The Virgin Rule Book (Rules of Love #1) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,72

one you can’t get out of your head? Maybe you had one night with her, one kiss, one conversation. Your what-if woman.”

“You’re talking from experience, aren’t you?”

“It was a while ago,” he says as we cross the street.

“Who is she?” I ask, more intrigued now by his sitch than mine.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t even know what she’s up to anymore.”

“You going to look her up?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, then a shake of his head. “But maybe I should just focus on the team.”

I nod, getting it, understanding confusion completely. “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s what I need to do too. But in the meantime, tell me more about your what-if girl.”

He cracks a smile. “She’s definitely the what-if woman. It was one night. A couple years ago.”

“The one-night stand you can’t get out of your mind?”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t scoff. He only sighs wistfully. “Almost. But not exactly. It wasn’t even a one-night stand. More like a great conversation and an out-of-this-world kiss, a great time. Kind of crazy, right?”

We turn the corner, and then I stop in my tracks when I spot a familiar face. It’s Declan, ducking out of another coffee shop—this neighborhood has them springing up like baby bunnies. He’s got a Hawks ball cap on his head, and a cup in his hand. He lifts his chin in greeting. “Hey, guys.”

I give him a curious look. “You’re still in town? Figured you had left.”

“I’ve got friends and family here,” he says. “I stayed an extra night, but I’m catching a flight back to New York in two hours.”

“Was it good to see peeps?” Holden asks.

Declan’s lips twitch, maybe with the hint of a grin. “Yeah. Mostly.” Distracted, he looks at his watch. “I should go. I’ll catch you on the first home stand. You’ll be on my turf, and we plan to destroy you,” he says to me.

Ah, that’s the Declan I know. He’s the most competitive bastard in the league.

“As if the Comets can do anything but choke on our dust,” I say.

“You’ll be choking at the plate,” he says with a wicked grin, then tugs on the bill of his cap before he tips his forehead in the direction of the airport. “Gotta take off.”

“See you,” Holden says.

Declan takes off, and we head up the block and around the corner, ready to rap on Grant’s door. But he’s already bounding down the steps in his workout clothes, his hair a wild mess, like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

I shoot him a look. “You’ve been DoorDashing on a Saturday afternoon?”

He rolls his eyes, flipping me the bird. “Yeah, I had a burger and a blow job. Let’s go hit the gym.”

We do, and the three of us all seem a little lost in our own worlds as we’re working out.

As for me, I can’t stop thinking about Holden’s comments.

Not the ones about what-if women.

The ones about recognizing mistakes.

30

Nadia

Back when I was in my matchmaker phase, I read dating columns religiously—articles on the latest trends in dating, on where to go, ideal topics for discussion on the first date, and how to read between the lines.

And I want to issue a complaint right now.

Someone needs to pen a column on how utterly awkward it is to be friends with the guy you gave your virginity to the night before last.

Here we are at a golf course on the edge of the city, making small talk.

Small talk is painful. Hell, it’s worse than having your plaque scraped. Loudly.

“So, you’re looking forward to spring training?”

“Absolutely. I love it,” Crosby says, all chipper and upbeat.

“It must feel like everything is possible,” I offer, equally peppy so I don’t think of him doing bad things to me or whispering sweet everythings in my ear.

“Yes, that’s exactly it. The world is your oyster,” he says as we chat by a golf cart as the event is winding down. “We have a lot to work on with our oyster, but I’m stoked to do the work. It’s always good to get back in the saddle.”

Ugh, I want to gag.

He’s talking to me like he’s chatting with a reporter at the end of the game.

I chuckle, but it’s mirthless, maybe even frustrated.

Crosby arches a brow. “What’s that for?”

Should I just let it go? Screw it. “You just sounded like you were giving me a PR answer,” I say.

He laughs. “I guess I did. The truth is, I’m kind of ridiculously excited. I always feel a little