Page 46 of Fashionista's Playbook

“It’s just, I’ve seen the wives and girlfriends of these guys—so have you.”

She blinked, her red lips forming a hard line. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. A handful them are models, none of us can compare to that. I bet they have their issues. But, not all of them. Give yourself some credit, you’ve got an ass that won’t quit and boobs for days. Not to mention you’re gorgeous.”

I ducked my head. Taking compliments was something I’d never been good at.

“And he obviously wants you. Stop beating yourself up. Enjoy this, enjoyhim.”

“We’ve got this event, it's a big deal, and he expects me to attend as his date.” I wished I fit more into the mold that the players’ wives and girlfriends fit into. “This isn’t my world.”

“It’s probably not his either, he’s too down to earth. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he’s attracted to you. Own it. Break the fucking mold.”

Finished with her lunch, she pulled her legs into the chair and tucked them against her chest.

“I guess I have a date to get ready for.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Travis

Vin smiled through the mirror as Moriah stuck a few pins in the arm of the suit jacket and slipped it off his shoulders.

Pen in her mouth, she’d scribbled down measurements for both of us, and would be tailoring an old suit of mine to fit Vincent. It was one he’d wanted for years, and I couldn’t wear it on a red carpet again.

Not that I cared, but Moriah had been very clear that I wasn’t allowed. Instead, she’d had me fitted for a custom Armani. Hell, she’d picked out at least a dozen of them. Doing so had made her practically glow with happiness.

To make her that happy, I’d wrap myself in toilet paper and call it high fashion.

Around my brother she was quiet, reserved in a way that didn’t sit right with me.

“You okay?” I pulled her to me as I leaned against one of the tables in the large, dressing area of my closet.

Her smile was sweet, but slightly put on as she stepped away from me. I lifted my brow in question. She’d been different since I got back. The first day, I’d let it go. I was sore and tired, the loss in LA had put me on my ass.

Then she’d brought in Bianca, and I barely saw her; they’d been working around the clock to make the charity happen. Which was my own fault. But I missed her.

“We on for tonight?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. “We’ve got a few more episodes until the new season.” Settling in to watch a teen drama once a week with Moriah was one of the things I looked forward to—almost as much as game day.

Moriah froze, pulled the pen from her mouth and darted her gaze to where Vincent was changing back out of the suit.

“Sure.” She whispered, so low I barely heard her.

My brother stepped out of the pinned pants and back into his joggers, all the while watching Moriah and I with interest. He had opinions, I was sure, but I didn’t care about them.

Moriah disappeared out of the closet, which was the size of my bedroom.

Vincent stuck around. “This event man, it’s with Jones’ organization, right?”

I nodded and moved out of the closet and down the small hall that connected my bedroom to my office. “Yeah. His charity does outreach to less fortunate areas. Ours is more specifically aimed at foster kids, so pairing up fit.”

Vin followed. “What’s the over under on him retiring this year?”

I thought about that. Not if he would—the entire team knew this was probably his last season, but what his retirement would mean to the team. Ward was aiming for that spot, but there were rumors that Linc was looking at free agents from other teams. Including Derek Cooper in Philly, who had ties to Texas. The idea we could get a guy with an arm like that was exciting. It rejuvenated a team that would be losing their heart and soul when Jones hung his cleats up.

The real issue here was why Vin wanted to know. I didn’t trust his intentions, and that was a first.

“Why? Hasn’t said anything to us. Not something we talk about during the season.” I lied, but with my back to Vin he couldn’t read my expression. In the whole world, he was the one who could.

I liked lying to him even less than the lack of trust. |

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