Page 3 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

WILL

I stand in front of the tall, white cabinets in Charlie’s new kitchen and try to decide where to find the ibuprofen.

At his old apartment he kept a bottle in the cupboard next to the sink for quick access, but I’ve checked there already and no luck.

I’d yell at him—he’s standing across the room, near the front door—but the music is turned up so loud there’s no chance he’d hear me.

Yeah, I’m almost thirty, but I’m no cliché old man.

I blame my crankiness about the loud music on my headache, considering I spend most Sundays in noisy stadiums.

This is supposedly a low-key barbecue, but there are too many people here. It’s become much more, people spilling from the large deck and crowding into the house. To be fair, most of our friends are large football players who take up double the space of normal people.

I don’t want to search a dozen places for a pain killer.

I start threading my way back toward Charlie, cringing against the jostling from other players as I pass.

It shouldn’t surprise me that this has turned into a full-on party.

We’re talking about a bunch of single football players.

The married guys like Jett McCombs and Colby Duncan dropped in with their wives early on, had some burgers, chatted briefly, and then peaced-out .

If I don’t get some ibuprofen soon, I’m going to peace out too, even if Charlie is my best friend.

I get within about ten feet of Charlie when I meet a roadblock—i.e.

the large knot of people gathered around him.

Charlie is the life of any party. He’s just …

so nice. If the people between me and him were my teammates, I wouldn’t mind pushing a few guys out of the way.

But a lot of the team members brought friends with them, which is how this party got so big, and navigating through a bunch of people I don’t know isn’t my favorite thing.

I try to catch my friend’s eye from the outer rim of the group, but he’s so engaged with the people around him it’s a lost cause.

I do spot Kara, Charlie’s older sister by a mere eighteen months. She’s always been the calm balance to his boisterousness for as long as I’ve known them. And since she crashes with Charlie whenever she’s in town for work, she’ll know where the ibuprofen is.

Kara is easier to get to. She’s chatting with a couple people behind Charlie, playing the part of responsible hostess to his fun-loving host and hovering near him like she does when she’s around. Always the older sister.

“Kara!” My voice normally carries weight that turns heads.

I’m the leader of the Pumas’ defense on the field, and the guys listen to me.

Kara doesn’t even glance my way. Not only is the music still too loud, but the conversation volume of the guests in this part of the house is practically a roar.

I growl at the effort this is taking to get a couple of pills for my headache.

I give up on politeness, leaning into my grumpy mood, and muscle my way closer to her.

“Hey, Kara!” I squeeze her elbow to get her attention, even though I’m interrupting her conversation.

The guy with her scowls at me, but I ignore him.

She turns to me, saying something that I don’t understand.

“What?” I shout.

“What’s up?” she shouts back .

Do people actually like parties like this? One look at Charlie and the grin on his face says yes.

I lean closer to Kara since I don’t relish the idea of bellowing back and forth with her. This isn’t a football field, despite the fact that the noise level rivals one. “Do you know where the ibuprofen is here?”

She grimaces. “Uhhh? Cupboard by the sink?” I shake my head. “I’ve got some in my bag,” she says. “Hold on.” She gives the guy she was talking to an apologetic glance and slips through the crowd. That’s probably a bonus to weighing about a hundred pounds less than I do, I guess.

Did the music get louder ? “Charlie!” My yell is basically instinct now, my headache getting sharper and sharper.

He turns toward me, but just as quickly, his attention is pulled away—to two stunning women walking through the open double front doors.

I swear the noise of the party dims. Maybe it’s just the conversation level dropping because Charlie is openly staring rather than talking and most the people around him have quieted too as they turn to find what caught his attention.

I can’t help it. I move a few steps closer without consciously making the decision.

“Will.”

The women seem familiar, like I should know them. Charlie nudges his way through a few people to make his way toward them, and I unconsciously follow. He doesn’t have to go far. The woman with light blond hair has eyes only for Charlie and heads straight for him.

“Will!” Kara’s voice right at my shoulder startles me.

I look down at her, and she shoves a couple of pills in my hand.

I toss them in my mouth and swallow them dry, my gaze going right back to the women, particularly the one with darker hair, the color people argue about whether it’s blond or brown.

