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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THE BET

BOWIE

The clang of weights fills the gym as I finish my last set. Weston wipes his forehead, dropping onto the nearby bench, while Henley walks in looking far less sweaty than the rest of us.

“How’s it hangin’?” he asks.

“Get in here and work out with us,” Rhodes says. “Why are you still looking so good when you’re not out there playing with us?”

Henley grins and slaps his hard abs. “I can’t afford to go soft. Just fitting it in a lot earlier these days.”

Penn cracks his neck loud enough to make us all wince.

I lean against the squat rack and think about the way Poppy kissed her way down my abs last night. She ended up getting on her knees, and holy shit, the sight of her mouth around me…it was?—

“What’s got you all smiley?” Penn asks. He steps closer and checks my forehead. “You feelin’ okay?”

I mess his hair up, rolling my eyes. “I’m feeling just fine.”

“You sure? Because you do look a little love sick,” Rhodes says, laughing.

I shrug, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Shit, I am smiley. What the fuck? I run my fingers over my mouth, trying to sober up, and the guys laugh.

“Maybe I’ve been a little…brighter. Like the sun shines a little earlier these days,” I say gruffly.

The guys freeze, mid-stretch, mid-breath. Rhodes drops the band he’d been toying with, and Weston’s eyebrows shoot up. Even Henley’s jaw slackens.

Penn blinks twice, clearing his throat. “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” he says. He points at me. “I never knew I’d be taking lessons from you too.”

I toss a towel over my shoulder. “Really? Because I just made myself cringe.”

“Whew. Until you said that, I thought someone might have body-swapped you,” Henley teases.

I laugh and shake my head. “No, it’s still me under here. I am having a good time though. Things are…good. Really good. ”

Rhodes whistles low. “You are wearing it well. I wouldn’t believe what I’m hearing if I didn’t see how happy you are.”

“You act like I’ve never been happy,” I say, mostly amused.

“You’ve never been happy like this before,” Penn says, narrowing his eyes. “At least, not since we’ve known you.”

“Not gonna lie, I love it,” Weston says, grinning. “It’s about time you got a little sunshine.”

Henley claps me on the shoulder. “Poppy’s good for you, man. We can all see that.”

I exhale, a goofy smile popping out that I can’t seem to stop.

Rhodes eyes me, a slow smirk forming. “Mark my words. You’ll be married within six months, maybe even sooner.”

My head snaps up, color creeping up my neck. “What? No. I mean, I—what?” I run my hand through my hair, sputtering at the sudden turn in conversation.

Rhodes crosses his arms. “I’m serious. If you aren’t married within six months, I will cut this hair off,” he says, tugging on his curls. “If you are, you have to cut your hair off.”

I imagine Poppy pulling my hair when my head is between her legs and shift uncomfortably, turning so they don’t notice. Poppy would be so pissed if I buzzed my hair.

“This just got interesting,” Henley says, hardy-har-haring in the corner.

I glare at all of them.

Penn surveys my hair and then Rhodes’. “Your hair is your signature, both of you. You sure about this?”

Rhodes tilts his head and nods confidently. “Dead sure. That’s how confident I am. Look at him.” He waves his hand at me and I grumble when he says, “Dude’s practically floating. ”

“I’m not marrying anyone in six months. That’s insane,” I pause, my cheeks still hot when I think of Poppy’s laughter, the sounds she makes when she comes, the way her eyes light up every time she sees me and Becca, how she says my name… “Fuck,” I whisper. “I mean, we just…we’re happy, but that’s?—”

“Uh-huh,” Weston says, patting my back. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”

Henley’s still laughing. “You better brace yourself, Bowie. I say you cave sooner than later so your hair has time to grow out by the wedding.”

“Do we need to get a contract? I can get a lawyer to draft something up,” Penn, the shit-stirrer says.

I let out an aggrieved sigh, which only makes them laugh more. But deep down, I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. Part of me likes that they’re razzing me, that they see what’s happening between me and Poppy.

“We’ll see who ends up bald,” I say, tipping my chin at Rhodes.

“Harsh!” Penn cries.

