The Aubrey Rules (15 page)

Chapter 21

The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #21:
When working onsite in a professional capacity, maintaining an air of being in control, pleasant, and being able to anticipate and respond to any needs that arise is a must.

**Note**
It is very hard to maintain control and a pleasant demeanor when I see women losing their shit over meeting Beckett.

**Note #2**
WAIT. WAIT. HE SHOULD NOT BE SIGNING BODY PARTS.

**Note #3**
I
anticipate
wanting to throw a water bottle at this girl’s head but that would be breaking a major rule.

**Note #4**
Beckett is so good with children.

**Note #5**
See note #4. I’m falling in love with this man.

“You ready for this?” Beckett asks as he eases his car into the player parking area of the Chicago Buffaloes arena. It’s Wednesday night, and I’m accompanying Beckett to his autograph signing in an official capacity.

I can’t help but laugh at the serious tone in his voice. “I think the question is, are
you
ready for this?”

Beckett shifts his Escalade into park and is quiet for a moment. “These aren’t easy for me. I never know what to say, other than ‘hi.’ I know fans expect more from me. But with so many people, you have to keep the line moving. I feel like I disappoint them because I’m not Landy.”

I hate the way he’s comparing himself to Landy, his flashier, outgoing friend. And I’m going to put a stop to it before we go inside.

“Okay, for starters, they’re coming to see you, their
captain.
The fans love you and how hard you work, don’t diminish that.”

Beckett sighs. “But this is so
easy
for Landy. He can talk to anybody. I’m not like that.”

“People don’t expect you to be Landy. They want you to be Beckett.”

Like I do,
I think as I study his handsome profile.
I want you to be Beckett, exactly the way you are. Awkward and sweet and sexy and commanding. All these complicated things, all rolled into one incredible man.

“Right,” he says unconvincingly.

“Trust me, women think you’re just as hot as Landy,” I tease.

“Stop it,” Beckett says, blushing.

“I speak the truth.”

“
Stop.
”

“But seriously, you can make this easier for yourself. If you see something interesting on a shirt, make a comment about it. Or a cool baseball hat, or anything. They’ll answer you, and that can direct a little conversation. Trust me, it will help.”

Beckett turns to me. “I do trust you.”

My breath catches in my throat. He’s talking about more than conversation skills, I know he is.

I’m about to respond when the sound of a loud car engine zooms by us. I glance out the window and see a sleek red Ferrari slide into the spot next to Beckett’s.

“Landy,” Beckett explains, opening his door.

I follow suit and step out of the car, meeting Beckett around the back of the SUV. A moment later the Ferrari engine is shut off and the door opens, and out steps the infamous Landon Holder.

Good Lord. He’s
gorgeous.
Landy is tall, about 6’2 or so, with longish jet-black hair that peeks out from underneath a wool black beanie. I detect a slide shading of stubble against his jawline. He’s wearing a black cashmere trench coat and has on jeans and cool black boots.

“Becks,” Landy says, flashing him a huge smile as he approaches us. “Ready to greet your adoring public?”

Okay, that smile, that perfect smile, the one that reveals dimples in his cheeks, could make a million girls drop their panties on the spot.

But not me.

I shift my attention to Beckett, my sexy, sweet, Captain Smart Ass, and know that is the man I want to be with. While Landy is attractive, there’s no doubt, he pales in comparison to Beckett in my eyes.

“Landy, this is Aubrey Paige, my social media consultant,” Beckett explains.

I’m caught off guard by the introduction. Beckett hasn’t told Landy about me? His closest friend doesn’t even know I
exist?

I swallow hard. I told him I wanted to keep us on the down low, but I didn’t mean this low.

Unless Beckett wants it this way.

“Hi,” Landy says, extending his hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Aubrey. The team will be thrilled to know Beckett will finally have someone teach him the fine art of tweeting,” he says, winking at me.

I bury down my insecurities and focus on Landy, flashing him a smile.

“I won’t let him escape technology anymore,” I declare.

