Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

“God, I’m so jealous.”

“Says the girl who spent the last few weeks on the beach with her new husband drinking cocktails with little umbrellas.” I roll my eyes at Paige as I fill another goody bag with bachelorette essentials like hand sanitizer, breath mints, lip balm, Tylenol, and of course a beaded necklace with little penises. They go perfectly with the penis straws and naked men figurines to freeze inside the ice cubes I bought for the pre-outing cocktail hour I’m hosting before we head out on the town.

Sierra and Ben wanted to do a dual bachelor and bachelorette night, but I talked her into a girls-only hour before a night out.

My best friend just got back from her honeymoon and is keeping me company while I prepare for the big event.

She picks up one of the penis straws and holds it up. “I don’t know. It sounds like you got dicked-down better than me.”

My face flushes as memories of last night pervade my mind.

“You should see your face right now.” She laughs.

“Am I as red as I feel?”

“Like a tomato.” Her grin widens. “I assumed a guy like Brogan Six would be memorable in bed, but it must have been sensational. Your glow rivals mine, and I worked hard on this tan the past three weeks.”

“He’s just…” I struggle to figure out how to accurately describe him or just…any of it. “I don’t know. I’ve either been with some real duds or he’s exceptional.”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“It isn’t just the sex,” I say. “He’s different than I expected. Deeper. More considerate, more thoughtful, just…more.”

Her dark auburn hair falls forward as she tips her head down and studies me carefully, making me self-conscious with the admission. I know Paige would never judge me, but I still feel a flash of panic that I’ve opened myself up in a way that I can’t take back. I know holding in the words won’t keep me safer, but it feels that way sometimes.

“You like him.”

“Of course I do. He’s Brogan Six. Everyone likes him.” My tone is light-hearted with a tinge of vulnerability.

“Everyone doesn’t know him. They just think they do.”

“I guess, but it’s still hard to wrap my mind around whatever we’re doing, knowing that he quite literally has a line of women waiting for us to break up. To fake break up.” I finish another goody bag and set it with the others. “You should see the way they come up to him at parties like they don’t even see me.”

“I will destroy them,” she says automatically, always wanting to have my back. God, I love her for that.

“No, it’s not even them. They’re just reacting to the lifestyle he’s crafted, which screams that the women he’s with are disposable.” My throat tightens on the last word.

“He doesn’t think you’re disposable.”

“No, of course he would never say that. He’s a good, decent guy, but that is quite literally the terms of our relationship. He made sure we had an expiration date from the very beginning.”

The look she gives me is bordering on pity.

“And somehow I still let myself get in over my head.” I drop my chin to my chest and groan.

“Honey, you can’t blame yourself for that. You’re not a robot. You’re a woman with real feelings. Sometimes we make plans and then things change.”

That’s the problem, though. Things haven’t changed, not really. I bought a one-way ticket to heartbreak.

“Being a robot might be easier.” I look up at my best friend, wishing she could solve it all for me.

She considers that for a moment like it might be possible to turn ourselves into mechanical beings. “Robot sex probably isn’t as much fun.”

“It was really, really fun,” I admit.

“So are you going to keep enjoying the benefits of your not-so-fake relationship, then?”

My phone pings with a text and I glance over to see Brogan’s name on the screen. My stomach flips and my insides turn to mush.

“Is it him?” she asks.

I nod. “He wants me to go to a dinner thing tonight.”

“And?”

“Help me pick out something to wear?”

Brogan picks me up an hour later. I meet him downstairs because we’re running late, but he still gets out of the truck to come around and greet me.

“Hey.” His smile is so big and genuine that I can feel my own growing wider as he envelops me in a hug. He rocks us back and forth, continuing to squeeze me like he hasn’t seen me in days or weeks.

“How was your day off?” I ask when he pulls back. His hands remain wrapped around my lower back.

“Good. How was work?”

“Fine.” I shrug. “Kind of boring.”

“Should have stayed in my bed.” He uses his hold on me to press our bodies together. His cedar and citrus scent and the warmth of his body makes my head spin.

Before I can come up with some witty reply, he steps back and takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t turn your day around.”

