Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

An hour after the longest brunch of all time, I’m sitting on the treadmill in the middle of my living room with a bottle of vodka in my lap.

That’s how Alec finds me. He crosses the room, eyeing me carefully.

“Bad day?” he asks, taking the vodka from me and chugging it like the frat boy he once was before handing it back. My roommate is dressed in a suit that is tailored to perfection. His dark hair still looks as good as it did this morning when he left and his hazel eyes are framed with long, thick lashes that any girl would kill for. Sometimes I forget that under this meticulously styled business exterior he’s just a big ole party boy.

“That’s impressive,” I say, drinking another much smaller sip.

“I prefer it on ice with a lemon, but something tells me that’s not the kind of happy hour we’re having tonight.”

“She’s engaged,” I say, still too shocked to put any feeling behind the words. “And he has a girlfriend.”

“Whoever they are, do they know they’re in two very different relationships?”

“No.” I give my head a shake to clear it. “Sierra. Sierra is engaged. She and Ben are getting married.”

“Oh,” Alec says with a contemplative look. “That’s great. Or maybe not, judging by how much vodka is gone from this bottle. Wait. I got it. The ex has a girlfriend.”

“You figured that out way too easily.” It doesn’t escape my notice that Alec doesn’t use Chris’s name. He never does.

“Not my first time walking in on a girl spiraling over an ex-boyfriend.”

“I’m not spiraling over him,” I say quickly.

Alec lifts one brow and has that look on his face like he’s about to serve me with many points to argue my last statement.

“Okay, not just over him.” I realize that everything about this situation—finding me sitting on the treadmill in my tank top and leggings, tennis shoes next to me where I kicked them off, with a bottle of vodka—does give off not over the ex vibes.

I had planned to come home and run off the weirdness of brunch, but I slipped in my ear buds and turned on my workout playlist and before the very first song ended, I was replaying the day, getting all riled up all over again about Chris and how much of an asshole he still is. I was becoming a safety hazard. So I stopped and started drinking.

“He’s dating a model.”

“Ha!” Alec throws his head back and laughs. “Of course he is.”

He says nothing else as he goes into the kitchen, gets two glasses and fills them with ice. He comes back and sits on the floor in front of me.

He pours us each a glass, then sets the now near-empty bottle behind him, out of my reach, and holds up his glass. “To the model skank.”

“She’s not a skank.” I take the other glass and swallow a big gulp. It burns and I cough. “Also, I don’t love calling women skanks.”

“Can you just be a petty bitch for a minute?”

That pulls a laugh out of me. “She graduated with a Masters in Social Work and volunteers at the food bank twice a week. Oh, and she was a competitive runner in college.”

Both of Alec’s brows shoot up. “I don’t even want to know how you know so much about this woman. Have you been stalking her online since you got home?”

“His mom was all too happy to brag about ‘Chris’s lovely new girlfriend.’ She never liked me for him.”

Like I was the problem.

She thought I was too indecisive and lacking ambition. I was indecisive but I take offense to the other thing. I only lacked ambition because I was getting a degree for a job that wasn’t the right fit for me. Once I found something I was passionate about, that changed. Or maybe I just desperately need to tell myself that. I’m a people pleaser and I hate knowing she thinks I’m not good enough for her son. Even if I don’t want him back.

“I like your ex less with every new detail I learn. He should have stopped his mom from hyping up his new girl in front of you. Full stop. That’s not cool.”

I shrug. The whole thing was awkward. I’m not giving Chris a pass—I never give him a pass—but there’s no good way to interact with your ex and his family. His dad had the decency to look a little embarrassed on my behalf, but I did my best to seem indifferent. What do I care if he’s dating a smart, kind model who can run the four hundred in under two minutes? He is not my business anymore.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I hope they are very happy together.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t, but only because he’s the worst.” I take another sip. “He’s going to be my brother-in-law.”

“Technically, he’ll be Sierra’s brother-in-law.”

I groan. “How am I going to avoid him forever as planned?”

“Easy. Come home with me for all future holidays.”

“Tempting,” I say with a smile because I know he’d let me tag along with him any time I wanted. “Also, can we talk about the other thing? Because he’s not why I’m upset.”

Alec looks like he’s fighting a retort, so I add, “Really. He’s not. He’s still awful and smug and all the things I remembered, but my little sister is getting married.”

