Page 29 of Her Game Plan

“Why would you demote us?”

Laughing, I hold up a lime and the bottle of mezcal I keep stored up here for nights out on the patio. “Mezcalita?” There’s nothing better than a summer evening on your porch, watching the sun set.

She nods before asking, “You drink during the season?”

I rim the glasses with Tajin as I say, “I’ll have a mezcalita a couple of nights a week. A beer or two on poker nights. Nothing aggressive. I fully cut back a few years ago, convinced I needed to in order to stay in peak condition, but it turns out, I like a drink every now and again. And I don’t feel any different if I limit myself to one. Never the day of or the day before a game, though.”

Charlotte’s gaze follows my hands as I juice the lime and mix the soda water and mezcal. “It’s a fairly healthy option.”

I offer her a slight smile. “I may be more lax with my nutrition than guys like Beckett, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a thirty-four-year-old professional athlete. I can’t get too crazy.”

I carry the glasses out to the back patio and sit in my favorite chair, the one that’s pointed west toward the Rockies. “Here.” I pat the chair next to me. “This is the second-best view in the entire place.”

“Second best, huh?” she jokes as she sits. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

I take her in, the way she turns to the sun, her curls pulled into a high ponytail. That damn sweater is still hanging off one shoulder, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull it up or push it further down, but I’m beginning to suspect she wants it exactly the way it is.

“I’ll see if I can get a throne built for you, Princess.” I pull my gaze away from her skin and back to the sun as it dips ever nearer to the tops of the mountains. “Would never want you to feel slighted.”

She takes a dainty sip of her drink. “It’d better be made out of the swords of my conquered foes.”

I laugh, trying not to be fascinated by the way her mind works. “Is there any other way to make a throne?”

“Not one.” Charlotte pauses for a moment before asking, “So, sorry for throwing that Jaxon Steele concert thing out there with Pitt earlier. I realize I’ve been clear about who on my end can know what, but we never talked about who in your life might care that you have a girlfriend. Plus, there is sure to be press about us once we’re seen together. We should probably get our story straight.”

I stare as the setting sun catches on a strand of her hair, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my stomach that likely has less to do with the alcohol I’m drinking and more with the realization that I don’t have many people who will care.

“Mostly just Pitty. And Nan.”

Charlotte nods. “Your grandma, right?”

“Yeah. She’s the only family who will ask questions.” The only family who will care at all that I’m seeing someone.

“And are we going to tell her the truth?”

I shake my head. No way. Nan wants me to find someone to settle down with almost as much as she wants me to stop giving in to every request that’s made of me. There’s no way I’m telling her I’m fake dating a woman who pretended not to know my name for several years.

“Okay, great. And what about your parents? I did some light internet stalking, so I know you don’t have any siblings to add to the confusion.”

“It can be a secret from them, too.” Not that it matters: we won’t see them. Because my parents and I only see each other when they want money. And even then, they usually only call me, asking to wire what they need.

“Okay. That makes things easier. Can you tell me a little bit about them, so I’m ready for whenever the press decides it needs all the details of our relationship?”

I take a long drink from my glass, wondering why the mention of my parents makes everything slightly bitter. “Not much to know. I’m sure it won’t come up.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows draw together slightly, her confusion clear. “Okay.” She drags out the word. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” There is no way I’ll be discussing my childhood and my fucked-up relationship with my parents with my fake girlfriend. Hell, that’s not even a real-girlfriend conversation. Maybe if I ever settle down and get married someday, I’ll tell my wife. At least by that point, she will be less likely to bolt once she knows how much my parents resented me as a child.

“Great.” Charlotte’s hazel eyes search my face. “Well, should we invite Nan over or something? So I can meet her before we go full public with us.” She makes a little rainbow with her hands as she says the last words.

While I’m usually entertained by her brand of humor, I can’t seem to find it right now. No, she can’t meet Nan. First, Nan will not be impressed that I’m dating the team owner’s daughter. She’s far too risk averse for that. Then, if she does get past that, she’ll like Charlotte, just like everyone else does. And that is the bigger risk. I can’t have my grandma get attached to someone I’m fake dating. Even if she doesn’t realize it’s fake, it will crush her when we eventually break up. No, it’s safer to keep Nan and Charlotte from meeting.

“Don’t worry about meeting Nan.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

“No need,” I repeat.