Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2), page 11
We talk logistics for a few minutes. There isn’t really that much to work out. We decide to meet at the restaurant since he has practice just before and I give him an overview of everyone that will be there.
“Chris, you’ve already met,” I say. “My sister, Sierra, and her fiancé, Ben. Plus our parents. A few of their close friends maybe too.”
“Cool. Sounds fun.”
Is he for real? “Going to dinner with a group of complete strangers sounds fun?”
“I know you, and me and Chris are practically BFFs.”
“Ha!” I bark, and then uneasy laughter follows.
“I’ll be fine. I can talk to anyone.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Can I see more of your work?”
Thrown by the request, I hesitate. “Why?”
“Because I think it’s interesting. What if your family asks if I’ve seen your work?”
I scoff. “They won’t.” They never ask about my freelance projects.
But I send him over another design anyway, this one completed.
“Badass,” he says when he receives it. “Is this for a cover?”
“No, I think he’s using it for some marketing materials to promote the book.” I’m pretty proud of this particular design. It’s a vampire hunter with magical abilities, and the pose is of her staring off into the distance with a look of determination and purpose. Knives strapped to her pants and blood on her hands.
“I love it. Wait, is your job the reason you have the PO Box? For your legions of fans? Do art fans send panties too?”
“Yes, I have it for work, and no. It’s so I can use it as my business address, mostly.” I can’t help but laugh at the thought of people sending me panties.
“You have such a cool job.”
“That feels like a weird compliment from someone who gets paid to play football.”
“You think my job is cool?” he asks.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“You didn’t seem that impressed the other night.”
“You obviously put a lot of hard work into what you do, and I think that in itself is impressive.”
“Thanks,” he says, then asks, “Highlight of the week?”
“What?”
“What has been the highlight of your week? Totally fine if you want to say this conversation.” He says it in a way that I know he’s teasing, but god is he cocky.
“I had a really great club sandwich for lunch today.”
He snorts. “Fine, fine. I see how it is. And low point?”
“Wait, you didn’t say what your highlight has been.”
He goes quiet for a moment and then says decisively, “I had a nice video chat with my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four.”
“Four?!”
“Yeah. Do you just have the one sibling?”
“Yep. Just me and Sierra.”
“That’s nice.” He hits the FaceTime video request button.
“Seriously?” I ask. “I thought we were doing this old school?”
“Super old school. Like back when people didn’t have technology and had to talk face-to-face…just through the phone.”
I still don’t accept it.
“Come on, London.” He always uses my full name, and I like the way it sounds when he says it.
“Fine, but if you’re naked or sniffing panties or something, I’m hanging up and then blocking your ass.” I hit accept and his amused face fills the screen.
Shit. I almost wish he were doing something gross because he’s just so hot.
“I question the guys you’ve been talking to,” he says. He holds the phone out in front of him. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt with the Mavericks logo and his jaw is lined with stubble. I can see a little behind him. I think he’s on a leather couch.
“You mean you?” I fidget, wishing I had another glass of wine to take the edge off. I feel a little self-conscious with him staring at me. My hair is up in a messy bun and I have on an old T-shirt from a vacation with my family to San Diego years ago. It’s faded and worn thin. Not exactly the kind of thing women wear to impress a guy like him.
“You talk to other guys, don’t lie. Look at you. You probably have a line at your door right now.”
An unladylike snort erupts from me. “Yep, they’re about to break it down. Help me!”
He laughs lightly, mouth pulling into a big smile. “I know you’re fucking with me, but I promise you, there’s a line even if you don’t think there is.”
I don’t know what to make of that, so I change the topic. “Four brothers, really? That sounds chaotic.”
“In the best way.” He nods. “What has been the low point in your week?”
“I had to do a three-hour training at work on how to avoid phishing schemes,” I say quickly, trying to cruise right by any other questions. “Yours?”
“It’s been a pretty good week,” he says. “But I did have a run-in with Marissa that left me wishing for a quick death.”
“Is Marissa an ex?”
Smiling, he shakes his head. “Masseuse. That deep tissue shit hurts.”
“Somehow I don’t feel sorry for you.” I roll my shoulders instinctively. I could use a good massage.
“Fair.” His smile doesn’t falter. “So, anything else you want me to know for Saturday, girlfriend?”
A lump forms in my throat. Good god, are we really going to do this? I consider telling him not to worry about it, but then I picture walking in alone and facing Chris and having to admit I made it all up.
I’m never lying again. Nothing good comes from it.
I hear the front door of the apartment open, and then Alec’s voice calls out, “Are you home?”
“I gotta go. My roommate just got home, which means his date must have been a disaster. I think we’re good for this weekend. I’ll text you the details.”
“Ah, gossip time. All right.”
I stand, carrying my phone with me. “You’ll be able to keep yourself occupied until your brother gets home?”
“Yeah, I’ll find something to do.”
“Call the next girl on your list and ask her if it’s creepy to call without texting.”
He laughs. “Can’t. I’m a one-woman man now.”
