Page 38 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
I was the teammate’s daughter when my father eked out an unremarkable career as a pinch hitter and bench warmer for eight teams over eight years. As a manager, he worked his way up through the minors before segueing briefly to the sportscaster job and then landing this, his first major league manager gig.
“I’m the player’s daughter. I’m the broadcaster’s daughter. And yes, I’m the coach’s daughter,” I state plainly. I don’t need to give him power by not saying his name, by dancing around the problem. Best to know what we’re up against—the way this would look, especially for him. “Edward Thompson is my father. We aren’t close, but still.”
Holden pinches the bridge of his nose.
Heaviness descends on us.
“Reese,” he says, his voice like doom.
But I’ve already known the hatchet was coming down on us.
“I know,” I say, setting a hand on his arm. “I know, Holden. There is no picking up where we left off.”
“I want to. You have to know I want to,” he says, his eyes tormented, his tone imploring, like he desperately wants me to know.
I desperately like knowing. “I want that too. I wanted it,” I correct. “But I get it.”
“Worst news ever,” he mutters, swaying closer to me, dusting one last kiss on my forehead.
A kiss that makes me shiver from head to toe.
Then he pulls back.
I want to say that we can be friends. But Holden and I were never friends. We were a match set to kindling. We were instant attraction. We were passion and respect, igniting all at once. We were destined for one path and one path only.
He was always supposed to be my first. He always felt like more than just a guy I wanted. He was on the boyfriend track.
A heavy sigh comes from him as he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I can’t believe this. These last few hours—learning he was the manager before the party, running into you—made me feel like I was the luckiest guy in the world. And the kiss. My God. That kiss, and us, and everything.” He sounds lost in the possibilities that were unfurling mere moments ago. “And listen, I’ve been pretty lucky the last few years. The only thing I’ve had to complain about is the media.”
I tilt my head, going all RCA dog. That piques my interest. “The media? What do you mean? You mentioned working on your rep. Is that the issue?” I ask, since he can’t simply be talking about gossip. Or the potential media fodder that dating me would be. He must be talking about something else.
“Ah. The black mark of me,” he says, faux darkly. “I’m terrible with the press. And the upshot is I don’t have any sponsorship deals. Those would go a long way to gain future security for my family and me.”
My right eyebrow raises in question. “You were so great with me though. I refuse to believe that.”
“Believe it. Definitely believe it.”
“What happened?”
He swallows roughly, then tells me about a reporter who invented facts about his family.
The story makes my gut churn and my head hurt. “That’s terrible to twist things around. On behalf of all reporters and podcasters, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Me too.”
But before we can commiserate further, a voice booms over the loudspeaker.
“Thank you so much for attending. The Legion of Honor will be closing in a few minutes. Please make your way to the exit.”
That’s the end of the night. My reunion with the guy who got away is now on ice once again.
“You came here with friends? I think I saw you with Crosby Cash and Chance Ashford,” I say, trying to shift gears.
He grins, seeming delighted that I know who they are. “Those are my buds. Met them recently, but they’re good guys.”
“And Grant Blackwood as well,” I add.
He quirks a brow. “I don’t know him well yet, but we’ve hung out a few times at the gym. How did you know that?”
“He’s only my best friend, and has been forever,” I say in a conspiratorial whisper.
Holden groans, an amused sound. “Woman, how do you have so many baseball connections?”
I shrug. “I love the game. And Grant didn’t know a thing about what happened between us until a few nights ago. But he’s been my friend since we were kids. Our grandmas are BFFs and have a weekly poker club together. It’s adorable.”
“That sounds adorable. And he’s a cool guy. We kidnapped Crosby together at his best friend’s wedding a couple of months ago.”
I laugh, loving the anecdote, loving how quickly Holden became buds with those two. “That sounds . . . fun for you, rather than Crosby.”
“We had no choice. He enlisted us in a pact to keep him in check. He was trying to avoid women, but then he went and fell in love with his best friend’s sister, Nadia Harlowe.”
