Must Love Pogs (Must Love Series Book 3) Read online

  Must Love Pogs

  Xavier Neal

  Must Love Series #3

  Must Love Pogs

  Must Love Series #3

  By Xavier Neal

  ©Xavier Neal 2017

  Cover by Dana Leah with Designs By Dana

  All Rights Reserved

  License Note

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without authorization from the author. Any distribution without express consent is illegal and punishable in a court of law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication: To the Universe...Thank you for reminding me why there’s nothing wrong with being different….

  Playlist Selects

  Here are six songs from the “Must Love Pogs” playlist!

  Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the book.

  1.What If-Kane Brown (Country)

  2.Beautiful Surprise- India Arie (R&B/Soul)

  3. Plot Twist- Marc E Bassy (Rap/Hiphop)

  4. Shut Up And Dance- Walk The Moon (Pop)

  5. Everlong- Foo Fighters (Rock)

  6. You Are Enough- Sleeping At Last (Indie Pop)

  More songs: http://spoti.fi/2zrBkuj

  Thirty. Single. And always wanted for the wrong reasons….Definitely not the best energy to constantly be surrounded by, which makes me even more grateful for the things I have to counter it, like my turquoise tranquility crystal dangling from my wrist.

  “I can’t believe Little L of all people is standing right here in front of me,” the stranger continues to gush, blocking my yellow brick road to more liquor. “Do you have any idea, like, who you are?”

  “Nope. Forgot my ID bracelet. Doesn’t match this dress.”

  To be fair, basically nothing matches this dress including the accessories I’ve picked. It’s why I love it. It’s bright orange, strapless, with a silver and white peacock design and a tulle bottom. I look like I’m late to a ‘90s prom nightmare, which is perfect considering this is a high school reunion. Ironically enough not mine. Wouldn’t have come if it was.

  “Damn!” The overweight male continues to swoon. “Of all the people I thought I would run into tonight, I never, in a million years, would’ve guessed it would be Little L. Little L! Your father is legendary, you know that.”

  “I do.”

  “LEGEN-DARY!”

  My fingers give the crystal a small rub to help soothe the exasperation starting to seethe from me.

  “ You were born into basketball royalty!”

  “Long live the King…”

  “Big L is king! He still holds three hall of fame records.”

  I press the gem into my skin trying to remember the words that African spirit guide told me to repeat when I bought it. Something about letting peace flow through you…

  “You know because of him everyone knows who you are. You’re like the sport’s prettiest princess…”

  Was it peace or punches? What are the chances she said something about letting punches flow through you into condescending, sports obsessed assholes’ faces?

  The man’s excitement seems to deepen. “Damn! You know what? I bet you know like all the greats in basketball.”

  “Yup.” I sarcastically smile. “Every. Single. One.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh yeah! They come over for poker night every other week.”

  His eyes lunge out of his head. “Seriously?!”

  “Uh no.” With another cheeky grin, I push past him and return to my trek towards the bar.

  This is unfortunately my life. Why on Earth did I think for the six hours we would be at this thing it would be any different? Apparently, it doesn’t matter if you were raised in Bel-Air or the backwoods barn like I imagine many of the people here were, everyone knows who my father is, which in turn means everyone knows who I am….At least in the field of sports I choose to work in I have a little more credit to my name than just being the daughter of a sports icon turned very lucrative business man.

  Just as I arrive at the open bar, the bartender travels to the opposite end to help a waiting customer. She smiles wide, tosses her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, and squeezes her paid for chest together to get the attention she craves.

  I could pop those things with the little sword they’re going to put in my martini. Watching her float around the room would bring me joy.…Probably the wrong kind , but after having seven different people stop to ask me about my father, I’ll take what I can get.

  My fingers toy with the crystal again and exhale a slow deep breath.

  Negative energy out. Positive, liquored filled energy in….

  All of a sudden, there’s an audible, heavy huff from behind me. “ No . Blake’s not here. He graduated the year after .”

  “You sure?” A squeaky voice counters causing me to furrow my eyebrows in displeasure. “I could’ve sworn you two were twins!”

  “No,” the deep voice bites. “We are not .”

  “Blake was always so…charming,” the last word is coated with a disgustingly, dreamy spin. “You know, at your parties, he was always the one I hoped would ‘show me around’ the property. Take me to have a drink out by the little pond in the back….Kiss me while the moon was shinin’. He was so sexy with those beautiful, brown eyes, hard as rock biceps and hands made for ropin’ more than just animals.” The described fantasy is followed by another huff from the male. “Gosh oh my…he was somethin’ else…”

  “Still is,” he mumbles with irritation.

