Chapter Seven
Lucas
A couple of hours later, and the place is unrecognizable. Violet moved with a calm determination, going from room to room, removing objects, holding up color swatches, and measuring floors and walls like there’s no tomorrow. After taking some photos for her portfolio, she gives the chair and ottoman a lingering glance. I moved them to the door, so they were out of the way, and neither of us suggested seeing how they looked in my bedroom. Seems that room is off-limits when it comes to Violet’s professional expertise.
“I suppose I better get going. You’ve probably got heaps to do today.”
Only my usual daily physio session this afternoon. There’s plenty of time to stroll into the Village and have lunch first, but there’s no way she’ll agree to go with me. Especially, if she met some guy last night.
Fuck, maybe that’s the reason she’s rushing off now, to meet him.
Why do I fucking care?
I could go out with the lads tonight and a dozen girls would be more than happy to spend the night with me.
Yeah, sure. Except I don’t want a girl who looks at me and sees United’s brightest star. I want them to just see me.
The way Violet does.
I’m seriously losing it. “Just stuff. What about you? Doing anything exciting?”
“If you call slogging over my assignment exciting. Well, I mean I enjoy it, but it’s still a lot of hard work pulling it all together.”
Not seeing another bloke, then. “You know what they say. All work and no play.”
“I did play last night.”
Like I need reminding. “Where did you go?”
“Aphrodite’s. It’s not that far from here.”
I’ve heard of it, although I’ve never been. When we go clubbing, we always go A-list.
“Do you recommend it?”
She pulls a face. “It’s not a celebrity hot spot. But my friend Katie goes there a lot, so I thought, whatever.” She shrugs. “I’ll probably go again, but not every week.”
“What d’you like doing, then?”
“Lots of things.” She sounds defensive, which isn’t how I want her to feel at all. But before I can pull my foot out of my mouth, she adds, “Well, there were heaps of parties and stuff when I was with my ex, and before I started going out with him, I was still at school, so I couldn’t get into any of the clubs. I suppose that makes me kind of boring.”
There’s a stricken look on her face, like she believes she could ever be boring, but I’m more fixated on what she’s just revealed about her prick of an ex.
“How long were you dating him?”
She blinks like she doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. “Just over a year.”
A year? I’d been thinking a couple of months, although I’ve no idea why. She never gave any hint of how long she was seeing her ex. Somehow this revelation makes it less likely than ever that she’ll ever want to go out with me.
“That’s some commitment.”
“It was at the time. More me than him, obviously.” She gives a dismissive sniff but doesn’t look as though I’ve crossed a line by asking her about it. “It took a while for me to realize, but I’m definitely better off without him. His ego was unbelievable.”
“Sounds like you’re over him.” More importantly, not on the rebound.
Give it a rest, Carter.
“I wouldn’t take him back if he crawled over broken glass and begged me.”
“Been a while since you’ve seen him?” For fuck’s sake, since when have I been a masochist? The last thing I want to talk about is her ex, but I have this weird compulsion to discover all I can about him.
Liar. All I want to know is that Violet is totally over him.
“Not since the night we split up. And that was in April last year.”
Bloody hell. That was fifteen months ago. If she’s still against dating footballers after all this time, she’ll never change her mind.
“His loss.” I grin so she doesn’t guess how much I mean that. I need to change the subject before I tell her that her ex is a fucking moron for ditching her, since that might cross the friends only line. “When’s our next appointment?”
Appointments are what Violet calls these meetings, almost like she has to continually reinforce the fact they’re purely professional.
Projecting, again?
“Oh.” She whips out her phone and checks the dates. “We don’t have any more scheduled, as we’re waiting on the decorators.”
Violet suggested repainting the acres of white walls so the effect is less stark, with a couple of feature walls as focal points, and the decorators are due to start next week. It hadn’t occurred to me our professional relationship was almost at an end.
“Guess you’ll need to check on their progress.”
“I could do that.”
She’s still holding her phone and gives me a sideways glance.
“Do you want to make another appointment?” There’s an oddly diffident note in her voice, as though she’s not sure if I’ll want to see her again since we’ve now finished the virtual makeover.
