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Keith snorted. “Why would he have it on him?”
Because Hollywood told me guys nervously carried rings around for weeks before proposing.
Malcolm’s long lashes swept down. “Er—here.” He handed me a box from his pocket.
The boys roared with surprise and happiness. Dylan grabbed Malcolm’s shoulders and shook him. This appeared to be some form of congratulations. I opened the discreet silver box.
A huge diamond glared up at me from the center of the ring, smaller ones sparkling on either side of it. The rocks were giant, blinding, and if I’d seen them in passing on some other girl’s hand, I would have considered it gaudy. But seeing Malcolm’s shy smile, and knowing this ring would be presented to a girl, and that she would say yes (one assumed) and that they were in love... “It’s beautiful.” I handed it back to Malcolm. “Do you know when you’re proposing?”
He shook his head, looking pleased at my cooing and embarrassed by his teammates. “Haven’t really planned that out yet.”
“How did you two meet?”
He started to launch into the story, but his teammates’ snickers and friendly elbowing changed his mind. “We haven’t gone over Ryan’s standards yet.”
That wiped the grin off Ryan’s face and neatly transferred everyone’s attention to the quarterback. They laughed as Ryan kept his expression aloof and took a long sip of wine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Keith smiled, and not very kindly. “You should see the way girls cluster around Ryan. Mr. Angelface. The rest of us have to wait for him to pick one before they’ll give us the time of day.”
I arched a brow at Ryan.
“Ryan will sleep with anything with a—ahem,” Abe coughed, catching himself. “Especially after a game.”
Mike laughed. “But he’ll only date society girls. Gossip column girls.”
“And then he’ll dump them a couple months in. Like clockwork,” Dylan added.
Mike clicked his tongue sadly. “Commitment problems.”
“Shut up.” Ryan’s face turned stony.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “We have a lady present.”
Every head turned my way. I could see the word “lady” turning over in their minds. I smirked back at them. I had a brother. I knew they’d already been censoring themselves.
Mike nodded after a moment. “True. She’s wearing pearl earrings. Definitely a lady.”
“Thanks.”
“Just think she should know what she’s getting into,” Keith muttered into his food, and Ryan whacked him upside his head.
I pretended I hadn’t heard. “So,” I said, and then floundered as they stared at me. “How about your game on Sunday?”
Then I almost burst into convulsive giggles, since I’d never used a how ’bout them Red Sox? gambit before. My conversation changers were usually how goes that musical? or read any good books lately?
Also, I wasn’t in New England anymore. I should probably avoid mentioning the Red Sox or the Patriots altogether.
The guys were still silent, looking down at their food and avoiding my gaze, which hadn’t been my intention at all. I frowned and tilted my head at Ryan.
He put down his sandwich and answered flatly. “Four of our starting offensive-players were injured last week.”
“We lost Monday’s game.” Mike picked at his napkin. “Should’ve been a sure thing.”
“Basically, we’re fucked,” Keith said, and then looked at me. “Sorry.”
“No, we’re not,” Ryan said, and everyone looked at him. He jerked his head at Malcolm. “We have the best wide-out in the division. Rookie’s a genius. Dylan can outrun anyone.”
Keith sat back in his chair. “Couch is gonna treat me like Danvers.”
