Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

London splashes me from across the net. We’re in an epic game of pool volleyball. Me and her uncle Steve against her and Ben.

“Don’t need to splash me to distract me, sweetheart.”

I can tell she wants so badly to roll her eyes at me. She thinks I’m kidding. The one-piece she put on might not show as much skin as the lingerie she wore the last time we were in a pool together, but I have that memory etched into my brain forever.

“Game point.” Ben rolls the ball in his hands and then serves it over the net. It’s closer to Steve than me so I let him have it. He hits it up, but not over. I chance a quick look at London as I move into position to spike it. She looks so damn sexy. She’s a competitive thing too. The concentration on her face is almost enough to make me hesitate from spiking it over.

Almost.

She and Ben move to stop it at the same time, diving toward each other and knocking heads as the ball falls just in front of them.

“Hell yeah!” Steve calls. He holds up a hand for me. I slap it as I watch London come up out of the water, rubbing her head.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“You have a hard head,” she tells Ben. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I duck under the net and inspect her, running my fingers over the spot. “You’ve got a bump.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“We should get some ice on it.”

“No way. I want a redo.”

Chuckling, I look down into her fiery green eyes.

“I need to grab a beer anyway,” Steve says. “Brogan?”

“Yeah. That’d be great.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ben says, wading toward the ladder to get out and leaving me alone with London.

“Are you okay, honey?” Her mom asks from where she sits at a table under a large umbrella blocking the sun. “That looked bad.”

“Fine,” she calls quietly. I get the feeling even if she was hurt, her ego wouldn’t dare let anyone know it.

“I got her, Renee.”

“Sports were never London’s thing,” her dad adds. “You should have seen her the time we signed her up for basketball.”

Laughter follows the statement.

London blushes and ducks her head so I can’t see her eyes.

Steve reappears with a beer, handing it to me from the edge.

“Thanks,” I tell him and then lead her by the elbow. “Come on. You don’t want it to get any worse.”

She follows and I lift her up onto the edge of the pool in the shallow end farthest from her family. London watches in amusement as I put the cold can gently on the bump.

She takes over holding it there. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. This is how I take care of all my fake girlfriends.”

I place my hands on either side of her and then dip down into the water in front of her. Those sexy legs of hers graze my chest. I take in some water and then when I pop back up, spit it at her.

Her smile finally makes an appearance. “My family likes you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, running a hand over my wet hair.

She nods.

“I like them too.” Her family is legit. They’ve all been nice and welcoming. I can see there is a lot of love there, and London and her sister are obviously tight.

“What’s your family like?” she asks, tilting her head so she can more comfortably hold the beer can there.

“I got it,” I say, stepping back up to her and taking over to give her arm a rest.

She looks like she wants to fight me for a moment, but then relaxes.

“My family is…chaos.” I grin thinking of the small house in Valley where I lived with the Holland brothers.

She searches my face for…something. I can’t read her expression.

“I think it’s okay.” She reaches for the can and neither of us lets go for a moment. She smells like coconuts, and I have the overwhelming desire to lean in and lick her face.

“Mind if we join?” Chris’s deep voice cuts through the nice moment.

London takes the can from me and I slowly turn in time to see Chris step down into the pool with his girlfriend next to him.

“Sure,” I say, moving beside London but staying close. I don’t like the way he looks at her. Or the way she seems to stiffen every time he’s around.

“London, I love your suit.” Gretchen smiles at her and moves closer with a floatie. Chris doesn’t have a lot of options but to follow. Though he had the option of not coming today.

“Thanks.” London’s reply has a hint of uncertainty in it like she isn’t sure if she’s messing with her. Probably because the suit Gretchen is wearing is basically floss. London’s suit could be ripped apart and make five of hers. No judgment but I’m afraid to look at Gretchen too closely because I’m pretty sure I can see part of a nipple.

I don’t think Gretchen’s being petty, though, maybe just a smidge oblivious to the situation. Or, fuck, maybe this is perfectly normal behavior for two girls who have dated the same guy. What the hell do I know?

“I heard the Mavericks won today,” Chris says. “Congrats. I think you guys are going to have a great season.”

“Appreciate you saying so.”