“I thought you liked Ben.”

“I do. I love Ben. Aside from being Chris’s brother, he’s basically perfect. But don’t you think they’re kind of young? She just turned twenty-two. And it’s fast. They’re planning the wedding for late October.”

Alec doesn’t seem to follow because his facial expression doesn’t shift into the shock and judgment that I’m waiting for.

“That’s less than three months away.”

“I guess that’s a little fast. Is she pregnant?”

“No. She was drinking at brunch. I think they’re just that in love.”

“Okay.” He laughs softly. “So they won’t have their pick of venue or DJ. None of this sounds like cause for worry.”

“I don’t want her to rush into anything and then have regrets. That’s all.” I mean, how well do you really know a person after dating for only a year? It took me twice that long to figure out Chris was bad news.

He nods thoughtfully. “If I’ve learned anything from dating women for twenty-five years now, it’s that you can’t change their minds if they’re set on something.”

“You started dating when you were in diapers?”

“You’d be surprised how young I was,” he says.

I snort. I actually wouldn’t be. Alec has the kind of charm and charisma that speaks of years of wooing the opposite sex. “And that’s all you’ve learned?”

“That and to always say no when asked if any article of clothing makes you look fat.” He smiles proudly, then that expression softens. “You can’t stop her from marrying the guy she loves just because you’re scared he might turn into his brother one day. And, hey, if he does, you know a great divorce lawyer. Two by then, if she graduates on schedule.”

I scowl at my roommate, then take another drink of straight vodka. It still burns and I grimace. I’m more of a hard seltzer or mixed drink girl, but Alec loves his vodka and always keeps us stocked.

“Come on. Enough moping around. I know just the place to take weddings and ex-boyfriends off your mind.” Alec takes the glass from my lips and pulls it away carefully. “Go get ready.”

“I’m not up for people-ing tonight.”

“You always say that. It’ll be fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” He stands and takes our glasses and the vodka to the kitchen. I lie back on the treadmill. It smells like rubber and dust. Gross. But I don’t move.

The next thing I know, Alec is standing over me, grabbing my hands, and pulling me up to my feet. The room spins a little.

With a laugh, Alec steadies me by placing both hands on my shoulders.

“Change of plans. I’m taking you to dinner. We need to soak up some of the alcohol in your system.”

“What was the other plan?”

“Drinks with some people from the station.”

Alec and I work together at a local news station. I’m a graphic designer and he does the morning weather. He’s way higher up on the social ladder at work, well really everywhere. He has friends at work; I have colleagues. I’m the only woman in my department and going out with them always feels a little forced and awkward. Whereas Alec has a wide variety of people that adore him and are always inviting him out.

“You don’t need any more booze. You need a night of dancing and mingling with hot strangers. Chris is an idiot and frankly, you could do way better.”

“I told him I was seeing someone.” One side of my mouth lifts in a grin. “He was baiting me and the next thing I knew…it just popped out. And he looked so relieved, like he was glad that I wasn’t waiting around for him.”

“Maybe he wants you to be happy now that he’s found his model do-gooder girlfriend. He could be a changed man.” The smile Alec gives me tells me he doesn’t believe that.

“I am happy. And I sort of have someone.”

Alec cocks his head to the side.

“Luke,” I remind him.

At the mention of my occasional, no-frills hookup, Alec shoots me a disapproving smirk that makes him look like trouble.

“What? Are you going to tell me it doesn’t count because it’s just sex?”

“I would never utter the words ‘just sex,’ but come on, Luke? That guy is not for you.”

“So he lives with three other guys and his job sucks and he smells a little like garlic even first thing in the morning.” With every word I say, Alec’s expression just gets smugger. “He is a nice guy and we have fun together.”

Or we did. He started seeing someone else recently and they must be getting more serious because I haven’t heard from him in at least two weeks.

“The bar is so low I don’t even know what to do with you.” He pats me on the top of the head.

He’s not wrong, but dating is exhausting and I’m already busy. Luke is all the effort I can manage right now. However, a night out sounds fun. “I did get new shoes today.”

“Perfect. As long as they aren’t sneakers, put them on and let’s do this night up right. The first step to turning around any bad day is moping.” Alec looks me up and down. “Now that we’ve checked that off the list, it’s time to move on to partying to forget.”