“Hey, I didn’t say bald,” Rhodes holds up his hands. “I mean, you can if you want to, but I ain’t doin’ bald.”

“I wouldn’t complain if she moved in, but marriage?” I say with more bluster than I’m feeling. “Nah.”

Can I see myself marrying Poppy? The idea of waking up to her every morning, of trusting that she’s here for keeps…I never thought I’d even consider any of this.

There’s a brief silence where they all exchange glances, each of them smirking like they know something I don’t. Smug bastards.

Rhodes clasps my hand with a grin so self-assured it’s infuriating. “We’ll see, Fox. We’ll see.”

When I step through the door after hanging out with Poppy for a few hours, my house feels oddly quiet. Usually my mom and Mrs. McGregor create a constant low buzz of activity. They’re getting along better, but I think they thrive on arguing. My mom has still made no move to find another place. I think it’s going to take a major push for her to consider moving.

I drop my keys on the console and peek around the corner into the kitchen. My mom is perched on the barstool with a notebook in hand, and Mrs. McGregor is standing by the stovetop stirring her legendary plum jelly. The two of them stop talking the instant they see me, as if caught plotting. I would not put it past them for even a heartbeat.

“Good evening,” my mom says, too chipper.

“You’re home earlier than expected,” Mrs. McGregor says, setting the spoon down. “Everything all right?”

My nerves suddenly make an appearance, pulling tight in my gut. I’ve faced down massive players and harsh coaches, walked into post-game press conferences with blood still trickling down my body. But somehow, telling these two women my latest plan has me on edge more than that. Not because of their reaction, but because I really want this.

“Everything’s fine. Actually, I wanted to talk to you both about something.”

Mom’s notebook snaps shut and Mrs. McGregor folds her arms, as they give me their undivided attention.

I lean against the counter, trying to appear casual. “I’m hoping to convince Poppy to move in with me…with us.”

Mom’s eyes light up and Mrs. McGregor beams.

“This is wonderful news,” Mom says. “We’ll organize the guest room for her right away. New, softer linens… ”

My head tilts. “Mmm, not exactly what I was thinking, Mom.”

“For goodness sake, Paulina, they’re having a baby together! Surely they’ll be in the same bedroom,” Mrs. McGregor says, tutting under her breath.

My mom looks at me, mouth forming in a tight line. “You should really make it official. She’s having your baby.”

“I’m not marrying anyone just because they’re having my baby.”

“Do you love her?” Mom asks.

My mouth parts and I swallow hard. “Yes,” I say gruffly.

She looks so pleased I have to laugh.

“Okay then,” she says like that settles that.

It isn’t lost on me that this is the second time marriage has been brought up today.

“What can we do to help?” Mrs. McGregor asks. “We can have a dinner prepared, a nice dessert. Something special.”

“Yes, a perfect evening. Flowers, the whole nine yards,” my mom adds.

I try not to balk at their eagerness. “I’ll figure it out,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “It’s not the first time I’ve mentioned it to her. She hasn’t said yes yet, and she might not. I just wanted you to know what I’m thinking…that I’m trying to convince her. Let me do this my way. But I’ll keep you posted, okay?”

They exchange a glowing look, probably the most peaceful they’ve been in weeks, and I can see the wheels turning behind their eyes.

“Just don’t scare her off, okay?” I tease. “She’s going to show up here and find casseroles and bouquets, isn’t she?”

Mom tries to look innocent. “We would never,” she says, failing to hide her grin .

“We’ll keep it subtle, don’t worry,” Mrs. McGregor says, winking.

“Subtle. Right,” I snort.

Now if Poppy will just say yes.

Who knew I’d be aching for a woman to move in with me?

Maybe if she moves in with me, I can get everyone off my back about marriage.

But even as I have the thought, I can picture Poppy walking down the aisle toward me in a white dress.

Fuck me.

I’m in this deeper than I realized.

I think maybe I’d do anything to make Poppy Keane my wife. The thought is too terrifying to untangle, so I go through Becca’s nighttime routine with her and then swim until I’m too tired to think anymore.