Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2), page 13
Five minutes before he’s supposed to arrive, there’s a hard knock on the door. My eyes widen and Alec smirks as he watches me tie the T-shirt into a knot on one side so it doesn’t look like I’m pantless.
At Alec’s suggestion I put on shorts and sneakers. The shoes are much more comfortable so that was a good idea since I imagine I’ll be standing or walking a lot. And the shirt is a nice touch, I hope. Go team, go, or whatever.
It’s very possible I’ve overthought this to an embarrassing degree, but here we are.
“You want me to get that?” Alec asks.
“No,” I say quickly then take a big breath and exhale slowly. I get to the door just as another knock comes. I open it and find Brogan on the other side with one hand lifted in a fist.
He does the usual once-over in that slow sweep like he’s more curious than checking me out. His lips were already curved up in a smile, but now both corners inch higher. “Hey.”
“Hi.” My skin feels tight and itchy as we stare at each other, then I remember my manners. Stepping back, I open the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
He nods as he moves forward. His gaze automatically scans the apartment, taking in the small living room and then my roommate standing in the kitchen. While he scopes out my apartment, I scope him out.
He’s in black athletic shorts and his jersey. It looks different without all the padding underneath, but his biceps still pull at the sleeves. He’s got a jacket and keys in one hand.
“What’s up, man?” Alec asks, giving Brogan a chin nod.
“You remember my roommate, Alec?” I ask.
“Of course.” Brogan’s smile turns into that usual playful smirk as he walks closer and offers his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
He and Alec shake hands and my roommate says, “You too.”
Brogan continues looking around the place, stepping from the kitchen into the living room. He walks over to a framed print of the Mavericks’ stadium. Alec’s, not mine.
“This is a great apartment.”
“Thanks.” Alec and I share an amused look. It’s nice, sure, but not what I’d expect Brogan Six to consider nice. It’s small and has a retro style with the exposed brick and original windows that are drafty in the winter. I’ve always loved the charm of this apartment, but it’s still surprising that he seems so enchanted with it.
“Should we get going?” I ask. I am wavering between wanting to hurry up and leave so we get this over with, and wanting to hide in my room and fake a sudden stomach bug.
“Yeah, uh, but first.” He extends his arm toward me. I thought he was holding a jacket earlier because it’s so big, but upon closer inspection it’s just a very large T-shirt. Even bigger than the one I’m wearing. No, not a shirt. A jersey. Oh my freaking go—
“Is it okay?” Brogan asks. “I have to wear mine and I know some of the other guys’ girlfriends and wives are wearing matching jerseys.”
Matching jerseys? My ears ring and my face flames hot and I just know that if I looked up at Alec right now, he’d be grinning so big.
“Of course. That makes total sense,” I say in a voice that sounds nothing like my own. “Just, uh, give me two seconds.”
I head into my room and close the door, then lean my back against it. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?
SIXTEEN
The event spans the parking lot of the Mavericks’ stadium. Tents are set up along the front and people are everywhere.
Brogan leads me through a private entrance where we’re handed VIP lanyards. It’s weird seeing my name printed on the badge. Somehow that little detail makes it all seem too real.
My date doesn’t seem to notice that I’m in my head, freaking out. Brogan chatters away, pointing out people he knows, introducing me to some, waving to others. He’s well-liked, which isn’t all that surprising. He has some inside joke or camaraderie with everyone from the parking attendant to the coaches. And I feel all their questioning gazes on me like the force of a thousand suns.
But none of that prepared me for the moment we stepped into a group of his teammates.
“Six!” They yell in unison. A couple of them look familiar from the club or the bar, but all together they look so big and intimidating that it’s hard to focus on any one for too long.
Each of the guys is wearing their jersey, showing off wide chests and thick arms. The closer we get, the smaller I feel.
The largest guy steps forward and I gulp as he bear-hugs Brogan, lifting him off the ground and shaking him like a ragdoll. The others laugh it off, so I guess he’s not going to die, but ouch. My bones hurt just watching the interaction. Brogan is six foot three, broad and muscular, and he’s being tossed around like he weighs nothing. It’s impressive really.
I catch one of his teammates staring at me with a curious expression on his face. It’s not disbelief exactly, but he does look surprised. I’m not sure if it’s because Brogan brought a girl or if it’s specifically because he brought someone like me who so clearly doesn’t fit in. The few other women in players’ jerseys have that look. Perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect smile. I’m not insecure normally, but this is all just a lot.
“Okay. Okay. Down, boy.” Brogan’s voice is tight and he inhales deeply as his feet are returned to the ground. He sounds like he ran a mile…or had the air forced out of his lungs.
“You commanding me like I’m a dog, Six?” the giant asks with a lift of one brow. He has an easygoing smile, but I think he could crush Brogan’s head between his colossal hands if he wanted to.
Brogan obviously doesn’t value his life because he pats him on the head and says, “Good boy.”
That has the guys all laughing again, and Brogan steps back to my side. If he’s going to die, I guess he’s taking me along with him.
Slowly, each of their gazes slides to me. I don’t usually blush, but I can feel my face warming and I have to fight the urge to use Brogan as a shield.
