The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 3)

Reset, and Nelson is down on his knees.

Just like he had me last night.

I tune out Wendy, the announcer calling out the points earned. Watch, riveted, as both men take to their knees, Rhett positioning himself behind Eli, cupping his elbow, arm sliding around his waist. I know it shouldn’t remind me of sex, but it does, and my wanton girly parts come to life.

God, he is so damn hot.

The muscles flexing in his arms. Thighs.

Ass.

All of it so, so hot.

Maybe we should play wrestling tonight? Would he be into role playing?

I squirm in my seat, leg bouncing impatiently, hormones in overdrive. “We’re not allowed to go down to see them afterward, right?”

“No sweetie, not until the event is over.” Wendy pats my hand. “And they usually head straight to the locker rooms.” She gives me a sidelong glance. “What are you kids doin’ tonight?”

“Are you not staying?”

“No, it’s a long drive and the boys have school Monday.” Her eyes are glued on her son. “We’re going to stop at a hotel tonight so we’re not so tired getting home tomorrow. My husband has some work calls to make on Sundays so he wants the whole day.” Her smile is secretive. “That gives you free time. Alone.”

I knew I liked his mother for a reason.

“We haven’t talked about plans for tonight. Maybe he’ll want to go out with his friends? But, um…I didn’t know it was his birthday before yesterday, so I just went and bought him a cake today. I thought I’d surprise him if he’s not too tired to hang out.”

Her brows go up. She takes her eyes off the mat and turns her entire body toward me, the crooked smile on her mouth looking so much like Rhett’s.

“Birthday cake?”

“What? Can he not eat cake?” Ugh, I am such a thoughtless idiot. Duh, the calories! “Crap, I’m sorry—I didn’t think about him weighing in.”

Although, I can think of a few other things to do with the frosting instead of eating it.

“No, honey, he can have cake. I’m sure he’ll love it.” She pats my thigh the way only a mother can, so knowingly. “He’s going to love it.”

Rhett

I’m so fucking tired.

Drained.

Ass dragging, I meet my family in the tunnel by the locker room, Laurel’s bright red hair the first thing I see when I lug my duffle of dirty clothes into the hall.

Tight black Iowa t-shirt. Skinny jeans. Black boots. Sexy as hell, and here for me.

I want to fist pump, slap myself on the goddamn back for my good fortune. I peel my eyes off her just long enough to greet my parents.

My mom steps forward, arms spread wide. “Congratulations honey. Great match.”

“Thanks,” I mumble into her shoulder as she crushes me to her body. My mom is tiny compared to me, small in stature but not in attitude—not with three sons.

My dad might wear the pants, but Mom controls the zipper.

She stands on her tiptoes, whispering into my ear. “Dad and I are taking the boys. We’re going to head out of town.”

It’s only Saturday; it makes no sense to have driven all this way only to turn back around the next afternoon—none.

“Why?”

She’s still whispering in my ear. “I didn’t realize… We want to give you your space. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with your parents.” Her arms go around my waist, hugging me. “Laurel couldn’t take her eyes off you tonight—she really likes you. I hope you realize that.”

Pulls back, straightening the collar of my shirt. Grabs my cheeks and kisses the bridge of my nose.

“So handsome.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom.”

“What? Can’t a mother tell her son he’s handsome?”

Jesus. “Stop.”

“Quit arguing and go say goodbye to your brothers. Hug Dad,” she instructs, nudging me toward my siblings, smacking my rear.

I ruffle the hair on top of Beau’s head. He whacks my hand away.

Austin lets me give him knuckles.

My dad grips me by the shoulders, pulling me in. Slaps my back twice. “Have to get home for my Sunday phone calls. Plus, your mother seems to think you want time alone with your new girlfriend.”

My face was red from adrenaline; now it heats from total fucking embarrassment.

“Wear a condom. Don’t be a jackass.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “I spoke to your coach and he assures me you boys are on the right track after your stay in the woods or whatever the hell that was, but I want you to call us if anything happens.” He shoots a glance at Laurel, who stands laughing with my brothers. “I’m going to assume with that red hair, she’s a little spitfire. Maybe she’ll be good for you.”

She will be.

She is.

“But use your damn head—this one.” He taps my skull. “Don’t get her pregnant.”

Jesus Christ, Dad.

“All right. We’re going to head out. Proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I mean, what else is there to say?

“Walk us out.” Another smack on the back, hand clamping down on my shoulder, guiding me back to my mother. Brothers. Laurel.

She’s blushing when I sidle up, shooting shy glances at my parents, the concrete floor below our feet, back at my parents. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

The tension surrounding us is palpable; the last time we stood in this hallway at the end of a meet, after a match I’d just won, I pressed her against the wall and stuck my tongue halfway down her throat.

Instead, my hands hang at my side, right arm shouldering the weight of my duffle.

Side by side, we follow my parents down that long corridor, walking so closely together our fingers brush. Laurel wiggles her index finger, brushing it over the flat of my hand.

My mom catches me biting back a stupid grin when she glances over her shoulder, raising her brows, watching us both. Pushes my brothers along in front of her because they insist on dawdling.

We reach the heavy steel doors, shoving through to the stadium parking lot, trailing the group to my mom’s black suburban—the same SUV that drove me from practice to matches to meets and home again for years, until I could drive.

We stand next to it, my brothers not giving a shit about saying goodbye and immediately hopping into the back seat.

“Bye sweetie.” Mom’s lower lip has a slight quiver. “So grown up.”

I want to groan out loud, but pull her in for a hug instead. “Bye Mom. Love you.”

She sniffles into my neck. “You look so happy.”

“Then why are you cryin’?”

“Because my baby is falling in love.”

I glance around to see who’s watching, patting her head. “Jeez, Mom.”

“A mother knows these things.”

“Mom—”

She scowls, tearing up. Sniffles. “Let me say what I have to say.”

“Here?” Now? Jesus.

Laurel and my dad look on, awkwardly standing next to the car, not knowing what to do with themselves while we stand having a sidebar. Dad shoots a taut smile.

“You work too hard. I want you to have some fun.”

“I am.”

“But you don’t, not really. You hole up in your room and keep to yourself, and I know you’ve had a tough time.” Her hands fiddle with the buttons on my shirt. “But now you have Laurel, and I think…she has your back. She’s a good friend.”

Friend.

Mom squints at me. “Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean.”

I have no idea what look she’s talking about, so I jerk my head with an acquiescent nod to make it stop. “Fine.” Okay. Whatever.

“Okay then, I guess we’re going.” Kisses my cheek. “Home for Thanksgiving. We’ll pay for the gas.”

I rock on the balls of my feet. “Okay.”

Her eyes dart to Laurel. “You can bring a guest home this year if you’d like.”

“Mom.”

Her hands go up. “What?! I’m just sayin’.”

“We’ll see.” I smile down at her. “Love you guys. Thanks for comin’.”