Page 49 of The Love Playbook

“Seriously? So you can do all that fancy stuff, like on wedding invitations and shit?”

She rolls her eyes. “And shit, yes.”

“That’s cool. Maybe you can show me sometime.”

She grunts, and I take that as a win. “What else?”

She stares at me for a moment, and just when I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off, she says, “I do yoga.”

Fuck. Yogis are hot.

I imagine Charlotte bent over in nothing but a pair of tights doing downward dog, and my forehead pricks with sweat.

I barely resist biting my knuckles when I croak out, “I’ve always wanted to get into yoga.”

“Really?” She eyes me like she doesn’t believe me, and she shouldn’t. I’m still thinking about her ass in a pair of tights. “So why don’t you?”

I guffaw, proud of myself for banishing the image of a semi-nude Charlotte on a yoga mat from my mind. “That stuff is hard as shit. My senior year in high school, our football coach thought it would be good for our mobility and mindset, but I almost tore a groin muscle.”

She chuckles under her breath. “I might have paid money to see that.” She bites her lip, nodding as she eyes me with a grin. “Actually, I totally would pay to see you, Jace, Damon, and the guys doing yoga on the football field.”

“Speaking of yoga, why are yoga chicks always so fucking hot?”

She scoffs.

“What? I’m serious, and you’re not exactly proving my theory wrong.” I lean forward, my elbows on the table as my gaze flickers over her. “Do you wear leggings and a tank top when you do it? Or maybe those tight little bicycle shorts,” I muse.

“You’re such a pig.”

“Oof. I love it when you talk dirty to me. Turns me on.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everything turns you on.”

“Correction.” I point. “Everything aboutyouturns me on.”

She huffs out a breath at the same time our waitress interrupts by dropping off our drinks, which is probably good, because the probability of receiving a throat punch was high.

I waste no time sucking down half my Coke when she asks, “So, do you think you’ll restore any more old cars?”

“I’d like to,” I say. “I mean, obviously, I can’t right now. College football requires too much of my time, and I don’t have a garage at school, but as soon as I’m out, that’s the plan.”

“You mean, like for a job or hobby? What about football?”

I shrug. “I know I’m not good enough to go pro. Jace, Damon, and a couple of the others have a chance, but not me. College football was a pipe dream, one I feel fortunate enough to have achieved, but the buck stops here, and I know that. I prefer it, actually, because I want to reopen my father’s garage when I graduate.”

“Wow. I—I didn’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t, seeing as how you can’t seem to say two words to me without a snarl,” I say with a rueful grin.

As if to prove my point, she scrunches her nose up and curls her lip.

“See!” I point. She rewards me with a laugh and it feels like I’ve won the lottery.

“So,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “if you want to open your father’s car shop back up, what are you majoring in?”

“Uh, business with a minor in marketing. I figure if the Griffins want to help pay for me to get an education, then I’ll make sure it’s something that’ll help me with running a business.”

Charlotte stirs her ice water with her straw, then takes a sip. “I guess that’s smart.”

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