Page 14 of Playing for Keeps

I shake my head. “No timeline. Kamila, thank you for insisting that she get more than one.” I flash her a full-dimple grin as Emerson seems frustrated that she wasn’t able to talk her way out of receiving some pampering.

Kamila even offers to let us out a side door so we run less of a risk of a fan swarm. I reach for Emerson’s hand, using the other to carry her garment bag. “I’m so sorry I didn’t clarify that there wasn’t a dress code for tomorrow,” I tell her. Emerson shakes her head. She seems stiff…and I’m worried I messed up. “Talk to me, Salty. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

There’s a small circle of women whispering to one another outside the fitting room suite. Word must have spread that a Fury player is here. I grin, wave briefly, and hurry to follow Kamila toward an employee area and out to the parking lot.

By the time we’re back at the car, Emerson must have figured out how to verbalize her thoughts. “The idea of my family gathering in sweatpants is just … inconceivable. I don’t even know if my brotherownssweatpants. Is there a theme for tomorrow? An objective?”

“Objective? You mean other than meeting you and hanging out?” I blink at her as she climbs into the car and wait to close her door until she buckles her seatbelt.

When I’m settled in my side, she says, “That’s another thing. My family doesn’t just spend time together. There’s always a donor we’re wooing. A composer I’m supposed to impress…”

“Emerson.” I turn on the car and flick the radio off so she can really hear me. “I don’t know how else to explain this until you meet them … but my family is going to be trying to impressyou. Youare the star of the show tomorrow, Salty.”

She turns a charming shade of pink and glances at her lap. I swallow and merge onto the highway heading south toward our place. “So, what would you wear with that outfit in your other life? If you were going somewhere fancy?”

She leans an elbow on the window and appears to think about the question. “Uncomfortable shoes for sure. Makeup. Probably pearls.”

I chuckle. “I can give you a pearl necklace, baby.”

She seems to consider this like I was serious about it. “I don’t have any of my jewelry here. Apart from this.” She holds out her hand, staring at the silicone wedding band, which I notice she hasn’t yet removed, either. “I would maybe like my pearls back, though. Do you really have some?”

The look on her face tells me she has no idea I was being a crude bastard, so I swallow and clear my throat. “I was being a dick. But I’ll buy you anything you want. Seriously. Name it.”

Emerson furrows her brow, and her nose gets a little wrinkle at the top. “Why did you say you had a pearl necklace?”

I sigh. “Look it up later. Then you’ll know you married a caveman.”

CHAPTER 9

EMERSON

I don’t own sweatpants,but I feel fine in my regular black outfit, especially when Gunnar emerges from his bedroom in black sweats and some kind of sports jersey. I think it’s a soccer one this time. He grins and points at me with a banana he grabs from the counter. “You ready for the antlers? Time to get pranced.”

I groan. “You need to stop with the weird jokes.”

“You love it,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for me to exit first. He locks up the apartment, and I walk beside him toward the stairs, thinking that I genuinely enjoy his sense of humor. He’s so easygoing. It’s really refreshing to spend time with someone who has nothing to hide. Even though Gunnar claims he has everything to prove, he still manages to exude confidence and comfort.

“When are we getting you driving lessons, wife?” Gunnar gestures between his giant SUV and his sleek sports car. I shrug and point at the smaller car, which he unlocks and opens my door before I can get there.

“You’re going to exhaust yourself always trying to do that.” I huff and climb inside.

“I’ve got pro-athlete stamina, Emerson. Never.” He hops into his seat and brings the engine purring to life. Gunnar hums along to the radio as he exits the parking garage, explaining that we are going to his aunt and uncle’s house on the city's north side. “Uncle Thatcher is an artist, and Aunt Emma is an author, so their loft is extremely cool. Do you remember which little Stags are theirs?”

I nod my head. “Wes, his girlfriend is Cara. Both are pro soccer players. And Ricky…prefers to be called Rick. Still figuring shit out.” I quote Gunnar’s family summary with a smile on my face.

“You’re good at this,” Gunnar says, patting my knee before gripping the wheel to make a tight turn and rapid merge into four lanes of traffic.

“I, um, don’t think I want to learn to drive in this kind of place.” I gesture at all the signs whizzing past, the vehicles zooming past the sports stadiums and casino, along the winding river.

He hums, smiling. “I’ll just have to haul you around myself then, won’t I?”

After the mall last night, Gunnar and I talked about appearances. It makes sense that we should touch one another, and it wasn’t until we mentioned it out loud that I realized how natural it feels to have him drape an arm around me sometimes or place a hand on the small of my back when he ushers me through a doorway. I can’t tell if he’s just being gentlemanly or if Gunnar just … clicks with my body somehow. I did not mention any of this to him or bring up my utter lack of sexual experience. I just agreed that he should, of course, squeeze my shoulder at the table and that I can tousle his shaggy curls if there’s a lull in conversation.

I’m less comfortable thinking of his family researching mine. My parents and brother are easily searchable, too. But I supposethere’s nothing to be done about the Stag family’s perception of my family’s online persona.

Gunnar parks outside a house that does indeed look cool. He squeezes my hand as he opens the front door and guides me up the steps to the living room. Turning his face toward the stairs, he shouts, “Yo, we’re here. There better still be bacon.”

I’m hit with a wall of sound as we enter a vast open room with high ceilings, windows overlooking the river, and a giant television mounted above a sofa big enough for fifteen large, athletic men. All of whom are yelling at the screen until they turn and greet Gunnar with sound effects.

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