Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

On Wednesday I’m drinking my third cup of coffee and trying not to fall asleep at my desk when Alec stops by.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s a long way from the broadcasting floor.

He’s ditched his suit jacket and his tie is loosened. “Heading out. Thought I’d swing by on my way and make sure you were alive.”

“Barely.”

“Another late night being the girlfriend of a star athlete?” His sly grin widens as he leans against my desk.

I glance around to see if anyone is eavesdropping. The last thing I want is for my coworkers to find out about Brogan.

“Did you see this?” He holds his phone out for me to see the screen.

It’s a picture of me and Brogan at the Mavericks event last weekend right after Archer helped me dunk him. I’m not named, which is good. Brogan has an arm around me, pulling me against his wet chest, and he’s aiming a big smile at the camera. We look like a couple in our matching jerseys. My insides warm as I think about that entire day. I had fun with him.

“I’ve seen it.” I take another sip of my coffee.

“You look good.” He slides his phone into his pants pocket. “Happy.”

“I’m supposed to. That’s kind of the whole point.”

He leans in with a smile and whispers, “You’re not that good of an actress.”

I haven’t heard from Brogan since he dropped me off after the event on Saturday. He asked me to hang out again that night, but I couldn’t get Archer’s words out of my head. Are we going to somehow cause more damage by pretending to date? I can’t imagine that, but I figured the less amount of time we are together when we don’t need to be, the less likely it is possible.

They had an away game this weekend. They won and Brogan had another great game according to every article I’ve read. I almost sent him a text to congratulate him, but that felt strangely intimate, like I was overstepping some unspoken line of our agreement.

“So, where’d he take you last night? The new Italian restaurant opening? Trivia night at Rockwells? Dancing at Gaga?”

“I was here,” I say before he can continue guessing. It doesn’t escape my notice that he knows every possible date location in the city on any given night. “Wayne needed me to redo some graphics.”

“All night?”

“Until ten or so. They were going out this morning.”

“And let me guess, someone else did the first draft, management didn’t like them, and he dropped them in your lap at the last minute?” Alec’s mouth pulls into a straight line and his brows lift.

That is basically what happened, but for some reason I don’t want to admit it. I feel a sense of loyalty to Wayne despite everything. He hired me and gave me this opportunity.

“What did you do?” I ask him.

“Nothing much. Ordered takeout, went to bed early. When are you seeing him again?”

I toss a pencil from my desk at him. “Why are you so interested in this?”

“Are you kidding? You’re dating—” He lowers his voice after I widen my eyes in warning at him. “Brogan Six.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” He stands, cocky grin still plastered to his face.

It’s not. But I’m starting to wish it were.

I go to Sierra’s apartment after work to help her make a final decision on wedding invitations.

“You must really like this guy.” Sierra’s smile widens as she catches me scrolling the Mavericks website. She decided on a simple but elegant white invitation with black engraved type an hour ago, but has kept on looking just in case she finds another she likes better.

I’d given up on invites and had been searching for details on the team event schedule to know when Brogan might need me to be his fake date again, but got distracted when I saw a picture of him from today’s practice. Ever since Alec’s interrogation earlier, I can’t stop thinking about him.

“I told you, it’s new.” I really hate keeping things from Sierra, but I’m afraid she might lose her shit if I tell her I made an agreement with Brogan so I didn’t have to suffer seeing Chris alone at all the wedding festivities.

“God, I still can’t believe you’re dating a Maverick.” Her grin widens and she looks at me with such awe.

“Yeah, you and the rest of the city.” Probably the country. Not that I imagine myself important enough that the entire country knows who I am. There were a few photos of us together from the community wellness event that popped up, including the one Alec was flashing around earlier, but I think people are used to seeing him with different women, so maybe they assumed I was just the girl of the night.

Brogan keeps mentioning the idea of posting a photo of us on his social media but that feels big and scary. I rarely post anything myself, so it isn’t like I have a lot of followers or anything. I have separate pages for my art, and I’ve gotten to where I really only check those.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Because…” I trail off. Because it’s a sham?

“What’s it like going out with him? Where does he take you? Are women just like pawing at him everywhere you go? Have you met Cody St. James?” She fires questions at me, fully abandoning her search for invitations.

