Tempting the Player (Campus Wallflowers Book 4)

I’m sitting on the floor Monday morning, putting on my makeup in front of a floor-length mirror. I pick up my eyeliner, sweep it over both lids, then set it on the ground. I do the same with the mascara, then powder.

Dahlia grabs the powder compact before I set it down. “Don’t slam that one, it’ll break into a million pieces.”

“Was I slamming them down?”

She nods, a soft smile on her face.

“Sorry.” I inhale through my nose and blow out a breath. “I’m still so angry. I can’t believe him.”

“Yeah,” my friend says in a voice that isn’t all that convincing.

“You don’t think I should be pissed?”

“No, you should. But maybe not at him. He was doing a job. And yeah, I get how that put you both in a really unfortunate situation, but what was he supposed to do?”

I know she’s probably being reasonable, but I can’t see past the betrayal to consider any scenario in which Hendrick Holland isn’t a complete asshole. “Believe me, I’m equally angry at my parents. They went against my wishes and kept me in the dark.”

“They were worried. Not that I’m giving them a pass, but if there is some creep following you around, then I’m glad Hendrick has been keeping an eye on you.”

“I’m so humiliated. I practically threw myself at him. I thought he liked me, and he was just pretending so he could keep an eye on me.” I groan.

“Nothing that a good breakfast won’t fix.” She holds her hands out to help me up.

Once I’m on my feet, I squeeze her fingers. “Thank Felix for letting me crash with you guys.”

I came home with them Saturday night and haven’t left. They made up the couch for me and have been so sweet, but I miss my bed. The bed that’s now ruined.

“You’re not coming with us to breakfast?” Her voice climbs with panic. She hasn’t let me out of her sight since the second I told her what happened.

“My new security detail is waiting for me at the house.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine driving the few blocks alone.” I hug her quickly. “Love you. I’m sorry I’ve been so unbearable the past couple of days.”

“You weren’t,” she says quickly, then smiles. “Not too unbearable anyway.”

I grab my backpack off the floor and then head through the house. Felix and his roommates, Teddy and Lucas, are all off at some football thing—practice or weightlifting or something—so it’s quiet as I head out the front door.

The guys live in a residential neighborhood filled with lots of rental houses for college students. Not many people are out yet, but I still feel a prick of unease as I check my surroundings and hurry to my car parked along the street. I don’t breathe until I’m inside with the doors locked and the engine started.

I tell myself I’m being silly, but I can’t help it. Am I really in danger or was the thing at my house just some drunk asshole trying to freak me out?

As soon as I see my old bodyguard, I relax.

I throw open the car door and run to him. Grady opens his arms and catches me with a grunt as I slam into his chest. “Hey, kid.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until he pats my back. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I know.” I wipe my eyes and look up at him. His beard is fully gray now and his once salt and pepper hair is more salt than pepper. “You got older.”

“So did you.” He smirks.

I pull back and get myself together. “I thought you had some sort of deal with Dracula or something where you’d keep kicking ass forever.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m old, but I can still kick ass if needed.”

“I hope you don’t need to,” I admit.

“Me too.” He tilts his head toward the house. “Got any coffee in there?”

“No, but I have champagne and orange juice. Mimosa?”

He laughs again. “I’ve missed you, kid.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable because as soon as we figure out who trashed my room, you’re going back to retirement.”

“Still as stubborn and sassy as you were at thirteen.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I unlock the door and let us in. “How’s Andrea?”

His expression softens at the mention of his wife. “Gorgeous as ever. She’s aged far more gracefully.”

“I believe it. Tell her I said hi.”

After Grady and I catch up, we go over my schedule, then it’s time to head to campus. I really hate the idea of having someone follow me around all day. Some anonymous creep broke into my room and now I can’t even go to classes without worrying I’m in some sort of danger. It pisses me off, but I hate the idea of being alone even more.

As soon as we park, I second-guess having him here. He opens my door and tries to take my backpack.

“I got it. Just try to blend in. Could you?”

“Probably can’t manage that. Been a few years since I was your age.”

“A few?” I ask sweetly.

I feel the stares as we walk through the middle of campus. All those people who were so excited to see me a week ago keep their distance. I can’t really blame them. Grady is intimidating and I’m sure it looks weird that I now have a bodyguard tailing me around. An obvious bodyguard.

I wonder how Hendrick did it. Did he wait outside my house every morning? Did he follow me everywhere I went? The more I think about it, the more the humiliation of throwing myself at him burns like acid in my stomach. No freaking wonder he was there outside the library to catch me and at the bar . . . groan.

I keep my head low, avoid eye contact, and walk as quickly as I can from class to class. By the end of my third morning class, I finally start to relax. Grady is here. He sits in the back of every class. No one says anything, but it’s still awkward having him shadow me.

At least I know that he won’t let anything happen to me. He was a SEAL, I know for sure, but the rest of his background he’s pretty tight-lipped about. If I had to guess his age, I’d say he’s in his fifties now, but I have no doubt he could still take someone down if it came to that. I really hope it doesn’t come to that.

“Back to the house?” Grady asks.

“I think I want to have lunch in University Hall today.”

Without another word, he lets me lead the way. I bypass the café and head to the sandwich shop. “Want anything?”

“No.”

“You can’t just sit and watch me eat. It’s too weird,” I tell him.

“Tuna on wheat.”

I order our food and then we head to a little table in the back.

“So, what have you been up to?” I ask, trying to ease the awkwardness of having him play lookout while I eat.