Landy laughs. “Good. You’ll make him tweet more than once every two months on a holiday, right?”

I nod. “And don’t tell him, but I’m going to make him Instagram, too.”

“No,” Landy fake gasps, his blue eyes shining. “No way.
Instagram?
He might crack under the stress of having to use both.”

I can’t help but laugh. Landy has a good grasp on Beckett and a sense of humor.

“I know,” I say, grinning at him. “It’s a horrible circumstance your captain finds himself in, but I’m here to guide him through it.”

“You are obviously an angel descended from above to answer his social media prayers,” Landy quips.

Beckett clears his throat. “Can we go inside now? We’re going to start in ten minutes.”

I turn my attention to Beckett and,
whoa
, he’s irritated. I can see it in the eyes that say so much without his saying a word. Wait. He can’t be jealous of Landy, can he? After all, he’s the one who didn’t tell Landy he was seeing me.

“Don’t worry, the girls aren’t going to run off if we’re late,” Landy asserts, breaking through my thoughts.

Okay, Landy, you can shut up now.

We walk into the underground concourse of the stadium, and Beckett and Landy are met by a slew of Chicago Buffaloes personnel, some dressed in team navy and gold polo shirts with the Buffaloes logo on them. I’m introduced as part of Beckett’s personal media team, and I reach for my phone out of my tote, ready to take a lot of pictures and send some tweets on his behalf.

We take an elevator up to the concourse, to the area outside the team shop. This event was coordinated as part of a sale, so fans could not only stock up on gear but have a chance to meet Beckett and Landy, too.

“We have cut the line off at 500,” a man explains as we exit the elevator. “No selfies.”

“I’m doing selfies,” Landy insists.

“You’re aware these aren’t
your
selfies, right?” Beckett deadpans. “You don’t get to keep these pictures of yourself.”

“They’ll all be on Twitter before we leave,” Landy says.

He’s right about that,
I think.

We turn the corner, and suddenly screaming and a loud cheer go up from the large crowd. We’re faced with a huge line of adoring fans, most decked out in Buffaloes gear, and they’re going crazy at the sight of Beckett and Landy.

“Ready?” Landy asks, waving at the crowd.

“Yes,” Beckett says, glancing at me.

I wish I could squeeze his hand. To tell him he’s done this a million times before and people love meeting him. That he doesn’t have to be Landy 2.0.

All they want is the real Beckett.

Just like I do.

Beckett and Landy are at the same table, and people going through the line will get to meet both of them. Landy takes off his overcoat, and he’s wearing a plain white T-shirt that reveals his heavily inked, muscular arms.

“It’s snowing out,” Jordan, the representative with Buffaloes, says as he takes a seat at the table. Beckett told me Jordan helps keep things moving, supplies the stash of glossy 8 x 10 pictures, and makes sure Beckett and Landy have everything they need. “And you’re in short sleeves?”

“Ladies enjoy seeing the tats,” Landy says, draping his coat over the back of his chair. “Can’t disappoint my fan base.”

Boy, Landy gets the importance of his fans. He’s a touch arrogant, but very savvy, I have to say. I’m impressed by that.

I turn to Beckett, who is studying me, his brow furrowed. Once again, he appears agitated, but I don’t know why.

I wrinkle my brow back. I long to yell, “What?” but I can’t.

Beckett slips out of his coat, and he’s wearing a gorgeous black V-neck sweater, with a gray T-shirt layered underneath. His chest is so broad in it, so massive and huge, and it’s hot.
Very hot.

His fans will go crazy over that
.

My stomach tightens a bit at the thought. I gaze down the line, taking in his fan base. Lots of women. Gorgeous young co-eds, younger than me. Kids.

Did I say co-eds?

“Ready?” Jordan asks.

“Can’t wait,” Landy says, picking up a Sharpie.

Beckett nods. I position myself across from him and Landy, and Beckett catches my eye. I point to my shirt as a reminder, and he smiles at me.

