Ihad zero plansfor Thanksgiving—other thannotgoing home to spend it with my family. After I’d had a heart-to-heart with Ben about letting Phillipa use his phone to text me, the messages from my sister had stopped. Praise the Lord. But I had no delusions about how things would go if I made the mistake of spending the holiday with her. With or without me at the house, no doubt she’d convince the family that what happened during The Fuckery was all a big misunderstanding—on my part.
She was utterly innocent. As usual.
I’d overreacted. As usual.
Like hell.
Sitting at a table near the floor-to-ceiling windows in the Union sipping my latté, I contemplated my options for the long weekend stretching out in front of me. A shadow fell over my shoulder, and I glanced up to find Chessly sliding into the chair beside me. Saylor plopped herself into one across the table. Both of them had Cheshire-cat grins on their faces, which didn’t bode well for my peace of mind.
“That was some game on Saturday, wasn’t it Piper?” Saylor asked. What she truly asked was: “Wyatt Baxter played lights out, grabbed another pick-six, and pointed the ball at me when he stepped into the end zone. What did that mean?”
Gah!
It was a one-night stand, for crying out loud. The guy needed to stop drawing attention to me in the crowd. On Saturday, the Wildcats had played our archrivals the Golden Bears, and I’d dressed in team colors rather than my usual punked-out style. I even wore a hat. It shouldn’t have been easy for him to find me in the student section. Yet the minute he stepped onto the field, he zeroed right in on me. I had this weird notion I would have sensed his eyes on me even if I hadn’t been watching him too.
At least this time when he pointed the nose of the football at me, I’d had the presence of mind to step directly behind a guy standing in front of me as the field camera scanned the crowd. When I glanced at the big screen over the scoreboard, all I could see was that tall guy and his friend high-fiving as though they’d picked the ball out of the air and scored the touchdown themselves. But their antics meant my face didn’t show up for the speculation of twenty-thousand fans.
Or for certain members of my family to want to text me about it.
But my friends who had flanked me in the stands saw it all. The grilling began almost immediately. I’d had nothing to say then, and I still had nothing to say, which only seemed to goad Chessly and Saylor further.
“A certain player sure played well, didn’t he?” Chessly asked, giving my shoulder a slight bump with her own.
“I think that might have been the best game of Mick Patterson’s career.” I sipped my coffee to hide the grin threatening the corner of my mouth when I caught Saylor’s sarcastic eye roll. “He had—what, three touchdown passes?”
“Seriously, Piper. What’s the deal with you and Wyatt Baxter?” Chessly demanded.
“Seriously, Chess. There is no deal with me and Wyatt Baxter. We blew off some steam one night almost a month ago, and aside from watching him play football, I haven’t seen him since.” I shot my friend an “are you paying attention?” raised-brows stare over the top of my cup and downed another sip of caramel-flavored deliciousness.
“Then why does he keep dedicating touchdowns to you?” Saylor asked, a knowing suspicion coloring her tone.
I shrugged. “That would be a good question to ask him the next time you run into him.”
“I don’t ‘run into him.’” She emphasized her words with air quotes.
Leaning back in my chair, I said, “Guess we’re all going to be in the dark about his antics and motivations then, aren’t we?”
With a huffy sigh, Saylor crossed her arms over her chest and threw herself back in her chair. “You’re no fun at all. How can you hook up with someone so hot and insanely talented and not want a repeat performance?”
“Do you recall The Fuckery?” I leveled her with a look. “It’s going to be more than a hot minute before I let myself get involved with someone.” Blowing out a breath, I added, “Like after I earn my MBA and move to London or Sydney or Tokyo, somewhere I can do my job and live with an ocean between my sister and me.”
“Understandable.” Chessly patted my hand. “But aren’t you spiting yourself by not having some fun at least?”
“I did have some fun.” A picture of Wyatt and me in the back seat of his truck flashed through my mind, and my panties went damp. “But I’m not making a big deal out of it or having expectations.” The thought of Charlie’s face the day of The Fuckery flickered through my head and stole all the good vibes from my night with Wyatt. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
As though reading my mind, Saylor lowered her voice. “Not every man is like Charlie.” She blew on her drink. “Unfortunately, you had the bad luck of finding the one true asshole in the entire crowd the night you met him at that freshman orientation dance.”
“Yeah, well.” I stared out the window at the wind dancing the fallen leaves into the air. For the past month, I’d done a good job of blocking that awful day from my memory. Today of all days, I didn’t need the reminder.
Mercifully changing the subject, Chessly asked, “What are your Thanksgiving plans?”
“That’s what I was working on when you two showed up.”
Saylor’s mouth turned down. “If I’d known sooner that you weren’t planning to go home, I’d have made an extra reservation at the resort. You could have joined my family.”
“I wouldn’t have crashed your family’s Thanksgiving. From what you’ve told us these past few years, it’s your favorite family tradition. No one should mess with that.” Smiling at her to show I meant it, I said, “Go have your usual great time and don’t worry about me.” As Chess began to open her mouth, I cut her off. “You too. Don’t feel bad about me figuring out my own Thanksgiving this year. It’s fine.”
As I said the words, I did my best to infuse them with as much conviction as possible. Fake it till you make it and all that.
