Page 17 of The Closed Off Captain

“You’re welcome.” Then without another word, I leave him and the family room behind. I head back to my office and sit at my desk, so I can finish my list for tomorrow and also set up my to-do list for next week. It’s nearly an hour later when I finally finish what I need to get done for the night. I close my laptop and pack it in my bag and stand up. I take a step towards the door and freeze. “Coftman? What are you doing here?” I frown. “And how long have you been standing there?” He’s leaning against the door jamb with a bag over his shoulder, freshly showered and wearing the suit he wore to the game.

“Not long,” he says vaguely.

I stop a few feet from him when he doesn’t move out of the doorway. “And you’re here because...” I prompt.

“I’m here to walk you out.”

I frown. “You don’t need to do that.”

“There will be cameras,” he says quietly.

“Oh.” I hadn’t really thought about it. “Okay.” I take another step, and he moves out of the way. We walk down the hallway in silence. “You should have told me you were there. I wouldn’t have kept you so long.”

“It’s fine.” His words are quiet and deep.

I don’t bother to try making small talk as we walk through the building, and thankfully, neither does he. When we get to theexit, he opens the door for me. Sure enough, there are several members of the media waiting. I blink at the flashes but keep walking. I’ve been around this enough over the years, I know how to keep my calm. What I’m not prepared for, however, is Gunner’s hand on my back and how close he walks to me. I focus on taking sure steps so I don’t trip on something in my heels. I notice Gunner’s truck is parked right next to my car, and I wonder absently if he did that on purpose. I unlock my car, and he holds the door while I slide in, his big body blocking me from view.

“I’ll follow you.” That’s all he says before he slams my door shut and makes his way to his truck.

I throw my purse and bag in the seat next to me before starting my car and easing my way out of the parking lot. Gunner follows close behind me. When he’s still following me a few minutes later, I pull into a gas station. Not surprisingly, he pulls in behind me. I park in a parking spot, and he pulls in next to me. I roll down my passenger window and motion for him to do the same. “You don’t have to follow me anymore,” I tell him. “We’re good.”

“Okay.” I know him well enough to know his tone of voice.

“Seriously, Coftman. I don’t need an escort home. It’s in the total opposite direction of your house.” I know where he lives; it’s my job to know everything about these guys. I doubt he knows where I live, though. He rolls up his window, and I shake my head. I debate calling him but decide against it. I’m not going to argue with him. He’s a grown man; he can do what he wants. I pull out of the station and start the trip home, turning on my audiobook as I do. It fails to capture my attention, and I blame the big man in the truck behind me. I think back through the events of today and the press conference. I’m hoping now that he’s made his announcement, everything will die down. I’m theleast interesting person on the planet. As soon as people figure that out, they will move on to the next exciting story.

Chapter 9

Chloe

Even after the late night, I don’t sleep in. My body doesn’t let me. I head to the shower and get dressed for the day. Since we’re heading to the mall, I find a pair of jeans and pair them with a soft white sweater and a pair of short ankle boots. I let my hair air dry while I do some work before Gunner gets here. I still think it’s ridiculous that he’s picking me up, but I guess if we’re supposed to be a couple, it would make sense that we ride together. I nurse a cup of coffee while I sit at the table.

I’m cutting it a little close when I head back to the bathroom to straighten my hair and do my makeup. But when Gunner knocks, I’m ready. I throw my purse over my shoulder, grab my phone, and head to the door. I open it before he can knock again. “Morning,” I say as I step out and pull the door shut behind me.

“Morning.” His voice is gruff, like he isn’t quite awake yet. He’s probably exhausted after last night’s game.

“We can do this another time,” I offer, but he shakes his head and turns away. I try not to think about how good he looks this morning. He pulls off casual too well.Way too well.He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a white sweatshirt. I realize absently that we practically match, but I don’t point it out. When we get to his truck, he opens the door for me. I think he puts out his hand, but I ignore it and climb up and settle into the front seat. He closes the door behind me and gives me about five seconds to calm myself before he joins me. But being in his truck does the exact opposite of calm me. I take a deep breath and immediately regret it because it’s heavy with the scent of Gunner’s cologne. Idon’t know what he wears; I've never asked him. But I do know, he’s worn the same cologne since the first day I met him. I love it because it’s not musky like some guys wear; it’s sharp and strong, kind of like the man himself.

He’s quiet as we begin the drive, not that that surprises me. He’s always been on the quiet side; it serves to make him more intimidating to people. I've never found him that way, though. He’s just...Gunner. He’s the same guy who didn’t say a word last night after following me home. He didn’t wave, didn’t honk the horn; he simply drove off after I went inside. That’s just the kind of guy he is. But now that I’m in a truck with him, I’m not sure I can handle the silence. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”

“Go ahead.”

I turn it on, not at all surprised to hear sports radio playing. It soothes me; I love sports radio. The longer we drive, the more I feel myself beginning to relax. It lasts until he pulls into a parking lot. I frown. “Where are we? I thought we were going to the mall?”

He frowns and looks over at me. “The mall? Why?”

“To go ring shopping.”

“We’re not shopping for a ring at the mall, Chloe.” He climbs out of the truck, leaving me staring after him. I scramble out my door, closing it just as he comes around the front of the truck.

“I didn’t dress to go to a fancy place,” I practically hiss at him.

My words don’t faze him. “Neither did I.”

Suddenly, nerves hit me, and I have no desire to go inside. I remind myself that this is a business venture, and that seems to help, as does the hand at my back propelling me toward the store. “They’re not going to have anything cheap here,” I tell him as we get close to the door.

“Why would we want something cheap?”

I stop and look up at him. He looks genuinely confused. “It’s a fake engagement, Coftman. We’re not spending money on a nice ring.”

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