Page 8 of The Riskiest Move

“Don’t make it something it’s not. She and I have become friends over the past month or so.”

“Why haven’t I heard you mention her?”

“I don’t tell you every detail of my life.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Just like you don’t tell me everything.”

“Okay, good point.”

“She helped me out of an awkward situation at dinner when one particularly aggressive fan wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What did she do?”

“She pretended to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh, I like her already.”

“I think you’d get along well. She’s one of those no-bullshit people who isn’t afraid to speak their mind.”

“Maybe you should ask her to be your real girlfriend.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“That’s not gonna happen. I’m not losing my focus now that I’m living out my dream.”

“Then you should have her pretend to be your girlfriend for the season.”

I laugh. “That’s a crazy idea.”

“Is it, though? It would be like a shield between you and all the distracting female attention. Sooner or later you’re going to feel pressured to give in to some gorgeous woman.”

“I’ve managed to avoid that to this point.”

“You weren’t nationally known on the scale you are now. Also, how long do you think it’s going to take your teammates to comment on your lack of interest when women throw themselves at you?”

“I already confided in Rogan that I’m a virgin.”

“You did?” I can see the surprise in her eyes. “What did he say?”

“Not much. He didn’t make a big deal of it.”

She leans her elbows on the other side of the island. “He didn’t ask you why?” I shake my head. “If he did, what were you going to say?”

“The truth. I don’t care if that makes me seem weird to others.”

“Tell them it’s not easy growing up with the pressures of having a preacher father.”

“It may not have been the easiest, but I wouldn’t trade having Mom or Dad for parents for all the meaningless sex in the world.”

“Agreed. But I still think you should ask Scarlett to be your pretend girlfriend.”

“I don’t know…” I think about how Scar told me she’s taking a sabbatical from dating. We do get along well, so it’s not like she’d be miserable spending time with me. Maybe she wouldn’t be opposed to helping me out.

As soon asmy knuckles rap on the door, a flood of reservation hits me.

Shit.

Should I be doing this? Maybe I should’ve called first. What if I’m interrupting her work?

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