Page 4 of Perfect Playbook

I claw up her honesty, and sad as her loss of appetite is, how raw and real life has been for the past hour. I want more. The pit of my stomach tells me not to let her leave.

“Well, the other thing I really should be doing six or seven times a day is study. Library?”

I’m probably coming across as desperate. I never really wanted to hang out with a woman before who I wasn’t damn sure wanted to hang out with me, too. All in all, I don’t hang out with women much. I went to dances with some girls in high school and had pizza with a few cheerleaders. I did the make-out sessions behind the stands but I don’t recall ever making a first move. Hockey has always been the only thing I invited into my heart, but something tugs at me to be by Shay’s side tonight.

I’m working overtime for the possibility of a few more minutes. What does that mean?

She lifts her eyebrow, so nonplussed I’m not sure if she’s saying yes for me or for her.

“Sure. Why not.”

We walk down the hallway, talking about our old high school. We step out of the health center, and I ask about what her brother from my year is doing now. Conversation flows freely, we even laugh a few times. I’m enveloped in her comforting presence that seems to make all else disappear.

We wind through the paths of Golden Sierra, lined with fallen leaves and an autumn breeze nipping at our edges. By the time we reach the library, I don’t mention we should head inside. I don’t want to go anywhere where we aren’t supposed to talk. She tells me about this year on her dad’s ranch and her brothers wanting to be tech entrepreneurs. I tell her about how my brother, Colt, is dating a French woman. Our words, some special, some meaningless but still full of simple pleasure, power our feet all the way to the river’s edge where there’s no more path, just a quiet bench. And we talk until the sun goes down.

But we don’t just watchthatsunset. We watch it the next night and every night after. And before much time passes at all, Shay becomes everything I never knew I was missing. She becomes the glue that puts me back together. She becomes my moon, and she calls me her sun, and with the collision of me and Shay Mendez, a brand-new universe is born.

Chapter Two

I standin a VIP check-in line for my mid-tier Vegas hotel. I don’t like staying at the Firenze. It’s dated now compared to a lot of the newer places, and the room service is slow. But an old high school hockey buddy is getting married on a gondola on the river, and I’m motivated to go straight upstairs to my room after the reception. I don’t need the temptation of the Las Vegas strip after a few drinks. I promised myself I’d be good. Well, better.

Next to the VIP check-in is the general public, standing in a line the size of the Great Wall of China. Somehow it still seems to be moving faster than mine. I tap my foot. The man in front of me is angrily telling the newbie at the frontdesk about his frequent gambler reward points. He wants to use them for an upgrade. I watch the boy stand nervously and run through the back door, probably hoping to grab ahold of his manager.

I stop short of a sigh when he disappears, and my attention wanders behind me to a lobby full of eager energy. I’ve been to Vegas a thousand times, or at least it seems, and the buzz never fades, though it’s true, this crowd looks a lot like the one I saw a few weeks ago when I snuck to the Strip for an appearance between hockey matches. Just when I’m about to turn back to the desk, a more unusual sight enters the foyer.

There’s a stack of white boxes that seem to have sprouted tiny legs in skin tight jeans. Two young guys don’t notice the Tower of Pisa and nearly collide with them, but the person carrying the stack deftly rolls, like some quarterback dodging a tackle. Somehow, barely, she manages to keep the boxes upright. Now, with her back to me, I have a view of a curvy ass below a curtain of long, black hair.

“Watch where you’re going,” the woman says, and it’s a voice I’d recognize anywhere.

It’s smooth and mature with a dusting ofdon’t mess with me. I don’t hear this voice often any more, but it once meant so much to me, I’d know it even across the foyer of a busy Vegas hotel. Shay Mendez.

Nearly any time I catch Shay in Starlight Canyon she’s juggling boxes, carrying around something special she’s baked, and those boxes always make my stomach drop, reminding me of the last day she was mine. I bet she’s the one who brought the wedding cake for tonight. She knows the couple as well as I do.

The top box slides ever so slightly to the left, and I bailon the line to hustle over and help. They’re stacked so high they practically engulf her. She can hardly see a thing.

I slide up next to her. “Need a hand?”

Her brown eyes light up with surprise, but I hardly see it on the rest of her steady features.

“Logan. Hey… You’re here for the wedding?”

“Yeah.” I point to the box. “Did you make the cake?”

“I did.”

I cross my shoulder bag around my body and make a move to grab the box out of her hands. “Let me help.”

She takes a step back. “No. It’s really fragile.”

“I can be careful.”

It’s clear from her raised eyebrow she doesn’t believe me. Trust doesn’t come easy to this woman, but I’ve always liked that about her. It’s all the more precious when you’ve earned it.

“Come on, Shay. There are too many drunk assholes around here. I balance blades on ice for a living. I’m pretty sure-footed.”

She draws her lips into a thin line and nods. “Okay. But these cakes are like babies to me.”

“Trust me… I’m eating this thing later, so it’s in my best interests to protect it, too.”

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