I groan and his laughter continues.
“Later, London.”
“Sorry. Practice ran late.” Brogan buttons the black dress shirt as he comes to a stop in front of me outside of the restaurant.
We’re standing out of view from anyone inside, namely my family. I spotted my parents’ vehicle, as well as Ben’s, so I know they’re all here already.
“It’s okay,” I say. Nerves make my voice sound strained and tight. I’ve spent every day since agreeing to this questioning my sanity. I cannot believe we’re going through with this. I can’t believe he’s going through with this. I really expected him to bail at the last minute.
“You look stressed. Anything else I should know before we go in?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head and try to clear out my anxiety. “They know it’s new, so they aren’t going to grill you or expect you to remember their names or anything.”
“Mom is Renee. Dad is Wes. She’s a middle school principal and he’s a lawyer.” He grins. “I remember.”
“Sierra is two years younger than me. She’s starting law school this fall. Following in my father’s footsteps. Her fiancé, Ben, is a zookeeper.”
“Got it.” He finishes buttoning his shirt and then starts to unroll the sleeves.
“Leave them rolled up,” I say. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Your family? I should probably know something about them.”
He gets a blank expression on his face like he hadn’t considered that, then shrugs it off.
“They won’t come up. And if they do, just say you haven’t met them yet.”
“Okay.”
“We’ve got this.” He takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Unfortunately, his touch elicits a whole other kind of anxiety. I’m so aware of him and how good he looks and how good he smells and how nice he’s being. It’s too much.
He drops my hand and fixes the sleeves on both arms. “Better?”
Dammit, his muscular and veiny forearms scream professional athlete. “Let’s see one rolled down.”
He doesn’t question my request, just pushes one sleeve down and buttons it at the wrist. When he looks up at me, it’s with one brow arched in question.
My gaze trails up his arm to where his bicep pushes at the material. The man is broad and muscular and there’s really no way to hide it. “Either way is fine.”
“Which does my fake girlfriend prefer?” he asks with one side of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “I think I’d be the kind of boyfriend that would consider those things.”
A snort escapes me before I can stop it. “I prefer anything that makes you blend in.” I wave a hand in front of him. “No one is going to buy this.”
“Your ex did.” He rolls the sleeves back up. The look suits him and what little I know about his personality. He still looks nice, but casual and relaxed.
“In a dimly lit bar for a few minutes.” This suddenly feels like the worst idea I’ve ever had. Does the man have to look so much like a superstar? Maybe my family would believe that I was dating some unknown, unheard of local athlete, but the Mavericks’ hot new rookie?
“We got this,” he says. “No one will know.” He steps toward the restaurant, but I don’t budge.
I don’t believe him, but it’s too late now. “Wait. We should go over our story one more time.”
He cocks a brow. “You’re overthinking this.”
“I just want to be prepared.”
“Or maybe you’re just stalling.”
I start to deny it, but he’s right. We’re here, it’s not going to get any easier, so we might as well get this over with. Anyway, tonight is about Sierra and Ben. Hopefully we can fly under the radar. I didn’t tell anyone Brogan was my date, so there’s a chance they might not even recognize him. I didn’t.
The hostess leads us to the back of the restaurant. My stomach is in knots as I spot our group. In addition to our families, a few of Sierra and Ben’s closest friends have joined, and they’re at a long table.
My mother spots us first, followed by my dad. I feel their heavy stares move from me to my date. I did warn them I was bringing someone, but Brogan is…well, he’s clearly not what they were expecting.
I break their gaze and scan the rest of the table. Chris and Gretchen are cuddled up together, seated next to his parents. Sierra and Ben are at the very end, surrounded by their friends, but when my sister sees me, her face lights up and she points to the two empty seats in front of her.
“Hi, everyone,” I say as I stand behind one of the empty chairs, as far away from Chris as I can manage.
“Oh, thank goodness. They wouldn’t take our orders until the entire party was here,” Sierra says. “I’m starving.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault.” Brogan steps up behind me, warmth radiating off him. “I was running late, and London was kind enough to wait for me.”
Sierra’s eyes widen almost comically, and her mouth drops open. I feel a twinge of guilt that I didn’t warn her, but there’s really no way to prepare for Brogan Six. He’s a lot to take in. “That’s…wow….Hi.” She squeaks out the last word.
Several awkward seconds pass by while everyone at the table quiets and then just stares at him. I’d be amused if I weren’t also freaking out. Even more so when a big, beefy arm drapes around my waist. “Hi. Good to meet you all.”
That’s when I realize I need to introduce him. Ben notices too and is the first to cut the silence. He stands and extends a hand. “Excuse my fiancée, I think she’s in shock. I’m Ben. You’re Brogan Six.”
“I am. Hi. Congrats on the engagement.” Brogan’s body presses into mine as he leans closer to shake with Ben. Sierra snaps out of it, then lobs a wobbly smile from me to my date. I read the What the hell, Lo Lo? written on her face, but I ignore it.