  I try not to smirk, knowing the plague of being hounded.

  “Would’ve killed to have Eddie on my arm too,” she continues, obviously not taking the hint he’s not interested in talking about those people. “He always had a bit of the ‘bad boy’ thing to him, especially once rumors started going around he slept with Deputy Kelly’s daughter in the parking lot of the church after she left choir practice each night.”

  His silence twists my lips in a contemplative nature.

  Why do I get the feeling this little trip down memory lane is not a mutual enjoyment?

  “Your brothers were amazing, you know that?”

  Those words spin me around on my heels, and I fake a giggle as I wrap my light cappuccino colored hands around his very wide bicep.

  God, it’s like hugging a tree trunk. Is it wrong to want to climb it like one too?

  “I’m sorry, Hot Stuff, I am so forgetful.” Looking up into the tall stranger’s blue eyes where I recognize an all too familiar misery, I question, “What was it you wanted to drink again?”

  The corner of his lips curl upward. “A dirty martini with a twist, Sunshine.”

  “Guess my mind is still a little frazzled from the taxi ride over here….You remember how loud I was screaming. God, that thing you did with your fingers was so-” I cut myself off, pretending to just now notice the brunette woman standing there. “Oh! Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there! I can’t believe I almost said that out loud.”

  Intrigue and appall clash in her expression.

  She’s obviously not getting enough. It’s always a bad sign when you’re reminiscing about the sex stories you remember from high school .

  “Forgive me,” I pretend to apologize again. With a loving smile, I return my stare to the man I am happy to be rescuing. “Sometimes when we’re together, I just…kinda forget the rest of the world exists.”
/>   He gives my cheek the gentlest stroke with his thumb, and my heart misses a beat. “Me too, Sunshine.”

  I know he’s pretending, but there’s a swirling mass of energy inside of me that swears he isn’t. It’s most likely just attraction fusing with the idea our lives might be slightly analogous. He’s tall, cut, and exhibiting all the benefits of eating Wheaties for breakfast from the minute you learn to chew, but he also has a glum glint to his glare that I recognize all too well.

  Loneliness, like misery, longs for company.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Lindsey. I think I’m gonna accompany my girlfriend to the bar before she forgets what to order again.”

  “Or you could do that thing to make sure I forget again....”

  His blue stare grows hungry at the same time his cheeks noticeably flush. “Oh, I plan on it.…”

  The desire to quit pretending increases exponentially.

  “It was good catching up with you, Oliver,” Lindsey hums. “Tell your brothers I said hello. I’m sure they remember me .”

  Oliver gives her a curt nod, drops his large palm to the small of my back, and leads us a couple steps back over to the bar. He lifts two fingers in the air to summon the bartender over, yet continues stroking the area his hand has landed. I try to ignore the goosebumps breaking out across my flesh from the touch.

  Okay. So the ex-cheerleader isn’t the only one who needs to get laid.

  His fingertips add the slightest amount of pressure, and the tension I couldn’t shake earlier dissolves.

  Huh….How do I explain that?

  I glance over my shoulder to see Lindsey talking to inflatable wonder boobs. Not surprised they’re friends with the shared amount of plastic they’re both showcasing, I mumble, “She’s gone now. You’re in the clear.”

  His gentle strokes remain.

  My pale pink lip slips between my teeth to prevent from swooning.

  I swear it feels like I’m swimming in an unusual serenity. How the hell is he doing this? What is it about his touch that’s so appeasing?

  “What can I get you, sir?” The bartender questions grabbing our attention.

  “A dirty martini with a twist.” Oliver’s gaze falls to me once more, this time fanning a flame I didn’t even know existed. “What about you, Sunshine?”

  “The same,” I coo, swept away by the delicious nature of his southern drawl.

  Is that accent real or just for show? Wonder if it gets thicker as he does….

  We wait for our drinks to be mixed in a comfortable silence. Once we’ve received them and he’s tipped, he guides us to a nearby table where he pulls my chair out for me. The gentleman act continues, and my curiosity deepens.

  Is he pulling out all the bells and whistles because he thinks it’ll prolong the brush off I give him when he starts going all fangirl over who my father is?

  Oliver settles in the seat beside me. “Thanks for doing that by the way. I appreciate it.”

