“But it’s not like you have them over for barbecues or go to the movies with them or do anything with them other than hang out with them at the club, right?”
He gave her a hard look. “Well, no. So what? They’re still my friends.”
Lulu had said he was too trusting. Maybe she was right about that. “Do you even know their last names?”
“Do you know the last names of everyone you’re friends with?”
“Yes, Cole. I do.”
He didn’t say anything after that, and Savannah could tell from the tight set of his jaw that he wasn’t happy with the direction of their conversation. She made a mental note to bring it up again later.
They met Dave at the pancake house and exchanged cars in the parking lot. Cole pulled out a wad of bills and paid Dave a rather generous tip for his trouble.
“Hey, always fun to drive around in the Lexus, man. Anytime.” He winked at Savannah and drove off in his truck.
Cole shot a glance at the pancake house. “Hungry?”
“Not particularly, but if you are I’m happy to accompany you.”
He shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s late and I’m sure you’d like to get home. Plus, I need to get this car off the road in case the media is still circling. I’ll grab something to eat after I drop you off.”
Once again, he was being polite. Not thinking of himself first. Not at all congruent with the selfish, egotistical man she’d read about in his portfolio.
Something wasn’t right here, and she’d have to get to the bottom of it. Either he was playing her, or the reports about him were inaccurate.
Savannah was determined to find out. She couldn’t fix his image if she didn’t know who the real Cole Riley was.
He drove her back to her house. She started to get out, but Cole did, too.
“You don’t have to come in.”
“Sure I do. You brought a lot of stuff. I’ll help you carry it in.”
Again, he confused her. This had to be some kind of ploy on his part. “All right.”
She let him inside and turned to him, reaching for her bags. “I’ll take those.”
“I can handle it. Where do you want them?”
“You can lay them down on the bed.” Her Southern hospitality kicked in then. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure.” He went into her bedroom and came back a few minutes later.
“Nice underwear.”
She turned. “Excuse me?”
“Hey, it’s not like I went rummaging into your drawers or anything, but you had some hot stuff laying out on your bed.”
Her face heated. She knew she should have taken her things into the bedroom herself. She handed him a glass of sparkling water. He looked at the glass and frowned. “This is the drink you had in mind?”
“You’re driving.”
“I’m a big guy. I know my limits.”
“You already had shots at the club.”
He frowned. “I don’t need you monitoring my alcohol intake.”
“I wasn’t. I was just…Okay, I was. And anyway, I thought you didn’t drink alcohol during the season.”
“It’s not the season yet.”
“But you’ll be reporting to training camp soon, correct?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes and he laughed.
“You have to get out and have some fun. The serious business starts soon.”
“And what—you don’t have any fun once the season gets under way?”
He set his glass down on the table next to the sofa and took a seat. “I didn’t say that.”
She followed, sitting next to him. “And the articles, of course, imply otherwise.”
“Of course. According to the media I’m out partying every night, including game nights.”
“Which couldn’t be true, because of team curfews.”
He picked up his drink and took a long swallow. “Don’t believe everything you read about me, Peaches. Most of it is hype.”
“Don’t you have PR people?”
He shrugged. “Here and there. I don’t really like the kind of PR they do, so I avoid them.”
“So you’ve fired them, or they’ve left you because of the kind of bad publicity you garner? Can’t be good for their image, either.”
“Yeah, it’s my fault.”
She sighed. “I’m only trying to help you, Cole.”
“Not the first time I heard that. A lot of people tell me they want to help. Sometimes PR does more damage than good.”
“Elizabeth is a very good agent. She can put you in touch with some great public relations firms who can do so much to help your career. You can trust her.”
“Trust is a hard thing to come by.”
“And yet you trust your first-name-only friends at the club so easily.”
“They haven’t screwed me over.”