“He’s busy a lot so we haven’t gone out on a lot of real dates, but he’s fun and sweet.” I realize as I say the last part, it’s true. He is a sweet guy, considerate too. “Yes, he gets plenty of attention from people everywhere. And I have met him. Briefly.”

“Cody St. James is my free pass.”

“I’m going to have a hard time not imagining that now every time I see him.” I scrunch up my nose. He’s a good-looking guy though, so I get it. He has a whole serious, fuck anyone who gets in my way vibe going on that shouldn’t be hot, but it is. He was nice and polite the few times we spoke so maybe I’m projecting and he’s just intimidating as fuck.

“I’ll be sure not to bring him around so Ben is safe,” I tease.

She laughs. Me too. But somehow the idea of it isn’t as far-fetched as it was a few weeks ago.

“That reminds me, Grandma wants you to bring him to Mom and Dad’s house next Sunday for a late afternoon pool hang.”

Panic blooms in my chest, but then I remember… “I’m pretty sure he has a game that day.”

“The game is early.”

Dammit, how does she know his schedule better than me?

Another laugh escapes from my lips. She must really love Ben if she’s let him convert her into a hardcore football fan. “And you expect him to head over to our house afterward?”

If I had spent three hours running and being tackled to the ground, the only thing I’d want to do afterward would be move into my bed and order takeout.

She shrugs. “He has to eat. Besides, he’ll probably want to see you. This way he can eat, see you, and Grandma can scope him out.”

I groan.

“Just ask.” She nudges my knee with hers. “We want to get to know him. You haven’t dated anyone seriously since Chris. I think this guy could be good for you.”

“You think dating a professional football player would be good for me?” I scoff. “This from the same girl who told me not to date Ken Reynolds because he was captain of the basketball team.”

“This is different. Ken slept with half the school.”

I don’t point out that I’m pretty sure Brogan has slept with at least that many women since he joined the Mavericks. It doesn’t matter anyway. It isn’t real.

“Bring him and I’ll let you choose your own maid of honor dress.”

“Oh, now that’s cruel,” I tell her.

She beams proudly, knowing she has me.

“Fine. I’ll ask, but I’m not making any promises.”

On Friday, I finally get my opportunity to ask when he texts me.

Brogan

Hey! How’s your week been?

Me

Good. Yours?

Brogan

Not bad. Better if you say you’re free tonight?

Me

I’m free.

I purposely didn’t make plans in case he needed a date for something, but now I realize how pathetic that sounds.

Brogan

Great. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.

Me

Wait. Fifteen? Where are we going? What do I need to wear?

Brogan

A party and whatever you want.

Only after I race to my room to take the quickest shower I’ve ever taken in my life do I realize that I didn’t ask him about coming to my parents’ house next Sunday.

He arrives as I’m putting on a second coat of mascara. My hair is still wet, but I managed to put on my favorite black dress and paired it with sneakers, hoping I’m dressed casually but dressy enough to get by in any scenario.

When I swing the door open, his gaze immediately tracks down my body.

“Wow.” He runs a hand over his jaw. “You look great.”

My stomach flips and it feels exactly like a first date with a guy you really like.

“Thanks. You too.” And he does. He’s in jeans and a gray T-shirt but the way they hug his body is unbelievable.

He leads me to his truck and opens the door for me. I try to banish all my thoughts about this feeling like a date, but he is not making it easy.

“Where are we going?” I ask again.

“A teammate is having a party at his place tonight.”

I want to ask why he couldn’t go alone. Not that I don’t want to go, because I kind of do regardless of whether I have to pretend to be his girlfriend all night, but it seems like he could have easily just gone without me and made excuses that I had plans.

“Wait until you see his place. Slade lives in this sick penthouse with city and mountain views. He’s got a hot tub and pool on his rooftop.”

That makes my stomach swirl with nerves. I am so out of my league. A penthouse? A private rooftop? Hanging with pro football players?

My only saving grace, and the reason I don’t jump out of the truck, is that Brogan seems as in awe of that kind of luxury as I do. I guess he hasn’t quite gotten used to the fact that his new job can lead to that kind of life. It’s odd to think of him being a rookie professional football player as a new job, but it is. I make a vow to remember that.

The penthouse is as nice as I imagined. I try to keep my jaw from dropping as Brogan leads me through the massive space, but I don’t think I quite come off as unaffected.

