Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(80)

“Do you have garlic knots?” I ask, recalling how she loves bread.

The cashier is a girl with braces, wearing a red Leo’s hat and an apron. She glances at me, then does a double take. “Uh, yeah. There’s six in an order.” She blinks rapidly.

“Right. Two of those, then. A large cheese, a large supreme, and a large pepperoni.” Damn. I’m probably ordering too much for just us, but I don’t know exactly what she likes. I left her at the house, laid out on the couch with that little pig in her lap, her lids shutting. She swore she just wanted a nap. I smile. She best get one, because I’ve got plans . . .

“Anything else?” the girl asks, staring hard at me.

I look down to take out my wallet, used to the avid attention, yet it always feels strange at first. Takes me a minute. “You got anything for dessert?”

“We have homemade chocolate pies. The owner’s wife makes them every Friday. They’re usually gone by tonight, but we have three.”

I nod. “Throw those in.”

She tells me the total, and I swipe my card.

She hands it back to me. “Uh, are you Jack Hawke?”

There it is. I put on a smile and look back up. “Yeah.”

“I saw you on TV today.”

I inwardly groan. “Well, I hope it was good.” Because it probably wasn’t.

She pushes up her glasses, and I automatically think about Elena. This could have been her a long time ago, a teenager working at a store, waiting for college. I wonder what she was like in high school. Total nerd, I bet. Shy. But not. Wild. But never showing it. I bet she ran the yearbook club or the library society with an iron fist. I wish I knew her then. Ah, hell, who am I kidding? She wouldn’t have looked at me twice. Football player. Jock. Never talked unless I had to.

“It was on The Today Show this morning, the weekend edition,” the cashier says, bringing me back.

I frown. “What was it?”

“It was a video of you running with a girl in your arms. It was pouring rain, and y’all ducked inside a hotel. There was a photo too—looked like you and Ms. Riley in some bakery.”

Dammit. Should have seen that coming.

“Can I get your autograph?”

“Uh, yeah.” My head is a million miles away as I sign a napkin she pushes at me.

I take a deep breath. I’ll need to warn Elena. I wince, hating to put her in the spotlight like that. If reporters start showing up here . . . fuck, I’m surprised they haven’t already with the play, but since that first pic with me and Timmy at the play, they’ve seemed to fade away. Not much long-term interest in a feel-good story for those jerks. Whatever. I may have started this with the intention of cleaning up my image, but I like Timmy and Laura. Genuine, honest people.

Pizza and the rest of my order in hand a few minutes later, I get back in my car just as my phone rings.

“What happened?” I ask Aiden. He left Elena’s around two o’clock so he could get ready for his date with Sophia. He must have left the gala early if he’s already calling . . .

“Is that any way to say hello?”

“Just tell me what she said. Everything.” My hands clench the steering wheel, and I realize that her dangling that Cosmo article in front of me has been on my mind more than I thought.

A long sigh comes from him. “Sophia is hot, man. Smoking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She was real into me too.”

“Just get to the point, Alabama,” I growl, anger ratcheting up, and it isn’t because I even fucking care that he was with her, but I’m so goddamn annoyed that she’s manipulating me.

“Look, I showed her a great time. We had dinner, danced, but she said she wants to see you, and she’ll sign whatever you want.”

I lean back on the headrest. “You failed, Alabama.”

“I did not! I did everything you wanted, man—I did, but it’s you she wants to see.”

I curse. It was a half-assed idea anyway. My gut knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she laid her eyes on me and said whatever she wanted to get out.

“Does this mean you’re not going to help me? Dude, come on. I put all my charm out, and I got that in spades—women fucking adore me. I did my best—”

I hang up on him and call Lawrence, my teeth gritted.

“Yo! What up? Tried to call you earlier. Have you seen that video of you and Elena? It’s not bad. Very chivalrous. I’m still waiting for her NDA—”

“Fuck that. Get with the lawyers and send the tightest nondisclosure you can come up with to Sophia. She’ll never say one fucking word about me again as long as she fucking lives. Do it now, Lawrence; I want this mess over and done with. Tell her once she signs it, I’ll meet her. She can say her piece. And then it’s done. Got it?”

I hear him rustling around, probably writing it down. “Got it.” He sighs. “I know you hate this. I’m sorry, man. You sure you can deal with her?”

My jaw pops. I don’t know what it will be like to actually see her again.

But I want her out of my hair. Forever.

Plus, it makes my gut clench to picture Elena and her whole family reading about whatever shit she decides to come up with next. And now that reporters know Elena’s face, they’ll get a name soon, and what if they hound her, dig into her past, figure out the lingerie?