Page 35 of The Game Plan
“Speaking of celebrating… Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Sunshine,” she answers without hesitation. I nod, a cocky smirk sliding onto my lips. God, I love it when she calls me Sunshine. “As much as I trust you, and as much as I’m here for whatever you have in mind, can we not go out to eat? I forgot to pack some Tums, and heartburn has been hitting me more often.”
“Not a problem. Stretchy pants and dinner at home with Tums as dessert,” I say with a chuckle. “I like the way celebrating looks now. Tums instead of tequila shots.”
She bursts out laughing, a wide grin spreading across her face. I wonder if we’re both remembering the same thing.
We were halfway through a bottle of cheap gold tequila when Brynn shouted, “hide-and-seek” and declared I was ‘it.’ I hated gold tequila, but of course, Brynn was the one to scrounge it up. Queen of tequila and bad decisions, as always.
Before I could agree to the game, Savannah was running barefoot, buzzed, radiant. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She paused at the front door and whispered, “Come get me, Sunshine.”
I gave everyone a five-minute head start—not my rules—before I was tearing through the door of the Football House, desperate to find Savannah Holycross.
The moon and streetlamps were the only light as I navigated the path to campus. Savannah had a favorite spot, just outside the main quad, where she’d sit on a bench and stare at the reflection pond. And that’s exactly where I headed.
Smiling, I crouched behind her and crept on quiet feet. She was low behind an overgrown bush, trying not to giggle. Isnuck up, grabbed her sides, and she yelped, swatting me with a beaming smile.
“I’ll always find you, Peach,” I whispered, still holding her.
“Not fair, Grant. You know me too well,” she said with mock annoyance.
Bright blue eyes glistened in the moonlight as Sav licked her bottom lip. Without hesitation, my lips were on hers. A small gasp escaped, and I plunged my tongue deep inside her mouth. She gripped the back of my neck, pulling me closer as my fingers tangled in her long, blonde hair. It wasn’t the first time we shared a kiss like that, but I felt the same excitement every damn time.
While everyone else was running around campus, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Our kiss heated as she guided me to the ground. My body on top of hers, we familiarized ourselves with each other, drunk on tequila as her warm lips and peach scent flooded my senses.
Her expression turns thoughtful as she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A beat passes, and I give her a minute to be in the moment.
“A girl,” she whispers.
I glance at her again as we stop foranotherred light. We’ve hit every red light on this side of town.
“How do you feel about that?” I ask softly.
She shrugs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Relieved. Scared. Happy.” She lets out a watery laugh, like she’s holding back a sob. “I always pictured having a boy first. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the challenge of taking care of the opposite gender, and for some reason, I feel like boys areharder. And even though Ridge is younger than me, he’s always been my protector. I guess I thought having a boy first would mean a built-in protector for any other children I had. But knowing it’sa girl…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “My mind is picturing pink everything. And lots of bows. I’m having adaughter!”
The light turns green, and I don’t answer right away. I’m still holding her hand, my throat tightening with emotion.
“You’re going to be amazing,” I say finally. “She’s lucky to have you.”
She squeezes my hand back and flashes me a warm smile.
“I’ve got one more stop,” I tell her, flipping my turn signal on and easing into the Target parking lot.
Her head tilts curiously. “You need something?”
Smirking, I pull into an empty spot and shift the truck into park. “Yeah, I need razor blades.”
She blinks at me, genuinely caught off guard. Her mouth starts to open, but I’m jumping out of my truck and rounding the front to her door.
Opening her door, I place my hand out for her to take. “Come on, Peach.”
Inside, the air’s crisp and filled with the hum of a new pop song and the sound of cart wheels squeaking against tile. I grab a red cart, holding it steady as she steps beside me. As we move deeper into the store, Sav’s hand on my forearm has me looking down at her.
“You have a beard. What do you need razors for?”
With a wink, I nudge my head forward. “Trust me?”