He comes up behind his girlfriend and slides both hands up the back of her thighs and onto her ass. My brows rise.

I keep watching, even though I feel like maybe I shouldn’t. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before—or, hell, probably done at a party—but the atmosphere just feels wrong for that kind of PDA…so wrong.

I glance over at London. She’s trying really hard to look anywhere but at where her ex has his hands.

I try to put myself in his position. If London really was my girlfriend, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. Maybe it’s my bad for assuming that feeling up a girl in front of her dad was probably crossing a line. Again, what the hell do I know?

I’m gonna have to call Knox or Hendrick for relationship advice—words I cannot believe I’m saying.

Am I playing it too cool to convince this prick I’m her boyfriend? Maybe a little butt-squeeze would really sell it. Before I can decide on how to work that in while my girl sits on the edge of the pool, Ben yells for his brother and Gretchen to swim to the other end.

Fuck it. I come up on her, wrapping my arms around her waist and hoisting her up over my shoulder. That puts her ass right at my shoulder. I smack that perfect, round ass and then keep my hand there. Well, damn, that is nice.

“What are you doing?” London screeches. “Put me down.”

“Or what?”

“Brogan Six!”

“Love it when you say my name like that, sweetheart.”

I had no idea what to expect from today, but London’s family hang is fun. There’s food and drinks, lazy naps on lounge chairs, and nice conversations with London’s family. The whole thing is like nothing I’ve ever been a part of. I had no idea families could function like this. I latch on to a little tension between London and her parents over her job situation, but the fact that they’re spending the day together despite their differences just reinforces all the ways in which what I had from the man and woman who gave me my DNA was wildly different.

I’m just finishing another game of volleyball in the pool when I get out and look for London. She disappeared sometime while I was playing and missed the awesome victory dance me and her grandma made up. I don’t want to spoil it, but it involved a lot of hip bumping and spirit fingers.

I finally find her inside in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I say, standing on the rug so I don’t get the floor wet. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. You’re hiding. What’s wrong?”

She huffs a short laugh. “How are you so certain that I’m lying?”

I pad across the room to her. “I’m an expert on all things London, like any good boyfriend.”

She smirks.

“You get this cute little wrinkle right here.” I press my finger gently to the spot between her eyes.

“I do not.”

She totally does.

“Is everything okay?” I try another tactic to get her to tell me what’s up.

“Yeah.” She lets a little of her irritation bleed into her tone. “It’s dumb.”

“Tell me anyway. I say dumb shit all the time.”

Another small laugh leaves her lips and she twists her hands in front of her like she isn’t sure she wants to confide in me. “I hate him and I hate how he still gets under my skin after all this time.”

“Chris,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, he seems like a real peach. Why’d you break up?” What I really want to ask is why were you ever with him? He so doesn’t seem like the guy for her.

“He cheated on me. Like a lot. Basically the entire time we dated. Two years of lies.” She shakes her head and looks annoyed. At him and a little at herself, I think.

“We went to high school together but didn’t start dating until sophomore year of college. He went to Stanford and I stayed here. He was visiting for Christmas and we ran into each other one night out at a bar…that was it. We were inseparable until he left, then we texted nonstop and took turns going to see the other.”

I hook my pointer finger around hers and then run my thumb along the top of her hand.

“We made all these plans for the future. Marriage and kids. We even picked out names. Emily and Jackson.” She wrinkles up her nose like the names are ruined for her now. “He let me believe that we were going to have this happily ever after all the while lying and sleeping around behind my back.”

What a fucking asswipe. I grind my back teeth.

“I don’t get what kind of game he was playing. What was the point of stringing me along? Seems like a lot of effort for sex a few times a month.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. What I mean is I’d like to punch him for her. I doubt she’d find that romantic. “How’d you find out he was lying?”

“I surprised him. A terrible idea, in hindsight. I showed up at his dorm and he was with another girl. One of many I found out later. You know what was the most infuriating?”

“What?”

“He had the gall to act like I was overreacting. He didn’t really think it was cheating since we were at different schools.”

“Ah, the different area codes excuse,” I say dryly.

“Yeah. Funny how he never mentioned that as a stipulation in our relationship before. I could have been sleeping my way through the frat boys and jocks.”