“This must be her,” the giant says. “I thought you were putting us on. Damn, she’s beautiful. What’s she doing with your ugly ass?”
Brogan scoffs. “I’m a fucking catch. Right, London?”
My eyes widen and I open my mouth to speak but I have no clue what to say. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like he’s really expecting an answer.
He continues, unfazed, “But you’re not wrong, she is gorgeous.”
My face is officially on fire.
“These are my teammates,” Brogan says, bringing a hand to my lower back. The light touch keeps me from bolting, but just barely.
“I could have guessed,” I say with a small laugh. I smile and let my stare travel quickly over all of them. “Hi.”
The giant is the first to approach.
“I’m Slade,” he says. “Nice to meet you. Sorry I roughed up your boy.”
“I’m sure he deserved it,” I say, surprising myself with how easily the words tumble out. Then second-guess myself. Maybe I should be quicker to defend my fake boyfriend.
Slade lets his head fall back and he lets out a laugh that makes my insides shake.
“I like her.” He winks at me and smiles at Brogan.
Another guy edges in front of him. “Tripp. Glad to see the rookie here finally screwed his head on right.”
I have no idea what that means so I just keep smiling and lean into Brogan a bit like I’m snuggling up to him, but actually I’m just trying to keep myself upright. These guys are a lot.
“We better get to our spots before the head of PR comes looking for us,” another guy says. “Nice to meet you, London. I’m Cody. Let me know if the rookie needs to be kept in line.”
“Will do,” I promise.
Brogan takes it all in stride. A few of them cuff him on the shoulder as they head off.
One player hangs back. He’s the one that had the curious expression earlier. He has dark brown hair that has a reddish tint in the sunlight and hazel eyes that seem to see through me. He isn’t as tall or as broad as Brogan, but he’s still both of those things.
“London, this is my brother, Archer,” Brogan says with more affection in his tone than earlier.
“Oh.” I glance between them. They don’t look that much alike, though they are both handsome in their own ways. Brogan has a more playful air about him while Archer appears more serious, almost broody. Though he smiles at me now, and I’m rethinking my initial assessment. Charm must run in the family. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you. I didn’t realize you played for the Mavericks too. That’s rare, right? Two brothers on the same team?”
Archer glances at Brogan and then me. I feel like I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.
“Well, I’m not doing a whole lot of playing lately.” Archer glances toward his right leg and when he does, I notice the hearing aid. When he looks back up, his hair falls back over it. “I’ve been struggling with an ankle injury,” he says. His smile falls and then reappears, though not as believable. “You two were pretty convincing walking in here. I don’t think anyone will suspect it isn’t for real.”
A flare of panic rises, but as quickly as it comes, it goes. Brogan said he told Archer, and it is nice to have one more person I don’t have to pretend in front of.
“Of course not,” Brogan says. “I told you we could pull this off.”
I wonder what those conversations were like between the brothers. Does Archer think this is a terrible idea? If he does, he doesn’t say so now.
“Ready?” Brogan asks, and he looks almost giddy about spending the day pretending to be my boyfriend in front of all these strangers.
“I guess so.” I am not nearly as giddy. Brogan is great, but I am way, way out of my element.
The three of us walk toward the event together, but we’re stopped by a man in crisp black dress pants and a red polo shirt with the Mavericks logo on the left side of his chest, and a lanyard like the ones we were given. He has that frantic energy about him of someone in charge. The clipboard in his hands also is a telltale sign.
“Archer, Brogan,” he greets them and then scans the paper attached to the clipboard. “Archer, you are in the autograph tent, and Brogan…” He looks up and from Brogan to me. “You are in the autograph tent at eleven. Until then, you and your partner can help in the free health evaluation tent. Cody talked to you about the dunk tank?”
“Yep.” Brogan gives the man a nod.
“Perfect. We’ll slot you in there after you finish signing.”
“Thanks, Anthony.” Brogan claps him on the shoulder, and the guy startles a little and stumbles to regain his footing.
“Mingle and have fun!” he calls after us.
“I’ll catch you two later.” Archer turns, walking backward away from us. “Might want to hold hands or at least walk a little closer.”
Brogan’s laughter dies off as his brother gets out of hearing distance. I wipe my palm on my shorts in case he decides to take my hand. He steps maybe an inch closer, but keeps his hands to himself. We talked easily on the drive over, but now that we’re alone again and on display, I can’t find a single thing to say to Brogan as we cross the parking lot.
People are starting to walk around the large circle of tents and activities set up. I have to guess by the sheer space allotted for it that many more people will be coming today. A crowd has already formed at the autograph tent when we pass by it. Young kids are grinning as they get the jerseys on their backs signed, plus hats and footballs, and other miscellaneous items. Some adults are waiting too. They shake hands with the players and pose for pictures.
A local radio station has music going and it provides a euphoric background to the warm summer day.
“What do you want to do first?” Brogan asks like we’re out on a real first date with no agenda instead of on a tight schedule run by the polo-shirt-wearing Anthony. He’s wearing a big grin and looking more excited than his teammates had. “Are you hungry?”
