Third and Long: A Sports Romance

by Caitlyn Maxwell

  And jelly.

  I cringe at Gwen’s joke, but she’s right. This is the trip of a lifetime. The mansion of a billionaire playboy athlete. I’m like one of those girls who grows up in a small town only to find out they’re a Russian princess or some shit. Without the princess part. Meanwhile my prince sits on the other side of the cabin, not in a three piece suit, but in a pair of basketball shorts and a sweat stained white tank top. A real sign of romance if you ask me.

  Gwen’s jealous because she’d be on top of him already. I’m not wired that way. For all the protestations I make against dating in general, I am an old-school romantic. I’ll allow love in on my own terms when the time is right. I’d like to be swept off my feet by a real Romeo some day. While Logan is Mr. Charismatic Hot Body, today is not that day.

  At first he didn’t want to tell me the name of the girl his parents were trying to marry him off to. I told him before getting into the limo that I wouldn’t be going anywhere unless he told me. Since then I’ve been thinking: why go for the reserved chocolate-haired nerd when your parents want to set you up with the rich, blonde, sun-kissed goddess?

  Not that this is anything more than a favor. Don’t confuse my motives here. Logan promised me a getaway, a make up for that awful shit the South Texas Dirty wrote about me.

  I’m still not over that. It may not be his fault technically, but I haven’t forgiven him. At the same time that’s a big part of the reason that I decided to get out of town. Both Logan and Gwen agreed that the paparazzi are going to be looking for the girl in the blurry picture.

  The major question on every Texas photographer’s mind right now is: “who’s that girl?” There’s no footage on me. No pulse. No heartbeat. If they had any sense at all, they’d go to the university’s library and find out all they need to know. Logan’s usual girls are open books online. I’m not one to post everything I eat for breakfast on Instagram.

  Gwen is more than happy to deal with the paparazzi for a few days. My roommate has every intention of basking in the attention. I expect to see her on the front page of the Dirty, cranberry vodka in hand, looking a hot mess.

  In the end Logan will probably have to marry Katerina. Our little game is only going to buy him some time. His parents aren’t dumb. They’ll see through our fake engagement. When he pitched this insane plan to me this morning, Logan kept mentioning the draft. If he gets into the pros, then he feels like he can dictate life on his own terms. Not his father’s. What family would disown a superstar athlete pulling in millions upon millions of dollars?

  I’ve not met Logan’s father obviously, yet given what I’ve heard of him, he already intimidates me. It’s so strange. My parents are essentially absent. I’ve been on my own for years. Meanwhile, Logan can hardly get a cold without his parents asking why.

  For the entire ride out from Rome, my fake fiancé has been supremely quiet. At times he’s looked at me, at times he’s stared blankly out the window.

  “Hey behind you,” he says suddenly.

  I look over my shoulder to see his parents mansion rising in the distance. The damn place is huge. The open countryside I texted Gwen about starts to fall away to pastures for cattle or horses. Eventually the dirt turns to brick. Curved, ornate street lights dot the pathway up the mansion.

  That’s when I start to panic. There’s no way I can pretend to be Logan’s fiancée! I barely know anything about him. There’s no way his parents are going to be dumb enough to fall for this idiotic idea for even a second. The one time I allow myself to relax, and I get roped up in the idiotic ploy of a big dumbass like Logan.

  “Shouldn’t you have been asking me questions and stuff this whole time?” I ask him.

  Logan’s vibrant blue eyes pop even in the dark of the limo. He smirks.

  “So I can fool my parents?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you such a workaholic?”

  “Because I came from nothing and I’ve worked for everything.”

  Logan rolls his eyes.

  “Dude, you’re a billionaire. I’m from Eden.”

  “What the hell’s in Eden?”

  “A prison.”

  “Let me guess your dad’s in prison?”

  “No!” I say with all the conviction of a child caught stealing. “Okay. Yes. He is in prison.”

  “What did he do?” Logan ask.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want to know why I’m a workaholic? I’m not going to end up working a dead end job in a shitty town where going to jail actually seems preferable.”