He takes my hand and squeezes. “Crazy, right?”

My heart skips a few beats. Crazy is exactly what this is.

He doesn’t let go of my hand and I find I’m grateful because if I got lost in here, I don’t know if I could find my way out.

We stop in the kitchen. Archer is there with a beer in hand. When he sees us, he smiles.

“Hi.” I lift my hand in a wave and then smile at the blonde woman at his side.

“Nice to see you again, London,” he says. He wraps an arm around the woman’s waist. “This is Wren.”

“Hi. Good to meet you,” I say to her.

“You too. I love that dress.” Her gaze drops to my shoes. She’s in heels, as are most of the other women.

“What do you want to drink, sweetheart?” Brogan asks, pulling my attention back to him.

He holds open the fridge door. The inside is filled with rows of beers and hard seltzers, even boxed wine. It seems to contradict the bottles of champagne on the counter, but I suppose it’s fitting for a bunch of football players. They can obviously afford the expensive booze, but they seem to be drinking a lot more of the other.

I opt for a glass of the cheap wine, and he grabs a beer for himself. Once we have our drinks in hand, Brogan takes my free hand and pulls me farther into the apartment. I can just make out the large floor-to-ceiling windows when Brogan comes to an abrupt stop and I run into the back of him. Our hands break apart as I attempt to save my drink. Half of the sweet wine splashes onto him, but when I go to apologize, I discover the reason for the sudden halt.

She’s tall, blonde, and the dress she’s wearing hugs her hourglass figure to perfection. She also has her mouth pressed against Brogan’s.

“I was wondering when I would run into you again.” She swats at him playfully as she pulls back, but only slightly. Her mouth still hovers an inch from his. “You never called after that amazing night in Sedona.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve been busy. Practice and the team…” He takes a small step back so he’s standing next to me. He clears his throat. “Tiffany, this is London.”

Her gaze slides to me. I’m not sure what I expect her reaction to be, given she’s obviously slept with him and was expecting him to call her again so they could recreate an “amazing” night together, but she doesn’t seem at all surprised about my presence.

She smiles and not in a fake way, or if it is fake, it’s very convincing. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” I say, shock making me polite even when I should probably be acting jealous and possessive of my date. Isn’t that what a real girlfriend would do? I do actually feel a little peeved.

Her stare lifts over my head and then back to Brogan. “Excuse me, my friends just got here.” She moves past us but not before tossing out one more comment. “Call me sometime. You still owe me tiramisu.”

When she’s gone, I turn to face him. “Sedona? Tiramisu?”

“It’s a long story.” He rubs at his jaw with two fingers.

“It doesn’t seem that long. You slept with her and then never called again. Am I right?”

His lips part but it’s a moment before he replies. “Something like that. It was a long time ago. When I first moved here.”

“Two whole months ago?”

“Three and a half.” He grins.

I find myself laughing even though the whole thing is ridiculous and I’m slightly appalled.

“Any other women here tonight I need to worry about?”

“You don’t need to worry about Tiffany.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the red lipstick all over you.” I step closer and run my thumb along the mark she left on him.

He has nice lips. They’re full and softer than I expected. My hand lingers there a beat, and he reaches up and closes his fingers around my wrist.

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of those words surprises me.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly because it is. It has to be. We aren’t really together and this whole thing is about fixing the problems he created for himself before he met me. I should expect more moments like that and probably be thankful she was as nice as she was.

We make it around the apartment and then head up to the rooftop. It’s somehow even more packed up here. Brogan pulls me with him, stopping to say hello to some of his teammates and a few more women. Luckily, none of them try to kiss him or mention seeing him naked.

I keep a tight hold on his hand as I play the part of adoring new girlfriend. It’s an easy gig, really. And Brogan is a good date. He notices when my drink is getting low, he pulls me into conversations, and he leans in close and whispers to tell me the dirt on several occasions. Once to warn me about a teammate whose breath is always terrible. That warning came too little, too late as I had just leaned in to shake his hand and nearly fell backward as he shouted a greeting that brought a wall of stench with it. And another time to point out an author in case I wanted to pitch my book cover designs to her. I didn’t, but I appreciate that he thought to mention it all the same.

