Fumbled (Playbook #2)(82)

“Yeah, you do,” Charli agrees, wrapping me in a quick hug.

“So do you!” And I’m not saying it just to say it.

They look freaking amazing. Vonnie always looks beautiful, but right now, in an orange dress showcasing her tiny waist, full hips, and ample cleavage, she looks smoking hot. Her long hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and huge, diamond-encrusted hoops hang from her ears. Charli’s wearing a long, flowy dress with so many different straps holding it up, I’m not sure how she didn’t get tangled trying to put it on. It’s so low-cut, there’s no way to wear a bra (something I haven’t been able to do since Ace was born) and has a slit so high she’s at risk of flashing the room.

They. Are. Goals.

So I tell them.

“I want to be you.”

“You going home with TK tonight?” Vonnie asks, and Charli rolls her eyes.

My brows knit together. “Ummm . . . yeah?”

“Then trust me, you want to be you,” Vonnie says.

I look over my shoulder at TK, who is standing by Justin and Shawn, ordering a drink from a waitress with hearts in her eyes. His wavy hair is down, semiparted on the side from where he ran his hand through it and tossed it back, and his beard is freshly trimmed. He’s wearing tailored dark gray suit pants that come in just at the ankle with a plain white button-up shirt with the top few buttons open and brown leather oxfords even I would steal.

I almost fainted when he walked out of the bedroom.

He’s that hot.

I look back at her. “You are not wrong.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asks me, no longer sporting the heart eyes.

“French martini with a splash of champagne.” I tell her Vonnie’s drink, because again, I do kind of want to be her. And I’ve tried her drink, it’s delicious.

“Two of those,” Vonnie says.

Charli already has a glass of champagne in her hand, so she doesn’t order. The waitress jots down our order and hurries out of the room.

“Are you excited for your first Monday Night Football game?” Vonnie pulls out a chair at the table and I sit beside her, Charli on my right.

“I guess.” I shrug and fidget with the wrapped-up silverware. “I’m not too jazzed to go to another game after the last one. But I like that they don’t have to be at a hotel tonight and we’re all able to get together.”

I’d lucked out after telling TK I don’t want to go to another game with the next two being away games, but that could only last so long. And tomorrow my luck officially runs out.

“We have extra tickets in our suite. You and Ace are more than welcome,” Vonnie offers even though she knows my answer.

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay with the other mere mortals.”

“I made sure Shawn and TK talked, so we’re sitting next to each other again,” Charli says. “I’ll be your backup in case you have to yell at anyone else.”

“Oh god.” I cringe, thinking back on my theatrics. “Do not let me do that again.”

“I’m gonna egg you on! I’ve always wanted to do it.” Charli laughs, but I know she’s not kidding.

Fantastic.

Voices come from the stairway and we look to the door just as Aviana and Crosby walk in. Aviana looks her normal television-ready self, and even though she towers over me, she looks petite next to her guard husband.

Right behind them are Peter, the quarterback, and his girlfriend, Jacqueline Eriksson.

Jacqueline is model stunning. Literally. She’s been in Sports Illustrated and walked in last year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. I know this because I still have the show on my DVR and I watch it when I get a little out of control with the carb intake. Her long blond hair in soft, glamorous curls glistens even under the dim lights, and her legs, which might be longer than my body, are exposed in her short, navy body-con dress.

“Hey, everyone!” Aviana shouts across the room, letting go of Crosby’s hand and grabbing Jacqueline’s, even though Jacqueline looks like a deer in headlights. “Come on, Jac, let me introduce you to the girls.”

Since the Lady Mustangs meeting on Wednesday, we’ve all had a running group text. And Vonnie, who told me she wasn’t sure about her, has warmed to Aviana. They are the ones who decided to take advantage of this rare Sunday night with the guys and get together.

“Jac, these are the girls, Vonnie, Charli, and Poppy.” She points at us as she says our names. “Girls, this is Jac.”

“Hi.” I wave, half starstruck, half in awe, just as the waitress comes back, setting our drinks in front of us.

“French martinis with a splash of champagne,” she says, color in her cheeks, obviously feeling self-conscious in a room full of people so pretty it’s not even normal.

I want to squeeze her hand in solidarity.

“Oooh!” Aviana squeals. “I want one too!”

“Sure.” The waitress nods and looks at Jacqueline. “And you?”

“I’ll try one too,” she whispers, color rising in her cheeks.

And dammit if her being shy doesn’t make her even more endearing.

I need her to be a catty bitch. She’s too pretty to be nice on top of everything else she has going for her.

I’m watching the waitress scurry away when strong hands are on my shoulders. I look up just in time for TK to drop a quick kiss on my forehead. And I swear I can hear a collective “aww” from the women around me.