He scans the area over my head as he answers, “Working. Same old, same old.”

“You got the old part right.”

He stops looking around long enough to glare at me. Or maybe not at me, but he’s definitely glaring. “Want me to tell him to get lost?”

I don’t have time to ask who before Hendrick steps up beside the table.

Even pissed at him, his presence does funny things to my insides.

“Jane?” Grady asks, standing to place himself between me and Hendrick.

I sort of like the idea of watching Grady toss him out, but I shake my head. “It’s fine. Grady, can you give us a minute?”

“I won’t be far.” He stares down Hendrick as he leaves.

I keep my gaze on my food. “What can I do for you, Mr. Holland?”

“Mr. Holland is my dad.” He slides into the seat across from me. “And I hate him.”

“Good to know you were telling the truth about something,” I grumble, then sit straighter. “What do you want? Shouldn’t you be out for your daily run by my house?” I scoff. “Oh wait, you were only doing that to keep tabs on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For following me around without my knowledge?”

“No.” He shakes his head, the dark brown strands bouncing around with the movement. “I’m sorry about how you found out. I should have stayed in the background. I shouldn’t have gone to the party or spent so much time hanging around when you didn’t realize who I was. But I’m not really sorry about that either, because it meant I was there that night, and my presence might have kept you safe.”

“So, you’re sorry, but not really? Wow, what a great apology.” I lean closer, elbows on the table. “I liked you. I thought that you . . .” I trail off. It’s too humiliating to say out loud.

“If things were different . . .” His expression is pained, and his tone suggests that he’s saying it more to ease my embarrassment than really meaning it.

“Well, they aren’t,” I snap.

“No, they’re not.” He sighs, shifts his weight in the chair so he can pull a piece of folded paper from his pocket, then slides it across the table. “I’m leaving town soon, but if you need anything, anything at all, call me.”

The pang of sadness that hits me at the thought of him leaving just makes me angrier. “Thanks, but I’m just fine with Grady.”

He nods once, then stands. Hesitating, he raps his knuckles against the table. “Be safe, Jane.”

Over the next week, Grady and I fall into a rhythm. As the days pass, so does my anxiety. Everyone seems to think the incident at the party was an isolated event since there hasn’t been anything else. My friends, my parents, even Grady. I hope they’re right. The not knowing who or why messes with my head. But I’m not going to let it stop me from living my life.

My parents finally came clean about a few other random threats they’d received for me at home. I guess not everyone is happy that Ivy decided to reappear. It’s mostly angry letters from moms who think I should be ashamed that I’m not being a good role model for young women (I guess the photos of me at a fraternity party didn’t scream sweet innocence—major eye roll), but also a few death threats that really freaked out my dad. It explains why they were so adamant about security. I’m still mad, but I know they hired Hendrick with good intentions.

Hendrick. Thinking about him still makes my chest hurt.

“You don’t need to stay,” I tell Grady as he drops me off at Eric’s house. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“I won’t be far,” he says. He’s never far.

Inside, I head toward the sound of music in the back of the house.

Eric stops strumming his guitar when he sees me. “You actually came!”

“I told you I would.”

“You said that on Sunday and again on Tuesday,” Lennon says.

“Sorry. Things have been hectic.”

“Heard you have a tail.” Ted stops drumming just long enough to speak.

“Just a precaution. He’s leaving this weekend. Was that a new song you were just playing?”

“Mac wrote it,” Ted says, and shoots his girlfriend an adoring smile.

“They helped,” she adds quickly. “And it’s still really rough.”

“I liked it. Can I hear it again?”

I sit on the lumpy couch that sits along one wall in the small room while they start the song from the top. The lyrics are catchy, a little melancholy but the tempo is upbeat. Parts of it are still rough, but when they’re finished, I’m smiling bigger than I have in days.

“That was really good. Your voice is perfection on that chorus.” I sing part of it back. “You should belt it out even louder the second time. Pour all that pain into it. It’s going to be amazing. Are you singing it at your next gig? When is the next gig?”

They all share a look that I can’t make out.

“What?” I ask finally. “What’d I miss?”

“We were hoping we could do it for the first time at the Spring Fling.”

“Paris asked you guys to do Spring Fling?” My voice rises with excitement. “That’s amazing.”

“No.” Eric shakes his head. “Not exactly.”

“I’m not following.”

“She asked you,” Mackenzie says. “We want to do it with you, so we wrote this song to show you that we’re serious. We won’t let you down if you let us perform with you. It’s a big deal now that you’re Ivy Greene.”

“She was always Ivy Greene,” Lennon says.

“You know what I mean,” Mackenzie says. “Now that everyone knows who you are, the expectations are different. We get that.”

“Basically, we’re saying we won’t fuck it up for you,” Eric says.

I’m hit with unexpected emotion that they did this for me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by nerves and anxiety about performing. “The song is amazing. The band is amazing. You don’t need me. I’ll talk to Paris.”

“Nobody cares about seeing us. They want you,” Lennon says, pushing a lock of his blond hair off his forehead.

“That’s not true. Everyone loved you at the party.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Eric says.

“At least sing the song with us right now.” Mackenzie smiles so sweetly at me. “Please?”

“With you?” We’ve never really sung together, except messing around with duets or belting out a song just for fun.

“Yes. Your range is better, so I’ll do harmony.”

I start to open my mouth to protest, but they’re all looking at me with such high hopes. Maybe a little jam session is exactly what I need right now.

“Let’s do it.”