Page 10 of Not By the Playbook

“What would you like, Rebecca?” George inquires.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” Given my recent history with alcohol, it might be best to abstain.

He goes into the kitchen and emerges a moment later with two bottles and sets them on a sideboard crammed with glasses. He pours Jenna and Rhonda Chardonnays then fills a pint glass and holds it out to Logan. “From my latest batch.”

“You make beer?” My eyes are saucers of delight. It’s been a long time since I’ve had bespoke brew.

“I do!” His gaze swings to me. His grin is an older version of Logan’s. “Turned the garage into my own little brewery when I retired.”

“My dad used to make beer, too,” I tell him.

“Well, then, try it, and tell me how it compares!” George orders. He tips a generous amount into a glass for me and waits expectantly.

I sniff it then take a sip. “Hoppy. So good!”

“Next time you see your father, bring him a growler,” George says.

“Ummm…he actually passed away a couple of years ago. Heart attack.” It’s not the thick brew that makes me swallow. Logan envelopes my hand in his.

“Oh, you poor dear. I’m so sorry.” Rhonda clasps her fingers together and leans forward.

“Thanks. It happened a while ago.”

“What about the rest of your family?” George asks.

“I’m an only child. Mom’s a principal at a prep school in Michigan, and I have lots of uncles and aunts and cousins.”

“Nobody in New York?” Rhoda’s tone is concerned.

“No, my mom really wants me to move back. But I have some great friends here.”

Logan’s mom fixes on our joined hands. “And a great boyfriend, too!” Her lips curve.

“It’s not hard with someone like Rebecca.” Logan brings our intertwined fingers up to his lips and brushes them across my knuckles. My pulse skitters, but before it can go full-on hopscotch, I force myself to remember it’s for show. I paste on a proper, girlfriend-esque expression and lean into his side while I run my thumb back and forth across his palm. They are capable hands. Even calloused from football, his grip is firm but gentle.

“And he’s been treating you well?” George asks, eyeing his son.

“Logan’s been wonderful.” I turn to my fake boyfriend and give him a soft smile. For someone who’s never had a girlfriend before, he is very adept, at least four-stars. Better than the real thing—not that I’ve had many to compare him with.

Logan’s returning grin is accompanied by a sly wink as he drops a quick kiss on my nose. Rhonda’s sigh echoes in the space. I have to take a couple more sips to cool myself off.

“So, Rebecca, tell us more about yourself.” George angles himself forward, forearms on his knees.

This is the bit I rehearsed. Meet-the-Girlfriend 101. “As I mentioned, I’m originally from Michigan, moved to New York for school, and then never left. I finished my master’s in Human Resources at NYU a couple of months ago.”

“She interviewed with McCann,” Logan tells his dad. He slants a proud smile at me and puts his arm around my shoulder then draws me close.

“Your McCann?” Rhonda turns to her daughter, brows raised.

Jenna tips her head, yes.

Rhonda’s gaze swivels back to us. “Is that how you met?”

Logan takes a sip of his beer. “No, we only realized it after Becs ran into Jenna at my place.”

“Fate! Oh my, isn’t that lovely?” Rhonda beams.

Lovely’s not the word.I keep my smile pinned in place.

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