He points at a snow cone truck. Next to it is a food tent with long cafeteria-style tables set up. The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers fills the air as we pass it.
I shake my head and bring my hands up in front of me. While twisting my fingers together, I glance over at him. He looks so comfortable in his own skin. I get that we’re on his turf, so to speak, but there isn’t any environment yet that I’ve seen him look any other way.
And I’m still nervous. I can’t put my finger on exactly why. No one is watching us and his teammates seemed to accept me easily enough, but this feels like a big deal, and I’m wondering if we can really pull it off.
“I have a surprise for you.” That boyish grin of his widens as he turns to face me.
I can’t help but smile back. He has that kind of pull, causing me to mimic his actions without being conscious of it.
“What?” I ask.
“I wasn’t sure how into the whole hanging out with strangers thing you’d be. Or hanging with me for that matter.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, hoping to reassure him. The last thing I want is for him to worry about me when he should be working. “I can hold my own and I promise I won’t embarrass you or anything like that.”
One of his dark brows arches and his smile twists into an amused smirk. “You think I’m worried about you embarrassing me.”
“You’re not?”
“That’s funny. Seriously. It’s endearing that you think you could possibly embarrass me when anyone who knows me would say there’s no way you could embarrass me more than I embarrass myself on a daily basis.”
A little of the tension I’ve been holding eases. Brogan’s gaze dips down over me and lingers on his jersey. “You look incredible, and after the way you handled my teammates, I don’t think I need to worry about you junk-punching anyone that gets out of line.”
I arch a brow. He expected people to get out of line? I thought this was a community event.
“No one will mess with you,” he says as if realizing where my thoughts had strayed. “But I feel better about leaving you alone now.”
“Leaving me alone? Where are you going?” The questions come out in a panicked squeak.
We’re standing just past the food tent and my anxiety spikes at being left to fend for myself. Despite his faith in me, I don’t know if I can handle that. What if I say the wrong thing to someone? I don’t know that much about Brogan and his time with the Mavericks.
“I’m not going far. I’ll be right there.” He tips his dark head toward a large white tent in front of us. Signs indicate free health evaluations, and I can see a line of kids waiting to have their hearing and vision tested, and some older folks having their blood pressure taken.
“And where will I be?” Hopefully not in the dunk tank.
He turns then and I do the same. Two women sit at either end of a table with children seated in front of them. Paints and brushes are scattered on top of the table. A little boy has half the Mavericks logo painted on one chubby cheek, and the girl on the other side is going for a pink heart.
“I signed you up to face paint,” Brogan says, stepping closer. It’s hot out, but I enjoy the extra warmth radiating off him. “Is that okay? If you’re not into it, I can tell Anthony that we’re so in love you can’t stand to be away from me for that long.”
I tear my gaze from the table to him. Something about his expression tells me he isn’t kidding. And I can see where a girl might fall for him hard enough for that sentiment to be true.
My mouth opens to reply with some witty, cutting remark, but I can’t find the words. I’m oddly touched that he considered how I might want to spend my time at this event even though I’m here for him.
And the other thing…I think I’m disappointed that I won’t be spending the day with him. Weird. Then again, I doubt any of the children waiting in line are going to ask me about Brogan’s latest stats so that’s a plus.
He’s still waiting for me to say something, so I shake the thoughts from my head. “It’s perfect, actually. Thank you.”
The proud smile on his face makes my stomach flip.
“I’ve never painted anyone’s face, but hopefully it’s not that complicated.”
“I have no doubt that you’ll be awesome at it. Maybe later you can do me.”
Does my mind go straight to the gutter? Yes, yes it does.
“Maybe,” I squeak out, and I could swear by the way he fights to keep his laughter in check that he knows exactly where my thoughts went.
“Jenna.” He looks around me and the woman sitting closest to us lifts her gaze from her work and smiles at him in the way I’m noticing all women do. Even ones that don’t consciously realize they want to sleep with him still are affected by him.
“This is my girlfriend, London.”
His girlfriend. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to him saying it. Likely not before this whole thing is over.
“Hi.” She turns her attention to me and waves a paint brush. She has long blonde hair and a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Brogan leans in and his scent of cedar and citrus comes with him. “I’ll be in there if you need me,” he says and points again at the tent. “Good luck.”
“Are you sure you don’t want your face painted first?” I ask him, raising my voice over the noise as he moves away from me. Frankly, the practice sounds nice. Also, each of his big steps away from me has me wanting to run after him and attach myself to his side. I stop myself. I am a smart and independent woman, dammit.
But I am not exactly a kid wrangler. Sierra got all the maternal instincts. Kids kinda freak me out if I’m honest.
“You mean do I want you to do me?” He winks. Damn him. He knows exactly what he’s saying, and my face is getting hot again. “Later, sweetheart.”
Blowing out a breath, I watch him disappear into the tent across from me.
Jenna gives me a quick rundown of the brushes and paints, plus a handy sheet with different art pieces the kids can pick. Most of them are pretty basic—footballs, the Mavericks logo that I’ve already seen several little boys and girls proudly wearing, unicorns, hearts, and a variety of other adorable animals.