At the restaurant, a hostess leads us to a back room where some of his teammates are already seated. Just teammates, around eight of them. I don’t see any girlfriends or wives. And the guys are dressed casually, some in shorts and T-shirts, others in jeans, but the whole atmosphere is low-key.

Brogan and I take the two empty seats at one end. No one bats an eye at me being here. Archer tips his head, and Tripp smiles and winks.

I lean over to whisper as soon as it seems like people have gone back to their conversations and aren’t looking at us. “I thought this was a team dinner?”

“It is. Well, sort of. Cody played his hundredth game with the Mavericks last weekend and we’re celebrating. This is his favorite place.”

Well, that’s nice, but I still feel awkward. “Should I be here?”

Brogan’s brows pinch together, and he glances around the table like he’s just now noticing what I did the second we walked in—I’m the only non-football player. “Huh. Weird.”

“I can go.” I start to push my chair back, but he puts a hand on my thigh under the table.

“No, don’t leave.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

He keeps his hand glued to my skin. “Not for me. I missed you all day.”

I tilt my head and let out a small laugh. It isn’t that I think he’s lying. It’s just too bizarre to be true.

“I did,” he says, angling his body toward me. “I like spending time with you. You’re fun, and smart, and gorgeous.” His gaze scans over my face and his fingers come up to rest on my cheek, then stroke down to my chin. “These guys might have left their women at home, but that’s not my style.”

“You’re a very good fake boyfriend,” I tell him, keeping my voice low enough that no one can overhear.

He beams with the compliment. “You make it easy.”

We keep staring at each other for a beat, then I ask, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” His fingers push back into my hair. “Just one question.”

“Okay?”

“What’s this?” He moves the hand that was in my hair into view and between his thumb and forefinger is a tiny little metallic blue penis.

My face heats. “Oh god.”

I run my hands over the rest of my hair, searching for any more penis confetti. I knew it was a bad idea. I’m going to be finding it in the apartment for weeks…and I guess on me as well.

“I’m starting to wonder if work was so boring after all.” He still has the offending confetti in hand and he’s smirking at me.

“I was putting together the goody bags for Sierra’s bachelorette party.”

“A penis-themed goody bag, huh? Why wasn’t I invited? I love a good theme.” He finally sets the confetti on the table but shakes his head at it like he’s never seen anything quite like it.

“You want to come?”

He looks at me like I just asked the dumbest question ever. “Absolutely. Am I allowed or is it girls only? Maybe I could crash it later when you’re all tipsy and handsy.”

I blush at the reminder that he knows firsthand how I am when I drink too much. Although to be fair, I’ve never been as handsy with anyone else, drunk or not.

“They’re actually having a joint party, so if you want to come, I’m sure Ben would be thrilled.”

He nods and then his smile pulls the corners of his lips higher. “When is it?”

“Next weekend. Saturday. We’re just going to hit up the bars and clubs downtown.” I don’t want him to think we’ve got VIP access or private rooms like he’s probably used to. We’ll be out in the main areas and very visible, which means he’ll be very visible.

“Joint party…” He trails off. “I thought the whole point of those parties was one last night of living the single life.”

“Probably for some people,” I say.

“But not them.”

“No. They seem pretty excited about getting married.”

“So I can be your date?” he asks, looking hopeful and adorable.

“If you want.”

“I literally can’t think of anything I want more than seeing you in action at a bachelorette party. Are you going to wear a sexy little dress and one of those sash things girls wear out?”

I hold in a laugh. “I think those are a requirement of bachelorette parties.”

“God bless them.” He leans in and takes my mouth.

I forget we’re sitting at a table with his teammates until someone tosses a balled-up napkin at us. “No making out at the table.”

Brogan drapes his arm along the back of my chair and scoots closer. “Don’t be jealous because I’m the only one that was smart enough to bring my girl to dinner.”

“Rookie’s not wrong,” Cody says begrudgingly. “For once.”

They all commiserate in nods and grunts of acknowledgment.

I realize then how well we’re selling it. People think we’re really a couple.

And so does my freaking heart.