I should tell her there’s no need for her to come back. Make a clean break, go out with the lads, and find a gorgeous girl who wants to fuck my brains out tonight. Wanting a girl who isn’t interested in my celebrity status might be different, but when my career is the major reason why she won’t even go out for a drink with me, the novelty soon turns shitty.
“Sure.” What the hell?
“Just to check, you know, the colors and everything. In case you decide you want something else.”
“Sounds good.” So much for a clean break.
“Hmm.” She concentrates on her phone, as though her calendar is the most exciting thing in the room. “If you like, I could always call you instead, see if you need me to come round to sort out any…problems.”
I’m more than capable of sorting out any problems, but is that what she’s really saying? My sister and her mates have a whole language of subtext. In my experience, it seems to be universal when it comes to girls. Normally I don’t even try to decode it, since I’m all about having shallow fun without complications, but all my usual crap deserted me the day I met Violet.
“Okay.” I sound guarded, but I’ve no idea what she wants me to say.
She lets out a relieved breath and drops her phone into her bag. Does this mean she’s going to call?
“Well, good.” She hitches her bag over her shoulder and picks up her portfolio. “I mean, I don’t mind popping round next weekend if there’re any last-minute things you want to discuss or anything. What about Friday afternoon?”
I’m used to girls suggesting we get together, and I rarely need to think twice before agreeing or not. But this is Violet, the girl I can’t get out of my head, and for the first time ever, I don’t have a quick-fire answer.
Is she still talking business?
“Friday,” I repeat, mainly to give myself a couple of seconds to think. I’m not meeting Harry and everyone until the evening, and I can clear my schedule in the afternoon, but I’ve got a much better idea.
“Oh, bugger, I forgot it’s your birthday next Friday.” Her cheeks go pink, and she swings her portfolio in front of her like a shield. “Sorry. Maybe I should just call you, after all.”
I don’t need to ask how she knows it’s my birthday, since shit is always being splashed in the papers about me. If she reads the gossip columns, it’s common knowledge I’m hitting my quarter century. But my chick radar is buzzing, and there’s no way I’m going to wait until Violet calls before seeing her again.
Even if she has no intention of moving out of the friend zone?
“Nah, next Friday afternoon’s good.”
“Are you sure?” She doesn’t look convinced. “I would’ve thought you’d be out celebrating with everyone.”
“I’m meeting my brother and his girlfriend in the evening. Listen, you couldn’t do me a huge favor, could you?”
“What favor?”
I’ve asked loads of girls out over the years, but I’ve never had nerves spiking through my gut before. And I’m not even asking her out on a real date. I need to make sure she knows that, otherwise there’s no way she’ll agree.
“Come with me, as a friend. It’s really low key, at his local. My sister’ll be there, too.” Jesus, could I make it sound any less exciting? I’m even fucking sweating. If I didn’t feel like such a prat, it’d be funny.
“You want me to go out with you to a family thing?”
I can’t tell from her voice whether she’s considering it or thinks it’s the worst idea ever. Since when did dating get so hard?
This isn’t a date.
Allll right, then.
“Only my brother and sister. My dad’s not coming.” I can’t imagine my dad sitting in the beer garden of the Toad. “And a couple of good mates. I don’t know if any of the others are bringing a plus one, except for Harry who can’t exist without Alice. Like I said, you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
“You’d rather take me, as a friend, than one of your real girlfriends?”
I’ve never taken any of the girls I’ve gone out with to a casual family thing. Never occurred to me to even ask. It’s like my public life is a separate entity, where gorgeous girls drape me across their arms like a prized accessory, and the paparazzi is an occupational hazard.
Yolanda is the only one who fits into both sides of my life, the same as I do with hers. If she wasn’t in the Bahamas this week with her current boyfriend, I would’ve asked her to come with me.
I would’ve still asked Violet first.
With anyone else, I’d respond to Violet’s question with, You’re a girl, and you’re my friend, that’s as real as it gets. But I wouldn’t be in this situation with anyone else but Violet.
And I don’t think she’d appreciate me pointing out the bloody obvious.
Just tell her the truth.
“Yes.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, and although I’ve seen a thousand women do that before, I’ve never found it so damn sexy. Focus, Carter.
“Okay then. I suppose I owe you one for letting me loose on your penthouse.”
It’s not the greatest reason for her agreeing to go out with me, but I’ll take it.
