The Rules of Friends with Benefits, Lauren Blakely [the false prince series TXT] 📗

the back of his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss that would set social media on fire.

Just to satisfy my curiosity.

That’s all.

Because one-way street, two-way street, it doesn’t matter.

Dad would have told me that negotiating a deal requires knowing what you want and what you’re willing to give up to get it.

I know what I want in regard to Crosby. I want him in my life. I want him in Eric’s life. I want this companionship with him, this friendship. And to hold on to it always, I’m willing to give up ever knowing if there could be more than that between us.

The other thing I want is to enjoy his company more often, and since that aligns with the other things I’ve been missing, I have news for him. It’s a miracle the story hasn’t broken in the press, and I’m delighted I get to tell him first.

“Guess what?” I say when I reach him, giddy with excitement. “I convinced the NFL.”

His grin widens, and his eyes narrow, teasing and bemused at the same time. “Convinced them to what? Let you play?”

“Funny, but no. I got the go ahead to . . . wait for it . . .” I take a dramatic pause to enjoy the reveal. “Relocate the team.”

His shock does not disappoint. “Holy shit,” he says when he picks up his jaw. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a shark.”

He shakes his head as if shaking off a daze. “So where’s it going to be? Miami? DC? Buffalo?”

“San Francisco.” I grin until my face hurts. “I’m bringing the team back home, Crosby.”

He smiles wide enough to bridge the Hudson. It dazzles brighter than the event spotlights and electrifies me from head to toe. “That’s incredible, Nadia. You look happy. Are you happy?”

“Elated.” I press my hand over the butterflies in my stomach. “I mean, it’s a risk, but I think it’s right for the team. And for me. That’s where my heart is.”

“Yeah, I hear people leave those in San Francisco all the time.”

I smack his arm. “Smarty-pants.”

But I’m glad for the joke, the teasing glint in his eye. I’m sure he knows that by heart, I mean my family. But I could do with the reminder.

After the event, we go to Gin Joint, our favorite bar in New York City, where we grab a drink to celebrate—not any awards, but the move.

Crosby raises his glass in a toast. “To being in the same city again.”

“To hanging out until we get sick of each other,” I say.

“Then we’ll be hanging out forever, because I’ll never get sick of you,” says Crosby.

“Whew, that’s a relief,” I say, as I sip my drink to hide a smile. “I’m the same. I just didn’t want to presume.”

“Wild Girl, I am here on earth to be presumed upon by beautiful women.” He winks over the rim of his cocktail. “You have a fast pass to the front of the line.”

“What a charming thought.” I roll my eyes, but they come back to find his locked on me.

“I’m full of charm, haven’t you noticed?”

We’re seated at the bar, gazes snagged on each other, knees brushing, something like a static charge jumping from him to me and racing up my leg.

I let myself enjoy the tingles that spread to the most sensitive parts of me. Because, oh yes, I’ve noticed his charms and their effect on me.

Living in the same town for the first time since we were young . . . will it change things? Already my memories of back then are closer to the surface. There was a night—I was eighteen, he was twenty—when I thought the scales would tip to romantic. I was sure something was about to happen with us.

A kiss.

Deep and passionate.

Tender and gentle.

A first kiss, swoon-worthy and life-altering.

And, it turns out, imaginary.

I’m unquestionably relieved about that. I’m not sure Crosby and I would be where we are now, friendship-wise, if we’d kissed back then.

But still. The spark wasn’t imaginary. It was there. And the more often we connect, the more I’m sure it still is.

7

Nadia

Early Next Year

On my list of people I don’t see often enough is my good friend Scarlett, though she lives not just in another state, but on another continent. She’s in Vegas to negotiate some hotel acquisitions but taking the evening off from World Hospitality Industry Domination to take in a show.

Since I last saw her, a lot has happened, including the love-of-her-life thing. I’d been in Paris, where she lives, for my own business trip, and we spent an afternoon wandering Le Marais, ostensibly shopping for shoes, but mostly catching up. She’d been about to leave for a week of scouting boutique hotels with her business partner Daniel, and I can see how “I’m not going to mix business with pleasure” worked out for her. So well that Daniel, aka the love of Scarlett’s life, is coming with us to Stone’s concert.

I smother a smile as Scarlett and I saunter down to the theater of The Extravagant. When she gives me a questioning look, I tip my head to indicate Daniel, who’s fallen back to take in some hotel detail only noticeable to someone in the business.

“Props to your man for giving us a privacy bubble so we can catch up.”

“He’s considerate that way.” She smirks like I don’t need to tell her she’s got a good one, and I laugh, delighted for her. She redirects with “So, spill. You know what’s up with me, so you must have something to dish.”

Well, she’s not wrong. “I’ve been dying to catch up with you. You’re never going to believe who called me.”

Her expression goes intensely serious. “Chris Hemsworth?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Even better. Crosby Cash.”

She arches a brow. “Your brother’s best friend? The guy you’ve crushed on forever? The baseball player for the San Francisco Cougars?”

“That’s who. He’s the best man at my brother’s wedding.”

“Ooh la la. What did he call you for?” She makes her question