Page 28 of Not By the Playbook

I roll my eyes. “I’m not. This ends when I find out about the job.”

I’m not even sure if I want the position anymore. If I need Logan to get it, then I don’t deserve it. My stomach churns. Maybe Mom was right and I’m better off going home and figuring something out there.

But I’ve come this far already. I’ll hold up my side of the bargain until Jenna leaves, and then politely thank him and be on my way. Wham, bam, thanks for introducing me to the fam.Not.

But the thought of ending things with Logan sends a shard of glass through my insides and makes me nauseous. Or maybe it’s just the scent of nachos in the air.

“And then you’ll be ready to surrender him back to his adoring masses?”

No. Not really. But that’s not the deal we made.“I’ll have to, won’t I?”

The idea of sharing him with a whole slew of women, all busty and lusty, has me feeling sick. He doesn’t do girlfriends, and I’m not stupid enough to think I can change him.

But I did think that, didn’t I?And all it took was a week. Seven days. How did I go from zero to stupid so quickly?

I stalk ahead, actually grateful to spy Rhonda, George, and Jenna. They are seated close to the action in a VIP section. As we navigate down the stairs, I try not to jostle—or be jostled—by fans wielding cardboard trays.

Logan’s mom waves when she sees me, “Over here!”

"Thanks. It took us longer to get here than I thought." I slide into the spot beside Jenna. Her parents are on her other side. I greet them and introduce Carrie.

Rhonda leans over Jenna. “Rebecca, how many of Logan’s games have you seen now?”

"Ummm, not many.”Meaning none. “I didn’t know a lot about football before.” Matching frowns appear on the brows of her husband and daughter.

Carrie jumps in, “But she’s picking it up. That’s Rebecca for you. Give her any task, and she’s an expert in no time.”

I glare.Stop laying it on so thick.

Carrie smirks at my expression and speaks to Jenna over my head, “You really should hire her, you know.”

“Hey, didn’t you want a drink?” Under the guise of settling in, I put my shoe over Carrie’s foot and press down. Hard. Hell, I should have worn heels. Mercifully, she grunts and stands.

“Let’s all go,” George heaves himself up. “I want to check out the beers they have on tap.”

I volunteer to stay with our things while they get refreshments. My butt wiggles in the hard plastic seat, but there’s no getting comfortable. I distract myself by scanning my surroundings. It’s my first time in this stadium outside of a couple of concerts. Down on the field, the floodlights bounce off the players’ helmets as they warm up. Logan is speaking with a teammate. He must sense my stare because he swivels around and his eyes meet mine. A slow grin spreads across his face. He winks.

My skin tightens, heat climbing to my cheeks. I tear my gaze away to scan the crowd instead. People have noticed his attention. Phones emerge, and the buzzing around me increases in volume. Rabid fans have discovered me on his social media. A million curious looks pin me to my seat. I hate the attention. I hate the fact that they’re measuring me against everyone in his past.

There’s no room to hide under the plastic chairs, not unless I want to chop myself up into little pieces. It’s not an unappealing thought.

A few seats over, a troupe of women, all heels and diamonds, look more hostile than curious. So many big boobs. So many small brains. We’re in the family section, and they must be the wives and girlfriends.

Guilt immediately suffuses me.Judgy much, Becs?

Two women are openly sneering. One is tall, blonde, and curvy. I recognize her, Kirstin Richardson, from her photos with Logan when I was Internet stalking—ahem—researching him, before meeting his parents that first time.

She stands and alarm bells go off in my head.

Beads of sweat form between my breasts, and I wipe my hands on my pants, all the while offering prayers for reinforcements. But whoever’s supposed to be listening is still on strike because the woman sashays over. Her cloying perfume melds with the scent of sweaty bodies, popcorn, and stale beer as she looms over me. Filler-enhanced lips curl up into a sneer.

“You’re here with the Barnes family?”

“Yes,” I respond. Why did Logan even want me here today? It’s clear he isn’t short of company.

“Logan’s downgraded,” she mocks, mirroring my thoughts.

I bite the inside of my cheek and ignore her.Come on, take the hint and disappear.But of course, she doesn’t.

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