Page 146 of Playbook
She swivels in her chair and gives me a surprised look. “Hi.”
“Hey there, yourself. Can I buy you a drink?” I take in her long, slender legs and the low cut of her black dress. Her lips are painted a bright red that I plan to smudge just as soon as she lets me.
She cocks her head to the side. “Oh my gosh. Aren’t you Brogan Six?”
She says it a little louder than I expected. We’re doing a little role-play, recreating the night we first met—minus the leaving alone part. I rented out the VIP area in case she wants to fuck where we first met. That might be creepy instead of romantic. I’m not sure.
“I am. What’s your name?” I slide into the space between her and the person next to her. She already ordered us both drinks. I take a sip of my beer and rest my hip against the bar.
“London,” she says. “I amsucha big fan.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yeah. That catch you made on the ten-yard line in last week’s game against the Cowboys was incredible.”
“God, I love it when you talk football,” I whisper, breaking character. I can’t help it. Tripp spent the off-season teaching her football in exchange for her help picking out women on dating sites. He’s decided it’s time to settle down with a nice woman. He went on zero successful dates, but London’s got a real knack for remembering numbers and plays.
She blushes but then slips back into character. “Maybe we should get out of here, then. My place isn’t far.”
“I bet mine is closer.” I lift my brows suggestively. She moved in months ago, and waking up to her every morning is even better than I imagined it would be.
Outside, she nearly laughs at the sight of the limo. We slide into the back. Neither of us says anything for a solid five seconds, and then we both break at the same time, turning to each other and lunging for the other.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I say to her. It’s the start of the pre-season and we had a two-day road trip. It turns out forty-eight hours without her is my breaking point.
“Me too. I’m sorry. I planned to drag that out longer, but I couldn’t wait.”
“And I planned to fuck you in VIP, but this will work.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.”
I chuckle into her mouth. Not creepy. So noted.
We make out in the back seat as the limo drives us to our next stop, which is sadly not our apartment. Not yet.
When the limo pulls up to the curb in front of my old mail place, I glide my hands out from under her skirt.
“Hey, look where we are,” I say, nodding toward the window. “We should stop by and get your mail.”
Despite it being kind of far from our place, she kept the PO Box for her work mail and comes by once a week or so. She says it’s a good excuse to swing by and see Alec. But I think it’s a sentimental place for her. Just like it is for me.
“You want to stop? Now?” she asks, then laughs like she thinks that’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.
“Yeah. I haven’t been in there in forever. It’ll be fun.” I scoot toward the door and open it before she can protest.
“It was more fun with your hand up my skirt,” she mumbles, and I have to fight a laugh.
Inside, I take her hand and we walk through the maze of tiny metal boxes until we get to hers. She pulls out the key and then I start to get nervous. What if it’s not here? What if I screwed this up?
She pulls out the mail and in it, the package from me. She grins knowingly when she sees the return name and address.
“This is why you wanted to stop? Did you mail me a pair of your boxers?” She grins and tears open the bubble mailer. She says nothing as she reaches in, but the second she pulls out the smaller box she freezes.
“What is this?” she asks, voice wavering.
I take it from her and flip it open, then turn so she can see.
“Are you crazy? You put this in the mail.” She gapes at the diamond nuzzled in the black velvet box.