  “Fair enough,” he says.

  It’s not the whole story of my parents, but my fake fiancée hardly needs to know everything.

  The moon hangs behind some clouds, so spotlights light up the front brick facade of the mansion. There’s a circular driveway that pulls up to a great oaken door in the center of the house.

  I’m practically drooling when I turn around to look at the size of the place. It stretches on for longer than I can see in the dark. I must look like every thirsty girl angling to get a piece of the Oliver fortune. Except for the part about how I don’t want one cent of his money. I’m here purely as a favor. Not that I’m a big fan of leisure either.

  It’s only two days. I can survive two days. A favor for a friend and then I can get back to work.

  “What about you? Tell me something about yourself,” I say.

  “I have two parents and two sisters,” Logan says.

  “Names?”

  “Well you might be surprised to hear this but my dad is also named Logan,” he says, reminding me that he’s the Third. “My mom is Jessica and my sisters are Carolyn and Jillian.”

  “Are your sisters anything like you?”

  “No they don’t play football.”

  “I mean—”

  He smiles, “No they aren’t at all. And you won’t meet them. They’re attending university in Paris.”

  “Oh right I forgot. You’re a billionaire,” I say as if I needed a reminder, pulling around in front of the biggest house I’ve ever seen.

  I told The Party Girls that they better have a product idea by the time Monday rolls around. Gwen made me promise not to even think about them while I’m away. I told her that wasn’t likely, but when the limo arrives at the front of the Oliver mansion, I realize that it’s actually going to be quite easy to forget those useless idiots for a few days.

  His parents are waiting for us by that great oaken door. Logan II is wearing a suit and Jessica, his mother, is wearing a modest dress. Either way we are both vastly under dressed for the occasion. I’m regretting my decision to stay in my Lions red.

  Gwen packed a weekend bag for me. She wouldn’t tell me what was in it. I made her promise to throw in some jeans and t-shirts. Everything else I left up to her. It was the only way I could get past the anxiety of planning for a trip the likes of which I’ve never taken. A good solid dose of anxiety runs through me again as the limo comes to a complete stop.

  Game face Tamber. Do Logan a favor, pretend to be his fiancée. I start to wonder what I’m getting out of all of this. A weekend getaway may not be worth the trouble.

  Before the limo driver lets us out, Logan bounds across the cabin and comes to a rest on his knee. He fishes something out of his pocket.

  “Tamber Long?” he asks. “I know we’re just friends, but will you fake marry me?”

  I blush. Even though it’s a complete joke, I blush.

  “Yes, Logan Oliver.”

  “The Third,” he reminds me.

  In a velvet box he shows me the biggest diamond that I’ve ever seen. He slides it slowly onto my finger, and for a brief moment, I catch myself wishing that this were real. To my complete and utter shock, the ring fits perfectly.

  “Good guess,” he says.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Logan

  As expected Mom and Dad looked pissed as all hell. They’re all dressed up th
is late at night for a reason: to make an impression, to make a point. Mom called me frantically after I broke the news to dad. She couldn’t understand and didn’t believe me. I recited some fortune cookie shit at her about true love laying where you least expect it.

  I’m shocked that she believe me. They follow all the shit the paparazzi write about me. Granted I did basically tell them the truth about how I met Tamber. The only part I embellished on is how our first date went. Whether they truly believe me doesn’t matter as much as whether they are willing to drop this whole Katerina Prescott business.

  Make it to draft day. Get into the pros as a single man. No father is going to disown a son who plays football professionally. It would look terrible for him, and all his business partners would hate to miss out on the access I could give. Sometimes I think the reason that my dad doesn’t want me to play in the pros is that he doesn’t want me to have any leverage on him.

  Fake engagement aside, Tamber is so fucking hot. Somehow she doesn’t even have a clue that she’s hotter than a volcano. I sat on the other side of the limo the entire way from Rome to my parents house because I had the world’s hardest erection. From the moment Tamber got in until the moment we got to my parents, my damn cock wouldn’t cooperate.

