Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

11. Mia

11

MIA

Vanover swept into my office, a scheming smile on his lips and a ceramic mug in his hand.

“What are you so happy about?” I asked, taking my afternoon green tea from him.

“Maybe because I just signed for a floral delivery from the Hayden French. Don’t tell anyone, but I love him. I swear ‘Hello Beautiful’ was stuck in my head for a full month when it came out and?—”

The door to my office opened, and a man wearing a black polo and khakis came in carrying an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers in every shade of red, orange, and yellow that existed. My lips parted as I took them in.

Vanover directed the delivery man, saying, “On the table there would be great.”

The man set it on the table where I typically held small meetings, his muscles straining as he did. Once the arrangement was put in place, he stood up, took off his cap, and wiped his brow. “Enjoy, Ms. Baird.”

“Thank you,” I said. The man left, walking toward the elevators, and then Vanover said, “There may be another reason I’m a little chipper today.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re typically not this coy.”

He smirked. “Then I’ll get right to it. You have a meeting with Ford Madigan in half an hour.”

My stomach dropped. “What? That wasn’t on my calendar this morning!”

“The mayor rescheduled, so you had an opening.” He smirked and examined his fingernails. “Unless you wanted me to schedule your stylist first.”

I set down my tea, then rolled up a business magazine with a picture of me on the cover. “Out, out, out.” I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

He chuckled, scooting through my door and letting it close behind him.

Shaking my head, I walked to the table with the arrangement, peeking through it for a note. I found a small envelope tucked amidst a lily and a rose and opened it. There was a typed note saying, A bouquet as beautiful as you. May we see each other again? -H

“Well then,” I muttered as I tossed the note in the trash. Then I went to my desk and pressed the call button on my office phone. “Vanover, bring me Tallie, please.”

Within a few minutes, she’d arrived. “Ford Madigan is my fake boyfriend,” I announced. “He’s signed the legal paperwork and will be here in half an hour.” Might as well get to the point, right?

Several emotions crossed her eyes, the worst of them pity. “But I thought?—”

I shook my head, not wanting to go there. To hear my hope echoed in her words. “When Ford arrives, we’ll be drawing up a plan with further details and deliverables. I’m assuming you had a detailed strategy laid out in that manila folder of yours when you suggested Hayden French?”

She nodded slowly, short brown hair bobbing with the motion. “I did. I’ll bring you the list so you can discuss it with him. I can also get with Vanover and Ford’s PA to schedule events for both of you once we know what he’ll agree to.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s all.”

“Mia, I...” Tallie began.

I lifted a corner of my lips. “C’est la vie.” I shrugged. “Now go get me that file.”

“Gotcha covered,” she said.

After talking with Ford last night, I did my research on him. Or rather, dug into his history, trying to find a reason not to do this. It was one thing to fake a relationship with a pop star who only cared for himself. Another to pretend something was real with a crush who had zero feelings for you.

But everything I learned about Ford made me like him more.

He was six feet, four inches tall.

Two hundred and fifty pounds, which was slightly larger than the average league quarterback. There were a lot of stats where he excelled compared to other QBs in the league, and even those throughout history, but he’d yet to win a Super Bowl. He was younger than me too, but so accomplished.

But more than that, he had an incredible charity that offered free counseling services to children who lost their parents. I was trying to find out more when Vanover came over the speaker, saying, “Look sharp.”

That six-foot-four-inch man I was researching just seconds prior came walking out of the elevators wearing distressed jeans and a T-shirt with a ballcap and sunglasses, like he really didn’t want any attention. The modesty was far too endearing. I could see him through my glass wall as he approached with my assistant.

I gave a slight wave, and Vanover walked him to my office.

“This is for you,” Vanover said, passing me a printout of Tallie’s notes. After a pause, he said, “It’s already smelling lovely in here from those flowers Hayden sent you.”

I barely abstained from rolling my eyes. Besides, he was right. The garish mix of roses and lilies blended, filling my office space with a pretty floral scent.

With the door closed, Ford’s eyes were on the arrangement. “Hayden sent you flowers?”

“And asked me for a second date.” I shook my head. “Maybe he wanted some more window time.”

I thought it would get a laugh out of him, but Ford’s lips were tugged down at the corners. Not wanting to read too much into it, I said, “Let’s go over this packet. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I have a cupping appointment in two hours,” he said. “I’m free ‘til then.”

“Cupping?” I asked. “Are you shopping for drinkware or something?”

That brought a smile to his face. “It helps with muscle recovery,” he said shortly.

“Ah.” That didn’t help me understand at all. I made a mental note to research it as I brought the packet, along with my notebook, to the table with the flowers sitting between us.

Ford shifted them to the side so he could see me while I opened up Tallie’s packet.

I already knew she was the best, but this report was next level. There were paragraphs upon paragraphs of fake relationships throughout history, how they ended, ways they went wrong, and methods she suggested to avoid those downfalls. She also had an estimated relationship timeline, along with already scheduled events where I could potentially bring my fake boyfriend. There were footnotes and sources cited. I was so dang impressed.

“This is intense,” Ford said, moving his chair closer. The movement wafted the heady rush of his cologne my way. Damn, he smelled good. My mouth was practically salivating, and I reached for my green tea, taking a sip.

With my senses cooled, I read, “It says here that we should go out in public, be seen together before we officially announce that we’re dating.”

Ford nodded slowly. “I’m busy with practice sessions during the day, but dinner is usually good for me. Sometimes I can make a lunch work.”

We were dangerously close to starting this fake relationship, nailing down details that couldn’t be undone. I closed the folder and leveled with him. “Ford, you know when we start this, it’s not something we can go back on, right?” Not to mention, it was risky to pull a move like this.

He stared at me like he knew there was more to my speech.

I took a breath. “I know these outings and events together may seem frivolous, but this going badly could reflect worse on me than me just being single and sticking it out. I need to know that you’re committed to this.”

He covered my hands with his. I couldn’t tell if the gesture was comforting or electrifying as he said, “I’d do anything to stay close to my family,” he said. “Even if it’s a little uncomfortable.”

There it was, another jab to the stomach. A reminder that he really didn’t want to be spending time with me, despite the crush I’d developed for him. But I’d gotten the answer I wanted. He was committed. And he’d already signed the paperwork.

I pushed the button on the receiver on the table and said, “Vanover, can you schedule Ford and me for lunch tomorrow?”

Vanover replied, happily, “At the café?”

I shook my head. “The most public place you can find.”