The Heartbreaker

“I think it’s fair to say she’s mine,” Jagger says, holding my hand.

Eric laughs. “I think it’s fair to say no one speaks for Jo.”

“Facts, so let me rephrase that.” Jagger’s hand tightens around mine. “I think it’s fair to say I’m hers completely and I have no plans on letting her go.”

“I respect that.” Eric nods, taking a step back. “And I think you should meet my boyfriend. He’s been dying to meet you since I described you.”

“You’re joking.” Jagger’s mouth drops. He glances at me, then at the back of Eric’s head, then at me again.

“You know what they say about people who assume things.” I smile.

When we get back to the table, I see that Maverick has joined us and is talking to Paul and Misty. Misty looks over to me, questioning. I shrug, smiling. She still glares at Jagger though. My sister isn’t going to let him off the hook easily. Honestly, I’m not sure that I am either, but I am willing to try, and I truly believe him when he says he loves me, and that he’s mine. Only time will tell though.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jo

2 weeks later

“Babe, don’t you think it’s ridiculous that you keep going back to your room for things?”

I unravel the towel I wrapped around my wet hair and look at him. “Why is it ridiculous? It’s not like I’m sleeping in my bed anymore. My clothes are in there and these closets are tiny.”

“Did you rip up my jersey?” He looks horrified as he looks down at what I’m wearing.

“I didn’t rip it up, I . . . distressed it a bit.”

“Distressed it a bit,” he repeats. “Coach is going to fucking kill me.”

“This isn’t a game jersey.” I look down with a frown. “Oh my God, is it a game jersey?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I have other game jerseys. Luckily we only have two more weeks before the season is over.”

“And then the pros will be waiting,” I say.

“We’ll see.”

It’s something we’ve discussed a lot. The question isn’t whether or not he’ll get an offer. The question is whether or not he’ll take it. He’s been thinking about the toll it would take on his body and is trying to weigh out his options. Maybe he’ll go pro for a year or two and retire early. Maybe he’ll pass up on the offer. I personally think he’ll take a contract, but I definitely don’t see him staying in the game too long. Not with the kind of awareness he has about his body and what it can withstand. I finish tying up the bottom of the jersey. It hits me at my thighs and it’s too loose, so I make sure to tighten the knot by my abdomen.

“Where exactly are you going to be sitting?” Jagger’s eyes heat as he looks at me.

“I think first row, right behind the bench.”

“So when I run back to the sideline, I’ll be able to see you.” He walks over slowly, flexing his large hand against my waist and tucking his thumb underneath the front of the jersey. “Some would say you’re a distraction.”

“Hm.” I crane my neck and he rewards me with a kiss.

“Have you told your mom about our living arrangement?” He pulls away, but keeps rubbing his thumb against my stomach.

“No.” I shiver.

“My parents are going to be at the game.”

“So are mine,” I say, biting my lip as his thumb moves dangerously close to the waistband of the shorts I’m wearing.

“I want to tell them about us.”

“Hm.”

“I’m serious.” He takes his hand away altogether and I want to argue, but the seriousness in his eyes keeps my lust at bay.

“Let’s tell them.”

“Everything,” he says, then adds, “Well, maybe not everything, but definitely our living arrangement and definitely about our relationship.”

“Okay.” I nod. “We’ll tell them after the game. They keep talking about going to lunch anyway, as if they know we’re going to win this game for sure.”

“We are.”

I laugh. “So sure of yourself.”

“I have to be, baby.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Besides, we’re playing Duke. No way I’m letting Lawrence score.”

“You don’t even play defense.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“No, but all my boys are gunning for him.” He winks, stepping away to keep getting ready.

“Be nice, Jagger.”

“Nice?” He blinks. “I’ve never claimed to be nice.”

“You know what I mean.” I shoot him a look. “Don’t hurt him.”

“It’s football, baby, not bowling.” He grabs his bag and walks over to me, bringing an arm around me to grab my ass as he pulls me into a long, seductive kiss. When he pulls away, I’m left wanting more. He knows it too. He smirks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say as he walks away.

“What?” He freezes and turns around, dropping a hand and bringing the bag to the floor with a thump.