Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)
Chapter 18

London looks up at me with those big green eyes, then stands.

“What do I say to what?” she asks, looking slightly terrified at my possible reply.

“Pool or hot tub, your choice.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You have on something under that, I presume,” I say as I let my gaze slide over the black dress that molds to her perfect body.

“Yeah, but…that’s not a swimsuit.”

I step closer and drop a hand to her waist. “It’ll be fun. I snagged us a whole bottle of champagne.”

She still doesn’t look convinced.

“When else are you going to have the chance to swim on this rooftop while drinking champagne?” The answer, I hope, is many more times. Slade has parties here pretty frequently, but she doesn’t know that.

I can tell she still wants to object, but she’s considering it too.

“All right, well, I’m gonna take a swim. I hope no beautiful women get the wrong idea and think I’m single. A guy in the pool alone with a bottle of champagne is like a homing beacon.”

I start to turn away, walking slowly to let her easily catch me. She does two steps later.

“Fine, but I am not getting in that hot tub. My boobs are about two cup sizes too small.”

A laugh loosens from my chest. Her tits are perfect, but I also noticed the average cup size in the hot tub is a DD.

There are people in the pool, too, but it’s bigger so it doesn’t seem so crowded. I lead her to the shallow end. I pull off my T-shirt and then kick off my shoes. She watches me, not undressing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you looked around? These women are…perfect.”

“So are you. You’re stunning. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

She scoffs. “You should have had your vision checked last weekend.”

“I see 20/20, baby, and you’re a rock solid ten. Now stop down-talking my gorgeous girlfriend and take off that dress.” Another laugh leaves my lips. “Now those are words I never imagined saying unless I was about to get laid.”

“Store it up for the next time you talk some innocent woman into dating you.”

She pulls the black dress over her head, leaving her in red panties and a matching bra. My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak. It’s the first time in weeks I’ve really thought about the fact sex has been off the table with other women. Weirdly, I haven’t really missed it. I mean, I miss sex, of course, but the only person I’ve been fantasizing about is standing in front of me.

“You’re not that innocent,” I say, gaze locked on her lingerie. She is full of surprises. I did not have her pegged for the matching lingerie set type, but I have never been happier to be wrong.

“No, I’m not.” She tosses her dress at my face. It’s warm from her tight little body and smells of her shampoo.

My dick is real interested all of a sudden, and I have to remind myself that I’m not actually going to get to fuck this woman tonight. It’s a real bummer.

Unless…

I set the champagne by the side of the pool and wade in until it comes up to my chest. London follows, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her toward me. All that smooth skin under my touch is like silk. Her stomach rests against my hip and her legs tangle with mine. The ends of her dark hair are wet and stick to her shoulders and chest. Damn, she’s beautiful.

“What now?”

Laughing, I shake my head and move us so my back is resting against the side of the pool and she’s basically sitting on my lap.

“Do you need an agenda, sweetheart?”

“Not usually. My sister is more the planner, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”

“You’ve dated before.”

“Not like this.” She lifts one arm from the water and waves it around.

“Same premise.” I reach for the champagne. “Better booze.”

After taking a long drink, I hand it to her.

“I probably shouldn’t. I’m about half a glass of wine away from making friends with everyone around and telling them my life story.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” I tease.

“I bet you would.” She grins. “Plus, I don’t want you to have to take care of me or anything.”

“Drink or don’t, but I’ve got you. I won’t let you do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, great. I’m really relieved,” she says with a laugh, swiping the bottle from me and taking a small sip. “As if you will be in any condition to look out for anyone.”

“I can handle myself,” I say. “I don’t actually like to get wasted. A happy buzz does me just fine. What fun are nights like this if you can’t remember them?”

I set the bottle back on the edge and we settle in to watch the people around us. Or she does. I can’t take my eyes off her.

“I like the red. Surprising, but it suits you.”

She glances back at me, confusion marring her brow at first, and then when she realizes what I mean she blushes. “I wasn’t planning on anyone seeing it.”

“That would have been the real tragedy of the night.”

Shit. I might need to stop staring at her before my dick makes her seat a little less comfortable.

“You are full of charm, aren’t you? It’s like you just can’t help it.”

I know she thinks I’m full of shit, but really, I’m just being honest.

“I get it now,” she says, surveying my face like she’s really taking me in. I wonder what she sees. Just another cocky football player? Does she still think I’m just a fuck boy?

