Just Chance Read online

  Hawk laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was obvious that Frankie was taking this seriously—maybe even a little too seriously—but Hawk was determined to prove that they could have fun with it. Publicity stunt or not, being Frankie’s boyfriend for a few weeks had a lot more to offer than just smoothing contract negotiations. And he knew Frankie would do great at his parents as long as he felt good about what they were doing.

  Hawk just had to help him get to that point… which, apparently, the football reference had failed to do.

  “Well, maybe I phrased it wrong,” Hawk said, still grinning at Frankie’s sports-phobia. It was refreshing, actually. “How about we practice a little, okay? And when—if—we get tripped up tonight, we’ll just keep it vague. Like… we met recently, the last time I was in town. I could’ve been at that little coffee shop—”

  “Magic Beans, yes!” Frankie interrupted, finally sounding more like himself. “It’s right next door to Chance to Bloom, where I work.”

  “Yep. Exactly.” Hawk nodded, feeling like they were on the right track. “My favorite color is red, and your favorite food is…”

  “Lasagna,” Frankie offered. “Or any pasta, really. And then pizza.”

  Frankie shifted in his seat, turning so he faced Hawk without—Hawk was pleased to note—letting go of his hand. Just by Frankie’s body language alone, Hawk could tell that their impromptu practice session was paying off.

  Frankie grinned at him. “And my last name is—”

  “Moretti,” Hawk cut in. Frankie’s eyes went wide, and he gave a sheepish half-shrug, adding, “You told me the first day we met. I guess it just stuck in my head.” As if Hawk could’ve possibly forgotten. “But my middle name is—”

  “Michael,” Frankie said, his cheeks instantly flushing crimson when Hawk looked over, eyebrows shooting up. “I, um, Googled you.”

  Hawk wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered or embarrassed. Definitely surprised. He wasn’t in the habit of looking himself up online—not once the initial novelty had worn off, anyway—but he could only guess at some of the crazy articles Frankie had probably seen.

  Every detail of Hawk’s personal and professional life had been tabloid fodder for years, and there seemed to be constant speculation that he might be sleeping with just about anyone he happened to be photographed talking to. Frankie was just the most recent in a long line of boyfriends the press had conjured up for him.

  The difference was that Hawk actually approved of this one.

  And, thanks to his cracked ribs, had an excuse to do something about it.

  Well, sort of. For a while at least.

  He took a sharp turn in the road, then glanced over at Frankie again. “And you still decided to come with me tonight?” He winked when Frankie turned even redder, only half-joking. “I’m impressed.”

  “Whatever,” Frankie replied, his laugh sounding self-conscious. “It was mostly a bunch of football stuff that I sort of skimmed. After I figured out where the Falcons were, it all kind of blurred together. But from what I could tell, you’re a pretty big deal.”

  Hawk laughed, too, shaking his head. That was what he adored about Frankie. That unvarnished truth with no hidden agenda. It was a breath of fresh air in a world where everyone seemed to want some leverage, some advantage, some piece of Hawk’s pie.

  Frankie was just himself, though. No more, no less. And Hawk couldn’t get enough.

  “I’ve never really had someone describe me like that before,” Hawk said. “But yeah, in the football world, at least, I’m sort of a… well, at least a medium deal.”

  “Pretty sure everyone around here would say you’re a big deal,” Frankie said stubbornly. “When I told Jack—my boss—that I’d be spending some time with you, he was more excited than I’ve ever seen him get before. In fact, my job might actually depend on you making an appearance at his and Ethan’s wedding.”

  “If you want me to go, I’m there.” Hawk pulled off the main road onto the long dirt and gravel driveway that led to his parents’ house. “We’re a team now, so you can tell your boss that your plus-one is ready to RSVP.”

  “I… you… really?” Frankie said, eyes going wide as Hawk parked and looked over at him. Wide… and delighted.

  Hawk grinned, loving that he’d put that look on Frankie’s face. “Yep,” he said, even though he probably should have found out when this wedding was first. Did it even fall within the six-week window of their fake relationship? But he wasn’t going to back down now. He wasn’t going to turn down another chance to do something with Frankie, period.

