Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“No. I can handle Jake.”

I made sure she was standing and had her balance before I let go. She turned away from me to answer.

“Hey, Jake.”

I heard how sweet and soft her voice was for him. I wondered if that act worked.

She ran her fingers through her long hair. “I know. I know. You don’t have to say it like that.” She paused. I guessed he gave her an earful. Bastard. She didn’t deserve that.

“Jake, if you’d just listen to me for a second…”

I clanged a few pots while I looked for the frying pan. I kept one ear in Alexa’s direction.

“It’s not that bad,” she insisted. “Really, my fans aren’t going to care.”

She groaned and twirled on the heels of her boots. “I don’t think it happened like that … uh-huh … I know. You’re paranoid. It’s going to be ok. My fans are more forgiving than you.” There was a long pause. “Fine. I’ll be there. But you’re wrong. I know you are.”

She hung up the phone.

I turned the dial, lighting the gas burner. “What did he say?”

She slouched onto one of the stools. “Oh just that I’ve completely ruined my career and that all of my fans are going to turn on me. I should expect my social media to be filled with hate messages.”

I pinched my brows together. “What the fuck?”

“We have already made internet news and it’s only the beginning.”

I couldn’t believe I was going to give advice. “Trust me. I’m an expert here. I’ve been through this shit. It will die down.”

“When?”

“Give it a day or two. Everyone will forget when some other celebrity changes the discussion. Pray some famous fucker gets arrested tonight.”

“That’s terrible.”

“That’s reality, baby.”

I couldn’t tell her how many times I had been saved because some other athlete got a DUI. I wanted to distract her. Get her to stop thinking about how we were caught and get back to focusing on that kiss instead. I had been ready to strip her and take her in the back of my truck. Her tongue drove me wild. Her sweet little moans made my dick hard. We needed to get on that topic.

“Luke, there’s something else.”

“What’s that?” I studied her lips. I wanted them. Badly.

“Jake wants to me ask you if you set it up.”

I moved about as fast as I did when a linebacker was headed for me. “He did what?”

There was a slow blink, but she didn’t back down. “Luke, did you tip off the press?”

“That’s what Jake is worried about?”

“I told him I didn’t think that’s what happened. There’s no way. Absolutely no way you’d involve the press. Because who would do that to someone else?”

It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

Her elbows dug into the counter. “You wouldn’t. I mean you hate the way the media follows you around. You’d never.”

I hadn’t moved yet. I held the spatula in my hand.