“Get what?”

“Why women are sending you their panties in the mail and lining up for a chance to let you break their heart.”

“I haven’t broken anyone’s heart.”

“Tiffany inside might disagree.”

Using my arm at her waist, I pull her back to my chest. The position has her perfect ass sitting right on my crotch and I hold back a groan.

“What—” The question dies on her lips as I lift an arm and point toward where Tiffany is in the hot tub making out with one of my teammates.

“Ooooh.” London stares in that direction for a few more seconds before adding, “Wow. They’re really going at it.”

“You were saying?” I take another drink of champagne and offer it to her.

She drinks it, eyes still locked on them as Tripp cups Tiffany’s breasts over her tiny bikini top.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a turn in the hot tub?” I ask, sliding the hand at her hip up to rest just under the band of her bra in the front.

Her stomach sucks in with a sudden breath. I’ve caught her staring at me enough to know there’s some level of attraction there, but I can’t get a good read on her. Have her feelings changed?

“That would be a terrible idea.” She moves off my lap, taking her tight body and the champagne with her.

When she’s put two feet of distance between us, she faces me, then takes another drink.

“Why?”

“Seriously?”

When I nod, she laughs. “So many reasons.”

“Lay ’em on me.” I want to hear all her excuses so then I can tell her why they don’t matter.

“You want me to tell you why we…” She cuts the distance between us in half. “Shouldn’t make out in front of three hundred people?”

“So it’s the people watching that’s a problem for you? Because I know some spots that are a lot more private if that’s the only thing keeping you from kissing me.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, then quickly up. “It’s not the only reason.”

“Give me one more.”

“I’ll give you two.” She smiles smugly. “Tiffany and tiramisu.”

“We’ve already established that she meant nothing.”

“And that is exactly the point.” She’s getting more comfortable around me, but instead of being glad, I’m feeling uneasy. “Have you ever dated anyone for real?”

“What does that even mean? What makes it real?”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“Once. In high school.”

Her smile widens like that tells her everything she needs to know about me.

“Relationships take a lot of time and effort. I didn’t have the capacity for that then…or now.”

“I thought all high school boys wanted was to date a lot of girls. Or maybe I’m confusing date with sex.” Her empty hand skims across the water.

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong about that.” I hesitate, not sure how much I want to say. “But when your home life is rocky, it’s harder to navigate all that and keep certain things private.”

Her brows pinch together like she’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying. Fuck, I really didn’t want to go there.

“My childhood was tricky,” I tell her. “My parents weren’t really present, and I bounced around crashing with friends. I moved in with Archer and his brothers when I was in junior high.”

The change on her face is immediate. It’s sympathetic and sorrowful. I hate talking about it, but I want her to understand that it wasn’t a choice I made lightly. I couldn’t bring girls home when I didn’t really have one. My friendship with Archer saved my life. That’s not an exaggeration. Even before I moved in with them, I spent as much time as I could there. His family gave me a safe place, any time I needed, no questions asked, and the family dynamic I craved. I had older brothers to look up to and a younger one to set an example for. That changed me.

“The Hollands took me in, and I am so grateful for that, but it still wasn’t my home. You know? Girls had too many questions, and as soon as I answered them, they looked at me differently. It was easier to keep things casual.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like.”

I nod, ready to move away from that depressing topic. “What about you? How long ago did you and Chris break up?”

I want to drop-kick myself for the hurt that flashes across her expression before she quickly masks it. “Two years ago.”

“Any other boyfriends since then?” I ask.

“No, nothing serious.” She shrugs it off, but I can feel her holding back.

“When I met Chris, I thought you might still be hung up on him, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“I’m not,” she says quickly in a tone that sounds believable. “He just…”

She trails off and it hits me that the reason has much more to do with the damage he inflicted on her than wishing she could have him back.

“I feel you,” I say.

“You do?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” I wrap my hand on top of hers on the bottle of champagne, but don’t make any move to take it. I might not have that much experience with dating, but I know what it’s like to have people disappoint you in a way that fucks you up.

“Come on then, sweetheart.” I bring the bottle to my lips with her hand still under mine and take a slow drink. She tracks the motion, staring hard at my mouth and then my throat as I swallow. It takes everything in me not to ignore all her reservations and kiss her to prove to her how good we could be.