  Hawk would make it work, even if it meant coming back to Bridgewater mid-season.

  Well, barring the wedding being during game-time or something.

  Frankie blushed, and it took every bit of self-control that Hawk possessed to keep from reaching up and touching his deliciously pink face. It was easy—maybe a little too easy—to imagine how sweet those lips would taste, or how soft they would feel against Hawk’s.

  “Oh my God,” Frankie whispered, his eyes going wide again as his gaze zeroed in on Hawk’s parents’ house. “We’re really here. We’re really doing this.”

  “We are,” Hawk said, giving Frankie’s hand another reassuring squeeze in lieu of the kiss he would have preferred. And which he should maybe stop thinking about… at least, for now. “But don’t worry,” he added. "Team Us, remember? I’ve got your back, and I’m not gonna let you fall.”

  “Team Us?” Frankie’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at Hawk, seriously making him reconsider the kiss issue for a moment. “Do you mean that?”

  “One hundred percent, babe,” Hawk said, grinning. “You’re my boyfriend now, my ride or die.”

  “Thanks,” Frankie said, nibbling at the lip Hawk wanted to taste. “I know it’s not real, but… I’m really glad you’re my fake boyfriend.”

  There was so much Hawk could have said to that, but the surge of emotion—the feeling that his affection for Frankie was growing by the minute, the knowledge that he’d do just about anything to see Frankie smile—had made his throat close up so that he could only nod. And maybe that was for the best. No matter how strongly he was reacting to him, he had just met Frankie, and he had to keep himself in check.

  Like Frankie had just said, it wasn’t real… no matter how much Hawk was already starting to wish it might be.

  “I’m glad, too,” Hawk said, when he could be sure his voice wouldn’t give him away. Then, partly to remind himself that it wasn’t real, he added, “And I hope you were paying attention for the question and answer part of our pretend date, because the pop quiz starts… now.”

  As if on cue, Hawk’s mom appeared on the front porch, waving from the doorway. “Come on in, guys,” she called in her sing-song voice. “You’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  Frankie shot Hawk a panicked look. “Team Us?”

  “Every day. Hundred percent.” He squeezed Frankie’s hand, then—before he could stop himself—brought it up, letting his lips brush across Frankie’s knuckles, just enough to feel his soft skin and breathe in that intoxicating mixture of flowers and soap that seemed to be Frankie’s natural scent.

  Frankie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull his hand away.

  It took a few seconds for Hawk to realize he was still staring into Frankie’s eyes, and that neither of them had spoken.

  “Right.” Hawk said, blinking hard to try and snap out of his Frankie-induced daze. “Let’s go in. Your fan club is waiting.”

  And finally, a laugh out of Frankie, so light and melodic that Hawk would’ve gladly listened to it all night if he could’ve. He grinned and shook his head as he opened his car door and walked around to let Frankie out.

  Yep, it was official. They might just be fake boyfriends, but Hawk didn’t care.

  There was nothing fake about the way Frankie made him feel.

  Chapter 6

  Frankie

  As they made it up to the hous
e, Frankie could see Stella and Jim Hawkins standing on the porch with the door wide open, all smiles and sugary southern sweetness. Hawk was right. Frankie did know them. Not well, but they’d been customers of the flower shop for years, and had always been warm and courteous. He felt the same warmth as he walked toward them with Hawk, and it really did serve to settle some of his nerves.

  Well, a few, at least.

  Of course, the way Hawk had been holding his hand in the car had added a whole new wave of nerves on top of the oh-my-God-I’m-about-to-meet-my-boyfriend’s-parents nerves.

  And okay, not “meet”—and not really “boyfriend,” either—but neither one of those facts had seemed to matter when it came to how Frankie felt around Hawk.

  Felt about Hawk.

  And when Hawk had taken Frankie’s hand again as soon as they’d left the car? Even that small action had sent Frankie’s heart soaring; had made him feel like he might need to stop and actually pinch himself to be reminded that it was all just for show. For publicity. Just a fun game.

