Her line of a mouth curved to the side and she crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing just how oversized her blazer was.
"But you didn’t. You didn’t call it a favor. You called it a deal. What's in this for you?" she said.
He sipped his drink, trying to ensure his expression remained unfazed. He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. Admittedly, when he “bumped” into Andy tonight, he should have had an explanation up his sleeve, but he’d been too busy trying to make sure Matt had gotten her tickets to bother with the other details.
Of course, telling her to truth was not an option.
She'd say the same things that everyone else had already said, the same things her brother had told Logan after the accident. But nothing that anyone said could dull the aching guilt he felt whenever he looked at his friend's mangled wrist, complete with the knowledge that he was the one who had caused him harm.
The doctors, the refs, even the sportscasters had said it was an accident, Logan stomping onto Matt's hand as he slid into home. It was. But did that change the fact that he’d ruined his best friend's career? That the broken wrist had still not healed completely? That Matt might never play in the majors again?
Dealing with the past was a daily struggle—an enormous tower to leap over. But then, in the locker room…
He could still hear the guys talking about her. How they wanted to do dinner with the hot one at A&M, but they didn’t think there was a chance in hell they’d sign with a company whose star player was someone almost bound to head back to the minors.
“Maybe if both of them were hot,” one guy had joked, and the others joined in his laughter.
He gritted his teeth, trying to force away the nagging memory.
If there was something he could say to quiet the voices in his head, or the guilt gnawing at his gut, then was it so wrong for him to try? To do right by at least one member of the Archer family? So long as Andy didn’t know his real motives, he could hardly come up with a downside to his scheme.
“Your silence is more telling than you might think.” Andy raised her eyebrows, her voice drawing him back into the crammed ballroom mezzanine.
“Look…” He speared a hand through his hair, searching desperately for anything but the truth. He just had to let her think that he'd come sweeping in like some kind of fairy godmother. Because the alternative required a lot of talking he wasn't willing to do. He just had to tell her something...
The gears in his brain whirred, and finally he said, "I could use some free publicity."
It wasn't a complete lie. After the accident, nobody had made a secret of the decrease in his performance. For crissake, he'd had to block ESPN from his television because he was always a hot topic for debate: "The Future of Logan Grant: Catcher or Caught."
The team had tried to keep the trouble at practice as quiet as possible, but apparently they were doing a shit job of it. His agent hadn’t been much for answering Logan’s calls of late. Essentially, he was in much the same spot as Matt.
A cruel kind of irony.
But Andy didn't need to know that, either. At least, he didn’t think she did. Because, whatever the reporters had to say, he was still top of the division.
"You're saying you want to make me over in order to get a couple of photo shoots?" Andy's voice broke through his thoughts and he shook himself from his reverie.
"Yes. I help your business. You help mine." He gestured toward Andy's too-tall friend, then added, "That could be you."
Her hard, business-ready expression melted away, replaced by the dreamy gaze she'd worn earlier when surveying the other woman. For some reason, that look alone might have been enough for him to help her with no strings attached.
When she still didn't answer, he clicked his glass to hers and her green eyes focused on him again.
"I'll see you at one tomorrow. I’ll text you the address," he said.
"What if I—"
"You will," he cut her off. There was no use arguing with her. The fact was, she'd be there, whether she thought so now or not. He sensed it in every move she made, every question she asked. She wanted his help. She just might not know it yet.
Her cheeks were quickly turning a brilliant cherry hue, and even with all of the terrible fashion choices she'd made, the color created the hint of prettiness he suspected was underneath. Yes, with a little work, she would be as good as gold.
And he just might have something to salve his all-consuming guilt.
"Don't be late," he added, and before she had the chance to spout off again, he turned his back to her and walked away.
Chapter 3
Andy spent half the morning convincing herself she was not, in fact, going to meet Logan. There was simply no reason to. She was fine. Sure, she didn't look like Shay. She didn't have the willowy limbs or high-end haircut. Men didn't look at Andy like she was the hottest dish on the buffet line. If anything, she was the breadbasket that nobody touched, but that wasn't so bad.