Page 23 of Playing for Keeps

“So, we’re good?” Val asks his mom. “No drama.”

“Not yet, no. I might wait until after the wedding when she’s trapped in the family and can’t escape my disapproval.”

“My family believes in divorce,” I reply, just so she won’t think I’m a pushover.

“That’s not something you should brag about.”

Taking the bait, I ask, “Isn’t Christine twice divorced?”

Poppy gasps, staggers back, bounces forward like she wants to fight, and finally swoons as if the horror is too much.

While Val helps steady his swooning mom, she mutters, “How dare you know my family’s dirty laundry? I insist on knowing something negative about your family.”

“My great-great grandmother’s coochie created a curse on our family.”

Poppy stares at me, blank-faced for a considerably long time. I don’t dare look away. Not even after Tuesday starts singing “Pour Some Sugar on Me” and likely riles up Cubby by jiggling her ass in Bullet’s face.

“Cursed how?” Poppy finally asks while Val stares at my face like he’s trying to climb into my head and rewire me until I worship him.

“We can never find love.”

“But you already love me,” Val announces. “You’re not even subtle about it.”

His words are like a dagger deep in my heart, so I grumble, “I don’t even know you.”

“True, yet what you know, you love,” he insists.

Poppy frowns at her son and then narrows her gaze at me. “You’re tricking my boy.”

“Our marriage is a way to bind our families and create an alliance between the two clubs. How is any of that a trick?”

“He wants you to love him,” Poppy snarls and saunters closer. “You better love him right or else.”

“I will give you two children,” I tell Val and reach out to shake his hand. “It’s a deal. And in exchange, you will obey my father and become a solid president one day.”

When Val’s fingers stroke the back of my hand, I try to tug free of his grip. Like his hand, his gaze refuses to let me go.

Finally, Poppy clicks her tongue and insists, “I want three grandchildren from you. Two boys and a girl.”

“That’s too many. I also have no control over their genders.”

“I have a few totally irrational tricks that’ll give you the genders you want.”

“Wait, what?”

“Start with a son. Stop eggs and dairy and up your pretzel and banana intake. Oh, and right before you make love, drink a cup of strong coffee.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a girl first,” Val says and slides his hand down my spine. “We should name her something sassy like Cat. If it’s a boy, we can name him Dog.”

Poppy and I frown at Val, preparing to give him shit. He flashes a great smile capable of disarming our irritation.

“Is Poppy your real name?” I ask his mom.

“No.”

“Did you do something wrong to receive that name as a punishment?”

“You’re named after a whore.”

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