She’s nothing more than a spoiled princess who never learned the definition of “no.”
“None of your concern,” I spit.
Her bittersweet expression morphs into something darker, and she stomps her foot. She knows damn well the kind of hold she has over me, and I know damn well she’s not afraid to use it.
Her father is the sole owner of the Gainesville Cougars. Declaring that his precious baby girl is a crazy stalker would be career suicide, and admitting it publicly would do nothing but make me the laughingstock of the locker room.
“She’s staying with family here,” I say. “For the summer.”
“Jesus, Zane.” Her hand lifts to her heart. “You’re already fucking her, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You want to.”
“My personal life is none of your business, Carissa,” I say. “And for the record, Delilah hates me, so don’t get your panties in a bunch over something that’s probably not going to happen anyway.”
There. Hopefully that’ll make her back off. The last thing I need is her terrorizing Rue’s niece, involving her in this craziness.
Carissa laughs, crossing her lanky arms beneath her fake tits. “You’re not that dense, are you? She brought you cookies. Don’t be a moron. She’s totally down to fuck.”
“Anyway, I think we’re done here, so . . .” I shoo her away, glancing over her shoulder at the parked Audi in the street.
“Zane.” She sighs, reaching for me, but I jerk my arm away. “It’s not fair for you to hate me so much.”
I refuse to engage in this bullshit stall tactic of hers another minute.
“Do I need to file the restraining order?” I know my threat is empty, but it’s the only card I have left to play.
“You would never.” She calls my bluff in two seconds flat.
“I will if I have to.” I take a step closer, leering down, which elicits a smile from her. And maybe I shouldn’t. It’s like giving a temper-tantrum-throwing toddler attention. I’m rewarding her for bad behavior. But she needs to hear me one last time. She needs to listen up. “You’ve been doing good, Carissa. You’ve been staying away, keeping your distance like I asked. Why’d you come here today?”
She brushes a strand of dark hair over her shoulder and licks her curling lips. “I already told you. I was driving by and saw you coming in here with a girl. I was curious. Can’t blame me for wanting to check out my replacement.”
“You weren’t replaced, Carissa. I never had you. I never wanted you. You were never mine to replace.”
“I’m sorry. I meant Mirabelle’s replacement.”
Just like that, she pulls the rug out from under me. My breath grows weighted in my chest and my body is anchored for war.
“Don’t,” I seethe, “ever fucking say her name around me again.”
By the time I’m done seeing red, the door has been slammed in her face and I’m standing in the middle of my foyer.
“Everything okay out there?” Delilah’s voice trails from the living room.
“Yep.” I hook my hands on my hips, take a deep breath, and pull my shit together because I’ll be fucking damned if I let someone like Carissa rain on the parade that is Delilah Rosewood sitting in my living room at this very moment.
“What was that about?” she asks when I return.
I take the seat beside her and stretch my arm across the back as I settle in. It takes everything I have to pretend like there aren’t fifty tons of explosives coursing through my veins, but something about seeing Delilah’s expressive dark gaze and observing her cool, collected mannerisms brings me a sliver of peace.
“That,” I say, “was my stalker.”
Delilah laughs. “You have a stalker? Like a real-life stalker?”
I exhale, eyes rolling back. “Yeah. It’s hilarious.”
“She’s so sweet. There’s no way.” Delilah won’t stop snickering. Glad my personal drama can be someone else’s cheap entertainment.
“A girl gets stalked by a guy and it makes the five o’clock news. A guy gets stalked by the team owner’s daughter and he’s just supposed to keep it to himself or brag about it like it’s a goddamned rite of passage.”
“When you say she stalked you . . .”
“Followed the team from city to city, hung out outside locker rooms, faked press passes to get into places she wasn’t supposed to be, snuck into hotel rooms on the road, convinced her daddy to give her all-access passes to team parties and events, hid in bushes outside my house, sent me creepy-ass love letters, snuck into my home when I wasn’t here, detonated an atomic bomb in the direction of my personal life . . . do I need to continue?”
“Damn.” Delilah’s smile has long since faded.
“She’s bat-shit crazy. I’m surprised she didn’t snip off a lock of your hair when you weren’t looking.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.” Delilah clucks her tongue. “She seemed nice enough, you know, in spite of me not having known all of that. We talked about how you first met.”
I about choke on my spit.
“She said she was interning for a newspaper and got to do a one-on-one interview with you,” Delilah says.
“Yeah, no. That’s a lie. Everything that woman says is a lie. Don’t believe a word she said to you today.”