Page 70 of The Home Grown
“You’re right. I’m never going to be able to persuade her. I need a new plan—assuming I get picked,” I say, turning back towards him but keeping my eyes on the crisp white tablecloth.
Danny sets his mug down. “Honestly, if someone asked me to place a bet on who, from our team, would get themselves into this sort of situation, I’d always say you. One hundred per cent … every single time.”
“Yeah, well—” I shrug, because sadly, he’s right. Thisisthe type of thing I do. I fuck up, and instead of holding my hands up and surrendering, I insist on jumping into the hole I’ve dug and making it bigger. So big I can’t climb out.
I take a mouthful of coffee as I draft a plan ‘B’ in my head.
It’s simple, really. All I need is a willing female who will pretend to be my wife for the sake of a few months. Why is it so difficult?
“Hey, do you think Prez would let me borrow Jen?” I ask, letting my leg jiggle under the table a little harder.
Danny’s eyes widen as I’m forced to look at him.
“You’re not all there, mate. Even if he said yes, which he wouldn’t—everyone knows Jen. She’s been doing that iPad stuff around the league. If you rock up with Jen on your arm, people will know you’re full of shit more than they already think … or that you’re a serial girlfriend—or in this case, wife—stealer.”
I take another gulp of coffee, racking my brain for anything—but all that plays out in my mind is me, standing in front of Prez, asking him if I can borrow his wife.
It’s all I’ve got. I don’twantto ask Jen. I mean she’s hot but she’s not Ellie.
“I—”
“She’s doing something with the players’ association website, anyway—besides, even if Prez said yes, which, let me reiterate, he won’t … Jen would still have to agree.”
But Danny’s mention of a website has a lightbulb illuminating in my head. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?
“I have an idea,” I say, in an almost comical ‘eureka’ moment.
Danny stares at me, a blank expression on his face.
And I open my mouth to fill him in when my phone vibrates against my leg.
I dip into my pocket, checking the screen to see none other than Vicky Koenig’s name. And just like that, I’ve got idea number two.
I’m just about to answer the call when the rest of the guys filter into the breakfast room and I figure the chances of getting overheard are high.
I hit decline and put my phone away, sliding my chair back to make use of the buffet before we leave.
“Want anything?” I ask Danny.
He shakes his head, so I make my way to servery, joining a small queue that’s forming for the hot food.
We’ve had breakfast in this room all week and honestly, the food is amazing. If I could get away with sneaking in here every morning, I would.
Despite my junk fest last night, I’m starving now I can smell the goodness. I’m so focused on the egg station, I don’t even realise Greer has stopped behind me.
“I’m surprised Langer’s even standing after last night,” he says, chuckling to himself.
I turn to see Greer’s attention is fixed on the entrance of the breakfast room where less than a foot away, Rick Langdon is loitering in the lobby.
He’s locked in some dramatic goodbye kiss with a brunette and my heart grinds to a halt for a split second. But then I let out an almighty sigh of relief when I realise it’s not Ellie.
That must be his girlfriend. His way of demonstrating he’s the right choice for the team, given the speech I had from Coach.
“Him and his ‘friend’ kept half the hallway up last night. Didn’t you hear them?” Greer shakes his head, amused. “She sounded like she was auditioning for an opera.”
I force a laugh.
“Any idea who she is?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
