Page 120 of Playbook
A moment later we’re being catcalled and whistled at. I pull away, blushing as his teammates stare and cheer us on.
“Want to come with me to the bathroom?” Brogan asks.
“Excuse me?”
“For protection,” he adds.
“I think you’ll be safe. Be quick.”
He shoots me that boyish grin and hurries off. He glances back before he disappears around the corner to the bathroom and mimics wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
I laugh out loud and then take a sip of my Diet Coke.
“You two are cute,” Tripp says.
“Thanks.”
“I gotta say, when he told us he was dating someone, I thought for sure he was making it up. Then I met you and I thought, ‘Now I know he’s making this up.’ You’re not at all what I expected.”
“Smaller boobs?” I ask as I feel a little self-doubt creep in.
“I mean that you’re not with him just for the glitz and lifestyle. A lot of women, men too, latch on to guys in the league because of what it can do for them. Money, party invites, status…” He trails off.“And you show up to the bar in jeans and a T-shirt, drinking a soda, and not trying to steal him away to some bigger, better event.”
A rush of sympathy hits me that these are the standards. Being a decent person shouldn’t be such a rare trait in the women he comes across.
“You really care about him.” He doesn’t ask it as a question, but I can tell he’s curious.
“I really do,” I admit.
He holds his fist out to me and I bump my much smaller one against his. “If he fucks it up, I’ll bust his kneecaps.”
A laugh leaves my lips and warmth fills my chest. “Thanks, Tripp.”
“Now…tell me what you think of the redhead at the bar.”
I swivel around and scan the area in front of the bar until I place a woman with beautiful strawberry-blonde hair standing alone. It’s hard to tell how old she is. Twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two. She’s on the taller side and wears a dress that shows off her long legs and curves. Her face is round and has a sweetness to it. Guys around her have noticed her but so far no one has approached her. She’s glancing around like she’s looking for someone and doesn’t look entirely comfortable being alone.
“She’s really pretty, but I don’t think she’s twenty-five.”
His lip curls. “I can’t date anyone more than ten years younger than me. It’s too weird. They don’t get any of my jokes or pop culture references.”
I laugh. “Well, maybe she just has a young face.”
She steps away from the bar like a woman who has just found her friends in the crowd.
“Maybe we’ll be able to tell by her friends,” I suggest.
“Knowing my luck, she’s here to meet her boyfriend.”
We keep staring at her like we’re two detectives cracking a case. She struts across the bar with a confidence that reminds me of Brogan.
No sooner have I had the thought than she steps in front of my boyfriend coming back from the bathroom. Brogan pauses and starts to go around her. I love that he’s so determined not to let women touch him. God, I love him.
He tries to dodge her, but she must say something because he looks up at her, steps slowing.
“Ah, they always go after the rookies,” Tripp says. “Better go claim your man.”
I laugh it off, knowing Brogan can take care of himself, but also already enjoying how he’s going to tease me about it when he gets back to the table. The man really does get hit on more than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s hard to blame them though.
