Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(49)

“We wanted to talk to you about the benefit dinner on November twelfth. It’s less than a month away and we’d be grateful for your attendance. Have you given it any thought? I know things have been a little awkward lately, but we’d really appreciate if you’d make an appearance.”

Awkward? That’s an interesting way to describe the incredibly uncomfortable situation I find myself in.

And yes, I’ve given their request some thought, actually, but my thoughts probably don’t coincide with the answer they are hoping for. The problem I have with turning down their invitation to the charity dinner that benefits the children’s hospital is the fact that I don’t want to let the hospital down, knowing that this event would bring in some much-needed dollars. However, as I’ve recently learned, that sort of charity comes with a price. At least where Mayor Withmore is concerned.

“We’d love to have you there,” Mrs. Withmore chimes in, her smile fake, her eyes probing.

I’ve been rehearsing my rejection for nearly a week, hoping I’d be able to come up with something clever to get out of it. Although I don’t want to do anything that will upset the mayor and his wife, I don’t particularly want to endure the dinner, either.

Regardless of my answer, this is a no-win situation for me. I can refuse and let the hospital down. Or I can agree and hope for the best. I know I’ll opt for the latter because when it comes to those kids, I’ll do damn near anything.

“I’ll definitely be there,” I find myself saying, wanting to kick myself in my own ass. It’s not the function I have an issue with. The problem I have is that they aren’t simply inviting me to a charity dinner; they want me to be their daughter’s date.

Did I mention Mayor Withmore is Cheryl’s father?

And technically, they want me to be their daughter’s husband, but there’s no sense hashing that out. Ever.

“We’re so happy to hear that,” Mayor Withmore says. It’s a lie; I know it is. “And I’m sure Cheryl will be pleased. I know the two of you had your differences…”

Funny. Differences to him mean something totally … well, uh, different to me. I happen to know that Cheryl was happily letting another guy drill her into the mattress when she decided to end things between us. What she told her parents wasn’t quite along those lines. I could easily shut down the conversation and tell them what she’d done, but truthfully, I really don’t give a f*ck.

Unfortunately, I do owe them a small measure of gratitude. When the press got the details of the allegation wrong—claiming I had abused Cheryl during our relationship—they did come to my rescue. I don’t think it was because they particularly like me, but more so because they don’t want to cause a rift between the city and the team. Again, only looking out for himself.

Before I have to commit to seeing Cheryl—the conniving bitch—again (something I absolutely have no desire to do), I turn when I hear loud voices coming from the far side of the restaurant. “It was great to talk to you. I’ll see you at the benefit dinner.”

I make a beeline for the ruckus only to find Ellie trying to insert herself between two grown men. Although she isn’t necessarily short, she isn’t all that big, either. And up against those guys, she looks pretty damn small.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, pulling Ellie out of the fray. Having to lay one of them out for touching her is something I don’t want to have to deal with right now.

“It’s nothing,” she notes, calm and cool as ever. “These guys were just leaving.”

“You heard the lady,” I say, keeping my tone firm as I draw their attention toward me.

“Holy f*ck. You’re Kingston Rush!”

For the record, I f*cking love when people tell me who I am. It’s as though one day I might forget.

“Everything okay over here?” Noelle asks, stepping into the mix.

“It’s good,” Ellie informs her, nodding toward the door. “These gentlemen were just heading out.”

One of the guys sneers at me. “You sure you want us to go? You might need us to stick around to keep this * from knocking you around.”

My hands ball into fists, but I manage to control my temper. Barely.

“Man, you don’t even know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” his buddy says, shaking his head.

“Oh, I heard it on ESPN.”

Well, then, by God, it must be true.

I glare at him.

“Man, shut up,” the friend says again.

“No way. This dickhead knocked some girl around last year, then paid her off to keep her quiet.”

Before my fist can make contact with his face, Ellie is standing between us, her back against me. “I suggest you go. Now.”

“You better watch yourself, sweet cheeks.”

She leans in and lowers her voice. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I let him loose on you.”

The other guy grabs his friend by the arm and looks contrite as he starts dragging him toward the door. “Man, you’re a f*cking idiot, you know that? That’s Kingston Fucking Rush.”

Ten minutes later, the hotheads are out the door, and I’m standing at the bar while Ellie burns me with her angry glare.

“I can handle myself, Rush,” she hisses.