“Everyone, this is Brogan.” I angle my body to him and say, “You met Ben, that’s my sister, Sierra, and our parents.”
Sierra takes over introducing her and Ben’s friends. A few more people get up to shake his hand, including my dad.
“Wes,” he says. “Glad you could join us.”
“Likewise,” Brogan says. He aims a charming smile at the entire group.
When the formalities are done, I pull out my chair. Brogan takes the last vacant one beside me. He drops a hand to my knee and I jump like someone took a cattle prod to my back. When I glance over, my date gives me a reassuring smile. He leans in and pretends to kiss my temple.
“Relax, we got this,” he says quietly.
THIRTEEN
I’ve never been to a dinner with parents before. Not like this. Two families with both parents, everyone happy and laughing, having a good time. The only one not having fun is London. She sits next to me, quiet and pushing her food around her plate.
The parents are in a conversation about a new pickleball court; Sierra and Ben’s friends are talking animatedly and laughing, and Sierra is watching me with her sister carefully. I’m not sure she’s totally buying us together because London looks miserable.
“So how did you two meet?” Ben asks, draping one arm around the back of his fiancée’s chair.
“Ooooh. Yeah, I want to know too.” Sierra sits taller.
I reach for my water glass and take a drink while I wait to see how London is going to react. A flash of panic crosses her face and I drop one hand to her thigh under the table. I meant it to be reassuring, but she jolts in her seat at my touch.
“Do you want to tell them or should I, baby?”
Her eye twitches a little at the endearment. “Go ahead, pookie.”
I can see we’re going to have to workshop some better nicknames. London shifts in her seat, reminding me I still have my hand on her bare thigh. Her green dress is just a few shades lighter than her eyes.
She’s close with her family. I can tell that, even if she’s barely spoken to them tonight. It’s a peculiar thing, watching them all interact. I don’t think I ever went out to dinner with my parents. Not once. Not even to McDonalds or some other cheap fast-food place. And while I shared plenty of meals with the Holland brothers and their mom before she passed, the dynamic here is different.
When we all sat down I expected some Hallmark-style dinner where everyone talked and shared stories, and while for the first twenty minutes or so it was sort of like that, there’s a nuance to how it’s evolved as the dinner has continued.
The parents are having their own conversations and we’re having ours. I think it must take a certain kind of security that I’m unfamiliar with. London and Sierra don’t worry about engaging the parents or fight for their attention; they’re content to just sit at the other end of the table and be together.
“We met at a club,” I say finally.
“You went to a club?!” Sierra asks her sister, and it’s clear that’s out of character for my girlfriend. Interesting.
“With Alec,” London clarifies, perking up slightly.
“Ah. I should have guessed.” Sierra nods, then waits for me to continue.
“I took one look at her and knew I had to get her number.” I glance over at London.
Her lips press together like she’s fighting a physical reaction that’ll give us away.
“That’s a bit of a stretch,” she says. “He had a line of women vying for his attention. It took me almost five minutes to approach him.”
“You approached him?” Sierra is even more surprised by this piece of information.
London stills like she realizes she’s made an error. I doubt she wants to tell them the truth—that she was coming over to yell at me because she was getting my mail, including other women’s panties, which by the way—still weird.
I cut in to save her. “She thought I was someone else.”
“Who?” Sierra is hanging on every word.
London hesitates for only a second before she decides how to answer.
“I thought he was this guy I know from work.” A slow smile lifts one corner of her mouth.
“She was calling out, ‘Dave! Dave!’ and waving at me.” I do a dramatic reenactment that has Ben and Sierra laughing.
“Only you wouldn’t recognize Brogan Six,” Ben says, giving his head a shake and me an apologetic smile.
I catch the wary gaze Chris is shooting us. Ignoring him, I shift my chair closer to his ex-girlfriend.
I like that she didn’t know who I was. I got to see unfiltered London in a way I don’t always get from people who know that I’m a professional football player.
“What’d you do?” her sister finally asks me.
“I was confused at first, but I wasn’t letting her go without buying her a drink.”
“You mean the drink you spilled on me?”
My smile hitches up as London finally comes alive. There’s a spark in her eyes that’s been missing all night long. She’s getting into the story, weaving a tale that’s part truth and part fiction.
“I’m a lot of things, but clumsy isn’t one of them,” I say, looking into her eyes. The dark green color continues to remind me of four-leaf clovers and the bright green of grass in the spring.
“Someone must have bumped your arm, then.” She doesn’t break my stare.
“Must have.”
We’re only about a foot apart and both leaning in. I don’t know if she’s acting or not, but I’m happy to play my part. My gaze drops to her lips. Tonight they’re painted a pinkish-red that makes them look poutier than ever.
“Then what happened?” Sierra’s question finally drags my attention away from London.
Suddenly everyone at the table is listening in, enthralled. Me too. Chris is the only one that doesn’t look happy to hear the story of how we met. I don’t know if it’s because he’s jealous or just annoyed by me. Either way, I do my best to ignore him and focus on London.
