Page 22 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

TWENTY-TWO

SUTTON

A persistent buzzing interrupts my dream of number ten, my quarterback.

It's not until it vibrates that I realize it's my phone.

I groan as I roll over, not wanting to leave the warmth of Greyson's arms. Evidently, he's a deep sleeper, and his arm is like a weighted blanket.

I wiggle until I can reach my phone. I squint at the screen; it's J.D.

On my way to talk to Greyson. Need to discuss what happened at the game. Thoughts? Personally? Professionally?

Oh, sweet mother of God.

Panic launches me straight out of bed. "Get up. Get up!" I hiss, shaking his bare, muscular shoulder as his eyes open in confusion.

"You want round two standing up? Give me a minute." He blinks at me, groggy, smug, and gorgeous all at the same time. All I can think about is bolting, but to where?

"Your brother is on his way here," I whisper-shout, frantically searching the room for my clothes.

All I see is my white underwear and my pants.

I quickly put them on, and the urgency of the situation finally registers with Greyson.

He jumps out of bed and throws me a T-shirt from his dresser drawer.

He yanks on gym shorts and a tee so fast it's a blur—he's dressed in under twenty seconds, sliding his feet into sandals on the fly. Grabbing my hand, he hustles me down the stairs, then dives for my bra, snatching it up and holding it triumphantly like a prize.

"Seriously, get me out of here. Unless you want your brother to deliver us a game-day speech with my bra in your hands." I glare for half a second and yank it from him.

We glance around the rumpled room looking for discarded clothing, and only Greyson's pants and shirt are visible. He leaves them, grabs his keys from the kitchen counter, and we jump into his truck.

Now it's his phone that buzzes.

J.D.: Hey, I'm bringing breakfast. Five minutes away.

"Shit."

"We're so busted."

"I'll drive out the back way. He doesn't know about it yet."

It's a race against time as Greyson peels out, drives around the back of the house, and cuts through a large pasture until we turn onto a gravel road lined with trees.

"You can breathe now. We won't pass him," he says, flashing me a devil-may-care grin that's both adorable and infuriating.

"Do you think this is funny?"

He shrugs. "It's not not funny. I mean, we're adults, but we're scrambling around like a couple of teenagers afraid their parents are about to catch them." He pauses, that maddening smirk still on his face.

"Have you forgotten that you're a player on my dad's team and that I'm your boss? It's against the rules." I glare at Greyson, wishing he would take this seriously.

"Rules are made to be broken."

"Oh, really?" I'm not sure if I'm asking anything or just making a statement. It's hard to argue with his bedhead and his scruffy face.

"Listen, I get it. You don't want anyone to know you slept with the QB, but it's more than that for me.

If it's more than that for you, let's just tell J.D.

and your dad, then we'll tell Human Resources, and I won't sue you for sexual harassment.

" Greyson winks, giving me a look that shows he's enjoying this way too much.

His phone buzzes again.

J.D.: Where are you?

Greyson turns his phone over, ignoring it.

"Aren't you going to make up something?"

"No, he's been my best friend my whole life.

He may know me better than I do. It'll take him longer to figure it out if I don't give him any clues.

He'll go into the house and see I've been home.

He'll check with Dad, Noelle, and maybe Witt first. It'll buy me some time.

" He makes a sharp turn, and I have no idea where we are, but he pulls over under a canopy of trees.

"Did J.D. say what he wanted? You didn't say why he was coming over so early. "

I close my eyes, thinking about how my reputation is probably already making the gossip shows. "He wants to talk about what happened at the game." Then I realize I put my phone down when I got dressed. "Crap, I left my phone at your house."

He rubs his large hand over my leg, soothing my anxiety. "I'll get it and bring it by."

"J.D. is the coach. I can't have him thinking I'm ignoring him."

"Sutton, you're his boss, not the other way around." He pushes the truck into park and angles himself toward me. "Do you want to see where this goes?"

"I do, but our careers and reputations are on the line, not to mention your brother's. This is his second year as head coach, and the fans expect a big turnaround. And it's all resting on your arm."

Greyson runs his hand through his messy hair, and I've noticed he does it when he's confronted with an unsettling fact.

It's quiet except for the rustling of leaves through the open window, with the morning sun slipping through the branches overhead.

Wearing an unwavering expression and determination in his eyes, he says as confidently as he throws a fifty-yard pass between two defenders, "Sutton, I've been doing this a long time—I know how many people are depending on me.

No one wants to be the best more than I do, but I will not call you a distraction.

In fact, I bet I'll play better when I'm as happy off the field as I am when I'm on it. "

I let out a shaky breath, taking a minute to stare out the window, my hands fidgeting in my lap.

"Greyson, I want to believe you; I really do.

But what if we both mess this up? This is the first time I've done anything other than tennis, and I want to make my dad proud.

What if... it doesn't work out and we see each other every day and.

.." My voice cracks a little at the end, betraying just how scared I am to hope .

"You know what I think? I think you're scared.

" He beams that lopsided, troublemaker's smile that makes me feel like a schoolgirl.

"I've got a proposal. We date—off the grid, far from prying eyes—and keep this between us until I can prove that I can perform under any circumstances.

You enjoyed last night's performance, as I recall, especially when you creamed on my face. "

"You think highly of yourself, don't ya?" I tease, and I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment—Bodhi never dirty-talked. It's both arousing and embarrassing.

His eyes crinkle, and he gives me a slow, flirtatious wink as he says, "Guess you'll have to stick around and see if I deserve it. Do we have a deal?"

My answer is a quiet nod and an amused roll of my eyes, which makes his grin even wider.

He hooks an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his lap just like last night.

A move that sends my body craving more. Greyson O'Ryan makes me forget I ever had a relationship with Bodhi Creed.

When he kisses me—soft and certain—I melt right into it.

There is no saying no to this man. He's everything I need.

He starts the truck again and drives us down the winding country road toward the city where my abandoned car and, apparently, our next chapter are waiting.