Playing the Player(28)

“Yep. It’s a good thing you gave me my own copy. Seeing as how yours suffered an untimely demise.”

“That’s some might fancy words you’re using, Edmunds,” I drawled.

“Lots more where those came from. Just because I’m not on the honor roll like you doesn’t mean I couldn’t be.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “You’d better not bring the binder with you on Monday. The kids will freak.”

“Binder of Doom rises from dead to torture innocent children.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You do know it has an index, right? And a table of contents?”

“So I’m thorough. There are worse things.”

“Name one.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Um…not being thorough?”

His laughter made me shiver in all the wrong places.

“Okay, I give up, BB. You’ll never cop to the binder insanity. But you should get paid overtime for all the work you put into that thing.”

And just like that, the mention of overtime reminded me of the paycheck from his mom that I’d cashed that morning, snapping me out of whatever flirty haze I’d fallen into.

The happy juice flooding my system evaporated, replaced by guilt and…something else. Panic, maybe?

“Trina? Did you pass out or something? Should I take back the compliment so you can breathe?”

I glanced at Glen, Sharon’s handyman, who’d just clomped down the stairs with his tool belt, a man on a mission. He was a retired plumber or electrician or whatever, who volunteered at the shelter. I suspected he had a thing for Sharon.

“Look, I’ve gotta go, Slade. Glen needs me.”

“Who’s Glen? Where are you, anyway?”

“Never mind. I’ll see you Monday.” I disconnected before he could ask any more questions. Or toss out any more backhanded compliments that made me feel like a modern day Benedict Arnold.



Hours later, I typed up my first weekly report on Slade’s progress, distilling the crazy week to one short paragraph.

We got off to a rocky start but I’m hopeful next week will be smoother. Slade’s interactions with the kids are entertaining and surprisingly helpful. He has some unexpected skills, which are coming in handy.

I hoped there were no hidden nanny cams in Max’s house to reveal our reality TV show drama to the moms. What happened on our watch should stay just between us.

It was disconcerting to imagine Slade’s mom reading my email. Maybe she’d read it on her phone while they ate breakfast tomorrow, with Slade sitting across the table. The mini-movie playing in my head made my stomach roil.

How long could I keep up this charade?





Chapter Thirteen


Slade


Saturday, June 8

Usually I enjoyed hanging out at the club, but not today. I was lifeguarding, subbing for Lindsay, who’d sprained her ankle and called me in a panic.

It should’ve been a perfect day: lots of hot chicks to check out, friends to joke around with, and free food from the snack bar because the girls working there never charged me. But I was distracted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Trina. BB. Whatever name I called her, it didn’t change the fact that she was taking up more way space in my head than she should.

This never happened. Or at least it hadn’t for a really long time, not since the evil Kristen had steamrolled my heart. Ever since then, I’d made sure not to get attached. I picked girls who weren’t interested in long-term relationships. Or if I accidentally did hook up with one of those girls, I bailed as soon as possible.

This thing with Trina was weirding me out. I wanted to stop obsessing over her, but it was like I had no control over my thoughts. Who was that Glen guy she’d mentioned on the phone? She’d said he “needed” her. For what? My jaw clenched as I imagined her entwined with some guy, some total player telling her how much he needed her.

Some guy just like me.

I looked at the shimmering water, the fluorescent swimsuits, the beach towels flung like discarded superhero capes across lounge chairs. This was my turf; I practically owned this pool, presiding over it like a king, bestowing jokes and favors on my minions.

But today I felt like an impostor.

Especially when a familiar blonde caught my attention with a wave and swam toward me. Crap. Evidently ignoring her texts wasn’t enough. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

I hoped Alex had his tissues ready.



“I swear it’s the last time,” I told Alex around a mouthful of chicken burrito. We sat at an outside table at Chipotle, inhaling our food. We’d swum laps together after my lifeguarding shift, and now it was like we couldn’t eat fast enough.

“Dude, get real. It’s the last time, until next month, or whenever you do this again and the next Barbie falls apart, begging me to tell her why you’re such an ass.” Alex crunched on a handful of tortilla chips. “Which, ya know, is a legit question. Why are you such an ass?”

I sucked from my straw, glaring at him. I’d spent the past twenty minutes trying to convince him that I wasn’t going to cause any more female meltdowns this summer, but he didn’t believe me.

“Remember our bet, dude?” he asked. “Why don’t you focus your energy on Bird Brain instead of breaking random hearts?”