The Player Hater (Accidentally in Love 1)

I follow the directions—not because I want him bossing me around, but because I happen to like graham crackers and know I need to eat.

“Can you whip me up another mallow?” I’ve only eaten eight, and who’s counting if I eat a few more? “Please?”

Davis obliges, kneeling near the fire with my abandoned roasting stick, lighting two marshmallows on fire. We all watch them burn to a crisp, my mouth watering with anticipation at the gooey center that’s surely inside.

And why I’m getting so amped up over all this junk food is beyond me. I should be ashamed of myself for sleeping through an actual meal and pounding down sugar.

I’ll never be able to sleep tonight!

I feel Davis’s presence beside me each and every time he moves or shifts in his seat—and when our fingers touch as he gives me the melted treats, I tingle a little bit in my girly parts despite myself. There’s nothing special about this person, I don’t even know him—so why do I keep having these little reactions to him over nothing?

The rest of the guests continue chatting and laughing.

“Davis,” Lionel directs the conversation toward him. “What is it you do now that you’re not playing ball?”

Davis is handing me marshmallows, and I painstakingly and drunkenly nestle them between two graham crackers with a bit of chocolate, creating a tiny bed of deliciousness.

Yummy yum yum.

“I’m in finance now.” He licks the melted mallow from his fingers. “Most of my clients are professional athletes.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I also do a bit of volunteering. Animal shelters and a lot during the holidays, mostly for children in need.”

Animal rescue? Working with children?

Did my ovaries just explode, or is this just my drunk self reacting?

“What do you do when you volunteer at the shelter?” Lionel’s wife, Suzanne, asks with a bit of a slur. Everyone is having a great time, drinking her husband’s concoction and other libations.

“I help find foster homes for animals, and I don’t know, shovel shit out of kennels and snuggle the cats.” He shrugs good-naturedly. “Whatever I can do to lend a hand. I really want a dog but I used to be gone a lot and the partners I’ve had in the past weren’t really…animal lovers.”

Suzanne tips her head. “Not animal lovers? What does that mean?”

“You know—they cared more about themselves than other people and didn’t want pets around. The hair and,” Davis shifts uncomfortably in his seat while I listen, riveted. This is all very good information. “You know how some people want all the attention?”

Everyone nods, campfire casting shadows on everyone’s somber faces as Davis weaves his tale.

“Those are the women I’ve dated in the past and all I wanted was a cute place with a yard and a damn dog or two.”

Cute place with a yard? What does that mean?

“So you dated superficial women who cared about looks and not much else,” the other Suzanne sums up what we’re all thinking.

“In my defense,” Davis begins. “It’s real hard to know what someone’s intentions are until you’ve been with them awhile. It’s easy to fake it and pretend you’re something you’re not when you’re only seeing that person once a week or every few weeks.”

“When do the real colors begin to show?”

“When they start leaving shit at your condo and staying over more—that reveals a lot.”

“Preach!” Thad chimes in, putting his arm around Mia. “Been there, done that. It may seem like glitz and glamour in the spotlight, but it’s not easy finding genuine connections.” He kisses Mia on the temple. “So many users out there.”

“What about dating all those celebrities?” my drunk self can’t stop from asking.

Hey, I’m here to learn more about the guy, right? I wouldn’t be doing my job as Mia’s bestie if I let this opportunity slide.

“You know the saying, ‘Don’t believe everything you read?’ Well these days, it’s ‘Don’t believe everything you see online.’ Lots of those dates were arranged and I had never met the women before and never saw them again after that night. Lots of movie premiers and shit—get paid to do those.”

He’s mentioned that before.

“Really? You get paid to go to movie premiers?” I can’t help, but ask, even though Davis told me pretty much this exact same thing this morning. However, I don’t trust easily and I want to hear it from Thad’s mouth. Ease the last of my worries.

“Sure. And appearances, get paid to do those too. Night clubs and shit will shell out a lot of money to have athletes and celebs there to draw in a bigger crowd.”

“How much?” Paul can’t stop from blurting out. His partner Steve elbows him in the ribs.

Thad laughs and demurs. “Depends. Some A-listers get one, two-hundred thousand just to show up for an hour. It’s crazy, man.”

Davis nods. “It sure is.”