Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Sierra’s eyes are big with genuine concern as she clutches our mother’s old wedding dress to her chest.

When we were little and would play dress up, Sierra always gravitated toward the strapless white princess dress. I preferred our old Halloween costumes. I’m not sure what hidden meaning that points to about our characters or personalities, but I know it means that the dress has always been hers.

“I’m positive,” I tell her sincerely. “It’s yours. It always looked better on you anyway.”

“I can save it for you after my wedding,” she offers.

“Nah. That’s okay. If I ever get married, I think I want to go and pick out my own dress.”

“Oh, not me. When I close my eyes and picture walking down the aisle, the only thing I imagine is this dress.”

“Then it’s definitely yours.” I smile at her. “You’re going to look perfect.”

She stands and holds the dress up in front of her. She looks so much like our mom that it really does seem like it was made for her. Both she and Mom are several inches taller than me with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

We’re at our parents’ house in their room. I’m sitting on the bed while Sierra rifles through the old oak chest with all the wedding stuff and some other sentimental mementos like our baby blankets and Dad’s old letterman jacket. Neither of them are here. They’re off with friends for a weekend in Pine Top.

“Oh, I meant to ask. Do you think you can help me pick out invitations? There is so little time and I want it all to be amazing.”

“I will help however you need.”

My little sister beams. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to talk to her about everything. Namely, how quickly this is happening. I hate to be the one to ruin this happy moment, but I’ll hate myself if I don’t say something.

“You know, it might be easier to get it all together if you wait until next summer.”

She glances over her shoulder at me, dress still held up in front of her. It’s not anger or frustration in her gaze, but disappointment.

I stand and move toward her. “What’s the rush?”

“I love him. So much it physically hurts sometimes.”

I snort a laugh, but she pushes on. “He’s the absolute love of my life. I can’t wait a year to marry him. I want to be his wife now. I’m ready, Lo Lo.”

“You’re sure?” A weird sensation swirls in my stomach. My little sister is getting married. It feels like yesterday she was tagging along behind me and letting me watch out for her, and now she’s leaping ahead of me to this place where I haven’t the first clue how to protect her or even if I need to.

“Yes.” Her smile stretches wider. “Besides, Mom and Dad already had this same talk with me. It might seem quick to you guys, but I’ve known he was the one since our first date. So can you please just be excited for me?”

The one? Their first date? Love of her life? I’m speechless, which she takes as me still not being sold.

“Please, Lo?”

“Of course.” I take her hand and squeeze it. “I’m always on your side, you know that.”

Her smile widens.

“Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If at any point you decide that you want to back out, you’ll tell me.”

Her laughter is light and airy, like she can’t fathom the idea. She gives my hand another squeeze and then drops it. “I promise. Now promise me something.”

She sets the wedding dress down carefully in the open trunk.

“What?” Now I’m nervous with the way she’s looking at me.

“Promise not to kill Chris between now and the ceremony.”

Whatever I might have expected her to say, that wasn’t it. I can’t help it. I laugh.

“I’m serious,” she says, fighting a smile. “I know how awful he was to you, and I will always hate him a little for it, but he’s Ben’s brother. It’s inevitable that you two are going to see each other, and I want to make sure you’re going to be okay. I need you, but he’s family now too.”

My lip curls all on its own. I’d nearly blocked out that pesky detail. Chris family. Ugh. No thank you.

“I promise not to kill him before the ceremony.” I make no promises about after.

“Thank you.” She lunges forward and hugs me tightly, then springs back just as quickly. “I told Ben it would all be fine. You’ve both moved on. He’s dating someone, you’re dating someone.”

The way she says the last part like she’s in on some secret makes me pause. And then I remember. Oh shit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, then smiles. “I had to find out from Ben. Chris told him. Since when do you tell Chris more than me?”

“I don’t…” My words trail off. For a moment I consider telling her the truth, but she’s looking at me so hopefully. And I don’t want my lie to get back to Chris.

“It’s new.” I look away from her and try to play it off. I’m going to have to break up with my pretend boyfriend before Mom demands I bring him around for dinner.

“Like how long? Is it that finance guy Paige set you up with at her wedding?”

“No.” God no. That guy was so boring. We only went out once and he referred to my illustration work as “my little hobby” three times in the span of two hours. If I wanted to be insulted over dinner I would have just gone with my parents.

