Cash ducked his head and gripped the back of his neck, which had turned red. “I might’ve read in an old interview that they’re your favorite. And they’re supposed to bring good luck, so I made it happen.”
“You did your homework, huh?” Lyric teased.
The moment was ridiculous and cheesy and Poppy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or roll her eyes, maybe do some combination of all three as Lyric and Cash continued to stare at each other like they were the only two people in the world, like Poppy didn’t even exist.
“You played your ass off tonight,” Lyric praised and Cash’s flush deepened, the tips of his ears going crimson, clashing with his lavender shirt.
“You watched?”
“You’re not the only one willing to do their homework.” Lyric cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. “That play where you threw the ball, ran,andcaught it in the end zone? That was—insane.”
“Insanemight be a bit of an overstatement.” Rosaline leaned against the front doorjamb, watching the scene play out with wary eyes at odds with her inviting smile. “But it was a decent game.”
She was shorter than Poppy expected. Which was probably a weird thing to think upon first meeting someone in person, but she’d always exuded such confidence on the red carpet that Poppy had figured she’d be taller than the five-foot-two,maybefive-foot-three inches she stood. Short compared to Poppy’s flatfooted five-seven inches, even shorter considering her special game day sneakers had platforms.
With cheekbones that could cut glass and a soft, generous mouth, Rosaline Sinclair was a mix of one contradiction after another. Her dark brown hair had begun to escape the fishtail braid that hung over her right shoulder, loose strands framing her face and softening her features, drawing Poppy’s gaze to her eyes, piercing shards of green bottle glass lined with black in the inner and outer corners. Glints of metal ran up her ears and a small stud in her nose sparkled in the warm glow of the porch light. She was Disney-princess gorgeous and covered in tattoos, like an alternative pinup girl.
“Decent?”Lyric lobbed a disbelieving look at her publicist. “Don’t act like you weren’t screaming at the television during the last quarter. Cash, don’t listen to her. You were amazing.”
“I was all right.” He ran a hand over the top of his head, anervous tick he’d had since they were kids. “I mean, there were ten other guys with me on the field. It was a team effort.”
Rosaline sighed and pushed off the doorjamb. Her gray, acid-washed, oversize shirt had some band Poppy had never heard of on the front, a band she was absolutely going to google the second she got back to the hotel. The cotton looked worn and soft, the hem raw and ragged, and the neckline hung off one of Rosaline’s slender shoulders, elaborate grayscale floral ink creeping up her toned arms. “You were the recipient of the Davey O’Brien Award, Walter Camp Award, Maxwell Award, Manning Award, Heisman Trophy, named Associated Press Player of the Year, Pac-12 Offensive Player of the Year, and that’s just your college career. False modesty doesn’t suit you, Curran.”
Cash chuckled awkwardly and threw a wide-eyed look at Poppy that screamedsave me. “Poppy warned me you’d, uh, do your research, but hell, that’s thorough.”
Rosaline’s eyes flitted past Cash, her gaze landing on Poppy, who, for a moment, forgot how to breathe. It was patently unfair to be that attractive. Save some good looks for the rest of the planet. “I require a warning, do I?”
As if she didn’t already know she was terrifying, as if she didn’t relish the fact, as if she hadn’t constructed a fearsome reputation with intention.
“To be honest?” Poppy’s heart could outpace a hummingbird and only half the reason was because Rosaline terrified her, the other half because it had been a minute since Poppy had been around someone so beautiful and it was throwing her off her game. “I think we both know you do.”
“Poppy,” Cash hissed through his teeth. “The fuck?”
What? She shrugged. She was just being truthful, something she hoped Rosaline would appreciate.
Rosaline gave her an incredibly amused look before turning back to Cash. “I’m thorough, don’t get me wrong, but digging up the highlight reel of your college career was hardly necessary considering you’ve been a hometown favorite for over a decade. Be glad you were a Duck, Curran, and not a Beaver, otherwise I might’ve decided not to let you darken my door.”
Poppy frowned. “Hometown favorite?”
“Rosaline’s from Portland,” Lyric said as if it were common knowledge. She reached around Cash and held out her hand to Poppy. “It’s really great to meet you, by the way. Cash has told me so much about you.”
Poppy shook Lyric’s hand. “Likewise.”
“It’s such a nice night that I was thinking we could spend some time out on the patio.” Lyric wrapped her hand around Cash’s elbow with a casual sort of comfort most couples didn’t exhibit after three dates, let alone the one they had yet to actually go on. “Did you two want to join us?”
Poppy opened her mouth to tell Lyric her offer was incredibly kind, but no way was she going to impose when Rosaline beat her to the punch.
“You have fun.” Rosaline’s stare clashed with Poppy’s, the corners of her mouth twitching upward, not quite a smile but close. “Poppy and I are going to spend a little time getting to know each other.”
Chapter Three
“Wine?” Rosaline had breezed into the kitchen on bare feet, plucking an already-open bottle of red wine off the butcher-block counter. Two short-stemmed, wide-bowled wineglasses sat nearby.
Poppy hovered in the doorway, eyeing the bottle in Rosaline’s hand longingly. A glass of wine would take the edge off, but it was neverjustone glass. Not for Poppy. “Water would be great, thank you.”
Rosaline filled one glass before recorking the bottle. “You sure? I’ve got...” She turned, tongue clicking against the back of her teeth as she surveyed the inside of her sleek glass front refrigerator. “Kombucha, coconut water, Olipop, LaCroix, and... iced tea. Peppermint, I believe.”
The contents of her refrigerator couldn’t have been more different from the Gatorade and Muscle Milk that filled Cash’s.
