The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(15)

“I’m grateful, too.” I sit up and wrap my arms around Crew, burying my head in his shoulder. He squeezes me tight and, instead of pulling away quickly, he holds me. Tight. His hand cupping the back of my neck, his chin resting on top of my head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Hazel.”

“I’m sorry you threw so many interceptions this past season.”

He chuckles, and the rumbling sound of his laugh puts me at ease.

When he pulls away, he tips up my chin and says, “Such a smart-ass.”

“One of the reasons you love me so much,” I shoot back.

“Ehh, love is a strong word. How about tolerate?”

“Tolerate—that works, since it mirrors the way I feel about you.”

Chuckling, he pushes me down on my “bed.” “Get some sleep, Allen. Who knows what’s in store for us when we land?”

“Goodnight, Crew.”

“Night, Haze.”

I turn on my side and lower the sleeping mask the flight attendants provided. I curl up and adjust my blanket, ready to get some sleep.

Tomorrow, an adventure begins. The unknown, guided by one of the most important men in my life. I have so many questions, though. Why Germany? Why now? Why with Crew? Why this trip?

Why did Pops have to be taken away from us?

I think the last question is one I’ll never understand. Hopefully the others will be answered along the way.





Chapter Four





CREW





“You’re insane. There’s no way you’re driving.”

“Uh, why not?”

“Because you’re a terrible driver,” I say, holding the keys to the rental car we just picked up.

After we got off the plane, I called my mom to let her know we landed, even though it was the middle of the night for her. She then spoke with Hazel for a while, Hazel laughing the entire time and eyeing me. She reassured my mom that she had no problem not only keeping me in line, but protecting me from any locals trying to get my goods. I could hear my mom’s laughter coming from the phone. They always got along.

She told us there was a reservation for a car waiting for us and once we got the car, we were to head to the Beyond Hotel, where we are expected.

Simple.

Especially since we have no idea where we’re going.

Arms folded over her chest, Hazel says, “Are you saying I’m a bad driver because I’m a woman?”

“No. I’m saying you’re a terrible driver because you are. You can barely drive the tractor on the farm in a straight line, and need I mention how you drove Pops’ truck into a ditch?”

“I was sixteen. I’m much better now.”

“Yeah, I won’t be taking my chances. I’ll be the responsible one taking us carefully through the roads of Germany.”

“If you think this entire trip will consist of you bossing me around, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Trust me, I know you’re the one who’s going to be doing the bossing,” I mutter. I go to her side of the car and open the door. “Get in, Twigs. I’m growing hungry and impatient.”

“Starting the trip off with joy, I see.”

I press my hand to my forehead. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Plastering on a smile, I sarcastically say, “Dearest honey bunny, will you please get in the car?”

Smiling, she moves past me and presses her hand to my chest. “Much better, sir. Thank you.”

Shaking my head, I shut her door, round the back of the car, where I make sure our luggage is secure, and shut the trunk. We were rented an Opel Corsa, a car I’ve never heard of before in my life, but it looks like a four-door Volkswagen hatchback. I’m assuming I’ll be driving from the backseat, but hey, as long as I can get us from A to B, we should be good. I will admit I’m nervous to drive these unfamiliar roads, and wish I had my Range Rover.

When I sink into the driver’s seat, I grip the steering wheel and take a deep breath. “You ready?”

She nods. “I hope this isn’t a road trip.”

I snort. “Okay, do you not know my family at all? Of course this is a road trip. Pops wouldn’t have it any other way. I just hope we’re not driving across Europe.” I pull my phone from my pocket and type the hotel address into my navigation app. “Forty-three minutes. Okay, that’s not too bad.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive? You look a little tired.”

I adjust my ballcap on my head, the bill facing backwards like always, and say, “You’re not driving. The car is under my name, my name only. We don’t need to take the Hazel coaster to death.”

“You drive one truck into a ditch and you never hear the end of it,” she mutters.

“As it should be.” I turn on the ignition and ask, “Are you ready for this?”

“Barely.” She turns toward me. “Don’t kill us.”

“I won’t.” I swallow hard.

Pops, if you’re listening, please don’t let me crash into anything. After all, this is your fault.





“Guten morgen,” a valet attendant says, opening my car door.