Page 31 of Perfect Playbook

She lets out a laugh, a little like the gorgeous, naughty laugh she let out last night when she was sipping gin and tonic. “So getting married drunk is okay but lending money to your accidental wife isn’t? I’ll never understand you.”

“Fine, let’s make it easier to understand then. Think of it as money for Antonio. I’m not loaning money to a child. Not a single person in Starlight Canyon came knocking on my door asking for repayment for my hockey gear and coaching when I was a kid, not even when I got signed to the NHL. You need to let me do this, Shay.”

Her expression still doesn’t agree, but she moves on. “Three. No touching.”

These rules are getting ridiculous. “No can do,pastelito.”

She throws her hands to her hips. “You really do hate rules, don’t you, Logan?”

“Come on, Shay, zero people would believe I wouldn’t be all over my wife, especially if she looks like you.”

Something uncomfortable and pleasant at the same time overcomes Shay. She doesn’t know what to do with what I just said, and neither do I. But it’s a fact, and one we can’t ignore.

“Our love and me going home to it every night has to be convincing to the people around us. Staying on the team means showing the coach and anyone who talks to him that I got a woman I’m desperate to be with and a kid who makes me a contented man.”

She draws her lips into a thin line. “Fine. We touch but we have to plan what we’re doing ahead of time. No… spontaneity.”

I burst out laughing.

“Why are you laughing?”

“You really can’t handle touching me? What are you so worried about?”

She narrows her eyes.

I dart my gaze to the ceiling. “No touching unless it’s pre-agreed and perfectly choreographed.”

“Thank you.”

I watch her process, and finally she stares me dead in the eye.

“No other women. I mean, if you have anything going with anyone right now, I’m sorry, but…”

“Stop.” It doesn’t sit well that my behavior over the past years makes her think she even needs to make this a rule. “This goes without saying, Shay.”

Drinking me in with an inquisitive chocolate stare, she searches for more than my answer. Something inside me goes sour knowing this rule has even entered the discussion. But now isn’t the time to talk about what sent me off the rails, how I stopped believing in love a longtime ago, how greed was a great distraction from heartache. Despite being a serial dater, I’m not a cheater.

“Stop looking at me like that, Shay, I’m not a traitor and I’d never humiliate you. If it’s us, it’s us and only us.”

Her face twists with something I can’t read, but she lowers her gaze so I can’t investigate any further. Finally, she huffs out her last commandment.

“There’s one more rule. One thing that might sound like a lot to ask, but if we can’t agree, it’s… well, it’s a dealbreaker, Logan. When this is all over. When our rings are off and we’re both where we need to be, you don’t have to be my friend, but you do have to be Antonio’s.”

We share a moment that belongs more in the past than in this agreement. I let the words slip that are both the truth and too much to bear.

“I’ll be there for both of you.”

“As friends.” She nods and speaks as though it’s more to herself than to me. “We’re doing this as friends.”

I put out my hand as if shaking on it will make it less emotional, more businesslike, but when her palm hits mine, it has the opposite effect.

Not the word friend. Not the rules and play by play of our unromantic agreement. None of this stops me from feeling that spark when her skin hits mine.

No touching is a good rule.

She slips her hand out of mine and rubs her fingers over her own palm. I wonder if she still feels me there like I can feel her in my hand.

She lets out a sharp breath. “Wow. So we go home together, today, and say we’re married. And where will we live?”

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