  I promised that I wouldn’t make a move on her, so I had to separate myself. I wanted to kiss her, touch her, fuck her. The adrenaline from the game still courses through my body. I feel uncontrollable, like a wild animal. Put me in a room alone with Tamber right now, and we would make hot, nasty love.

  Gregory, the limo driver, parks as close to the front door as he can, yet my parents make it clear that we will be coming to them. They don’t move from the front door, so as soon as Gregory lets us out, I take Tamber by the hand with as much confidence as I can muster. Fortunately, the ring looks great on her hand. I hold her close to me, hoping that it doesn’t bother her. She’s a good sport and plays along.

  Our fingers interlock. I can feel her pulse, her trepidation. It’s adorable. She’s actually afraid. My dad might be a dick, but he doesn’t bite. Much.

  “Son,” dad says as we walk up the brick steps toward my childhood home.

  Mom doesn’t say a word. She gives Tamber the stare of death. I feel bad for her. At least it’s all pretend right?

  “Mom, dad? This is Tamber Long, the love of my life.”

  Tamber sticks her hand out and says, “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Neither of my parents shake her hand, and this little meeting gets extremely awkward. Points to Tamber for being so totally chill about this.

  I’m going to have to buy her something super nice. Not that she’ll take it. She’s like me in that way. She wants to earn her success. I admire that.

  “Dad—”

  “Son. We will entertain this fancy for two days. But that’s all it is. A fancy.”

  Tamber looks crushed. She’s either great at acting, or my parents are simply that good at making people feel like shit.

  Before they turn to go inside, my mom decides to say something to Tamber.

  “I’m sure you’re a lovely girl,” she utters, her eyes looking down upon my fake fiancée.

  The statement makes me cringe, so I can only wonder how it makes Tamber feel.

  Jeffrey, our butler, opens the door from the inside, and my parents disappear into the house. Gregory brings our bags up to the front door and sets them on a cart that Jeffrey will wheel to our respective bedrooms.

  “Master Oliver, I will escort Ms. Long to her room for the evening. Your parents have requested an early night tonight. You and your fiancée are to have breakfast with them in the morning. I will see that your bags are taken to your rooms.”

  “Thanks, Jeff.”

  Tamber looks at me like I’m throwing her to the wolves. In a way I am. I’ll make it up to her tomorrow. She just has to survive breakfast. Then we can relax on the mansion grounds. It’s definitely too cold out to go for a swim in my parents’ Olympic-size pool which is a shame because I would kill to see Tamber in a bikini. I figure she’ll enjoy our horses. Maybe we can go for a roll in the hay.

  “I can give you two a moment,” Jeffrey says, turning around.

  I realize that means he’s expecting us to kiss goodnight. Acting is not my forte. I grab Tamber’s hand, and she’s giving me a hell of a look. Somehow she’s even more cute when she’s mad. I’m starting to realize that there isn’t an emotion in the world she could be feeling where she wouldn’t look absolutely stunning. It’s so effortless too.

  Agreeing to be friends might have been the stupidest decision of my life. Looking at her in the tight red Lions shirt and her skinny jeans, I start getting hard again. I tried the friend-with-benefits line once, and she turned me down.

  “What’s this all about?” she asks.

  “Sorry my parents are old school. They would shit if we were to sleep in the same bedroom,” I say trying to explain one of the many oddities of my parents.

  She groans clearly unhappy to be sent into a strange house all by herself.

  “But I mean if you want to sleep with me, I can figure something out.”

  She smirks and shoves me playfully.

  “See you tomorrow morning?” I ask her, feeling all the blood in my body rush to my cock. What I wouldn’t give to spend the night with her. I can’t help but picture her in a little nightie waiting for me to come to bed. God if only.

  “If I survive until then,” she says.

  “My parents aren’t so bad. Besides you’ll like the guest room.”

  “Why’s that?” she asks, moving closer to me.

