind, I ordered it away.

She’s a friend in need, asshole—not your slumber party guest. Not that I’d had many of those lately.

It was a good thing Rosie wasn’t planning to stick around. I wasn’t sure my current commitment to celibacy would last very long in her presence.

Yep. Distracting. Then and now.

“I made you some food. Think you can eat?”

She gave the plate of eggs and bacon a doubtful glance. “Maybe. I’m sort of hungry and not-hungry at the same time, you know?”

I nodded, pushing the plate toward her and handing her a fork. “Have some. It’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

She stirred the eggs but didn’t lift them to her lips. Lips that were heart-shaped, full and pink, even without lip gloss. I’d forgotten how tempting her mouth was.

“I probably should just hit the road,” she said, setting down the fork. “I’ve troubled you enough.”

“No trouble,” I lied. This woman was trouble with a capital T.

“I came in to ask if you’ve gotten your backup phone working. I need to call for a ride,” she said.

“Not yet,” I said. “I was planning to do it in a few minutes—at least I think I can set it up through my laptop. Where will you go?”

Rosie shrugged. “Home, I guess. Although…”

“What?”

Leaning one elbow on the counter beside her plate, she rubbed her temple.

“I’ve just now realized I don’t exactly have a home—not unless I want to shack up with Randy and his baby-mama.”

She picked up the fork again and shoveled a hearty bite of eggs into her mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly.

“At least I assume she’ll move in now that I’ve ruined his grand promo plan for the movie. Either way, I can’t exactly keep living at his house. My clothes and things are probably out on the lawn at this very moment. These are good.”

She took another bite of eggs and then bit into a piece of bacon.

“Thanks,” I said. “Glad you like it.”

Rosie shook her head. “I still can’t believe it all happened. Please be my new best friend and tell me it didn’t happen.”

I gave her a small smile. “Afraid I can’t. So… you’ll just go back to L.A. and get your own place then?”

A cloud passed over her face, and she went a little pale. “Um… sure. But I’ll probably stay with Danielle for a while first. She’s my best friend.”

Rosie’s tone was funny… uncertain sounding. And maybe a little… scared?

I nodded, trying to figure out what she’d have to be scared of. “Makes sense. Probably better not to be alone right now after what you’ve been through.”

She didn’t respond, just took another big bite of food. I was glad to see her eating. She was too thin, and hopefully the buttery, cheesy eggs would alleviate the hangover.

“So, you’re going to need a plane ticket,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Want me to drive you over to Bellevue Manor so you can get your phone and purse or whatever? Then I could take you to the hotel so you can get the rest of your things from the bell desk. I haven’t taken any pain meds yet today. ”

Rosie shook her head. “Wilder said the hotel would be staked out by the paparazzi. They’ll be waiting for me there. And I don’t want you to go to any more trouble for me. I feel really bad for invading your life like this.”

She gestured toward my wrapped shoulder and arm sling. “You’ve got enough on your plate as it is without some ditzy runaway bride interfering.”

“You’re not ditzy,” I corrected.

I didn’t like hearing her run herself down like that. She’d done it last night, too, calling herself an idiot.

“Well after yesterday, I don’t exactly look like a genius, do I?”

She smacked herself on the forehead and then grimaced.

“Ow. Speaking of, I just realized I don’t have any way to pay a driver, even if I was able to order a ride without my phone.

So yeah… if you could drive me over to the wedding venue to get it, I would really appreciate it.

I promise, that’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. ”

“You haven’t asked anything of me,” I pointed out. “I offered to let you stay the night. And I’m the one who decided to make you breakfast. It’s really no big deal. Let me go get my wallet and keys and change out of my workout clothes.”

“Okay, thanks. Again.”

“When you finish eating, you should step out onto the deck and look at the view,” I suggested.

“This is a really pretty spot. You can sometimes see some whale spout out there, and you might even spot Romeo and Juliet, our local swan couple. They hang out in the tidal pools in this cove from time to time.”

I pointed to the French doors that led to my deck. “Right that way.”

She smiled, looking genuinely excited. “I love swans.”

A few minutes later, as I was wrestling a shirt over my injured arm, I heard a scream.

Shirt half on and half off, I ran from my room toward the main living area, worried that Rosie had somehow fallen over the deck rail and was in the water—or that Romeo, the male swan, had attacked her.

He could be pretty aggressive when he thought there was a threat to his mate.

When I got there, one of the doors to the deck was standing open. Rosie was inside, not wet, and not covered in red marks from a swan attack, thank God.

But something was very wrong.

Her entire body was stiff, her arms down straight at her sides and her hands clenched into fists. She was staring at the floor, hyperventilating.

I rushed over to her. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Still looking at the floor, she raised one of her arms and pointed outside.

“Don’t go out there,” she warned.

Alarmed, I shut the door and moved to peer out through the window blinds beside it.

“What did you see?”

Now she looked up at me, her eyes haunted, and her face tense.

“They found me.”