Page 64 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
I drum my fingers on the bar, checking out the chalkboard menu of cocktails, but cocktails aren’t my speed. “What do you recommend tonight that’s on tap, Sierra?”
She studies me with intense eyes, sizing me up like she’s reading what kind of drink I want.
Chance deals me a don’t you dare go for her look.
“I say you’re in the mood for a pale ale,” she says, issuing her official decree.
“I never disagree with the bartender.”
She heads over to the taps to fill a beer, and I turn to Chance, having a blast calling him out. “Do you actually think I’m flirting with Grant’s sister?”
Chance has the good sense to act shocked. “Why would you think I was even thinking about how you were talking to her?”
I crack up. “That was some doublespeak right there. But I would think it from the look that you just dealt me. Like you wanted to slice me to pieces in a deli meat cutter.”
“I didn’t give you a look,” he says, jerking back. “And I don’t like deli meat.”
“My point exactly.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You definitely gave me a look.”
“There were zero looks delivered from me to you.”
“You gave me a look that said, Why the hell are you flirting with my woman?”
A laugh bursts from his chest. “She’s not mine, so I’d have no problem with you flirting with her. Why would you even think I’d have a problem with you flirting with Grant’s sister?”
“Because you’re into her,” I say, emphasizing my point.
His brow knits, and he rearranges his features into a most skeptical stare. “Everyone knows you don’t bang a teammate’s sister.”
Ouch. Now we’re tangoing too close for comfort. This convo isn’t helping my efforts to put Reese out of my mind. “I didn’t say you were banging her. I said you were into her.”
“And you know where being into someone leads to. It leads to banging. You know the rules,” Chance says, counting off on his fingers. “You don’t bang a teammate’s sister. You don’t bang a coach’s sister. You don’t bang the coach’s daughter. You don’t bang a teammate’s mom. You just don’t cross those lines, so I’m definitely not doing that.”
Ouch, double ouch, triple whammy motherfucker ouch.
He’s right, but I’m not going to confess that I’m guilty on one of those charges.
And that I want to be guilty again.
My fingers itch with the desire to call Reese. My lips ache to talk to her. My mind returns to her over and over again.
Sierra returns with my drink as Grant strolls over, joining us.
“Isn’t this so typical—all the guys flocking to my sister?” he says, sounding like a lion watching over his pride.
Sierra rolls her eyes in his direction. “You think it might have something to do with the fact that I’m pouring the drinks?”
Grant flashes her his winning grin. “Well, obviously. Why else would it be?”
“Gee, thanks, Grant,” she says, then flips him the bird. “I guess I won’t mention the smoke show who came by last night and asked for your number.”
“Sounds like a regular night for you then,” he says, leaning back against the bar. “All the hotties trying to find me and whatnot.”
She sticks out her chin, giving him a taunting look. “And maybe I’m not going to give you any details on the Chris Hemsworth look-alike who wanted me to pass along his digits to my supposed hottie brother.”
“Ooh, Thor. He’s your fave, isn’t he?” Chance asks, ribbing Grant.
“If I liked straight guys, he’d be my fave.”
“So you’re going to call this dude who left his number?” I ask, admittedly a little curious as to Grant’s strategy. Does he really pick up guys at his sister’s bar?
Grant shakes his head, swings his gaze to Sierra. “Nah. But listen, I do appreciate you handling the sorting of the dudes for me.”
Sierra shoots him the kind of dirty look only a sister can dole out. “Why do I even let you have drinks here? I am not your social secretary.”
“And you may have noticed, I never ask for numbers from the dudes who pass them on to you,” Grant points out.
“Why’s that, G-Man? Just waiting for Mr. Right and the all-night Cuddle Fest you’re hoping for?” I tease.
Grant cracks up. “Yup. It’s on my Vision Board.” He sweeps out his hand. “The Great Cuddle Fest is coming soon.”
“You have a date in mind?” I ask.
“May? June? Who the hell knows? A man can dream,” Grant says, with a wink, then turns back to his sister. “But I will pay for everyone’s drinks as my way of thanking you for the hard labor of being my first line of defense.”
“Wait. You pay for drinks?” I deadpan, acting shocked.
“Pretty sure that never happens,” Chance puts in.
“And I thought you were my friends,” Grant says. “Thanks, assholes.”
Chance gives him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear you labored under that delusion,” he says, then settles onto the stool and flashes a grin at Sierra. “I will happily take over buying drinks for your brother.”