There’s my captain
. Hopefully he was just agitated about mentally getting ready to do this. Beckett is so shy, this is so outside his comfort zone, but hopefully with me here, I can help ease that a bit for him.

Fans begin coming through the line. Girls and girls and did I say girls? Giddy, laughing, nervous. Landy is completely in his element, and is gleefully ignoring the no-selfie mandate and talking to everyone who comes up.

Beckett is smiling, and signing, and I can tell he’s trying his best to be as social as Landy. My heart warms as I watch him. He has no idea how much these girls are into him. I watch them as they walk away, starry-eyed and staring at the pictures they snapped on their cells.

Now a mom with two little kids approaches the table. They are adorable, with the girl dressed in Riley #17 jersey and her hair in navy and gold bows. Her brother is in a Holder #94 jersey.

Then I see it. Beckett, who had been smiling and talking to all the girls, completely
lights up
at the sight of the children. It’s so genuine, and I swear I’m swooning on the spot.

I begin snapping pics. This is what I’m going to tweet from his account.

“Hey, how are you?” Beckett says to the little girl, grinning at her. “I’m so glad you came to see me today. What’s your name?”

“Carlee,” she says quietly.

“Can you spell it for me?” Beckett asks, sliding a picture in front of him.

“Um, Beckett, we don’t have time to personalize,” one of the Buffaloes personnel says over his shoulder.

“I personalize for kids,” Beckett says, going into captain mode. “Go ahead, spell your name. I’ll mess it up if you don’t spell it.”

Carlee slowly spells out her name. Beckett writes it on the picture and then scrawls ‘Beckett Riley #17’ underneath it. Then he does the same with her brother.

“I play hockey!” the little boy says excitedly.

“High-five,” Beckett says, holding up his hand.

I watch as the little boy excitedly hits Beckett’s hand, and Beckett laughs.

“Have a good season,” he says as they walk away.

That’s the Beckett I know. He’s funny, he’s sincere, and apparently I’m one of the few people that gets to see that non-serious side to him.

Which makes me fall even more for him.

“Becks, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you,” a girl says as she approaches.

She’s beautiful, with cascading blond hair. She’s wearing Beckett’s jersey and a pair of skinny designer jeans.

Shit. I’d have to give up fries for six months to get my butt in those, I muse.

“Would you sign a body part?” she asks sexily.

What? What did she say?”

I immediately tense up. Okay, this is not fun. Standing here and watching women flirt with my boyfriend—

Wait.
Is he my boyfriend?
We’ve gone out three times. But we slept together. Not sex, but you know, we shared a bed and that’s intimate.

But he didn’t even tell Landy about you
.

“Excuse me?” Beckett asks. “Sign what?”

“I’d sign it,” Landy quips as he poses for another selfie with a girl.

Oh, shut up, Landy.

The girl pushes up the sleeve on the jersey she is wearing on her size-two frame.

“My arm. I want to get a tattoo made in your honor, Becks,” she says.

Oh no. No, no, no, no. Hell no.

“Okay,” Beckett says.

He agreed to that? Are you kidding?

Now I’m pissed. I want to tag this blond in the head with a water bottle.

There. I successfully anticipated a need for this event, but not for Beckett. For me. A need to have Beckett not sign this girl’s arm.

She holds her sleeve up, and Beckett holds her arm with one hand and signs with the other.

“Oh, thank you so much, you’ve made my life,” she declares excitedly. “I’ll Instagram my tattoo so you can see it!”

“I’ll watch for it,” Beckett says, grinning back at her.

Oh, he’s going to watch for it? The man who hasn’t located his Instagram icon on his phone for 295 days is going to look for this girl’s tattoo?

Urgh!

I’m so mad at Beckett. He should have turned that down. Politely, of course, but he should have declined and offered her a photo.

And he should have told Landy about me.

And I know I’m getting worked up over stupid stuff and I should do what Beckett tells me and breathe, but I’m irritated with myself and him and the last thing I want to do is anything he suggests.