Page 64 of Delicate Storm

“No.”

“Fuck, okay.”

I move to hang up but he cuts in before I do. “Please don’t do a men’s magazine. God knows you’ve got the body for it. But it’s not you.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Thanks, I’ll take your opinion into consideration. Bye, Christian.”

“Bye, Paige.”

I hang up and fall back to the couch before massaging my temples. That was not a conversation I ever saw coming. I’m not closed off to feelings or whatever the hell he was implying. That was just never in the cards for us. And I thought we both understood that. But I guess I was wrong.

No matter the case, I wish I wasn’t still so caught up in the Mikkleson family. I was supposed to be in California for a fresh start.

And since I’m currently questioning things going on in my life, why does everyone keep saying I was naked? You could see my nipples through a wet top. That’s it. People wear see-through clothes all the time. God, it’s even become a fashion statement on the red carpet. It’s not the big deal everyone is making it out to be. I’m so damn proud of that magazine spread, and I won’t let anyone ruin it for me.

But I was joking about the men’s magazine. I know my limits. And I’ve already met them. Doesn’t mean I think poorly of anyone that does pose for those magazines. I’m all for people being able to do what they want with their own bodies, but that also means they shouldn’t be forced into parading themselves around if that’s not what they want to do. Which, unfortunately, means the player auction is off the list. A shame really because I could have bid for Easton all in the name of charity. I could have told my dad that Easton was the safest choice because he had a kid and was grumpy all the time. It would have been the perfect alibi. But it’s not to be.

If only I knew what was.

I spend the next few hours rolling ideas around in my mind until I have two plans in place. A conservative or boring option and something a little bit out there. And when the clock strikes six a.m., I’m exhausted and ready for bed.

But also a little confused. I usually find this so easy. What’s so different this time?

God, why did I sign up for this again?

Oh, that’s right… I had no choice.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Easton

It’s been days and I’m still thinking about that goddamn magazine. And what’s worse is that I went from seeing Paige all the fucking time, even when I didn’t want to, to her being nowhere in sight.

And it’s driving me crazy.

“I think Reed and Bria had a fight,” Luke says, sidling up to me when we get onto the field for practice, his words confusing me as they cut into my thoughts.

“What?”

“I think Reed and Bria are fighting,” he repeats and I wish I’d never asked.

“Who the fuck is Bria and why do I care?”

“Bria is Reed’s bestie. You know. The girl he went to college with.”

Huh? I stare at him confused. “How the hell would I know who he went to college with? And again…why do I care?”

Luke shakes his head as though I’m being a dick and keeps talking. “You should care because he’s moodier than usual and he needs our help.”

“So, help him. You don’t need me.”

“Yeah. I do. I’m not good at that stuff. You helped me once; I know you can do it again. Let’s get a drink after practice. The three of us. I could even call Dylan. We can get the support gang together.”

“Call us the ‘support gang’ again, and you’ll be the one needing help. I’ve already got plans.”

“Tomorrow then,” he counters. “Or Saturday.”

“For fuck’s sake.”He’s relentless.“Don’t you have a wife and kid to go home to?”

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