Page 67 of Playbook
“Aside from Archer, you’re the only person I’ve seen him sit and relax with for longer than twenty minutes. He’s always bouncing from one thing to the next. Always the center of the party. But not with you.”
I can’t decide if it’s a compliment or insult.
“I guess maybe he’s just comfortable with me like he is with his brother.” As soon as I say the words it feels wrong. I don’t have a ton of relationship experience, but I know it shouldn’t feel like you’re dating your sibling.
His brows furrow and his head tilts to the side. It’s too late to take it back so I sip my wine instead.
“His brother?”
“Yeah, Archer.”
“Archer isn’t his brother.”
I open my mouth and then close it. Oh shit. Did I just fuck up? I know Brogan called Archer his brother on more than one occasion.
Cody lifts his beer bottle in one hand and takes a long swig. Then he says, “Well, not by blood, but I guess they are attached at the hip most of the time.”
I force a brighter smile. “Right. That’s what I meant.”
Hopefully I play it off well enough that he doesn’t see right through me. I take another sip of my wine, finishing off my third glass, and look away. The alcohol is starting to make my head light. I want to blame my misstep on that, but I know that’s not it.
Why would Brogan refer to him as his brother? I suppose he could have meant that they were close, but the way he said it…it didn’t seem like he was referring to a friend.
I don’t have too long to ponder it before he reappears. He’s wearing a proud, boyish grin that immediately erases all my concerns. Holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two blue and white striped towels in the other he says, “What d’you say, sweetheart?”
EIGHTEEN
London looks up at me with those big green eyes, then stands.
“What do I say to what?” she asks, looking slightly terrified at my possible reply.
“Pool or hot tub, your choice.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“You have on something under that, I presume,” I say as I let my gaze slide over the black dress that molds to her perfect body.
“Yeah, but…that’s not a swimsuit.”
I step closer and drop a hand to her waist. “It’ll be fun. I snagged us a whole bottle of champagne.”
She still doesn’t look convinced.
“When else are you going to have the chance to swim on this rooftop while drinking champagne?” The answer, I hope, is many more times. Slade has parties here pretty frequently, but she doesn’t know that.
I can tell she still wants to object, but she’s considering it too.
“All right, well, I’m gonna take a swim. I hope no beautiful women get the wrong idea and think I’m single. A guy in the pool alone with a bottle of champagne is like a homing beacon.”
I start to turn away, walking slowly to let her easily catch me. She does two steps later.
“Fine, but I am not getting in that hot tub. My boobs are about two cup sizes too small.”
A laugh loosens from my chest. Her tits are perfect, but I also noticed the average cup size in the hot tub is a DD.
There are people in the pool, too, but it’s bigger so it doesn’t seem so crowded. I lead her to the shallow end. I pull off my T-shirt and then kick off my shoes. She watches me, not undressing.
“What’s wrong?”
