Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
She lifts her hand like she’s about to wave when something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. “Oh my, Elliot.” Color rises in her cheeks and she pats the stark white hair curled on her head. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting a date! Why didn’t you tell me?” Reality punches me in the stomach and I feel like I might literally throw up when I realize that not only has Quinton arrived, but he’s witnessed this deeply personal moment.
Anger, hurt, and embarrassment swirl through me as I watch Quinton slip his large form out of the booth like nothing happened. Like he didn’t encroach on my privacy by listening to this conversation. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He extends a calloused hand to Mrs. Rafter, the epitome of a gentleman . . . and all I want to do is slap it away. “I’m Quinton.”
“Oh, I know you!” She ignores his hand and claps hers together, drawing the attention of a couple at the table behind us. “You’re that football fella! The one who’s been causing all sorts of hubbub! Oh yes, I do love it. Tell those greedy old bastards where to stick it, won’t you.”
I gasp. “Mrs. Rafter!” I’ve never heard her call anyone out like that!
Quinton’s deep laughter fills the room and causes Mrs. Rafter to blush . . . again.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he says. “Actually, Elliot has been helping me set up my foundation. We’re having a party next Tuesday and I would love for you to come if you’re free. You can see all of the work she’s put in. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
I want to object. I hate that Quinton knows my personal business at all, the last thing I want is him getting even more information . . . having a greater hold over me. But by the way Mrs. Rafter’s eyes light up at the invitation, I can’t say anything.
“Oh, well spoil an old lady, why don’t you? I’d love that!” Mrs. Rafter pats him on the chest and her hand lingers just long enough that I know she’s trying to see if he feels as hard beneath that T-shirt as he looks. “Who would’ve thought a trip to Stanley’s would get me my girl back and an invitation to a party? Well, I’m going to head home, I don’t want to use all this luck in one spot. Maybe I’ll buy a lotto ticket on the way.”
She leans in, giving me one more hug, and then shouts out her goodbyes to the rest of the patrons. I watch through the window as she makes her way to her car, and I try to get ahold of the anger that feels like it’s spinning out of control.