Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” I say softly as Timmy darts around the foyer, grabbing crayons and a program for the service. He keeps looking over at Jack and grinning.

Laura has reached us and stands next to Jack. “You did not have to come to church with us. Breakfast was plenty.” She gazes up at him and smiles, and dang, I forgot how pretty she is with her bobbed golden-brown hair and peaches-and-cream complexion. She’s a few years older than me but was one of those popular pretty girls in high school.

My hackles rise until I stomp them right back down.

I have no right to be jealous of Laura.

Timmy tugs at her hand. “Come on. I don’t want to miss when they introduce the preacher. I heard he’s tall. I want to be tall.” He grins at Jack. “Are you staying?”

Jack looks at me, his face unsure. “Ah, I’m not sure.” He glances down at his jeans. “I’m not really dressed for church.”

Then why did he walk in here?

Timmy glances from me to Jack. “Do you know each other?”

“Yes,” Jack says.

“No,” I say at the same time.

Timmy frowns. “Adults are weird.”

“We are,” Jack agrees, then turns his attention to Laura, who has her hand on his shoulder.

She gives Jack a hug, and I . . . I . . . frown.

She smiles at us and opens the door to the sanctuary. “Seriously, Jack. Don’t feel like you have to stay. We’ll see you later.”

Later?

They wave goodbye and disappear through the door, and Jack turns back to me. There’s a long silence in the foyer as we eye each other.

Why did he walk in the church?

Is he interested in Laura? She’s not one of his jersey chasers, but she’s absolutely pretty. And they’ve obviously spent some time together.

The foyer is empty, and he’s just watching me, hands in his pockets, and I can’t seem to find my words.

He gives me a grin, looking much more relaxed than last night. “You should have seen your face when you saw me. Priceless. I should have taken a pic. I mean, your mouth was open. Flies could have gotten in.” He pauses. “Are you mad I’m here?”

I give myself a mental shake. Am I? I don’t know. “It’s church. Everyone is welcome.”

He smirks, a rather boyish expression on his face. “It feels as if we can’t stop running into each other. Is that fate?”

“It’s something.”

“Hmm. I have your panties, Elena.” He pulls a piece of the fabric out from his front pocket, just a few inches, but the sequins are right there.

My mouth gapes as I dart my eyes around the foyer. Still empty.

“Because you knew I’d be here?” How is that possible?

“No, I didn’t know you’d be here, but I hoped to see you today.”

Oh.

His finger rubs at the fabric, never taking his gaze off me. “Do you want them?”

I lick my lips, my finger twitching with the urge to snatch them away from him.

“Come get them.”

I shiver at the authority in his tone, at the tug I feel when he talks, that husky, dark voice . . .

I curl my hands into little fists.

How dare he bring those panties to church? With Mama right here.

I’m really going to kill the football player this time.

Chapter 14

JACK

“Where are you going?” I call after her as she pivots and sashays down a hallway and to the left, straight for a room with a closed door. I tag along, feeling unsure and nervous as a kid about to ask a girl out on a date for the first time.

Without answering, she opens the door and indicates for me to follow. I try to get a read on her face as I stalk past her. Her little hands are clenched, and there’s a vulnerable bent to her shoulders that I don’t like, and I hope I’m not the reason for it. I don’t want to be. I want to be . . . shit, I don’t know, except that I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. Does she have any idea how much trust it even took for me to have a conversation with her last night outside the club?

The room is slightly darkened, the only light coming in from a small window that overlooks the manicured back lawn of the church.

There’s a huge window that overlooks the sanctuary, and I check it out. I find the women she came in with on the back row—one blonde, the other with auburn hair like Elena’s.

The window is one way, judging by the glass, much like the VIP room. A speaker is in the top corner of the room, and I hear the soft drone of the choir as they sing.

“They can’t see us?” I ask. “Church has its own VIP room. Cool.” I sound like an idiot.