  But when Hawk looked down at Frankie and smiled as they headed toward the porch, then squeezed his hand again reassuringly, there was no part of it that felt fake.

  At all.

  “See, I told you they’d be excited to see you,” Hawk said, nodding toward his parents.

  Stella and Jim were both waving and motioning for Hawk and Frankie to hurry, but instead of feeling rushed or nervous—well, more nervous, at least—their genuine smiles made Frankie feel welcome.

  “We didn’t think you were ever gonna get back here with this sweet young man, Sean,” Hawk’s mom gushed, immediately putting her arm around Frankie’s shoulders and steering him into the house and toward the dining room the moment he was within reach. “We’ve just been on pins and needles.” She winked at Frankie, not waiting for a response from her son—not even giving a look back to see if the two Hawkins men were following as she went on. “But dinner is ready now and I’ve just finished setting the table. Frankie, I hope you’re hungry—do you like chicken? I can’t wait to get you seated.

  Sean has been so cagey about giving us any details that Jim and I had all but given up asking about you.”

  Frankie blinked and nodded at the rapid-fire questions, not sure where to begin answering—or even if she’d meant for him to answer. But when she didn’t immediately start talking again, he finally offered: “Um, yes, chicken is good—great, I mean.”

  He wanted to look over his shoulder, to get some kind of reassurance from Hawk that this wasn’t going to be the start of an impromptu round of Twenty Questions. The two point five seconds of “practice" they’d done in the car—during which Frankie had been one hundred percent distracted by Hawk holding his hand and knowing his last name already—really didn’t feel sufficient at the moment. He gulped, reminding himself that Stella Hawkins liked him.

  But… what kinds of details had she been asking Hawk for?

  Oh my God.

  Pretending to be Hawk’s boyfriend for all those paparazzi was one thing, but maybe he should’ve thought this through a little better before accepting an invitation for dinner with Hawk’s family, the people who had known him—and his likes, dislikes, and probably all of his previous boyfriends—since birth.

  Yeah, that had been poor planning on Frankie’s part. He was probably going to hyperventilate if Stella moved onto questions that went beyond Hawk’s favorite color—red, red, red—or Frankie’s opinion on poultry.

  And hyperventilating? Not what he wanted to do in front of Hawk. Not sexy. Not even a little bit.

  Stella smiled at him and gave his shoulder a little squeeze before pointing him in the direction of the table, and the fact that she wasn’t dialing 911 meant that he was probably doing an okay job of not letting his panic show. So… that was something.

  “You boys go ahead and sit down,” she said, turning to Hawk’s dad to add, “Jim, could you help me with some wine glasses? I’ve been looking for an excuse to have some more of that yummy Moscato we tried when we were over at Joni and Matt’s house a couple of weeks ago, do you remember?”

  Frankie had somehow managed to keep smiling and so far hadn’t thrown up or passed out from the growing ball of anxiety that had started to form in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t help but take a couple of deep breaths as soon as Stella and Jim had disappeared out of sight. Fake relationship or not, he’d never been brought home to meet anyone’s parents… and certainly never anyone he liked as much as Hawk.

  He finally turned to look behind him, afraid that Hawk might have followed his parents into the kitchen and left Frankie to his own devices, but no.

  Thank God.

  Hawk had been right behind Frankie the whole time, and now he was right there with him, taking Frankie’s hand again as they walked over to the dining room table.

  “I can already tell that my mom loves you,” he said, grinning down at Frankie as he pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Frankie sat down, but didn’t stop looking into Hawk’s eyes, didn’t stop searching for any hint that he was lying or just being nice or… something. But all Frankie saw there was sincerity and… happiness?

  The other nerves—the ones that were all about how much he liked someone who was fantasy material, not reality—came back with full force. Hawk just grinned down at him, though. If he was even a little bit nervous about how the evening was going to go, he wasn’t showing it.

  Hawk took the seat next to him.