  I tilt my head at him waiting for the realization. Waiting to be told who I am.

  “I’m Oliver Shaw,” he introduces between sips. When I don’t immediately answer, he nervously shifts in his seat. “I could keep calling you Sunshine all night if you like, but it would be nice to have your name in return.” His dark expression hardens. “And not just as a precaution, though I wouldn’t put it past Lindsey or one of her cheer squad teammates to magically reappear in front of my face to reassure once more that my brother is indeed not here.”

  The words tumble out of my mouth in a whispered glee, “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Not a sports fan?”

  His blue eyes try not to sadden. “Is that a problem?”

  My grin brightens. “Not at all.”

  The look of relief on his face is heartwarming.

  He was worried about striking out because he’s actually interested in me , the random woman who saved him, not because he was hoping I would let him meet the NBA legend after two dates.

  This is different….

  I like different….

  I love the feeling of different flowing through me like it has been since we touched….

  “I’m London Hall.”

  Oliver wets his lips as if tasting how it sounds on them. “London Hall.”

  “The one and only….”

  “You’re not from Middlebrook,” he casually comments. “So, what are you doing here? You just crash high school reunions for fun? Is this what your normal Saturday night out looks like?”

  “Sometimes,” I tease and have a sip of my drink. “However, tonight, I’m saving damsels in distress from obnoxious ridicule that belongs in a Molly Ringwald movie.”

  He chokes on his drink from the comment. “Did you just call me a damsel?”

  “I did.”

  Oliver does his best not to chuckle. “And who’s the other?”

  “Randy Morris.” My eyes cut to the man whose date I’m supposed to be. “His boyfriend couldn’t make it, so rather than show up alone and admit his preference for wanting to tackle the quarterback off the field, I came for moral support.”

  “Beautiful, curly red-headed moral support.”

  The compliment causes my slightly freckled complexion to glow.

  Also different. Most people who aren’t familiar with my famous sports lineage stare at my so called mismatched features in confusion. They silently wonder how the hell I have auburn colored hair, blue eyes, and extremely light brown skin with freckles thrown on it like confetti. The correct answer is genetics does whatever the hell it wants, much like mother nature, including making me the odd one out of my siblings. I like to believe I’m as uniquely beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside. My spirit matches my complexion. Both are unpredictable and constantly changing.

  “It’s weird your school didn’t do a fifteen year reunion, but a seventeen. What? Were they afraid if they waited three more years you’d all be too knee deep in corn to wanna come back?”

  Oliver shakes his head, smile still remaining. “You don’t know how corn grows do you?”

  I give him a small shrug. “At least I know it grows , which you might consider impressive if you knew the type of people I typically hang around.”

  Like men who should probably wear their helmets full time rather than just when they step onto their boards.

  After another sip he informs, “Stephanie, the woman who put this whole thing together, missed the fifteen year mark and the sixteen year mark because she was pregnant.”

  My mouth runs away from me. “Wow. So, you guys have to party around her pregnancy schedule?”

  Oliver doesn’t bother hiding his chuckles. “Drawbacks of small town life.”

  “You still live there?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  His answer lifts my eyebrows in curiosity.

  “It’s not….It’s not a bad place.”

  “Liar.”

  Another light laugh leaves him. “It’s really not. I’m there more often than I care to confess too.”

  “Why?” I casually lead the conversation a direction I know I probably shouldn’t. “Got an on again, off again ex-girlfriend you’re not so cleverly waiting around for while she comes to her senses and realizes you’re the best damn thing that’ll ever happen to her?”

  And he totally would be the best thing that could ever happen to a woman in the love department….I just know it.

  I feel it.

  I feel it so deeply it equally scares and excites me.

  The new rush to my senses has me fiddling nervously with my glass.

  “Nope. What you unknowingly just described was my youngest brother about a year ago.”

  “Meaning you’re single?”

  His tan face grows a slight red tint. “Very.”

  I hum at the wicked intentions now rolling towards the front of my mind.

  We can finish playing out these fake couple moments upstairs in my hotel room. For one
night I can pretend to be the doting girlfriend whose boyfriend looks at her like she’s something wonderful rather than what he hopes she can do for him or his career. Even if it’s all make believe like some cruel, crooked version of Cinderella, at least I’ll have had it once in my life. That’s better than I would’ve ever predicted.

  Definitely a risk I think would be worth taking.