That’s not my style, it’s his, but for one night I think I can get on board, so I nod.

“Are you good?” he asks. “Really? Is this a Paige-level crisis?”

Paige is my best friend in the whole world so I did consider texting her after brunch, but I knew she’d be busy. Plus I just kind of wanted to wallow for a bit. “It’s Saturday.”

“And on Saturdays she’s not available for crises?” he asks quizzically.

“Sex Saturday. They never make plans after five. I think they even turn their phones off.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Oops. I don’t think that’s something I should have shared. I shake my head like I’m not going to tell him.

“London Renee Bennett, tell me right this instant.”

A laugh bubbles up and loosens my chest. “They reserve Saturday nights for sex.”

He thinks. He thinks way too hard. Paige is going to kill me for telling him.

“I can get behind blocking out an entire night for sex, but every Saturday? And does that mean only Saturdays?”

“I’ve already said too much. She’s unavailable but I’m fine.” Then I plaster on a big smile and say as enthusiastically as I can, “Let’s go dance with sweaty strangers!”

One side of his mouth lifts and he finally backs away. “I’m going to make myself a drink for the shower. You want anything? A coffee perhaps?”

Feeling better than I have all day, I follow him into our kitchen. It’s my favorite part of the apartment. It’s not a big space, but the island is cozy and the cabinets all have glass fronts. Alec doesn’t cook, but he did a nice job organizing everything. His style is very minimalist and clean – lots of whites and grays. I could stand for a little more color, but since I moved in after he’d already decorated everything, I choose to think of it as a bougie Airbnb or hotel.

“No thanks.” I grab the scissors out of a drawer and cut the tape on one of the packages I picked up today. My mood lifts considerably as I pull the shoe box out of the bigger box, and even more so when I take off the lid and peel back the tissue paper.

I lift one shoe out of the box and smile. I don’t think I’ve ever owned a pair of red shoes before, but something about these said pick me.

Alec eyes them, brows lifted, and nods in approval as he cuts a wedge of lemon for his drink. “Well, all right now. Those are some seriously sexy shoes.”

My stomach swoops with a little bubble of excitement. I know that going out and partying tonight isn’t going to take away the sting of Sierra’s engagement to my ex’s brother. Tomorrow I’ll be back to obsessing about it, but tonight…tonight I choose great shoes and great company.

“What’s that other box?” my roommate asks, resting one hip against the counter.

I set the shoe down and frown at the package. I was in a haze at the post office, fueled with rage over getting another boxful of Brogan’s mail.

I pick up the pink bubble mailer. The label is dirty and I can’t make out the sender information. Actually, the whole front looks like it was dragged behind a pack mule across the country. My PO Box number is just visible under streaks of brown and black. It’s light and flat.

“I have no idea,” I say, tearing it open. I peer inside with a frown and then reach in and pull out…panties. Lacy, red panties.

“I didn’t order—” I start, and then drop them, backing away with a lurch. I bring my hand up to my mouth and then recoil because that hand just touched someone’s dirty underwear.

“What?” Alec asks. He eyes the panties with humor. “They match your new shoes.”

He makes like he’s going to pick them up and I shout, “Don’t!”

“What’s the big deal?” He lifts them up with one finger.

“They’re not mine. Someone must have sent them to that guy…the one that had my PO Box before me.”

“Damn. Really?” He sounds impressed instead of disgusted. Then he laughs like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened.

I roll my eyes and step forward and snatch them out of his hand, then quickly drop them into the trash. While I wash my hands with a whole lot of soap and very hot water, Alec continues to investigate the package the panties came in like he’s hoping there’s more.

“You didn’t say he was getting dirty lingerie.”

“I never open the packages,” I say, but now that he’s mentioned it, I wonder what else was in all those boxes and large envelopes that have been shoved into my mailbox.

“Why not?”

“You mean aside from it being a felony?” I wipe my hands off on a towel, then consider washing them again. “What kind of guy gets used panties in the mail?”

“A lucky one.” Alec grins wide.

The great thing about going anywhere with Alec is that he knows everyone. It’s one of the perks, and I’ve found via my roommate that there are many, of being on TV. People recognize him everywhere we go. They should. His face is on the side of several billboards around town. And even if our peers aren’t exactly his target viewers, being the local weatherman is a fascinating job. People want to meet him, and they’re interested in hearing about his work.

