The Dating Playbook Page 8

  Jamar’s smile broadened and a warm sensation fluttered low in her belly. Shit. She really needed to stop flirting with her client.

  Taylor took off her jacket and hung it on the hook near the door. She pushed her shirtsleeves up, stuck her hands in her pockets, then pulled them out and crossed her arms over her chest. Why was she suddenly nervous?

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked.

  “Sure. Water is fine.” He scratched his left palm, a move Taylor already recognized as a nervous habit he relied on when thinking. Great, so now they were both edgy. This was ridiculous.

  He stopped at the bookshelf that held her collection of Disney snow globes and trading pins.

  “I take it you’re a fan of Disney?”

  “Huge fan,” Taylor called from the kitchen. “Visiting Walt Disney World in Florida is at the top of my bucket list.”

  “You have all this Disney stuff and have never been to Disney World? That’s just wrong.”

  She detected when he started moving again, the thump of his Timberland boots echoing on her floors. He reached the tiny kitchen and his steps abruptly stopped.

  “Are you baking cookies?”

  Taylor looked down at the bag of chocolate chips, flour, and sugar that she’d gathered from the pantry without even realizing it.

  What the hell? This was not the time to stress-bake!

  “No, no.” She shoved the container of sugar to the side, then turned to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. She gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

  After handing him his water, she perched against the arm of the sofa. She glanced at the twin bed in the corner, whispering a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t left something embarrassing in clear view.

  “So how do you think we should handle this?” she asked.

  Jamar hunched his shoulders. “Contact Mooney and tell him the truth.”

  “You know what that would mean for you, don’t you? Months of speculation and random jerks leaving snotty comments online.”

  “What else is there to do, Taylor?”

  She jumped up and began to pace in front of the sofa. “I know that we can come up with a plan that works for both of us. Now, the most important thing for you is that no one finds out that you want to play football again, right?”

  “The most important thing for me is to play football again. Period. I would prefer to keep what we’re doing out of the public until I return to the League, but if word gets out…” Another shrug. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”

  Guilt twisted in Taylor’s gut at the disappointment she heard in his voice. “As someone who recently experienced a pretty awful dragging by strangers online, I can’t stomach the thought of putting you through that just because I stupidly blurted out that lie.”

  “Taylor, if I had to list all the times I’ve been dragged online, it would stretch all the way up to my house in Georgetown. It comes with the territory when you’re an athlete who’s played at the professional level.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason for this particular dragging,” she said, feeling even worse that he was trying to downplay her role in this.

  Jamar caught her by the wrist. “Can you please sit down? Your pacing is making me dizzy.”

  She sat on the sofa, but then immediately popped back up again. “Wait. I have an idea. It’s a little crazy, but it can work. No, it will work.”

  “What?” His apprehension was justified. At this point, Taylor wouldn’t trust herself either. But the more the idea began to coagulate in her head, the more it started to make total sense.

  “Hear me out,” she began. “What if we stick with the dating story for now?”

  “What?” His head jerked back. “You’re not serious?”

  Okay, so she was a tad offended by the incredulity in his tone.

  “For the record, I’m a catch,” she said. “But that’s beside the point. Listen, if people think we’re dating, we won’t be confined to your home gym anymore.” She put her hands up. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s the coolest home gym I’ve ever seen in my life, but I love getting outdoors too. We wouldn’t have to hide out if people think you’ve just tagged along on workouts because I’m your girlfriend.”

  “I thought that was exactly what you were trying to avoid, having potential customers assume that I’m only working with you because I’m your boyfriend?”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I didn’t say this was ideal, but it’s the best solution I can come up with. If I could travel back in time and not open my big mouth to that Mooney guy, I would. But that’s not happening. And, you know what? If I’m able to prove to people that I’m so damn good that I can get a guy with a busted knee back into the NFL, it won’t matter if they believe we’re dating.”

  Taylor slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh. My. God. Come on, Taylor Renee! Why didn’t you see this before?”

  “You’re addressing yourself in the third person, and that kind of shit always scares me,” Jamar said. “What should you have seen before?”

  “We can be the new IG power couple!” she said. She laughed at his confounded expression. “Do you spend even a second on Instagram? Because, if you do, you would know that the power couples rule Fitnessgram.”

  “Are you even speaking English right now?”

  “Keep up, Twenty-Three. You’re younger than I am; you should know this lingo.” She snapped her fingers. “I need something to write on.” Taylor walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a piece of mail and a pen. “We need to put together a game plan,” she said, returning to the sofa. She turned the envelope vertical and wrote game plan at the top.

  “The a is backwards.”

  She looked over at him. “Huh?”

  He lifted the envelope from her hand and pointed to it. “The a. You wrote it backwards in both game and plan.”

  “It’s only because I was writing too fast. Now, let me finish this.” She snatched the envelope from his hands and made a list of bullet points. Once done, she turned to him, unable to stanch the smile that curled up her lips. “So this is freaking brilliant.”

