Page 45 of Her Game Plan

Finley grimaces. “This feels like too much information.”

I take another drink, finding my glass empty yet again. “We are not having sex.”

“But…” Sage prompts.

“But he’s fucking beautiful, okay? Is that what you want me to say?” I demand.

All three of them break out into giggles.

“The man is a fucking walking wet dream. Every woman and half the men want to sleep with him. Have you seen his eyes? His hair? His body? And then he puts on those goddamn football pants!”

“They’re almost as good as baseball pants,” Sage agrees.

I shake my head. “They’re obviously better, Sage. Be real. Baseball pants have no padding to help with the shape.”

“Okay, but have you seen—”

“Focus,” Finley demands. “So what are the fake-dating rules?”

“Undefined,” I reply with an assertive nod. I blink hard. Way too much movement.

Sage laughs, the sound like musical notes flowing together. “I really want to know if you’re sleeping with your fake boyfriend. Though I’m not sure if I should even call him that anymore. From what you’ve said about how often you’re hanging out, it almost seems like it’s a real relationship, anyway.”

I very slowly dip my chin. “It’s supposed to seem that way. I’m not sure whether it’s supposed to feel that way, but”—I lower my voice—“it kind of does. I don’t know about the sex rules, though. I don’t think he’d risk me losing the company just to sleep with someone else. I hope not. I would be sad.” A sudden thought hits me. “What if he’s sleeping with someone else right now?!”

I turn my head between each of my friends, their expressions more amused than concerned.

“What if he was?” Addie asks. “Or more importantly, what if he’s not? Would you be interested?”

I close one eye. “I think I might be too drunk to make that decision.”

The table falls into conversation around me. When the food finally arrives, I sober up enough to realize how much of the conversation I missed while thinking about what it would be like to have Callan kiss me for real. To share a bed with him. To feel his body against mine.

And the worst part is, I desperately want to know.

***

“Hey, Princess,” a familiar voice calls as I wait for my rideshare. “I heard you might need a ride.”

I move slowly, trying not to cause my head to spin to see a black pickup with the passenger window rolled down, and Callan smiling from within.

“How?” I ask, looking between him and my friends. This is bad news. I’ve consumed far too many margaritas to be trusted with my fake boyfriend right now. And Callan’s hat is on backward. Backward. His hair peeking out from the sides as he leans over, his muscular forearm resting on the steering wheel. Fuck, I’ll never be able to control myself.

“Come on, Princess,” he says again, his gaze flicking to the cars lining up behind him.

“I will find out which one of you did this,” I threaten my friends as they watch our exchange with unbridled glee.

“And will we be getting a thank-you card, or…?” Sage pointedly ignores the rideshare that pulled up to mock me.

“I ordered a car.”

Finley shakes her head. “I cancelled it for you when I was pretending to use your phone to call Beckett.”

Callan puts his vehicle in park, right there in the middle of the road, cars lined up behind him, and climbs out. “Everything okay?” His warm hand brushes against the back of my arm, and I can’t suppress the shiver that flows along my flesh.

“Yup!” I squeak. “So good. Thanks for coming to get me. You didn’t have to. I know you’re normally asleep by now. But I’ve had too much to drink. Though the food helped a lot. I’m not drunk. I’m not sober, either. Definitely couldn’t drive. But I didn’t drive down here either. I certainly could’ve gotten a rideshare home.”

He lifts one shoulder. “It’s really not a big deal. Finley asked, and I wasn’t doing anything else.”