“Good luck keeping Wolf away from women,” Declan says.
“You heard him. If one of us screws up, we’re all off the team. We’re going to approach this like we would a game. We need a playbook...of rules.”
Wolf shifts away, never a fan of rules.
I tug him back to our huddle. “This is serious. I’ll repeat what Hammer said. If one of us screws up, we’re all out.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re waiting to get married.”
I shrug because there’s nothing that’ll dissuade me from honoring my faith. Though I won’t lie, I’ve been tempted.
Declan’s hand wanders to the chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt. He and I have had a couple of bro-chats about God and it was good. “It’s just a month,” Declan croaks as if trying to convince himself that’s not a long time.
“The playbook rules: no kissing, no touching. Eyes up, hands off. No flirting, no dating...” Grey starts.
Sounds like a non-playbook to me.
“You’re no fun,” Wolf mutters.
With a glance at the desperation hidden in Grey’s eyes, Declan says, “I’m with Chase. The rules apply unless you fall in love.”
“And ask her to marry you,” I add.
Declan doesn’t disagree.
Wolf raps him on the back of the head. “Thought you’d be on my team.”
“We’re all on the same team,” he says.
Between Coach’s orders, the desperation in Grey’s eyes, and Declan’s comment, the message is loud and clear. We do this, or there’s no more game, no more team. No more us.
I extend my hand for the Bruiser Stack. Grey sets his on top. Declan tosses his into the center. With a groan, Wolf reluctantly follows suit. Then we chorus, “Cruisin’ for a Bruisin.’”
Almost instantly, Grey’s phone pings with a message.
As we walk down the hall, Wolf says, “All things considered, you have to admit I have a good butt.”
“I’m not saying anything about your butt other than that I’m going to kick it if you so much as breathe in the same room as a woman during this month,” Declan warns.
“You can thank yourself for getting us into this situation,” Wolf retorts.
“The mooning prank was all your idea.”
“No, if I remember?—”
They start bickering.
“Forget about it. What matters is that we’re going to a public relations etiquette program and we have to—” I start.
Grey interrupts. “More like reform school.”
“Charm school.”
“Probation.”
“No women. This is the worst,” Wolf says as we turn the corner.
“It’s not prison. I’m sure we’ll have some free time.” Declan’s phone pings in his pocket. He wears a private smile. No doubt the call is from his so-called best friend, Maggie. We’ve never met her and tease that she’s his imaginary friend, but by the way he smiles when they chat, there has to be a spark of attraction. My dating coach sister claims that it’s near impossible for a guy and a girl to just be friends without the potential for something more to develop. She says it’s human nature and backs it up with statistics.
