Page 14 of Not By the Playbook

“It wasn’t my idea to come back here. I’m not sleeping with you. That. Was. Not. Part. Of. The. Plan.” Her nostrils flare, and she bites out each word. “I don’t do athletes.”

“Oh? You did me quite well last night.” I can’t resist teasing.

Her cheeks flame. “That was an accident.” Her mouth purses.

“You accidentally fell on my dick?” Yes, there are two dicks in the room, big Logan and bigger Logan. “Because all I remember was ‘Logan, harder, faster. Oh God, I’m going to come!’” I smirk as I catalogue her—pink cheeks, heaving breasts, and flashing eyes. “You’re bossier than you pretend.” Maybe she is better suited to Jenna than I’m giving her credit for.

I wait in anticipation to see what she will do. She’s adorable when she gets annoyed.

She growls. “How long do you expect me to stay?”

“You find out about the job on Monday, right?” I study my fingernails.

“Yeah.”

I shrug and swing my eyes up. “It’s two days. Commit to the cause.”

She looks like she’d rather have me committed. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“Seems like the most efficient approach to me. Don’t you HR types like to be efficient?” This gets more amusing by the minute. Little Rebecca has a temper.

A strangled gurgle escapes her. My lips twitch.

She huffs and leans over to pull off a shoe, tosses it against the corner of the room. “And what was that whole thing with your Thursday game?” The other shoe thwacks against the wall a second later.

“What about it?” I start undoing my shirt. “You’ll come, sit with my parents. Impress Jenna.”

“Logan, first of all,” Becs raises a thumb, “I’ll know about the job on Monday.”

A second pink-tipped finger extends up. “Next, I know nothing about football.”

I stall on a button and stare. “No way. That’s just un-American.”

Her head bobs up and down. “Way. Never even seen a game on TV.”

My jaw drops and I blink. Trust me to end up with a girlfriend who knows nothing about my profession.Fake girlfriend. She definitely doesn’t have the qualifications for the real thing after a statement like that.

“You see?” Her nose wrinkles at my expression. Then her body sags and a long whoosh escapes her. “I can’t go to the game. Not with your parents and Jenna. I’m sorry.”

I angle my head and study her. I don’t like the aura of defeat that settled upon her. “Sure you can. I’ll teach you.”

Becs snorts, but when I remind her what this is for, she squares her shoulders. “Fine.”

She plops down on the edge of the bed and rifles through her bag. A ring-bound notebook and pen emerge.

“Seriously?” My brows rise in disbelief and exasperation.

She scowls. “School me already.”

I can’t contain my laugh. “Fine, let’s do this.” I make a production of tapping my chest and clearing my throat. “So, that is a football.” I point at a signed ball on the shelf behind her.

Rebecca follows my finger, then swivels back and rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m not a complete moron.”

“I’m trying to be as thorough as possible. Do your notes justice.”

She shakes her head. I go on to explain the basics of the game, pausing to answer when she has questions. She takes notes, nodding as things start to make sense.

“I kind of get it now. I tried watching a YouTube video and even tuned into ESPN before dinner, but couldn’t make sense of what they were saying. You do a much better job. And without any mansplaining!”

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