Page 11 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

It’s forty-five minutes before Janelle stops throwing up. She’s wrung out. Just standing up is difficult.

“You’re going down the hall to sleep off some of this in the guest room,” I order her as we inch across the, fortunately, small space of the bathroom, her arm slung over my shoulder.

“I want to go home,” she whines.

“I get that. But I can’t see you making it all the way out to the car. And there’s no way we get a parking spot close to the apartment at this time of night,” I point out. “Mom and Dad’s?”

She cringes, but given how she spent the last hour, I don’t know if that’s from how she physically feels or her reaction to spending the night at our parents’.

“Cameras,” she moans.

I open the bathroom door. Charlie’s house is quiet. There’s the smallest pinch of disappointment in my stomach at the thought that Will’s gone home. I’m curious about him now that we’ve spent an hour in each other’s company without arguing.

Well, not really. When I called him out for curating his own story, it was more of a discussion.

It’s silly, but I want to know more about the man who stares down the world 24/7 with a glare that dares you to cross him. And maybe I want to prod that bear some more. Now that I have an inkling there’s more to him than the jerk who was judging me and Janelle, it sounds like fun.

“The guest room it is,” I tell Janelle. We’re scheduled to film in the morning. Janelle can get out of it if she’s sick, but not if she’s at my parents’ house. Victoria will insist on some footage. Sick Janelle would be ratings gold.

“I’m going to have to insist on that,” a voice says, making us both jump. Charlie appears at the end of the hall, lit from behind by a soft glow from the living room. He scoops Janelle up and into his arms before either of us can say anything and sets off down the hallway, Coco padding after him.

“Charlie,” Janelle moans quietly.

“No arguments,” he says, his voice firm, but the way he’s looking at her is so soft.

Janelle turns to me, widening her eyes in a plea for help, but I shrug.

She doesn’t want to leave; she just doesn’t want to be a burden.

Charlie has already readied the bed by turning the blanket down and moving the decorative pillows aside.

There are a couple bottles of water on one of the nightstands and even a bucket.

He lays Janelle carefully down on the bed and then leans over and kisses the top of her head. “You’re welcome here as long as you need to be. You’re not a bother. Promise.”

“I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave me,” he teases, then backs away. I lean against the doorframe, a little besotted myself with Charlie’s sweet display. “You’re welcome to stay too, obviously,” he says to me. “I’m sure Janelle would be a lot more comfortable with you here.”

“Thanks.” I pat his arm in gratitude. He gives one last look at where Janelle has already curled up on the bed, eyes closed, and leaves the room.

I take a seat in a chair by the bed, resting my head back and closing my eyes.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, glancing over at Janelle to make sure the sound hasn’t woken her.

She stirs but then breathes deeply again.

I put my phone on do not disturb, to be safe, and then check the text message.

Unknown Number

I got your number from Isla and wanted to text. This is Grayson Hollis. It was cool to meet you at Isla’s party.

I smile. There are so many things about Grayson that I’m curious about, and besides, he is good-looking.

I do need to figure out why the Pumas cut him though, since I don’t think it’s about his talent.

If he’s feuding with another player, and it got bad enough to let him go, I have to take that into account in any kind of friendship that might result.

It’s exhausting to have to consider PR every time I meet someone new, but it’s a fact of my life.

Ellie

I’m glad you texted. I could use the distraction.

Grayson

That doesn’t sound good. Everything okay?

Ellie

Just fine. Janelle’s not feeling well. I’m taking care of her. But she’s sleeping now.

Grayson

I should probably let you sleep when she does, otherwise you’ll be exhausted doing the nurse thing all night.

You’re home, right? Not at the hospital or anything?

I’m not about to tell him we’re at Charlie’s, that’s for sure.

I don’t know him well enough to know if he can be trusted with information about my life or Janelle’s, even something that seems as trivial as this.

Pretty face or not, I have to be careful.

I’m not going to sleep until I know that Janelle is out for a while, so I welcome the conversation.

Ellie

Everything is fine

Hopefully he accepts that as an answer about where we are.

Ellie

And I’m not tired yet.

I want to know what was up with you when you mentioned Will Pemberton. There’s definitely a story.

The dots bounce on Grayson’s phone for a long time, stopping and then starting a few times. Finally, after a couple minutes, his response comes through.

Grayson

That’s … a story that’s better told in person.

My eyebrows jump. Is this some kind of ploy to get us together without him asking me on a date outright?

Or could Will be the one Hollis was feuding with that led to him getting cut? Will is definitely the bigger star, and if there was a problem, it wouldn’t be a question which one got to stay. It doesn’t explain why no one else has signed Grayson though.

Ellie

Well now I’m very intrigued…

Grayson

Then we should get together.