  “Do you really think she likes me?” Frankie asked, feeling maybe just a tiny bit better now that he was sitting down and Hawk was sitting right next to him.

  Or maybe it was the fact that Hawk was still holding his hand.

  Or maybe because Hawk was still looking at Frankie like Frankie was… everything.

  “I know for sure she does,” Hawk said, rubbing his thumb in little circles over Frankie’s knuckles in a way that did wonders for his nervousness, given that it made it really hard to concentrate on anything else.

  Really, really hard.

  He should probably try to talk instead of swoon though. And also maybe try to believe Hawk’s reassurances about his parents.

  “Okay,” Frankie said, nodding. “O-kay. Right. I’m gonna take your word for it and just kind of… go with the flow?”

  “Perfect,” Hawk said, nodding. “Just be yourself. My parents already know you, Frankie, so you don’t have to try and win them over, because you already have. All we have to sell is us as a couple, and honestly?” Hawk winked and gave Frankie’s hand a little squeeze. “That part is gonna be easy.”

  It seemed easy when Hawk said it like that, and it felt like almost anything would be easy with Hawk there holding his hand. Besides, Hawk did have a good point. Frankie did already know Stella and Jim—at least as well as he could really know any of his customers from the flower shop.

  And if Hawk really thought pretending to be Frankie’s boyfriend was the easy part? Well… who was Frankie to argue with that?

  Just go with the flow.

  Keep it light.

  Keep it fun.

  Keep it moving.

  “I hope you don’t mind a glass of wine with dinner, Frankie.” Stella burst into the room carrying two glasses that were nearly sloshing over with what Frankie guessed was her “yummy Moscato,” followed by her husband carrying two more generously poured glasses. “But otherwise, we do have some tea—sweet or unsweetened—and maybe some soda in the pantry—”

  “Wine is perfect,” Frankie said, cutting her off with a smile and reaching for the glass in front of him. “Thank you.”

  Whether or not Hawk had been right about the rest of the night being easy, a little wine certainly wouldn’t hurt. And judging from the warm, welcoming, laid-back vibe in the room as everyone finally sat down to eat, maybe Hawk had been right. Maybe everything from this point forward really would be easy.

  Frankie took a nice long sip of his wine and sat back in his chair a little. He c
ould definitely drink to that.

  “Did you know Sean from high school, Frankie?” Jim piped up for the first time since Hawk and Frankie had arrived.

  Frankie’s eyes darted to his right, to where Hawk was sitting next to him, quiet and solid as a rock. Team Us. Frankie took a breath. He could do this. Although even if they had really met before Frankie’s delivery to the hospital earlier in the week, it wouldn’t have been in high school.

  “No, Jim,” Stella interjected, saving Frankie from having to answer Hawk’s dad. “Remember, Sean told us that Frankie started high school after Sean had already graduated.” She turned her sugary sweet smile on Frankie. “But what I’m curious about is how long our son has been keeping you a secret from us.”

  Frankie could feel his eyes widen at that question, and he instinctively took another sip—or gulp, actually—of the wine that he still hadn’t set back down on the table. For a moment, he’d thought that the night might end up being too easy, especially if Stella was going to answer the questions for him. But if she was only going to deflect the easy questions for the more difficult ones that she’d been saving up, he was definitely going to need more wine.

  A lot more.

  Thankfully, Hawk tried to cover for him. “I told you already, Mom. It hasn’t been very long. We just… clicked.”

  “It really has all been sort of a blur,” Frankie added with a little shrug that he was one hundred percent sure the whole gulping-wine-on-an-empty-stomach thing helped him pull off nonchalantly. “It seems like it was just the other day we decided to make things official.”

  Stella’s eyes flicked from Hawk’s to Frankie’s, but—thank God—Frankie had swallowed his nerves—and enough Moscato—to just follow Hawk’s lead and keep smiling.

  Next to him, Frankie heard Hawk snort, and it almost made Frankie laugh. Without missing a beat, Hawk played the noise off as a cough and Frankie was able to keep his composure.