Just Chance Page 11

  But he also didn’t deny what Juan had said. He couldn’t deny it, really.

  Because even though it was all supposed to be for show, even though the emotions weren’t supposed to be real, even though it was supposed to just be fun… Hawk had to admit—at least to himself—that he might be just a little, tiny bit…

  Sprung.

  Chapter 10

  Frankie

  Frankie mouthed a silent prayer that the large bundle of flowers in his arms wouldn’t topple over onto the sidewalk in front of him as he headed for the nursing home entrance.

  “And thank the lord for automatic sliding glass doors,” Frankie muttered to himself as he walked in and gave a nod to the receptionist. “Hey, Karla, how’s it going?”

  “Finally Friday,” the grinning receptionist said, nodding toward the lobby where Frankie could already make out his grandma’s voice above the din of backgammon, Canasta, and Judge Judy. “Joan’s right in there, and I think the rest of your fan club might be waiting, too.”

  “Thanks,” he said, laughing as he walked toward the sound of his grandma’s voice. “I’m just gonna drop these flowers off. I know it’s close to dinner time, so I won’t be too long.”

  He’d barely turned the corner into the large sitting room where the residents gathered to socialize when his grandma called out and waved to him.

  “There’s my favorite grandson,” she said, tossing him a wink as he approached with the flowers. “Are you already off work for the day? It’s earlier than usual. We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

  At eighty-one, his grandmother Joan had lost none of the quick humor and attention to detail that Frankie had loved and admired about her his whole life. He’d worried that after his grandpa had died a decade before that she might not be the same, but it hadn’t taken her long to put that fear to rest. She’d said at the time that her husband would’ve wanted her to go out and to keep living, and that’s exactly what she had done.

  She’d traveled. She’d made new friends. When she'd been well into her seventies, she’d learned to ride a horse and briefly considered buying one of her own—along with a farm to go with it. Frankie had only been sort of joking at the time when he’d said that he half-expected her to take up skydiving next.

  Even now, she treated the nursing home where she lived more like an extended-stay hotel, with a staff that was happy to wait on her hand and foot and plenty of friends around to keep her company.

  “Everyone here knows I’m your only grandson, Nana.” Frankie shook his head, grinning as he carefully placed the towering stack of flowers on the coffee table. “And I’m off a little early today, but I wanted to bring these over before they started to wilt, in case anyone wanted a bit of extra practice before the Flower Face-off.”

  He leaned down to give her a hug and a peck on the cheek, and she took the opportunity to conspiratorially whisper into his ear. There was nothing quiet about his grandma, though, and Frankie had no doubt that her “whisper” could be heard throughout the room—or at least a good ten feet away.

  “Edna Riley thinks she’s a shoe-in this year for first place, but…” she wrinkled her nose a little and shook her head. “It’s not gonna happen. You should see the arrangement she paraded around in front of us last week. It was ugly, wasn’t it, Betty?” She elbowed the lady next to her, who obliged with a reluctant nod. “See, even Betty thinks so. It was bad.”

  “Well, maybe you can help her, Nana,” Frankie said, trying to suppress a grin. He knew his grandmother would rather walk over hot coals than to play nice with her nemesis, Edna Riley—a perfectly nice woman, as far as Frankie could tell. Then again, he’d seen even the sweetest senior get downright ruthless when it came to the Flower Face-off.

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” his grandma said, looking like she’d just sucked a lemon. “But anyway, enough about that.” She patted the sofa cushion next to her. “Come sit down and visit for a bit if you want. We still have at least ten minutes before it’s time to eat.”

  Frankie nibbled at his bottom lip and glanced at the clock. He didn’t want to rush out the door without at least spending a little time with his grandma, but he didn’t want to risk being late for his sort-of-date with Hawk, either.

  “Okay, but just for a few minutes, and then I’ve really gotta go.” He sat down and saved them both an extra minute by going ahead and answering what he knew would be the very next question. “I’m sort of on a tight schedule tonight because I’ve got a… date.”