“I can still help you with that last one,” I joke, trying to ease some of the hurt I can tell talking about it brings up for her.

She lets out a short laugh. “Anyway. That was two years ago, and I guess I still haven’t really gotten over it. I’m over him, just not what he did. I was so naïve.”

“You trusted him. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Though I get how hard it is to let people in after you’ve been jerked around.

She lets out a long breath and attempts to smile. “Let’s go back outside. It’s getting late and I know you need to leave soon. I’m not letting him ruin a perfectly good pool day.”

Nodding slowly, I intertwine our fingers as we walk outside together. I swing our hands lightly between us. “Hey, want to come shopping with me later?”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah, we need some more furniture for the apartment.”

Whether the amused expression is over my need for furniture or asking her to help, I’m not sure, but I’m glad when she agrees.

“Sure.” She shrugs.

I spot Chris out of the corner of my eye. He’s in the pool while his girlfriend lies on a towel at the edge on the opposite end. He glances up at London and me, then moves quickly toward Gretchen and pulls himself up next to her. He leans over and presses a kiss tenderly to her shoulder.

What an asshole. I really want to punch him.

For the next hour I notice a trend. Any time London is nearby, Chris is all over Gretchen. When she’s got her back turned or goes inside, he seems to forget he even has a girlfriend.

It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever witnessed. And I start to get a better understanding why London was feeling strange earlier. Her ex-boyfriend is dry-humping his new girl right under her nose like it’s a sport. It’s so obvious to me that he’s either trying to make her jealous because he’s an asshole, which pisses me off, or because he wants her, which for some reason pisses me off even more.

London and Sierra went to get popsicles from the freezer and when she steps out laughing with her sister, Chris picks that exact moment to kiss Gretchen. The grip on my water bottle tightens. This motherfucker.

I move without thinking.

She’s got an orange popsicle in one hand and in the other has another still in the wrapper. One for me, I’d bet my next paycheck on it. That makes something warm spread in my chest. I don’t think anyone’s ever brought me a popsicle before. And yes, I know it’s just a popsicle, but it’s more too. It’s considerate and thoughtful.

When I’m about six feet away, she notices me heading in her direction. The smile on her face falls away and her lips part in confusion. Sierra is still talking, but I don’t think London is listening anymore.

She stops when I’m right in front of her. Sierra’s voice trails off. I lean down, brushing her hair back as I whisper in her ear, “Sorry about this.”

“What—”

I cut off the question when I drop my mouth to hers. There’s a sharp inhale of breath and a second where I’m not sure if she’s going to kiss me back or shove me away. I thought I was doing this for her, but the moment I feel her lips against mine, it’s just us. I sweep my tongue in her mouth. She tastes like oranges and sugar. I want more. So much fucking more.

I thread one hand through her wet hair and deepen the kiss. Slowly her body slackens against mine. I capture a soft little hum that escapes. I want to hear it again, but then a voice of warning starts to go off in my head. She’s not yours, dickwad. You proved your point, now step away.

So I do, reluctantly.

Her lashes flutter open slowly. My hands are shaking as I bring them back down to my sides.

Sierra is gone and it’s just the two of us on display for her entire family.

“What was that for?” she asks, voice wavering.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip and then clear the lust from my head enough to move to the side and incline my head to where Chris had been before.

“Is he still watching?”

She scans the yard and then brings her gaze back to me. “Yeah.”

I clear my throat. I’m struggling not to ask her if she just wants to kick this party and go make out. She’s made her interest in pursuing anything with me pretty clear though. As in, she’s not at all.

So I shoot her the playful smile she expects from me. I’m not letting my penis ruin a nice gesture. Maybe.

“He’s been doing that shit to you all day. Every time you’re around he’s handsy and shit but when you’re not looking, he couldn’t care less.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m serious.”

“That could just be a coincidence.”

“Maybe.” It’s not. I don’t believe that for one second. Especially after everything she told me earlier. He gets off on fucking with her.

Her stare drops to my lips then she holds up the still-wrapped popsicle. “Want one?”

“What flavor?” I ask. “Because I have a sudden craving for oranges.”