Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

I apologize profusely in a deepened, dripping southern accent and step around her, remove checkout girl’s hand from Jack’s arm, and give them all a sweeping look. I let out an amused laugh, bordering on annoyance, one Mama uses when someone has made her mad, but she still wants to be polite. “Sorry, ladies, but could you please let go of my boyfriend?” I bat my lashes. “He’s been very nice signing autographs and taking photos, and I haven’t seen him all day. I’m sure you ladies understand.” I temper the words with a fake but seemingly genuine smile. “Plus, he’s obviously tired from all that exercise.” I wave my hands at his running gear. “He needs some air.”

They gape and murmur.

“Of course. We didn’t know he was here with someone,” one of them mumbles, checking me out as she moves away from him. I smile and attach myself to him like glue, pressing my blazer against his arm. Not moving one inch. Feeling not one ounce of jealousy. Just protective.

“Thank you for the autograph,” the tall one says, pressing a card in his hand as she limps away.

I roll my eyes. Good grief. Can’t the man even walk in a bakery without being slipped phone numbers?

Checkout girl pouts as I tug him away.

He grins at me and follows me to the booth. “Boyfriend?” he murmurs. “Nice.”

If he only knew it’s the second time today I’ve claimed him . . .

I throw a look over my shoulder and hiss, “I saved you. You hated that, and don’t split hairs here. Plus, we need to hurry. Checkout girl might be close to calling the cops on me for loitering, especially now that she knows you’re here for me. She might do it just to get me out of the way.”

He grins and spreads his hands. “And here I am, ready to rescue you. Forgot your wallet, huh?”

“Don’t look so happy about it.” I shove the check at him, and he looks down at it, bemusement still on his face. “A slice of pie, coffee, and whole pie? What kind is it?”

I nudge my head at the pink box on the table. “Key lime.”

“I like key lime.”

“So does Topher.”

He laughs and tugs his wallet out of one of the zippers on his pants. After pulling out a wad of bills, he tosses them on the table and looks over at me. “You headed home?”

“Thank you. I’ll pay you back at practice on Monday.”

“Hmm.”

I glance over his shoulder and see that the women have left, all except for checkout girl, who’s eyeing us. She also has her phone out. Great.

“Why are you downtown?”

“Meeting with a lingerie company.” I pick up my garment bag and purse as he takes the boxed pie.

“Yeah? How did it go?”

I pause, feeling confused, not at the question per se, but just at the fact that being here with him is easier than I thought, seeing him outside play practice, with none of the tension that’s been between us since the blow job.

Don’t think about that right now.

“You okay?” He frowns, easing in closer. “You have a weird look on your face.”

“Fine. It was fine. They want an intern. I’ll have to pass.”

“I see. Sticking with the library?”

I nod, trying to keep the disappointment off my face.

He tosses an arm around my shoulders, tugging me close as we walk past the counter to the door. I look up at him, arching my brow.

He shrugs. “What? Just playing it up till we get out of here. Maybe we should kiss since that one girl is still watching?”

“No. I think I handled it.”

He grins. “Your loss.”

We reach the door right as the light rain outside turns to a full-on downpour.

He sighs. “I guess you don’t have an umbrella?”

“Nope.”

“Great. You came to Nashville knowing it was going to rain all day and didn’t bring a coat or an umbrella.”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain all day, weatherman!”

He laughs and takes off his knit hat, his hair falling like silk around his chiseled cheekbones.

He pauses. “And now you’re frowning.”

I huff. “Why do you always look so pretty!”

“Woman, I am a grown-ass man. I am not pretty.”

“You are, and it’s so annoying.”

He rumbles out a laugh and sticks the hat on my head, tucking the loose strands into the knit so they’re covered. “There. At least your uptight hair won’t get wet.”

“It’s not uptight. It’s chic.”

“I like it down.”

“Fine.” I whip the hat off and pull at my hair, tugging at the pins until my tresses are falling around my shoulders. I tug the hat back on. “Happy?”

“Not yet.” He lifts up the neck of his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it over his neck. I flare my eyes. “Jack! You can’t go shirtless. Women will maul you.”

He laughs, and I see he has on another one underneath, short sleeved. “I came prepared for a cold run. You did not.” He reaches over and slides the shirt over my head. “This is supposed to stay dry even when it gets wet.”