Ellie

It could be fun. I’ll text you about a day?

Grayson

Looking forward to it.

I spend a couple minutes checking out the post that went up today to promote the Girls Play gear.

My assistant monitors and comments on social media for me, but I like to get a feel for how my audience engages with posts, especially the Girls Play ones.

I want this to be a successful campaign, not just to raise money for a cool foundation but to get people involved with it as well.

When I’m done looking it over, Janelle has been in a somewhat restful sleep for over thirty minutes, so I emerge from the guest room.

The same glow from the living room still lights the hallway, and I pad toward the kitchen for one of those cookies I never got to eat.

I’m guessing the one I put on my plate just before Janelle got sick has been put away, since the kitchen is clean and the table is clear.

Kookie House’s sugar cookies are the best there is, and I need a little pick-me-up .

“Hey,” a voice says.

I jump, clapping a hand over my mouth to keep from shouting, and whirl to see Will standing from the couch.

He holds his hands up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

What is he even still doing here? “I thought everyone was gone.”

“I wanted to make sure you guys were okay. I feel fine, but Charlie has always said I have a stomach of steel.”

“I don’t think it’s food poisoning. I feel fine too.” It’s weird to have a normal conversation with him. I’m pretty sure every other interaction we’ve had has been barbed. Maybe it’s the quietness of the house and the softness of the lighting that has us easing up on each other.

“Charlie said he was fine when he went to bed.” Will says it matter-of-factly in that hard voice I’m used to from him.

Is this just how he communicates with people?

It could be that I’ve misjudged at least one or two statements from him when he might not have meant them in the rude way I interpreted them.

I’m not ready to let him off the hook though.

He might be looking out for Charlie right now, and he could be gearing up to tell me that I should take Janelle home before she gets him sick.

“I can stay if you guys need a ride or something,” he offers, and the clipped way he says it seems to support my theory that this is just the way he talks—to the point and without warmth.

I’ve learned to play to a camera, to charm people, or to be indifferent when I don’t want the world knowing my reaction.

Will might have a measure of that fame too, but he hasn’t had to acquire the same people skills I have.

And maybe that’s why people assumed his short, harsh denials last year of being involved with Coach Wilson’s wife meant he was guilty.

I trusted the official story from the Pumas—that nothing happened—because I know Linda Wilson.

She would absolutely never. But even then, it was easy to see why people didn’t quite buy it from Will.

He doesn’t play a part for anyone. He’s not likable on screen.

Yeah, he curates his image as much as anyone, but I think it might help explain his aloof personality.

Show what a hard worker he is, how driven, how he has to focus on his goals and hopefully people will excuse his “zero apologies for who I am” attitude.

That image didn’t work when it was time to sell him to anyone ready to gleefully believe the perfect guy had made a big mistake.

“Janelle’s car is here,” I remind him that I have a way to get us home when I need to. He nods. “But,” I say, “If you want to help, you could move it to my parent’s house? I was going to later, but if I don’t have to leave Janelle, I’d feel better.”

Will furrows his brow and scowls. “Move her car?”

It’s no surprise that he thinks this is a task beneath someone like him. “Sorry,” I snap. “You said or something and I thought?—”

He holds up his hand to stop me, and I tense even more at him shutting me down. “I don’t understand why.”

I deflate. “The camera crew shows up at my parents’ house early on filming days. I don’t want a shot of Janelle’s car when it will be obvious it was here overnight. And they will notice.” Victoria has already been asking Janelle about Charlie.

He nods tightly, which I’m noticing is a trademark of his. He studies me, the way he did at dinner, searching every inch of my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it makes heat prickle along my neck.

It’s making me realize I want Will to see me for who I really am.

Why?

The way Charlie praised him at dinner comes to mind—how Will might have been responsible for getting Charlie a shot at Clemson. Maybe he can be judgmental and insensitive, but for the people he cares about? There’s more.

“Yeah, I can move her car.” He holds out his hands for the keys, and I pat my pockets, realizing I don’t have them. I put up a finger and quietly go back down the hall, open the door as silently as possible, retrieve them from Janelle’s bag, and then take them to Will.

“Thanks,” I tell him when I drop the keys into his outstretched hand.

He takes them without saying anything. I raise my eyebrow at his back as he leaves. Okay…

I frown as I watch out the window for the headlights. I can’t read him at all, and I don’t know what to make of him.

I head back down the hall to Charlie’s guestroom, not waiting for Will to come back.

There was a tension in the air between us, and I’m not sure it was hatred anymore.

It’s late. And maybe the dark, moody lighting in the house tricked me into seeing him differently, because Will Pemberton does not like me and I don’t like him.

I’m not going to risk falling into some stupid spell of the night with him and regret it.