Page 41 of Play For Me

Now I can feel his gaze on the side of my face and I shift in my seat, bracing myself. “Something’s up with you,” he says and I almost laugh. I guess this is what I get for having the same friend for the past fifteen years. He knows me too damn well.

“We’re picking someone up.” I’m careful not to look at him.

“Picking someone up for what?”

“To come with us. To the ranch.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his jaw drop. “You’re bringing someone to the ranch? Like, your grandfather’s ranch?”

Yeah, I definitely should have told him. He’s going to freak the fuck out.

“It’s Cecelia Ransome, okay? And it’s not a big deal.”

There’s a long beat of silence. And then Jay yells, “holy shit!” so loud it hurts my ears.

“Jay,” I grumble, rubbing the side of my face. “Come on, man. Enclosed space.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, lowering his voice. “But oh-em-gee, Sol! You invited her to Red’s place?’

“You sound way too fucking gleeful about this,” I mutter, and the idiot actually bounces in his seat. “It’s not a big deal. And it’s not anything personal. This is about her rehab.”

“What the hell does meeting your grandpa have to do with her rehab?”

“It’s not about meeting him,” I argue, even though there’s something about the thought of Cecelia meeting Red that makes my stomach feel weird, and not in a bad way. “It’s about the horses.”

“Ahh,” he says, understanding hitting him. “You think she’s got a mental block?”

“Definitely not your business.”

“Oh, come on. CeCe is my friend, she won’t care.”

“She’s basically a patient, Jay. I’m not telling you about her treatment. I just think she’d benefit from some time at the ranch.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. The dude likes gossip way too much. Then he brightens. “Just because this is for her treatment doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the company, right?”

“This company isn’t my biggest fan,” I remind him. And I don’t mention that the night we played soccer together felt like maybe that wasn’t as true anymore.

“You can win her over,” he says breezily, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for a socially awkward, painfully quiet idiot with anxiety issues to win over a girl like Cecelia Ransome.

“Wait a second.” He straightens in his seat. “Why am I here?”

“Because I love you so much,” I say drily, and he snorts.

“Seriously. Why?”

“Because she knows you,” I tell him. “You guys are friends. I figured she’d be more comfortable with you here, rather than stuck with a virtual stranger for hours.”

“You wanted a buffer,” he says, sounding smug. “You were afraid you’d be so overcome by your lust for this woman that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from making a move.”

“Yeah,” I say, voice flat. “That sounds exactly like me.”

“It’s probably a good idea,” he goes on, ignoring me like always. “To have a buffer, I mean. This is a pretty romantic move, man. Taking her to your favorite place on earth. Your refuge. To meet the most important person in your life. That’s like, tenth date behavior.”

“Which you would know how?” I shoot back. “When in your life have you ever convinced a girl to see you ten different times?”

He waves his hands, grinning. “I’m just saying. Girls fall all over you when you’re just standing silently at a party, brooding and grumpy. Taking her to the ranch? That’s the big guns.”

“I’m taking her somewhere she’ll have to be careful to avoid stepping in horse shit,” I argue. “I wouldn’t call that romantic.”