The Boyfriend League Read online

  “No, you’re fine. I’m fine,” I said, because I was sorta starting to enjoy that everyone was looking at me. “We can leave whenever.”

  “Let’s go then,” Jason said.

  “Here, take this,” Dad said, handing him a bright red umbrella that four people could stand beneath. “I know it’s not raining at this precise moment, but the weather channel promised more rain later in the night.”

  “Thanks,” Jason said, although he looked embarrassed, like maybe he was the kinda guy who preferred collapsible umbrellas. And who could blame him?

  Thank goodness it had stopped raining. I was wearing sandals, and my feet got a little wet as we made our way to the car, but I could live with it.

  Once he started the car, I said, “I just want you to know I’m paying for my meal, because I know it’ll be full price, and I didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to pay for it, because this isn’t a date. It’s just the team and the host sisters, brothers, whatever, getting together to have some fun tonight since it’s raining…or was raining…it’s obviously not raining now. And you’re just giving me a ride, not a meal.”

  Shut me up! Shut me up! Shut me up!

  He shifted into reverse, then backed out of the driveway. “I’m buying your dinner.”

  “No, really—”

  “Dani.”

  It was the first time I could recall him actually saying my name. I loved the way it just rumbled, his voice so deep, so perfect. I wanted him to say it again, over and over.

  But he’d stopped in the middle of the street. I figured any minute Dad was going to come barreling out of the house to find out what was wrong. I looked over at Jason.

  “I’m buying your dinner, as my thanks to you for convincing your family to host me. Just accept it, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  He drove, and I settled into my seat, wondering what other surprises the night might hold.

  Chapter 12

  No surprise. I was the only one at Dave and Bubba’s not wearing a Ragland Rattlers cap. Talk about feeling disloyal. And uncomfortable.

  My discomfort must have shown, because while we were waiting in line to get our food, Jason took off his cap, folded it, and stuck it in his back jeans’ pocket.

  “You don’t have to do that on my account,” I said.

  He shrugged. “I was taught not to wear a hat indoors.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever met anyone who did things with so little fanfare. I thought about telling him to put his hat back on, but the truth was, it made me feel less self-conscious not to be the only one.

  Like most barbecue places, Dave and Bubba’s had a very rustic feel to it. The wooden walls were decorated with old license plates and the jukebox in the corner offered only country songs. The tables were covered in red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and the chairs were almost as uncomfortable as the ones in the ER waiting room.

  The place was noisy and packed. Once we got our food—chicken, pinto beans, potato salad, and coleslaw for me, and the same plus beef and sausage for Jason—we went looking for a place to sit. Fortunately, Bird had saved us seats at the table where she was sitting with Brandon.

  “Whoa! Where’d your black eye go?” she asked as I set my tray down and sat beside her.

  “Tiffany covered it up for me.”

  “I’ll say. I hate to think how much she damaged the ozone with all the hairspray she must have used on your hair.”

  “Thanks, Bird. You look nice this evening, too,” I said.

  The waitress dropped off a basket of hot rolls. I grabbed one and started slathering butter on it.

  “Sorry. It’s just a shock to see you looking so…”

  “Pretty.”

  “You’ve always been pretty.”

  “Oh, please. Can we move on to another subject?” I glanced over to see Jason eating and talking with Brandon.

  “Yeah, I think we better. I’ve heard of head injuries changing people’s personalities—”

  “Bird, you don’t live with a beauty queen, okay? I know when it comes to appearances, I’ll always fall short. And if you want to know the truth, I’m a little self-conscious about the whole makeover.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Subject change?”

  “Right.” She looked around as though searching for a subject.

  I hated being so irritable, but I just didn’t feel like me tonight.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Not a problem.” She smiled, either because I sounded like my old self or she’d thought of a subject. “Hopefully the rain will end tonight and the games will start up again tomorrow. Three away games in a row. You interested?”

  “Of course. I can’t believe you even asked.”

  “After last night’s experience, I’d understand if you wanted to stay away for a while.”

  “No way. What are the odds of it happening again?”

  She leaned near and whispered, “No game Sunday. Brandon officially asked me to go to the summer concert with him. Our first date.”

  “What’s tonight?”

  “Tonight’s a team thing. Anyway, do you want me to…you know?”

  Set me up. I shook my head. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Bird, they haven’t even been here a week yet. I’m okay with you having a date and me not.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” Not unless we made it one.

  As soon as we finished eating, we went to the back room where Dave or Bubba had set up half a dozen pool tables. Along the walls were pinball and old video game machines. I’m talking original Pac-Man. It was like this was where old games were put out to pasture. As a result, beside each machine was a bowl of tokens, which you used to play. They made their money on the beer people bought while playing.

  Not that we’d be doing any beer-buying tonight.

  “Do you play pool?” Jason asked.

  We were standing against the wall, waiting for something to open up, watching as Bird and Brandon played at a table that had become available right after we walked into the room.

  “A little,” I said.

  “There’s a table. Want to give it a shot?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked over and took the cue sticks from Chase and Ethan.

  Ethan did a double take as he handed me the cue stick. “Whoa. I didn’t recognize you. How’s the head?”

  “Not bad. Just a little bruised.”

  He grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

  Chase smiled broadly at me as he walked by. Was this how Tiffany felt, with guys always noticing her? Was it the makeup and hair, or were they just all glad to see I’d survived the conking on the head?

  Jason racked up the balls and let me break. The balls scattered, but none slipped into any pockets. He gave me one of his rare slow, sexy smiles before bending over to the task at hand. He pointed to the red ball and then the corner pocket. Then he proceeded to make it happen.

  Actually, I didn’t mind watching him, watching him move around the table, watching his concentration.

  “I think you can beat him.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. Mac was standing there wearing a jersey. Not his team jersey. This one had Mickey Mouse written across it, obviously a souvenir from a vacation at Disney World. “Hi.”

  “How’s the head?”

  “You know, I’m thinking about making a sign that says, ‘I feel fine’ and hanging it around my neck.”

  “So it wasn’t an original question?”

  “No, but it was nice of you to ask.”

  “Hey, I’m a nice guy.”

  “Your turn.”

  I jerked around. Jason was standing there. His smile gone, his expression serious.

  “You missed?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, then.” I went to the table. He hadn’t missed much. Other than the white one, the table had one solid ball remaining. The others—min