“Is it that guy Luke that you booty call sometimes?”

My jaw drops. I have definitely never told her about Luke. I may have texted him a few times while we were out though.

“Does anyone say booty call anymore?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“No, it’s not Luke. He started seeing someone else. I think it’s getting serious.”

“Serious as in he no longer needs his booty call?”

I glower at her, and then because I know she isn’t going to drop it say, “It’s new and not even worth talking about yet.”

“Are you kidding? I’m about to be a married woman. I’m going to need to live all the dating drama through you.”

“I like my life drama-free.”

“Will you bring him to the engagement party?” Her eyes light up with the idea.

“No.” I shake my head adamantly.

“Why not?” Whine slips into her tone. “I want to meet him. What’s his name?”

“I just told you it’s not worth talking about.” My face grows warm. I look anywhere but at her because I just know it has to be obvious that I am lying through my teeth.

“Give me something. Come on.” Those big blue eyes widen, and she tips her head down.

“Don’t give me that sweet puppy dog face. It won’t work this time.”

“I think you should bring him.”

“The engagement party is about you and Ben. I’m not bringing some guy who might turn out to be a real loser and ruin the night for you.”

She laughs and then gives me a pitying look. Apparently, even my imaginary dates are shit.

After leaving my parents’ house, I swing by to get my mail. It’s been another week free of Brogan’s fan mail. The perfume smell is almost gone. Almost.

I pull out a few envelopes, pausing when I see another from Brogan. After our back-and-forth texting last weekend, I haven’t heard from him again and really didn’t expect to. He asked me out and I said no. Have I regretted it? A little, but I know it’s for the best. There’s no world in which going out with him ends well for me. He’s not the kind of guy you have a one-night stand with and then just move on. Where do you go after Brogan Six? I’d be ruined for all other guys. Of that, I am certain.

Still, my heart flutters in my chest at the sight of his penmanship scrawled across the paper.

London,

You’re my lucky charm.

Brogan

And folded inside, two more tickets to tonight’s game that starts in…two hours. His lucky charm? I snort. The man is full of lines.

On my way out to my car, I text him.

Me

Thank you for the tickets. I can’t use them tonight, but wishing you good luck!

There. Short, sweet, to the point. And I used an exclamation point so it doesn’t come off unappreciative.

Only a few seconds pass before a reply pops up.

Brogan

Why not? I need my lucky charm there. Plus I thought about it and box seat tickets felt like the only way to truly apologize. That and the winery, of course. We’re closing on it next week.

At this point, I’m not even sure he’s kidding.

I check the tickets again. Dear god, the man sent tickets to a private box. Is he for real? Shaking my head, I tap out a response.

Me

Wow. That was really not necessary. Seriously, apology accepted. We exchanged panties. We’re all good.

I go to put away my phone, but another reply comes in. This man doesn’t give up.

Brogan

Come to the game anyway.

Me

I can’t.

Brogan

Why not?

Me

Because I don’t even really like football and I don’t think any of my friends are free tonight to come with me.

Sitting in a private box by myself sounds a little pathetic. So does admitting it to him. Paige is gone, Alec has plans, Luke and I haven’t talked in a few weeks. Maybe if I hit him up, he’d go with me, but it feels wrong to invite him when another guy gave me the tickets. And anyone else I might ask is going to have so many questions on why Brogan Six is sending me box seat tickets.

Brogan

Sidestepping the ‘I don’t really like football’ comment. Did you ask Alec?

Me

He has a date.

Brogan

Did you show him the tickets?

I laugh out loud. Yeah, if Alec found out I turned down box seats at a Mavericks game, he’d murder me. But I know he has plans tonight.

I don’t understand why Brogan keeps trying so hard to make things solid. It’s oddly endearing and more than a little frustrating. Especially when I’m trying my hardest to remember that I am one of many, many women he’s probably talking to at this very moment. He has this way of making me feel special, but I’m sure he has that effect on everyone. I mean, come on, I’m his lucky charm? Doubtful.

Me

He has plans.

Brogan

Yeah, with you to the Mavericks game.

Me

Fine. I will ask him, but I’m only coming if he’s free.

Brogan

He’ll be free. Enjoy the game.