  “You want to share?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  “I’ll read it to you,” Taylor said. She didn’t need Mr. Penmanship dissecting her messy handwriting. “This is our official dating playbook. Our overall goal is to convince everyone that we’re the hot new fitness couple on the block. I’d love to come up with a couple’s name, but all I can think of is TayJar.”

  “Please don’t make me half of TayJar.”

  Taylor had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at the desperation in his frantic plea.

  “Forget TayJar,” she said, tapping the pen in a chaotic rhythm against her leg. “It’s not important. What is important is selling this story to the public so that they’ll believe we’re really a couple.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “I told you, by becoming a fitness power couple. We’ll convince people you’re helping me develop new exercise routines for Taylor’d Conditioning. I’m known for my boot camp workouts, but I can say that I’m moving into a new genre—work out like an NFL player, or something.

  “Now, in order to really sell this, we’re going to have to play up the whole couples routine.” She ticked items off on her fingers. “Posting pictures of ourselves together online, especially when we’re working out. Maybe even making a few YouTube workout videos together. But it can’t be all about working out,” she stressed. “We’re going to have to stage a few dates where I get to wear cute clothes and heels.”

  The furrows in his forehead were so deep Taylor feared he’d end up with permanent frown lines.

  “Taylor, are you sure about all of this?” he asked. “I can clear this up with a single text to Alec Mooney.”

  “No, it will work. I promise.” She pointed to the envelope. “If we follow the playbook, we can both get what we want. What do you say, Twenty-Three
?”

  He sat in contemplative silence, studying her. After several strained moments passed, he said, “I guess we’re dating.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jamar refastened the belt on the heat wrap around his knee and flexed the muscle, trying not to wince at the sharp pinch that shot through the joint. He dialed back the flash of worry that immediately sparked, reminding himself that even an uninjured knee would ache after the punishing workout he’d put it through.

  He’d left Taylor at her apartment yesterday afternoon after they’d both agreed they were too mentally exhausted to undertake the upper-body workout she’d had planned. But once he’d arrived home, his pent-up adrenaline wouldn’t allow him to rest. He’d changed into sweats and took off for a four-mile run, intending to clear his head. But four miles had turned into ten as he’d mulled over the ramifications of yesterday’s chance meeting with Alec Mooney. How could something seemingly harmless cause his plans to implode in such spectacular fashion?

  He thought of the chaos theory he’d learned about in high school, and how the fluttering of a butterfly’s delicate wings in one part of the world could result in cataclysmic consequences in another. That’s what this felt like. If he’d hung around just a few moments longer to chat with Coach Green, or if he’d taken Taylor over to check out some of the equipment, there was a possibility they would have never encountered Mooney. A minor tweak in the course of yesterday’s events and everything would still be on track.

  He heard a car door slam and jumped up from the weight bench. His new girlfriend was here for today’s workout.

  He dropped his head back and chuckled at the ceiling.

  If anyone questioned whether God had a sense of humor, Jamar need only point to the fact that he now had to pretend that he and Taylor Powell were dating. The irony of trying to pull off a fake relationship with a woman he would’ve dated in a heartbeat if circumstances were different wasn’t lost on him.

  The more he thought about it, the more Jamar was convinced this was his best friend having a good laugh at his expense. Silas had been the king of practical jokes.

  He arrived at the front door just as Taylor ascended the top step.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, breezing past him on her way into the house. “There was a huge piece of farm equipment being carried by a flatbed truck on the interstate. It took up two lanes and had traffic backed up to the Forty-Five on-ramp.” She held up two red reusable shopping bags. “I was too keyed up after everything that happened yesterday, so I spent half the night cooking your meals.”

  “Oh, cool. What did you make?”

  “This is grilled chicken with brown rice and sautéed root veggies,” she said, holding up a container. “I also have flank steak with a mushroom and spinach tart. It is divine.” She cradled the other bag. “And in here are black bean quesadillas and chickpea burgers.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I’ll eat the chicken and steak, but not that other stuff.”

  She peered at him over her shoulder as she unloaded plastic meal-prep containers from one of the bags. “Seriously, how did you get a body like that without eating vegetables?”

  Jamar arched a brow. “You’ve been checking out my body?”

  “Uh, give your ego a Xanax. I’m your trainer; it’s my job to check out your body.”

  And just like that, his ego was now the size of the speck of dust he found on the marble countertop. He swiped at it with his thumb.

  “I’m serious about those burgers and quesadillas,” Jamar said. “You can take those back with you because they’ll just go to waste here.”

  She plopped a hand on her hip, that sassy-ass attitude on full blast. “Okay, both of these are freaking delicious. They are, by far, my most popular dishes. But do you want to know what tastes even better than those amazing quesadillas? Revenge.” She dragged out the word. “Now, how bad do you want it?”

  Jamar cursed under his breath. “Fine, I’ll eat the chickpeas.”

  “You will also eat crow when you’re forced to admit how much you like them,” she said. If she were anyone else, he would have found her triumphant grin irritating. On Taylor, it was charming.

