Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

There’s a gorgeous brunette staring at me from across the bar.

I noticed her on the dance floor earlier, but she was dancing with some guy so I thought she was taken. I am happy to have been wrong. She has this whole hot girl glare thing going on. I dig it. It’s making it hard to concentrate on the woman next to me who has been telling me about her dog, which she named Brogan. I can’t decide if that’s a compliment or not but the way she’s touching my arm, I think yes.

Another woman wraps her arms around me from behind, pulling my attention away from everyone else. I can tell it’s Georgia by the pear-scented lotion she’s always wearing.

“Come dance with me,” she shouts over the noise of the club.

“I’ll be out in a few. I want to finish my drink first,” I tell her, looking over my shoulder and lifting my beer to show her I just got a fresh one.

The girl that was standing next to me bumps into her and shoots her a dirty look. “Excuse me, but I was talking to him.”

Georgia flashes me a smile, then gives the girl the same one. Not letting go of me, she says, “Honey, no need to get the claws out. He’s not taking me home tonight.”

The other girl does seem to relax some at that knowledge. It’s a new thing having women fight over me. I hooked up often enough before, but I wasn’t that guy that had a trail of women following me around. I don’t hate it, but sometimes it does feel odd. It’s hard to distinguish whether they’re actually interested in me or just in sex with a pro football player. I know, I know. What a sob story. Trust me, I’ll dry my tears in one of these girls’ tits later tonight. It’s not that I expect sympathy, it’s just weird.

“Excuse me,” I say to the woman with the dog, then I angle my body toward Georgia.

Georgia from Savannah, Georgia. She’s one of the first people I met when I moved here. Archer and I were at a bar near our first apartment—a small place that the team rented for us while we found permanent lodging. She marched up to me, asked me to buy her a drink, and then we spent all night drinking and getting to know each other.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” I say to her.

We weren’t ever official or anything, but for about a month we were inseparable. We partied and hooked up. She was a shot girl at a popular spot and knew lots of people. Guys were always giving her invites to big parties and events around town. That’s how I met a lot of people—through Georgia. I have her to thank for the attention I’ve gotten off the field. She took me to parties where I met important people around the city, and with each event I made more and more contacts. At one of those events I met a woman casting for an underwear model and that’s when things really took a turn.

Suddenly my face, and body, were everywhere. I was Brogan Six—sexiest new NFL player. Also weird. I don’t quite understand how it all snowballed the way it did, but I know I owe Georgia a lot. We fell out of our situationship the same way we fell in, easy and uncomplicated. I got busy with team stuff and she moved on to someone new. She’s not any more ready to settle down with one person than I am.

“I know.” She sticks her bottom lip out and her Southern accent sounds more pronounced when she adds, “I can’t believe this is the last time we’re going to see each other.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I tell her honestly. We were never destined for anything serious, but I’m sad to be losing a friend here. “What does Georgia have that Arizona doesn’t?”

“My family,” she says, sighing dramatically. “My parents are going to cut me off soon if I don’t move back and start learning the family business so I can take it over someday.”

She wrinkles her nose, but a pang of something close to jealousy hits me. What would it be like to have family across the country, begging me to move back, and wanting to gift me something like an entire business? Don’t get me wrong, I know the Holland brothers miss me in their own way and they’d do anything for me, but it’s just not the same. There’s this sense of tradition and generational belonging that I can’t help but wonder, what would it be like to have that?

She moves an inch closer. The other girl leaves with a huff and I decide naming a pet after me might be a compliment but it’s also a little bit creepy.

Georgia laughs as she watches her go. Her black hair bounces around her shoulders.

I wrap one finger around a curl. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay over one last time? For old time’s sake?”

“My flight is super early tomorrow. Besides, if I am going to show up at the airport on no sleep, I sort of had my heart set on Merrick being the one keeping me awake all night.” She tips her head toward my teammate. Maybe other people would be offended by her honesty, but that’s just not how Georgia and I have ever been together.

“Yeah?” I am surprised that of all my teammates, it’s Merrick she has her eye on. He’s a quiet guy who doesn’t love going out. He’s actually a nice guy, but he’s got resting asshole face.

“Yeah, he’s got this whole serious, angry vibe about him. I really want to see him come undone.”

I laugh under my breath. “I’m going to fucking miss you.”

She grins. “Me too. I’m the OG Six girl. It’s the end of an era.”

“OG Six girl?” I question, one brow rising.

“Yeah, like Ursula Andress, the original Bond girl. Not Bond’s first lover, but the first after he became Bond, ya know?”

It’s a strange comparison, but I understand her logic.

I glance over my shoulder to where Merrick is standing, hanging back from some other teammates, looking miserable.

“Yo, Thomas.”

