Page 64 of The Americana Playbook

She brings the phone over so I can see the messages.

MADELINE

There’s no need for the PDA in a sports bar.

You’re a Montgomery. Act like one.

I glance between the windshield—waiting for the light to change—and at the phone while Parker types back.

I’m rehearsing for when I’m a RHODES. I’m learning they’re less discreet.

I snort. “Thanks. Are you calling my family trashy whores?”

Parker smiles, tucking her phone away. “No. You’re just more fun, more real. And, see? That was the right call. So you don’t have to ask. Just…go for it.”

God,I wish I could.

“We’re both adults,” she adds. “I think we can handle it.”

I might be thirty and well into adulthood, but the thing is, Parker somehow has me feeling like I’m not a day over seventeen. So, no, I can’t really handle her warm body squirming in my lap as she opens her mouth against mine. Or at least, not very well. So I make note that I’ve got to be a little more careful about logistics, and I lie, because at this point, what’s adding one more to the pile?

“We can.” I take off when the light turns green, keeping my hands tight on the wheel as I head toward my apartment, turning into the garage. As I pull in, Parker yawns, stretching her arms slightly above her head. “Bowling took a lot out of you, huh?” I ask, pulling up next to my truck. Three seconds later, the black SUV parks next to us.

With Parker’s head against the seat, she turns to me. Her face is peaceful, eyes nearly half-mast, and her mouth relaxed and parted. “Just happy to be home.”

The wordhomeout of her mouth—referring tomyplace—squeezes my heart.

Parker smiles softly. It would be the perfect place to kiss her, and I let myself wonder what my lips against hers would flow into—god, her scratching my beard, one of my hands in the ends of her hair, the other against the small of her back, sliding up her shirt like I just did an hour ago.

Thankfully Parker turns away, opening the door the moment my cock twitches.

We ride the elevator up in silence with Agent Samuels, and his presence in the small space should be enough to sober me up from my thoughts. After all, he’s the ultimate cock block. In my dreams, he stays far away from us.

I shoot him an evil stare he probably doesn’t deserve when the elevator chimes and the doors open, sticking my hand out to secure the sensor so Parker can exit first. I feel Samuels follow, so I take her hand as we walk down the hall and into the apartment.

“Do they count?” I ask in a whisper as we approach the apartment door where another agent stands. “Will they tell your family they saw us kissing in the hallway?”

“We’ll have to see another time,” she says, and maybe I should be hurt by the rejection, but then she leans her head on my shoulder and, man, that’s how I know I’m wild about this girl. Something as simple, as innocent as this fills my cup. And when she yawns, I swear I feel her nestle a little more against me and that cup over flows.

Opening the door for her, Parker steps out of her shoes, picking them up. “Thanks for a great date, Fitzy.” She stretches on her toes, pressing her lips to my cheek.

Fucked, I think to myself as I clench my fists because all I want is to turn and seek her lips out with mine.

Parker backs away, and turns around, walking past the stairs and into her room.

Beyond fucked, I think to myself as my eyes trail the swell of her ass. My fingertips twitch, angered that they barely skimmed the top of it.

I lift my head to the ceiling and exhale.

I hear the gentle click of the door and toe off my own shoes before I walk upstairs, shutting my door and charging into the bathroom. I turn on the water, and tug my t-shirt up to slip it off, but something stops me taking it off all the way. I say something, because it’s Parker’s scent. Somehow, when she sat in my lap, my front pressed into her, she wove a potion of vanilla and soap that has me in such a chokehold, I nearly suffocate.

Finally, I free myself and fling my hand into the warm water, turning it tocold. Because god damn, I smell bits of myself mixed with hers and it’s got my head spinning and my blood pumping south again.

The smart option would be to get into the shower and let the temperature do its magic.

The better option would be to toss the shirt into the hamper.

I bite my lip hard. “Fuck it.”

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