  She picked up four of the eight containers and carried them to the refrigerator. Jamar snatched up the remaining ones and brought them to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking them from him and storing them along with the others. “By the way, I’m going to need you to change out of those clothes.”

  He looked down at his compression leggings/shorts combo and muscle tank, his typical workout gear. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “We’re not working out today. At least not yet.”

  “What? Why not?”

  They’d skipped yesterday’s workout. He didn’t want to bring up money with her, but he was paying her some damn good money to train him.

  She closed the refrigerator and leaned back against it. Folding her arms over her chest, she said, “We need to address your nutrition.”

  “I said I’ll eat the chickpeas, Taylor. And I threw out all the potato chips.”

  “Good. But if your nutrition isn’t on point, all the bicep curls in the world won’t make a difference. I’ll bet you were taught to carbo load because carbs are fuel, right?”

  Jamar shrugged. “They used to serve us spaghetti dinners before the game on Friday nights.”

  “I’m not surprised.” She snorted. “I’m not anti-carbs or anything, but you have to be smart about how you consume them.”

  “So Twix and cheese puffs are out of the question?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your sense of humor is trash,” she said, but then a reluctant smile drew across her lips.

  He should be concerned by the amount of satisfaction he gained from the simple act of putting that smile on her face. Then again, making her laugh was the kind of thing he was supposed to do as her boyfriend, wasn’t it? If he was going to play the part…

  Jamar stuck his hands in his pockets and perched against the counter. “So if we’re not hitting the gym today, what are we doing?”

  “We are hitting the gym, just not yet.” She folded the reusable tote bags she’d brought with her and tucked them underneath her arm. “Right now, we are going on our very first date!”

  “A date?” He glanced at his Apple Watch. “At this time of the morning?”

  “Trust me, when it comes to where we’re going, this time of the morning is ideal. Everything is nice and fresh, and not picked over.”

  Nice and fresh?

  Jamar winced. “Please don’t say we’re going to the grocery store.”

  “It’s as if you’re psychic,” she said, her brown eyes bright with amusement.

  “Taylor, c’mon. I hate the grocery store. As in, I will do anything to avoid it. Even eat kale.”

  “You want a long and successful career in the NFL, don’t you? Then you need to learn how to shop and cook the right kind of meals for yourself.”

  “What if I just pay you to cook for me until I retire?”

  “No.” She tilted her head to the side. “Actually, that can be arranged for the right price. But what if I’m on vacation?”

  “Delivery?”

  She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the stairs. “A lesson in proper nutrition and how to cook easy, healthy meals will do you wonders. Now, go change.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jamar found himself in the produce section of the grocery store near his house. He had been here exactly one time in the year since he’d moved to Georgetown. Once he discovered grocery delivery, he was sold. Apparently, his new trainer had never heard of Instacart.

  “You look like a kidnapping victim,” Taylor whispered. “How are we going to convince the public we’re falling madly in love if you’re constantly frowning?”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before choosing a grocery store as the site of our first date, dear.”

  “Grocery stores are heaven, especially this g
rocery store. I mean, just look at the selection here!” She gestured like a game show hostess at the yards of colorful organic vegetables displayed before them. “I could spend hours in this place.”

  “You really need to get out more. No one should be this excited over produce.”

  Jamar ducked when she picked up a yellow bell pepper and made as if she was going to pelt it at his head.

  “Stop making fun of me,” she said with a laugh. “Remember when you predicted I would fall in love with football by the time we’re done? That’s the same way I’ll have you feeling about vegetables.”

  “If you can pull off that miracle, I will—” Jamar started, but then he stopped when he caught sight of a figure just to his right. A second later he heard, “Excuse me? Diesel Dixon?”

  He turned. A lanky guy with shaggy blond hair held a Texas Longhorns baseball cap and a black Sharpie out to him. “Do you mind signing my cap? I want to give it to my dad. He’s been a fan since that seventy-yard TD you ran against Kansas State your freshman year.”

  Jamar dialed up his obligatory smile for fans. “Tell your dad I appreciate the years of support,” he said as he scribbled his signature on the ball cap’s stiff bill.

  “Thanks a lot, man. He’s going to love this.” The guy walked away, clutching the cap as if it were a brick of solid gold.

  When he turned back to Taylor, she was still staring in the direction of the retreating fan. She finally looked at him, hooking her thumb toward the guy. “Be honest, it’s hella awkward when stuff like that happens.”

  Jamar scratched the back of his head. “It was cool the first thousand times it happened to me, but after five years of it? Yeah, it’s kinda awkward. Especially in grocery stores, which is why I avoid them.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “Come on, let’s see if you can get through your assignment before another of your adoring fans interrupts us.”

  Jamar pulled up short. “My assignment?”

  “Okay, Twenty-Three, I know we’ve only been working together for a few days, but you should know by now that there are no easy days. Ever. You’ve got to put in some work.” She held out the green shopping basket she’d been carrying on her arm. “Your assignment is to pick out five types of vegetables that would be acceptable additions to your diet.”