Alec is as personable and friendly in real life as he appears on TV, and the perks of his job often extend to me when I’m with him so I’m not complaining.

Like at the restaurant, we were led past a line of people waiting for a table straight to one in the back that they reserve for last-minute high-profile guests.

High-profile. The thought makes me want to snort. This is the same guy whose diet consists mostly of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Which made it especially funny tonight when the chef came out to say hello and asked how the food was. I think he was expecting more than the one-word “Excellent” response he got. But he sent over dessert after so maybe he wasn’t too offended by our lack of proper foodie adjectives.

By the time we make it to Gaga, the hottest club in town, I’m full and happy and ready to do exactly what Alec planned for us—drink and dance with hot strangers.

The second we step into the door of the club, he runs into a girl who works for the local football team, the Mavericks. Or used to work for them. I missed the details, but we’re welcomed into the VIP area and I quickly find myself standing around, not quite part of the conversation.

Someone is celebrating a birthday, judging by the balloons and number of champagne bottles I’ve seen brought up in the thirty minutes we’ve been here.

We’re on the fringe of the VIP area, but I watch the people coming and going. Girls in short, sexy dresses and big guys that are probably football players. Most of them are dressed more casually than the girls, but many are wearing diamonds around their neck and wrists in that way pro athletes always do. Do they just run out of things to buy or did they always wish for a necklace that weighs five pounds?

I don’t really follow sports, much to Alec’s dismay. He played tennis and soccer all through high school and part of college, and because of his job, he’s always in the know about local sports teams.

The club itself is nice. I came one other time with Alec, but we only stayed for one drink because his girlfriend at the time found out that my very friendly roommate had slept with the bartender. Not while they were together or anything, but Vickie (the ex) still wouldn’t stay anywhere near, and I quote, “that fucking whore.”

The VIP area is on the second level of the club. Plush black sofas and chairs are scattered around, and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Music pumps up from the dance floor below, but it’s quiet enough to talk if you yell or stand close enough.

Alec nudges me, pulling me back into the conversation he’s having with Laura, the one with the in with the Mavericks.

She smiles and leans closer to speak directly to me. “My friends are in the back corner. Do you want to come have a seat with us?”

Alec waits for my approval. He’s good about always looking out for me since I’m not as social as he is.

“Actually, I’m going to walk around, maybe hit the dance floor.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Alec offers.

“No, I’ll be fine.” I wave him off. These new shoes are a smidge too tight and my feet already hurt. Plus, I recognize the look Alec is giving Laura. He likes her and is hoping she’ll be coming home with us later.

I only make it as far as the bar before Alec rejoins me.

“I told you I was fine,” I tell him. “Where’s Laura?”

“VIP.” He settles in next to me. “I told her I was coming to check on you and she got all misty-eyed. Girls love my caring, sensitive side.”

I hum my disapproval at being used to pick up women. Not that he really needs a hook, I suppose. And he is caring and sensitive, so I guess it isn’t like he’s lying to get them into bed. Just playing the part a little too well.

He orders our drinks and before I know it, he’s found someone else he knows. He tries to keep me in the conversation but it’s too loud and too packed. Once I have my drink in hand, I fall back, people-watching.

Downstairs isn’t quite as interesting as VIP and it’s not long before I’m scanning the area we were just at. The girls are all gorgeous. The guys too. Even the ones that aren’t that cute, still look cute. It must be some sort of professional athlete magic.

My gaze snags on one in particular. Tall, actually one of the tallest, which is saying something, muscular, but not the freaky kind that looks like they wouldn’t fit through a doorway. While most of the other guys are in jeans and T-shirts, he has on a white button-down with short sleeves rolled up to show off his big biceps. There’s something else about him though. He has a nice smile and warm eyes, and he’s animated. While he talks, everyone around him is giving him their full attention. I can’t hear him from here, I can barely hear Alec standing next to me, but as this guy talks, I find myself smiling in response to his facial expressions and wild hand motions.

When Alec is finally done making friends, we cheers, down our drinks, and then head to the dance floor.

Alec is a good-looking guy and he’s super fun, but there’s never been anything but friendship between us. Maybe it’s because when I met him I was still a mess over Chris and had no interest in any guy, or maybe it’s because shortly after that we started living together and we knew it would be too awkward if we crossed that line. Whatever the reason, I’m thankful we can dance and have fun. I can be completely myself without worrying. I know he’ll look after me and he knows I’ll do the same for him.

