The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1)(50)

Lila filches another fry from Carl. “I’m desperate. She’s already nixed my idea of egging his car and wrapping it in plastic wrap—”

“Not a twelve-year-old,” I toss in.

She waves me off. “Come on, Carl. How can Ana get her groove back and save face?” She leans closer. “Everyone knows what he said about her.”

Mellany’s audio recording has been shared hundreds of times. Lila and Colette went on a campaign to “report” the post, texting all their friends to help, but…whatever. It’s too late.

I come back to the present as Lila continues talking.

“…all I’m saying is, if you won’t retaliate in a physical way, at least man up and show him you aren’t down. He is with her. At your place of work. He sent a pledge to get his pin.” She presses her lips together. “I propose the best way to get back at him is to get a new hottie and post that crap all over social. Rub it in his face. Let him know some sexy man is banging his ex. We have the ski trip coming up—baseball players, Pikes, ATOs, those grizzly agriculture guys, even the tennis players are going. Mecca of men! Yes, yes, yes!” she groans.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Carl says.

I smile. “When Harry Met Sally.”

He winks. “Love the rom-coms.”

I turn to Lila. “Back to your grand idea…who would want a piece of me after what he said? Not that I’d use sex to manipulate Donovan.”

Carl leans in, pushing his plate to the side. “Okay, I may not look it, but I’m the smartest guy in this room…and I have an idea.”

“You do?” I ask.

“He just walked in.” His eyes move past me to the front door, and a slow smile spreads over his face.

I turn to see who’s come in.

River. Freaking. Tate.

“Legally Lavender,” Lila whispers in awe, following our gazes. “An athlete with a heart of gold—well, in his case, a black heart when it comes to you—but still, I can see it.”

His heart isn’t so black.

I haven’t told Lila about sharing the sunrise with him…

“Nope,” I say.

It doesn’t matter how hot River is; he is way, way, way off limits.





15





He stalks into the bar, his head down as he checks his cell. Wearing skinny jeans that cling to his thighs and a black leather jacket, he looks like a bad boy rock star. His hair is messy, the longer strands on top brushing against his forehead. His hand sweeps them back, his ring glinting under the light.

A long breath slips through my lips, anticipation rising. Is it odd that I’ve thought about him hundreds of times this weekend? Any time Donovan’s harsh words crept into my head, I’d squash them down and replay my time with River, our movie quote exchanges, the way he steered his truck, for God’s sake, and the most frequent thought? I’d recall the way he looked at me after the sun rose. The words he said…

Stop being silly, Ana.

He’s here to be with the Kappas, not see you.

Yet…

Friday night our walls crashed down, and I got a peek at a side he’s never shown me. Watching that sunrise with him, seeing a new day being born, it meant something.

To me.

I chew on my lip.

Okay, alright, let’s be truthful. My body has some heady chemistry with his— “Hmmm. A bad boy can be magical for a good girl,” Lila says. “Come on. You’d like to lick his snake tattoo.”

“No licking,” I mutter.

“Just trail your tongue around that thigh, up his hip, to his ass—bite that, it’s juicy—then circle back to his big—”

“Lila…” Carl warns. “Save that for your writing.”

She grins. “Fine. I’ll stop.”

Carl looks at me. “Ana. I’ve seen you…how do y’all say it…checking him out.”

I shake my head. “I only look, like everyone else. Don’t rope him into this, Carl. We’re just now getting to know each other and—”

He pats my hand. “Leave it to me, darling.”

Ugh.

I look at the door again, and River looks up and catches me staring. Coughing, I flip back around.

Carl throws up a hand and beckons him over. “Yo, over here, bro!”

He reverts to being twenty when he sees River. I see it every Sunday.

“Got a question for you, my man,” Carl says as River arrives at the booth. “You’re a man of big ideas, right?”

“That’s what they say.” River does a scan of the bar, pausing on the Kappas. His jaw pops when he sees Donovan and Harper.

With a sigh, he looks back at us.

“Have a seat, then. We need some input. It’s an emergency,” Carl says.

I cringe. “No, it’s not—”

“And very confidential,” Carl adds in a conspiratorial tone, ignoring me. “Therefore, no real names will be used. Cone of silence is now in progress.” He waves his arms around the booth.

River taps his fingers against his leg as his eyes drift over me. My face flushes as I catch my reflection in the metal napkin dispenser. My hair is up in a messy knot, I’m wearing deep red lipstick, and I didn’t wear my contacts, picking my big white glasses instead.