His bored gaze slowly moves to mine and he gives me a chin lift as he steps toward me. In the commotion I notice the brunette woman from across the bar is now standing a few feet from me. Her piercing green gaze is focused on me. I give her a half smile that she does not reciprocate. But she keeps staring. I can usually read signals pretty well, but I’m not sure if she wants to fuck me or tell me how much I suck. It’s an odd thing, but I do get the occasional football fan who can’t resist telling me that I’m overhyped or shouldn’t have been a second-round pick or whatever other grievance they’ve found in my professional career.

“What’s up?” Merrick asks, drawing my attention away from the pretty brunette.

“You have any plans later?” I ask him.

“Going home and going to bed,” he says like he isn’t sure why he came in the first place. I’m not sure why he did either. But Georgia practically preens beside me.

“Well, before you run off, Sleeping Beauty, have you met Georgia?”

The girl at my side steps in front of me and extends a hand to him. “Hi. I’m Georgia.”

He stares at her hand a beat before taking it. Georgia takes another step closer. “I’m a big fan. I went to a small community college, but I followed my home state college football. I was at that bowl game where you made that great block against Alabama.”

I smother a laugh. I don’t know if she realizes it or not, but it’s about the only thing she could have said to him to get his attention. He doesn’t care for people that much, but he loves football. In fact, I think the only time I’ve ever heard him utter more than a few words at a time was when he told me about that game.

He stands there, mouth gaping open.

“Let’s dance,” she tells him and takes his arm. He lets her lead him away like he’s in a daze.

“She is going to eat him alive,” Cody says, stepping up to fill the space Georgia vacated.

“Nah. Well, maybe, but he’ll enjoy it.”

He nods, then motions to the VIP area. A lot of the guys have abandoned it, leaving it to Georgia’s friends. They’ve turned it into their own personal dance floor, even with Georgia down here. “You went to an awful lot of trouble tonight for a chick that you’re never going to see again and who is now going home with another dude. I don’t know if you’re the nicest guy I know or the dumbest.”

I laugh it off. I booked out the VIP area for her goodbye party. I didn’t do it expecting her to go home with me. I just wanted to send her off right as a thank you for all she’s done.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and then frown at the same number that’s been messaging me daily for weeks.

Unknown

Hey, it’s Sabrina again. I don’t know if you’re getting my texts, but⁠—

I stop reading and press delete. I should block the number, but some twisted part of me wonders how long she’ll keep it up.

The guys around me are busy drinking and chatting up girls. Archer and the girl he’s been seeing, Wren, are hugging one another. Everyone is having a good time. Except Cody. He hangs back like he doesn’t want to be here any more than Merrick does. Or did. He looks pretty cozy now.

“I’m surprised you made it out tonight,” I tell him, sliding my phone back into my pocket.

“Someone had to make sure things didn’t get out of hand.”

“Oh, relax. Have a drink, talk to some girls. We don’t have practice until ten tomorrow.” I get the bartender’s attention. “Can I get ten shots of Fireball?”

Cody groans next to me. “Promise me you will not show up late and hungover.”

He really needs to chill. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I was just like you my rookie season.”

Well, that makes me pause. Cody is only a few years older than me, but he acts like he’s about a hundred. “What the hell happened to you?”

His jaw hardens. “I grew up. You’ll do the same if you want to keep yourself from getting cut or traded before the first game. You’re young and talented, but eventually all the partying and fucking around will catch up to you. This job is hard and there are a million other guys who’d kill to be in your shoes. Right now, Coach is watching everyone closely, trying to decide who is going to make it and who isn’t.”

“Coach loves me.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I know he cares more about my performance on the field than the rest of it.

“Everybody loves you when you’re on top. But when your slipups start to affect your game, those same people will be asking for your head. If you ask me, Georgia leaving will be good for you. She’s as wild and crazy as you. Her socialite ways have gotten you a lot of attention and I’m sure that’s been fun, but it’s taken your mind off football. If you’re going to date, you need to find someone that understands your schedule and won’t ask you to make sacrifices. Not now. It’s too early in your career to let anything steal your focus.”

Cody St. James is a beast. I look up to him on the field and I hope to have a career like his but come on. It’s not like I’ve been flaking or my performance has been in any way impacted. I killed it at camp, and aside from Billy Boone, everyone from local fans to reporters have been excited about what I bring to the Mavericks.

So I laugh off his words. “It’s Saturday night, St. James. Can we loosen up on the doom and gloom pep talks?”

Damn. Maybe I need to see if Georgia has room in her bed for one more grumpy football player. They both need to lighten up.

The bartender finishes pouring the shots and I take them four at a time, handing the drinks out to people around me. That’s when I notice the brunette with the hot glare has moved closer. Or she’s trying to. It’s packed in here and the bar area is especially difficult to maneuver around.

