Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

She sighs. “True. I don’t want to miss one minute. I’m curious to see if your mama will tell the boys what to do or if Jack will try to take over. He likes to be in charge; I can tell.”

We gaze back at the group, and they’ve moved to Jack’s black Escalade, Mama right behind them.

“Jack’s got a power washer,” Giselle murmurs as he pulls it from the back of the vehicle.

“And a hedge trimmer that looks brand new from the Home Depot,” Aunt Clara adds with a sigh. “Elena, do you think he went and bought it just for us?”

“I have a perfectly good one,” I mutter. “It’s in the shed.”

“Who’s the blond dude? He’s not a football player?” Topher says from the other side of me. I guess the curiosity got to him, and he decided to join us.

“Quinn. Jack’s foster brother.”

“Nice,” he says, walking up to the men and introducing himself to Aiden and Quinn.

Mama looks back at us. “Elena? Aren’t you going to say hello to your company?”

Where are your manners? is written on her face. Right, right.

Giselle hooks her arm in mine, Aunt Clara on the other side, and the three of us approach the group. Daisy Lady Gang.

Jack’s gaze is on me, lips twitching. “Elena. Good to see you.”

Good to see me? Please! He had me all kinds of ways last night! My body remembers clearly.

“Nice of you to come help,” I say weakly.

“Thought you’d need some extra hands, and these guys don’t have anything better to do.”

“We could be watching game tape,” Aiden mutters, and Jack smacks him on the arm.

“Patience is a virtue, Alabama. Pick up that trimmer, and start on the flower beds. Might bulk you up,” he tells Aiden. “You try to keep up with me in the gym, but you’re puny. Need help carrying that box?”

“No.” Aiden picks up the trimmer and stalks off, calling over his shoulder, “You owe me—and not just for this.”

“What else should we do, Jack?” Devon asks, and Jack sweeps his eyes over the house, looking at ease as he tells everyone what to do.

“Wash off the sidewalk and front porch.” He points at the others. “Quinn, you and Topher work on the leaves in the yard. I’m sure Elena has rakes. Maybe wash the outside windows.”

“Rakes are in the shed. Topher knows where,” I say. Might as well join in.

“Check the backyard too. Collect the leaves in trash bags,” Jack adds.

As the guys amble off, I ease in closer, brushing at my hair. Again. It’s no use. “Um, thanks for coming. You didn’t have to do all this.”

His lips tilt up. “Hmm.”

We just stand there. I swallow. I’m not looking at Mama, but I feel her staring at us.

She nudges me. “Elena, get some drinks out here. There’s ice tea or water or Sun Drops from the Cut ’N’ Curl. I closed it today, but here’s my key.” She presses it in my hand. “Take Jack with you to carry them.”

“Sure.” He nods, eyes on me. I don’t think he’s stopped looking at me. “Never had a Sun Drop,” he murmurs.

“Citrusy soda. Addictive. Bottled in Middle Tennessee,” I say.

Mama squints at him. “That’s because you’re a Yankee. In the South, we drink them all the time. You heard what I said about lunch tomorrow. You coming?”

Jack pauses, his face flushing. “I appreciate the invitation, but . . .” He looks at me, and I shrug.

All your fault, buddy.

“I, um, already have plans.”

I frown. Really? It’s the off-season.

But I know what it is.

He wants a little, but not a lot.

I get it, and I’m fine.

Totally fine.

“Next time, then.” She shoos us away. “Go on; stop gawking at each other. I’ll finish the staircase. Y’all can work on the screened-in porch when you get back.”

It’s like I’m a teenager all over again, and she’s ordering me around. Jeez, this is my house. Fine.

I take off for the beauty shop across the street, and Jack follows me, keeping pace.

Ugh! Why didn’t I at least put on lipstick this morning?

“Are you mad at me?” he asks quietly after a few steps of silence.

I dart a look at him, then back at the road in front of us. “For coming?”

He nods.

“No. I just figured I’d see you Monday at rehearsal.”

He frowns at that. “I didn’t see Preston.”

I scoff. “Is that why you came? To stake your claim?”

“Partly. Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“I’m right off Main. Everyone knows my house.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Thank you. There’s still a lot I want to do: modernize the kitchen, redo the hardwood, add a garage—that’s next for sure.”

“Nice.”

Our conversation is so . . . mundane! What is wrong with me?

Plus, I’m irked he turned down Mama for lunch.

Let that go, Elena.

I head to the door of the shop, unlocking it and heading inside. After clicking the lights on, I walk over to the white fridge and grab one of the cardboard boxes on the top to put the drinks in.