Eventually we settle onto an outdoor loveseat. His teammate Cody is across from us, sitting with his legs wide and a beer bottle resting loosely in his grip. He looks bored, which seems impossible given the sheer amount of people and the incredible view up here. Other teammates come and go. Archer and his date stop by before getting into the hot tub.

“Are they a couple?” I ask Brogan, nodding my head toward them. I can’t get a read on them. He’s affectionate toward her, but she’s either playing it really cool or not into being all touchy in public.

“It’s new,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t think they’ve defined it, but they’re spending a lot of time together.”

I don’t push for more, but I enjoy watching the various couples around the rooftop. Some are in the pool and others take their turn in the hot tub. It’s big enough for at least ten people, but at one point I count fifteen. A few others are sitting around like us, talking or making out.

The heat of the day still lingers in the air, but darkness has brought a cool breeze that whips over the tall building. My hair is kept in place by the arm Brogan rests behind me. The fingers draped at my shoulder slowly stroke up and down my upper arm, and his thigh presses against mine. The logical and practical part of my brain realizes that we’re putting on a show, but my hormones do not. My stomach flutters and my pulse races and a shiver rolls down my spine.

He uses the hand at my shoulder to pull me into him. “Are you cold?”

“Just a little.” I’m too embarrassed to admit that the goosebumps don’t have anything to do with the temperature out here.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“No way.” I cuddle closer to him. “I may never have this opportunity again and I want to enjoy it.”

He looks at me with humor in his gaze.

“What? It’s not every day a girl like me gets invited to a penthouse with a rooftop hot tub. It’s like an episode of some cheesy reality dating show, complete with champagne and other women who want to sleep with you.”

“Other women meaning you included?”

My cheeks heat. “Well, that’s what we want everyone to think, right?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “I have an idea.”

He removes his arm from around me. The body heat he was sharing, as well as the wind barrier his large body provided, leaves me cooler immediately when he stands. Now I really am wishing I’d worn something warmer.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before I can follow him.

I feel suddenly bashful sitting around with his teammates when he’s gone.

Cody offers me what I think is meant as a smile. He’s got this permanent look of displeasure on his face that makes the action seem painful. If Sierra could see me right now.

“Can I…” I start and then hesitate.

He arches a brow.

Fuck it.

“Can I take a photo with you? My sister is a huge fan.”

Slowly his mouth pulls into a real smile. “You want a photo with me?”

“Mhmm.” I nod. “Is that okay? I know you probably hate doing that. Especially at a party.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it when I tell your boyfriend that you were fangirling over me.”

I can tell he’s teasing, but I still clarify. “For my sister.”

I quickly snap two pictures. He looks nicer in the photos than he does in real life. Sierra is going to freak out.

“Thanks,” I say again.

He nods in reply, then says, “Six seems more chill around you. I think I see why.”

“This is him chill?” I ask with a small laugh.

“Aside from Archer, you’re the only person I’ve seen him sit and relax with for longer than twenty minutes. He’s always bouncing from one thing to the next. Always the center of the party. But not with you.”

I can’t decide if it’s a compliment or insult.

“I guess maybe he’s just comfortable with me like he is with his brother.” As soon as I say the words it feels wrong. I don’t have a ton of relationship experience, but I know it shouldn’t feel like you’re dating your sibling.

His brows furrow and his head tilts to the side. It’s too late to take it back so I sip my wine instead.

“His brother?”

“Yeah, Archer.”

“Archer isn’t his brother.”

I open my mouth and then close it. Oh shit. Did I just fuck up? I know Brogan called Archer his brother on more than one occasion.

Cody lifts his beer bottle in one hand and takes a long swig. Then he says, “Well, not by blood, but I guess they are attached at the hip most of the time.”

I force a brighter smile. “Right. That’s what I meant.”

Hopefully I play it off well enough that he doesn’t see right through me. I take another sip of my wine, finishing off my third glass, and look away. The alcohol is starting to make my head light. I want to blame my misstep on that, but I know that’s not it.

Why would Brogan refer to him as his brother? I suppose he could have meant that they were close, but the way he said it…it didn’t seem like he was referring to a friend.

I don’t have too long to ponder it before he reappears. He’s wearing a proud, boyish grin that immediately erases all my concerns. Holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two blue and white striped towels in the other he says, “What d’you say, sweetheart?”