Page 22 of Her Game Plan

I reach out, stroking his hair. “It’s okay, baby brother. I’ll figure this out.”

“I’m older than you.” His response is muffled by the angle of his head.

“Is Kim worried?” I ask when he finally sits up.

He tilts his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s obviously terrible timing with the pregnancy, but we’ll make it work. Owning the Stallions has been my dream since I was a kid, but if I’m only a guy who’s part of the leadership team, well, that would be worse financially, but I’d be okay. Marlee might have to go to public school. Or maybe I’ll pick my favorite between the kids, and that one will get to go to college.”

“I wish we could opt out of Dad’s game.” I twirl my earring. “What if I tell Dad you win, and then you give the entertainment side of the company to me in a few years?”

Chris shakes his head. “You know Dad won’t ever go for that. He wants to keep it together for future generations. If he catches wind that we might have something planned, he’ll give the whole thing to Ronnie just to spite us.”

“Our cousin Ronnie? The nineteen-year-old who got a tattoo of a cartoon pig on his ass?” I ask.

Chris nods solemnly. “It’s that, or he’ll figure out how to live forever so he doesn’t have to pass it on. You know the only reason he’s doing this now is because Mom basically threatened to leave him at home and travel the world for a year if he didn’t.”

I sigh. Fuck, this sucks. “So we need a better plan?”

“We need a plan at least.” He pauses, a guilty expression crossing his face. “And a few million dollars in corporate sponsorships.”

I gape at my brother. “What?”

“There may have been a disagreement with the Stallions’ main sponsor last week. They refused to sign the deal for the next season.”

“Like, the one starting in a month?!”

I swear everyone in the coffee shop is staring at me, and I can’t seem to make myself care. I’m enough of a regular here that if they wanted to sell photos of me to a tabloid, they would’ve already done it.

Chris shakes his head slowly. “Next season. Which means it’ll be on you to get a new one lined up.”

“Fuck, Chris,” I mutter.

“But it’ll be okay. You and Callan can get out there and wine-and-dine potential sponsors. It’ll be perfect. No one will be able to say no to the two of you together.”

I have never wanted to punch my brother in the face more than I do right now. The plan I had for fake dating Callan was easy. We were going to move in together, but never really see each other. Talk to each other occasionally at practice. Keep it professional, but people will know there’s something there. We’d go to my family’s dinner once a month. Maybe make a public appearance if it was a major fundraiser we were both already attending. We were not going to spend our time at fancy dinners with potential corporate sponsors!

“I hope Kim has an excellent life insurance policy on you, because I’m going to murder you,” I growl.

His expression is one of guilt. “I’ll help you find someone.”

“You know you can’t. Dad will know.”

Chris’ eyes widen, and he slaps a hand on his forehead. “Speaking of things Dad will know: he’s been asking around about you and Callan, and not getting a lot of answers. If you’ve got a plan for making that public knowledge, I would do it. Like yesterday.”

Chapter 10

Callan

I lift my hand to knock, trying to convince myself this is a good idea. I mean, it seemed like a good idea three hours ago when, instead of asking Beckett for Charlotte’s number, I asked him for her address. It felt like we needed to talk about her moving in with me in person, but now I feel a bit like her stalker. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to knock.

“Charlotte,” I call after a moment’s pause.

The door opens to reveal Charlotte in a pair of black joggers with a bright blue tank top that’s practically painted on. I’m hit with an inappropriate urge to lick the inch of skin exposed between the two pieces of clothing.

“Hey, boyfriend!” Charlotte’s voice is too high, her eyes slightly manic as she wraps her arms around me in a hug that sends waves of awareness through my body.

“Um, hi, girlfriend.” Is that a normal thing people do? Calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend?

She steps out of the doorway, and I realize two things at once: Charlotte’s not alone, and something is burning.