I push the bottle back to her, and then stand up tall in the water and scan the party for ideas. My voice is low and filled with gravel when I speak. “If we aren’t going to make out, then let’s replace some other ways to make this night memorable for you.”

Archer stands in the kitchen of our apartment fighting a laugh as I try to wake up London. She crashed on the couch last night. She wasn’t kidding about not being able to hold her booze. She didn’t get sick or anything, but I didn’t feel right about dropping her off at her apartment. Especially when she told me Alec was gone for the weekend.

She has one arm thrown over her face and she’s clutching the T-shirt I gave her last night to change into to her chest. She didn’t change and the black dress has inched up high on her thighs during the night.

I’ve been trying to wake her up for a few minutes now, and she’s fighting me even in sleep.

“London, sweetheart,” I say softly, trying to take the pillow. “I just want to make sure you don’t need to be anywhere and then you are free to go back to dreaming of me.”

Archer snickers loudly.

Her body stills and then she shoots upright. It’s followed with a wince, and she closes her eyes and rubs her forehead.

Laughing, I take a seat next to her on the couch. She crosses her legs and then realizes she’s flashing me.

“Oh god.” She quickly uncrosses her legs and yanks on the hem of her dress, then looks down at the old Valley U T-shirt I lent her and groans. “Oh god.”

“That’s exactly what you were moaning all last night.”

Her eyes widen in panic.

“Kidding. I slept in my bed.”

Her body relaxes. “So we didn’t…” She points her pinky finger at me. “Nothing happened, right? I remember getting here, but not much after.”

“Nope. Nothing happened,” I reassure her. “I tried to get you to take my room, but you kept saying, ‘I am not sleeping in your sex sheets.’”

“Right.” She nods, eyes fluttering closed. “I remember now. And to be fair, when I asked when the last time you washed them was, you couldn’t remember.”

Another chuckle shakes my chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank too much.” She runs a hand through her hair. “How do you look so chipper?”

“I’ve been up for a while. Went for a run and did some mobility stretches.”

She stares at me like she’s waiting for me to say I’m only kidding, then says, “Athletes are weird.”

“You’re not wrong there.”

“Here.” She hands me my T-shirt back. “Sorry you had to take care of me.”

“It was nothing.” I wave her off. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did.” The laugh that follows is light and airy.

“Me too.” It’s the first time that I hung out with a girl like that. Like we were really dating, minus all the making out. Do couples make out as much as people not in relationships? I’ve been thinking on that. I sure hope the answer is yes. Someday I might want to be one of those and I can’t imagine hours and hours of talking and hanging out without it. I’m in blue-ball hell from one night of it.

“I should get home.”

“No need to rush off. You said last night you didn’t have any plans today.”

“Then why did you wake me?”

One side of my mouth inches higher. “I was getting bored and impatient for you to wake up. Want to grab breakfast?”

“Don’t you have things to do?”

“Not really. Practice isn’t for a few hours.”

“I don’t think I can go out in public like this.” She looks down at her wrinkled dress.

I hold out the T-shirt again.

“Unless you have a matching pair of pants that’ll fit me, that won’t work either.” She stands. “It’s fine. I am going to grab an Uber and get out of your hair.”

Like I’d let her take an Uber looking like a sexy, rumpled goddess.

“Stay.” I stand and block her path to the door. “We’ll eat in. I’ll make us breakfast and then I can drop you at your place on my way to practice.”

“You cook?” She arches a brow.

“Yeah. What do you want?” I start for the kitchen.

She doesn’t respond. In fact she still looks like she’s about to jet for the door.

“Tiramisu okay?” I toss her a wink.

Her eyes narrow in a playful glare, but she follows me. She takes a seat on one of the stools in front of the island and puts her head in her hands. I should have made sure she took some Advil last night. I had no idea she was going to hurt so much today.

“Kidding. I only make one thing. Luckily, I’m terrific at it.”

“Toast?” Her voice is still raspy from sleep, but her sarcastic humor is alive and well.

“Close.” I waggle my brows. “French toast.”

The smile she rewards me with makes me feel like I’m the king of the world.

Archer is leaned back against the counter watching us like we’re entertaining as hell.

I feel like I missed a few things last night, he signs, gaze sliding to London and then back to me in question.

Just making my fake girlfriend French toast, I sign back.

“Right,” he says quietly. Then signs, Are you sure it’s still fake?