  “Oh, a date?” His grandma clasped her hands together and smiled. “I hope it’s a nice young man this time. Not like that last guy… Tripp or Triscuit or… whatever his name was.”

  Frankie laughed and shook his head. “No, this guy is nothing like Trystan. Thank goodness.”

  In fact, Hawk was nothing like any of the guys that Frankie usually found himself with, and not just because of the famous star athlete thing—although Frankie obviously hadn’t dated any of those, either.

  “He’s nice and funny and, um, down to earth,” Frankie continued. “And I’m sure you would like him.”

  “Why haven’t you brought him here to meet me, then?” She raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You know I need to make sure he’s good enough for you before things get serious, right?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, and Frankie could tell she was suppressing a smile, but he also knew from past experience that she was only half-joking, at best.

  “I know, Nana. But maybe let’s wait a bit before we put him through the Inquisition, okay?” Frankie leaned over and gave her another quick kiss on the cheek before standing up again. “Not that I don’t appreciate the back-up.”

  “Fair enough,” she nodded. “But you should bring him to the Face-off. He could pretend to be an impartial judge.”

  “He would be impartial,” Frankie said, laughing again as he rolled his eyes.

  “Of course, sweetheart. That’s what I meant.” She gave him an impish wink that he imagined had gotten her out of plenty of trouble—or maybe into more of it—over the past eighty-plus years. “But you should bring him, regardless.”

  “I’ll invite him,” Frankie grinned, trying to avoid looking at the clock again. “That might be fun.”

  And while he wasn’t sure how much fun a pro-football player would have judging a flower arranging competition for the elderly, it would at least guarantee that Joan would be too busy to properly interrogate Hawk, which was definitely a win, as far as Frankie was concerned.

  “Okay, good. Let’s plan on that.” Joan gave a perfunctory nod, the issue no doubt settled in her mind.

  “And now you’d better be going. You don’t want to keep your gentleman caller waiting. That would be rude.”

  Frankie was pretty sure he’d never in his life had a “gentleman caller,” but he wasn’t going to try and figure out the right term now. “Yep,” he said, instead. “You’re right. I’ll leave you in charge of passing out the flowers, Nana, if that’s okay?”

  “I’ll make sure it gets done, sweetheart. Now go. And don’t forget to hold the door for him—” She frowned, then shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know what the proper etiquette is between two young men.”

  “I’m not sure, either,” Frankie said, laughing. The only gay dating etiquette he knew of wouldn’t be appropriate pre-dinner nursing home conversation. “We’ll figure something out.”

  He didn’t have the heart—or the time, really—to tell her that it wasn’t that important, that it wasn’t even a real date. But he really was going to be late for his not-quite-a-date if he didn’t leave, like… now.

  “Maybe take turns,” Betty piped up to offer, earning an approving nod from Joan.

  “Yes, take turns, dear.” Then with a shooing gesture, she motioned toward the door. “Go now, but call and tell me all about it later.”

  “You know I will, Nana.” He gave a little wave and moved toward the door. “I’ll call you this weekend. Love you.”

 
; “Love you more, sweetheart.” She waved and made the shooing gesture again. “Go on, now. Don’t keep your man waiting.”

  He walked out of the sitting room only to find Karla clapping her hands together excitedly at the reception desk. “A date? You have to give me all the details.”

  Frankie stifled a groan. Was his grandma really that loud? Did the place just have great acoustics?

  “It’ll have to wait until next time,” Frankie shrugged apologetically. “If I don’t hurry, there won’t be a date.”

  “Next time, then. And have fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Frankie nodded as he walked out the door, only taking a second to be absolutely mortified by the images Karla’s last-minute admonishment had conjured. He was pretty sure that, whatever else might happen that night, he definitely wouldn’t be doing anything she wouldn’t do.

  Whatever that meant.