“Who are they?” I say loudly to Kara. “I know them, right?” The one with the darker hair meets my eyes for a moment.

She’s wearing a long, loose spaghetti strap dress, and her hair falls in loose curls over her bare shoulders.

The vibes for the outfits of both women are chill and casual and yet …

not. Maybe they’re models? That’s the kind of effortless sense I get from them and that’s probably why I recognize them but can’t come up with names.

Kara’s eyes narrow. “Janelle and Ellie Bennet.”

My eyebrows jump. Not models, but close. “The Pumas’ owner’s daughters? From the show…” My mind goes blank as I try to think of the name. I play for Rob Bennet’s team and live in Houston. They’re all over my social media.

Kara gives an unimpressed huff. “Yeah, Being the Bennets . Janelle is the sweet one and Ellie’s the witch.” She laughs.

I nod in response to Kara’s explanation and study the group.

Charlie is engrossed with Janelle, and I connect that this is the woman he mentioned meeting on his walk with his dog, Coco, the other day.

He’s moved closer to her, and his expression says he’s mesmerized by her.

Ellie is half turned away, like she’s trying to give them space.

She glances at me again. The crowd has shuffled aside, since Charlie only has eyes for Janelle now.

I’m surprised I didn’t recognize the women right off, but I’m better with faces than names, especially of celebrities.

Worry itches in my stomach that my friend is falling for someone he shouldn’t.

By the way Charlie’s staring at Janelle, I can tell he’s falling fast. He’s always been too trusting—women, teammates, whoever.

Our freshman year of college, an old high school friend of his got him talking about our defense and Charlie never questioned it, until I pointed out that his friend’s cousin played for a team on our schedule later that month.

We had to talk to our coach about it, and Charlie felt awful.

I’d rather nip something like that in the bud, before he falls too hard.

This is more than football. This is his heart.

Charlie puts his hand on Janelle’s back, guiding her past us toward the deck and the food, Ellie in their wake.

Janelle’s back is to me, so I can’t see her expression and judge if she’s as into Charlie as he is into her or if this is all for the buzz it will create.

Rob Bennet is a great owner as far as I can tell, but I’ve never really spoken to his daughters, much less gotten to know them beyond what’s on the show.

I narrow my eyes at them. “Ellie is the one who blasted that other fitness influencer on the show. Famous on her dad’s dime and doing anything for clicks.” The last words are out of my mouth before I realize that Charlie has finally done something about the volume of the music.

Ellie Bennet spins to face me, green eyes zeroed in on me and full of fire that I think could set a blaze to my hair.

“Wow,” she snaps. “You’d think a guy who spent the better part of last year trying to put down rumors that he slept with the coach’s wife would know the difference between truth and what’s just for clicks.”

“Excuse me?” I straighten, trying to ignore the eyes on me. Not only has the music volume been lowered now, but thanks to Ellie’s words, conversation has died around us, and the hush is spreading around the house as people turn to find out what’s going on.

She tilts her head. Her expression is cool, like she didn’t just bring up my worst PR nightmare since going pro.

My stomach burns at the way she can treat something that humiliated me so lightly.

This is classic mean girl, tempting me to question if I’ve somehow stepped into a stereotypical teen movie.

“That fitness influencer you were talking about?” Ellie says calmly.

“She copied Janelle’s content and used it to steal a brand deal that Janelle was working on for a partnership for her nonprofit.

But the edits didn’t mention that. And nobody who reposted the footage bothered to dig into the details. ”

My face burns, a mix of anger that she’d bring this up, and embarrassment at what I said. I glare at her, hoping she’ll move on, and everyone can stop staring at us. Even loud music would be welcome right now.

She gives a cold laugh and shakes her head. “The trolls can never stand a confident woman standing up for herself.” She whirls around before I can respond—if I had a response—and stalks past to join Janelle and Charlie, who are both looking at me with wide eyes.

My headache sharpens and I try to relax my jaw. Conversations are building back up, but considering they’re a low hum and people keep glancing at me, I can’t help but wonder if some of the people here are debating—again—on if I really did sleep with my coach’s wife.

“Well,” Kara says in a low voice from beside me. I’d forgotten she was there. “Like I said. Witch.”

I grunt in response and stalk out the front doors without another word.