  I’m afraid to press my body into her because I’m hard. The last thing I need is her freaking out again, and tipping off Jeffrey that we’re playing a game here.

  Holding her hands, I look down into her gorgeous brown eyes and feel her presence. Just friends? I’m such an idiot. Somehow I set up a fake life that’s better than my reality.

  “You’ll see,” I say.

  Tomorrow I’m going to call my sisters Carolyn and Jillian. It’s a fine mess I’ve made for myself, and I’m hoping they’ll be amendable to giving me advice for a change. Chances are my mom has already call them, telling them what a disappointment I’ve become.

  Before I can kiss Tamber on the cheek, she pulls me close to her. When my leg hits hers, her eyes go wide. While she doesn’t say anything, I know she’s feeling my cock again. We kiss each other briefly and separate. Totally normal couple behavior, right? Fortunately, Jeffrey isn’t looking.

  “This way Miss,” Jeffrey says when he senses that we’ve said our good nights.

  I watch her walk down the long hallway toward the guest wing. Her amazing booty rounds out those skinny jeans, and if I wasn’t totally hard before I am now. Sadly, I head down the opposite hallway to the family wing. My dad catches my attention from the kitchen. He’s been waiting there for me. This is going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tamber

  Admittedly the guest room is utterly fabulous. It’s the only thing stopping me from calling an Uber and getting the fuck out of here. What a mistake! Pretend to be my fiancée, he said. It’ll be fun, he said. Two seconds after we get here, his parents have already brushed me off and stuck me in the guest wing.

  I’m starting to get a better picture for why Logan is the way he is. I’d be out partying every night too if I had his parents. For all his mom knows, I am her son’s fiancée, and she can’t even be bothered to shake my hand?

  What did I get myself into? Before I can even get comfortable and take in the sheer opulence of the guest room, I fire off a text to Gwen.

  Remind me why I’m doing this?

  Gwen will give me some much needed reassurance. I’d go stir crazy all alone in a room like this without her as a lifeline. I suppose I could text Logan too. Honestly, I’m mad at him right now. There’s a lot he could have done to prepare me, yet he told me basically nothing about his parents and his home.

  Th
is whole thing is completely crazy, and exactly the kind of disaster that Gwen would get herself into. While I’m not happy about receiving the cold shoulder from two people who apparently hate me sight unseen, I am happy that they didn’t start asking me a bunch of questions about my relationship with Logan.

  They’ll save that for breakfast.

  Because you’re working yourself to death and you need a break.

  For once Gwen gives me a serious reply, or so I think until she quickly follows that text up with another.

  And you’re going to get that billionaire cock.

  Jesus Gwen.

  Once and for all we’re friends. I’m not going to fuck him.

  I throw my phone on the huge four-poster bed with the velvet duvet. The room is not huge, yet it’s bigger than any guest room I’ve ever seen. Strangely there are no windows, so I figure the room is in the very middle of the mansion. The vaulted ceiling and Baroque wall fixtures makes me feel like Dracula will be paying me a visit any minute.

  I wonder for a moment whether Jeffery is waiting outside to make sure I don’t go wandering around at night. Given that Logan’s parents obviously don’t trust me, I figure that’s a distinct possibility. Somehow I manage to go from super busy college student to prisoner of the billionaires. Just my luck.

  Then the little mini-fridge catches my eye, and I instantly stop giving a shit about where I am. Please be stocked. Please be stocked. Opening the door, I find the best thing I’ve seen all day: a ton of tiny liquor bottles and a six pack. Hallelujah. I grab a couple of vodka shooters, immediately open one, and drink it.

  “Oh that’s rough,” I say out loud to no one in particular. It takes the edge off wonderfully.

  “Put it on my tab.” Now I’m talking to myself. Great.

  Right. I believe it. Just friends.

  Gwen finally texts back. I open the other vodka shooter, but set it down to text Gwen back first.

  His parents hate me. So fucking nervous. Drinking alone. Not going to even be able to relax.