  But he’d have to worry about all of that later. Right now, it was five o’clock and he was off work and out of errands to run. He couldn’t help but smile as he walked to his car and remembered what his grandma had said.

  She was always full of good—if sometimes not necessarily solicited—advice, and this time was no different. Because even though it might not be a one-hundred-percent-real date, good manners were still a thing that she’d instilled in him.

  And he didn’t want to keep his man waiting.

  Frankie had spent most of the afternoon a nervous wreck. He’d held it together pretty well at the nursing home, but as the clock had ticked down to the time Hawk was supposed to pick him up, he’d barely been able to sit down or think straight without wondering how the night would go.

  But now, sitting at a cozy corner table in the candle-lit Italian restaurant that nobody he knew went to unless they were celebrating something, all he could feel was… happy.

  He had counted at least three courses—maybe four, if the sorbet they’d had before the main course counted as food—and now they were waiting for some kind of chocolate dessert that he hadn’t even attempted to pronounce. And, to his own amazement, he’d managed to go the entire meal without saying anything ridiculous.

  So far, at least.

  “Have I ever told you that I really like your smile?” Hawk asked, leaning in and whispering into Frankie’s ear, ensuring that he not only smiled wider than he ever had before, but that his entire body tingled from his head to his toes.

  “Um, no,” Frankie’s voice cracked and he immediately felt his cheeks flare with heat. “I mean… I guess not. But,” he swallowed hard and clasped his hands together on the table in front of him, “but it’s nice of you to say so.” Then, belatedly, he added, “I think you have a nice smile, too.”

  Okay, so maybe there was still time to say something ridiculous. But with Hawk Hawkins sitting next to him, literally whispering sweet nothings into his ear, Frankie was inclined to cut himself a little slack.

  “I’m glad you came out with me tonight.” Hawk hadn’t taken his eyes off Frankie, and he moved to cover both of Frankie’s hands with one of his own. “I thought it might be a nice change of pace to go somewhere and not be interrogated about how we met and what our plans for the future are.”

  They both laughed, and Frankie thought back to the nerve-wracking dinner with Hawk’s parents. It had only been a week ago—and only a few days before then that he’d even met Hawk—but the more he’d gotten to know the man sitting next to him, the more it had felt like they’d been old friends.

  Old boyfriends, even.

  “Your parents are great,” Frankie said, still smiling. “But yeah, tonight was nice. With just… us.”

  “Us and a half-dozen of our admirers,” Hawk said, cutting his eyes to the large window across the room where several people with cameras were starting to gather and peer inside. “I wonder if they followed us, or if someone on the staff here tipped them off.”

  “Oh my God,” Frankie’s brow furrowed as he willed himself not to turn and make a face at the growing crowd of gawkers. “Do you seriously have to deal with this every time you go somewhere?”

  Hawk nodded. “Yeah, but usually it’s worse. They’re pretty low-key tonight, by paparazzi standards.”

  Frankie couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to constantly be followed and photographed like that, even though that’s technically what he’d signed up for when he’d agreed to be Hawk’s fake boyfriend.

  He hadn’t been prepared to feel like a caged animal, though, without any privacy—just there to be stared at and talked about.

  “That’s… crazy,” Frankie said, unable to come up with a better term to describe the way it made him feel. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

  Hawk shrugged. “I just pretend they’re not there.” He raised Frankie’s hand and let his lips brush across it, sending another jolt straight through Frankie’s body. “And that’s easy to do when I’m with you.”

  “You’ve gotta stop saying things like that,” Frankie said, feeling a little breathless and hoping like hell that Hawk didn’t stop. “Or I might start to believe you.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Frankie.” Hawk’s voice was deep and serious, and he looked like he meant it, but Frankie never knew how much of what they were doing—especially out in public, in full view of photographers—was just part of the act.

  It all felt real, but… it couldn’t be, right? They had an agreement.

