Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(19)

“Stop grinning,” I groan, rubbing at the headache that’s decided to pop back up. I let Romeo down, and he runs in circles before darting off to his small tent set up in the den. I hear him rooting around before he gets comfy. “It was terrible.”

“The sex? Ah, dammit, I’ve had daydreams about that man, the way he—”

“Stop!” I hold my hand up. “I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“Well, then how did it happen?” He takes a seat on the old velour sofa across from me and crosses his legs. “I’m picturing it now—you at the bar looking all sad that Greg didn’t show, and in waltzes this hot jock who takes one look at your dainty black pumps and does a double take.”

If only that had been how it happened, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad.

“Not exactly.”

“Stop tormenting me. I want every detail.”

I shake my head. “I walked up and sat down at his table.”

He leans forward. “You picked him up? Oh shiiiiitttt. This is going to be so good. Spill, Elle, spill.”

“You are annoying.”

“Am not.”

“Are.”

“Fine, maybe I’m a teensy bit annoying, but I did take care of Hog—”

“Romeo.”

“Whatever. Just tell me. Please. Ever since Matt and I split, you know I’m living through everyone else’s love life.”

I let out a sigh. He’s over Matt, but I see what he’s doing. He’s worried about me. I guess he has been since Preston and Giselle.

“Fine. I sat down at Jack’s table because I thought he was Greg. He had a blue shirt on, and he was alone and broody, and you know I don’t follow football. Daisy is so small we never even had a football team growing up. Plus, no TV . . .” My hands cover my face for a moment of embarrassment. “It’s ridiculous! You’d think I would have at least recognized his face from . . . somewhere . . . like a bar TV, and he did seem a bit familiar, but I just assumed it was just Greg—that I’d caught him on TV before.”

He laughs. “You fucked the baddest, sexiest jock in Nashville. Do you have any clue how women have chased him his entire life? I hear he even needs security.” He grabs his diary from the coffee table. “I’m writing this down. It’s going in that great American novel I’m going to write—”

“Not a good idea,” I mutter, recalling the NDA. I stand up and pace as he eyes me, frowning.

“Do you plan on seeing him again?”

“One-time thing.”

He looks crestfallen, slumping back against the cushions. “Was it good, at least? Is his lower body proportional to the rest of him?”

My face flames as my entire body clenches, recalling the orgasms I had. Oh boy. He did deliver on that front. The first one in the kitchen with him on his knees; the second time on the floor in the master bedroom, him behind me; the third time, we finally made it to the bed—

I suck in a breath.

“Your face is redder than a stop sign.” Topher chuckles.

“Here’s the kicker: Jack didn’t tell me who he really was, and he left before I woke up.”

He winces, closing his notebook. “Ouch. That is not diary worthy at all. Asshole.”

I exhale, thinking again about how I assumed he was Greg. “He mentioned my blog, and I assumed he meant where I post my designs, but I wonder if he thought I was another blogger . . .” I frown. “Why wouldn’t he just tell me he wasn’t my date? Why keep it a secret?”

He shrugs and waggles his eyebrows. “You wore your naughty things?”

“Unicorn set.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Nice.”

“And he kept the panties.”

“Not nice. We need to get those back.” Topher knows how important my work is, how much I love creating fanciful pieces, things I want to wear. Not those ill-fitting, basic, run-of-the-mill scraps of lace sold in stores. I yearn for unique clothing, something eye catching and sexy yet quirky. Made for full-figured women with moxie.

Topher’s frown turns into a scowl, deepening. His feet shift around as he stands, walking over to me. “Elle, honey, I have other news, and I want to tell you before you find out some other way.”

I groan. “Please tell me it’s nothing to do with Mama or Aunt Clara.” They are constantly popping over. I’ve even taken to locking my sewing room.

He shakes his head, his pretty hair swishing around his shoulders.

“Okay, tell me.”

“I ran over to the Cut ’N’ Curl to get a Sun Drop a few minutes ago. You know they have those from the distributor, when we can’t even buy them at the Piggly Wiggly. Giselle was there . . .” His voice trails off, and my stomach drops.

“She saw me with Jack.”

He watches my face. “She didn’t say a word about you and Jack . . .”

“But?”

He grimaces and takes a big breath, his eyes soft and careful. “She was showing everyone her ring. Flaunting it around, waving it in people’s faces. I’m so sorry.”

A huge chunk of lead lands on my heart, and I wrestle to throw it off, to eviscerate it from my chest and make it go away. I feel winded. “Ring, huh?”