“I’ll pick you up from your place.” This isn’t a date. “Or do you want to go from here?”
“I’ll come here. What time?”
“About seven.”
“Sure.” She nods and clutches her portfolio a little tighter. “So, um, it’s pretty casual?”
“Dead casual. Seriously, if my brother wears anything but faded jeans and old trainers, it’ll be a miracle.” Although maybe not such a miracle, now he has Alice.
“Well.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other before edging toward the door. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”
…
Violet
Lucas walks with me out of his penthouse and right to my car and then watches me drive off, so I can’t freak out until I’ve driven around the corner, when I pull over and rest my forehead against the steering wheel.
I just agreed to go out with Lucas Carter.
Only to help him out, as a thank you.
Yeah, right. I don’t think even he believed that load of rubbish, but I’m too keyed up to care. Obviously, my cringe-worthy lack of social life didn’t make him think I was a loser, although what was I thinking, dragging sodding Geoff into the conversation?
I give a dramatic shudder. At least Lucas didn’t seem to mind, but then, why would he? As he pointed out, more than once, on Friday night we’re going out as mates.
It doesn’t stop the ridiculous grin from splitting my face, though. Because although I’ve no intention of ever dating another player, the truth is I don’t want to stop seeing Lucas. And unless I’m totally misreading all the signals coming from him, he wants to keep seeing me, too, and not in a good mates only kind of way.
You’re going to get burned, Vi.
No, I’m not. We both know the score.
I groan. I’m so lying to myself. Why did he have to be a top footballer? If he were anything else, we’d be dating already.
And he’s nothing like his rep.
Hmm. I’m not so sure about that. He flirts like a pro.
I daydream for a while about his beautiful blue eyes and dimples to die for, when I remember I’m scheduled to work on Friday night.
“Shit.” There’s no way I’m canceling on Lucas. I pull out my phone and text Katie.
We meet in our favorite burger bar, and over a plate of chips, Katie checks her staff roster on her phone.
“I’ll see if Tristan or Shell can swap their Saturday night shift for your Friday. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you want to swap? Have you changed your mind about going to Aphrodite’s next week?”
This could be tricky. “No. And before you say anything, I do know what I’m doing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s got anything to do with Lucas Carter.”
“He just wants me to go to a family thing for his birthday. It’s not a date.” Must keep telling myself that.
“A family thing?” She says it like I just told her we’re going to an orgy.
I sigh. “As friends.”
Katie eats a few chips, but I’m not fooled that the subject is closed. She takes a sip of her cola before narrowing her eyes at me. “Look. I don’t know anything about footballers, only what you’ve told me. And the only one you’ve ever told me about is Geoff fuck-face, who I always thought was a real prick even before he did the dirty on you. What am I supposed to think?”
“I know. But Lucas is so easy to get along with. He’s different from when he’s on the TV.” Huh, I hadn’t even thought about that before, but it’s true. When he’s interviewed, he always looks sexy, even if he’s all sweaty straight from the pitch, but he never says anything that has any depth.
Not that we’ve ever had a deep philosophical discussion, but in real life, he’s not nearly as superficial as he comes across on the screen.
Is anyone?
Since I don’t have an answer for that, I decide to ignore it.
“If you say so.” She picks up another chip. “Have you kissed him yet?”
“Did you miss the friends thing?”
“No, but you’re still doing the glowing thing.”
I decide to ignore that, too. Especially since I’m starting to obsess about kissing him. What about a friendly birthday kiss?
Bad idea. And then it hits me.
“Crap.”
“What?”
“It’s his birthday. What the hell am I going to get him?”
Katie doesn’t look fazed by my mini-meltdown. “Why d’you need to get him anything? You’re not dating.”
“Not helping.”
“Well, I don’t know. What do you get the guy who has everything?”
“Still not helping.”
“Guys are so hard to buy for. It’d be easy if you were going out with him. You could just put on some badass underwear and wrap yourself up in a big bow.”
“Um…” Words fail, as all I can see is Lucas unwrapping me as his special birthday treat. Definitely not happening.
“What about some kind of footbally thingy?”
“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”
“Nope.” Katie pops the last chip in her mouth. “Aren’t you glad you asked me for some ideas?”