  “At least your agent will be happy to see our pictures in the paper,” Frankie said, unable to hide his distaste at the thought of the rude man who had called him two more times that week to painstakingly go over each detail of the contract that Frankie had signed. “That guy is…”

  “Yeah, Corbin’s a piece of work,” Hawk said, finishing Frankie’s sentence much more politely than Frankie had wanted to. “Has he been bothering you? I’ll say something to him.”

  “No, it’s not like that,” Frankie lied. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just doing his job… I guess.”

  Hawk didn’t look completely convinced, and Frankie wished he hadn’t even brought up the subject. He wanted to get back to that nice, sweet, floaty feeling that he’d had when Hawk had been looking at him like he was the most delicious thing in the place.

  The waiter came with two glasses of champagne and the most enormous plate of chocolate goodness that Frankie had ever seen—enough to completely take his mind off everything for a few minutes, at least.

  “Oh my Lord,” Frankie said, feeling his eyes go wide as saucers. “That is a ridiculous amount of food. Are we seriously supposed to eat all that?”

  Hawk laughed. “Not a chance. But we have to at least take a few bites.” He picked up a fork and dug into the slice of chocolate heaven in front of them. Instead of eating it, though, he offered it to Frankie, feeding it to him and watching him swallow it in a way that was almost erotic.

  That’s how it felt to Frankie, anyway. And that would definitely be the vibe when he’d recount the story to Ethan and Jack at work tomorrow.

  Frankie could feel himself starting to blush again under Hawk’s gaze, but he was determined not to keep letting his embarrassment get the best of him. He wasn’t quite ready to go full-on-Meg-Ryan-When-Harry-Met-Sally about the dessert, but he was determined to enjoy the moment.

  If he had to be photographed eating, he at least wanted to look like he was having a good time.

  “Oh my God,” Frankie said when he’d finally swallowed the too-large bite. “That was… something that good should really be against the law. Or… restricted, at the very least.”

  “I know, right?” Hawk laughed again. “It’s so good. Your face when you were eating it, though.” Hawk swallowed hard and pinned Frankie with A Look that was pure heat. “It, uh… well, I’m just glad we stuck around for dessert.”

  Frankie suddenly felt too hot, too full, too… something. He didn’t know how Meg Ryan did it, but he definitely wasn’t cut out to have these kinds of feelings about food. Not ar
ound Hawk, anyway. All it did was remind Frankie that at the end of the day, it was all just a show.

  None of it was real.

  Well, except for the dessert. That had legitimately been amazing.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Hawk said, so suddenly that it startled Frankie.

  “Um, okay… wait, what?” Frankie blinked and looked around as Hawk stood up and offered his hand. “Are we done? You don’t want any of that chocolate stuff?”

  “I’ll never even be able to look at it again without thinking of you,” Hawk said, his eyes sparkling even though he sounded like he meant every word. “But I don’t wanna end the night feeling like we’re on display.”

  “Um, okay…” Frankie was starting to feel like a broken record, but he had absolutely no idea what Hawk had in mind. Wasn’t the whole point of going out together to be on display? Had Frankie missed something? “What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know.” Hawk shrugged and pulled out a handful of bills that all looked like hundreds and tossed them onto the table. “But not this.” Then, he nodded toward the glass window, where the paparazzi had pressed their faces to the glass. “Not that. Let’s go.”

  Frankie felt like he was in the middle of a whirlwind as they walked hand-in-hand through the restaurant up to the front door. They’d barely had to wait at all for the valet to bring Hawk’s car around, maybe three minutes, if Frankie had to guess, but it had apparently been enough time for every photographer in town to crowd around the restaurant’s entrance and wait for them to come out.

  Hawk let go of Frankie’s hand only to put his arm around Frankie’s waist. “This will probably be kind of overwhelming, but just know that I’ve got you. I’ll put you in the car, and then I’ll get in and we’ll leave. Just remember to smile.”

  “Okay. Got it.” Frankie nodded, even though he really wasn’t sure if he was ready for what was about to happen.