She looks a little frazzled, a lot on edge, like she’s had a bad night. For some reason I find myself wanting to know why. Even if it’s something I’ve done. I could apologize to her all night long.

I give Cody the rest of the shots. “Take two of these and try to have a good time.”

Then I move past him, cutting through my teammates to get to the girl. As I get closer, she aims a smile at me that feels…wrong. She’s gorgeous but the way she’s looking at me has a prick of unease spreading through me.

“Are you Brogan Six?”

“Hey,” I say to her. “Have we met?”

“Definitely not.”

Her smile falls. Welcome back, sexy glare. Her posture straightens, and she holds her head high as she regards me.

I extend a hand to her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Brogan. What’s your name?”

She eyes it, hesitating for a beat, but then slips her small palm into my much bigger one. Electricity zaps through me. I don’t know if she feels it or not, but she pulls her hand back quickly like she’s been electrocuted.

“You’re Brogan Six?” she asks again.

It feels like a trap. Like whatever her reason is for asking, I don’t want to be him.

“I think so?” This chick has me sweating it. She has these big green eyes with long dark lashes that seem like they’re piercing into my soul…and she does not appear happy with what she sees inside.

“Lo…” The guy that was dancing with her earlier steps up behind her. “Are you okay?”

His expression is concerned as he keeps staring at her. When she doesn’t tear her gaze from me, he glances my way. It’s a quick, dismissive glance at first. Then he does a double take.

“Perfect,” she snaps finally, giving her friend—or maybe boyfriend, judging by the way he’s protectively standing with his body angled between us—a quick glance before she steps forward.

Her head tips back so she can hold my gaze. She’s at least a foot shorter than me, but she doesn’t seem intimidated in the least. I let my stare roam over her body now that she’s close. She’s even more gorgeous than I thought. Long, dark hair that flows down past her shoulders. Her curves are accentuated by the tight black dress she’s wearing and those curves are kicking. But her eyes are what hold me captive. The green is so distinct, so bright.

There are hot women all over this club, but she’s…I don’t know. I can’t even think thoughts right now.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask because I have no clue what’s going on, but I need one of those shots I just gave away to clear my head.

“No, thanks.” Her expression hardens. “Did you used to have a PO Box on Market Street? Number 148?”

Wait, what?

“Yeah.” The word leaves my lips slowly as I ponder this turn in conversation. “How did you know that?”

The guy mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Oh shit.”

“Because it’s my box number now.”

“No way.” I smile, but when she doesn’t reciprocate, I reconsider. I guess that’s not a happy coincidence.

“Leaving aside the fact that you didn’t have the decency to forward your mail, do you have any idea the kind of packages I have to sift through every day?” The horrified look on her face makes me wince.

I finally see where this is going, and yeah…it doesn’t make me look great.

“Can I buy you a drink? We can go somewhere to talk.” I half turn toward the bar. I definitely need a shot. Three or four in fact.

“I’ll take a vodka and soda,” the guy says.

She scoffs at him and elbows him in the side.

“I’m a big fan,” he says to me finally, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “Alec Macormick. I work at Channel 3, and this is London Bennett.”

“Alec,” the girl hisses. London.

I like her name. I like her. She’s all fiery and not afraid to walk across a bar and call out a guy she doesn’t even know. I respect it.

Alec clears his throat and stands tall, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Was a big fan.”

“Is everything okay?” Cody steps up beside me. He’s a grumpy asshole, but he has my back and it’s obvious something is going down. I spot Archer eyeing up the situation as well.

“Fine,” I tell him.

“No, it isn’t fine,” London says, shifting her weight and drawing my attention back to her hot as fuck red shoes.

I drop my voice. “I am sorry about the mail. I forgot about the PO Box.”

“You forgot?!”

All right, not the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry.” Short and concise. Say less, Brogan.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. It makes her long brown hair fall over her shoulders. “I don’t need you to be sorry about the used panties stuffed into my mailbox every day; I just need you to make it stop. Maybe you could let your girlfriends know you’ve moved?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say dumbly. Did she say used panties? Yikes. Things have really escalated.

“Just hundreds of women with whom you engage in kinky mail play?”

“Kinky mail play?” I mouth the words, barely whispering. I hold my hands out. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

Cody cackles beside me and suddenly more people are listening in. I think I catch one person with their phone out recording. Perfect. Billy Boone will have a field day with this.

“Look, I’m not interested in what gets you off or whatever explanation you’re about to make up on the spot now. Your secret is safe with me, just for the love of god please keep it out of my box.”

And with that, she turns on her sexy red heels and stalks off.

I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I am undone.