After we’ve danced to several songs, never leaving each other’s side to make good on our dance with strangers’ plan, we head back to the bar. Alec leans over after he orders our drinks. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Be right back.”

I manage to snag a spot at the bar that isn’t crowded and set my drink down. I pull my hair off my neck to cool down and get sucked into the conversation of the two girls standing next to me. They are facing each other, wide-eyed and grinning, in that typical girl-talk pose that makes me miss my best friend. I hope she’s having fabulous sex tonight.

“I don’t even care that he probably wouldn’t remember my name tomorrow morning,” the girl closest to me says. She has long brown hair that touches her ass and almost the hem of her skirt.

The other girl has short blonde hair. They’re proof that opposites attract and that you can be hot with any hair color or length because they’re both gorgeous. “I gave him my number.”

“What? When?”

“I wrote it on a napkin and handed it to him while you were buying our drinks.”

“What did he do? What did he say?” Her long brown hair swishes around her back and I get a whiff of her shampoo. It’s nice.

“He just said, ‘thanks.’ Do you think he’ll call?”

“If he has any sense at all.”

The blonde makes a face that’s somewhere between hopeful and nervous, lifts one hand in the air to show her fingers crossed, and then they both peer not so discretely at the other side of the bar.

I follow their gazes to the guy they’re talking about. It’s the guy from VIP, the one in the white shirt. From far away he was handsome, but up close this guy is in a whole other league.

His shoulders are broad and he’s at least a foot taller than anyone else nearby. His brown hair has a mind of its own. One curl flops around his forehead as he chats and talks. He doesn’t run his fingers through it or try to tame it in any way. And I get the sense that’s not because he’s unaware, but because he just doesn’t care.

I’m still vaguely listening to the girls chattering on about him when one of them says, “God, I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to spend one night with Brogan Six.”

The name registers with a sense of alarm. I’m certain I must have misheard them. But I keep listening to see if they’ll repeat it.

“I heard he had a threesome with that sports reporter and his fiancée.”

“I heard it was the fiancée and one of her friends.”

I feel like I’m listening to an episode of a really good reality dating show or a really bad daytime soap opera.

“Excuse me,” I interrupt. I’m unable to hold myself back a second longer. Their heads swivel to me. “Did you say Brogan Six is here?”

Instantly I feel silly. There’s no way that could be who they said. I mean, what kind of name is Brogan Six, anyway? I assumed it was some kind of pseudonym.

They glance at each other before returning their gazes to me, then nod in unison.

“That guy…” I tip my head toward him. “The one in the white shirt with the…” I gesture to my biceps and then to my hair. “Is Brogan Six?” I enunciate his name carefully.

“Don’t you recognize him?” the brunette asks in disbelief. “He’s only the hottest football player on the entire Mavericks team.”

They look to me like they expect me to say more. I shake my head, then go back to sipping my drink.

Alec is taking a long time to get back. He probably ran into someone else he knows. I try to focus on my drink and not stare across the bar, but it’s futile.

Brogan Six.

He’s real and he’s here.

I don’t know what exactly I was picturing my mysterious former box owner would look like, but this isn’t it.

He’s young and attractive—too attractive to need to carry on long-distance relationships with dozens of women. Seriously, what the hell?

God, of course. I see all of his interactions differently now that I know who he is. The way he smiles as pretty women approach him, the lingering hug he gives another woman. He’s a total player. Player isn’t even the right word. He’s a creep. He could get any girl he wants, but apparently, that isn’t good enough. He needs to string them along via snail mail too?

The longer I watch him, the angrier I get.

All of it has me wanting to give this guy a piece of my mind. And you know what? Fuck it. It’s been a day and this guy made me smell like old lady perfume on top of it. In fact, my purse still stinks. It’ll never be the same.

Alec finally returns, sidling up to the bar beside me. He takes his drink.

“What’d I miss?” He studies my expression, one side of his mouth crooking up. I can’t imagine what my face is saying right now, but it can’t be good because he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I just saw someone I need to talk to.” I thrust the rest of my drink toward him, so I won’t be tempted to toss it in Brogan Six’s face.