The Toughest Play

7. Rogan

CHAPTER 7

ROGAN

I need to learn more about Autumn. I want to find out as much as I can before I have to drop her off.

“How’s your new job going?” I ask the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s great, thanks.”

“The Silverbacks’ social media pages are looking better than ever.”

“Thank you. I really love making content for them.”

“I can tell. I realize more effort goes into making the videos and reels you post than most people realize. Which is why the stuff I post sucks in comparison.”

She titters. “Yeah, you’re a big meme poster.”

“Wait. Did I just make you laugh?”

“Not a laugh so much as a snicker, and I don’t think you can claim credit for it, although you were the inspiration.”

I nudge her arm with my elbow and add more bass to my voice when I say, “So, you’ve seen my memes.”

She makes a choking sound and turns her head toward the passenger window while I beam as if I’ve just been named the starting quarterback. “Making you laugh might be easier than I thought. You haven’t even begun to see my best memes. Had I known you were looking, I would’ve posted some of my favorites. Some of them are chef’s kiss.” I kiss my fingertips.

“What are you saving them for?” she asks.

I clutch my chest dramatically and mutter, “Meme dealers are so underappreciated.”

“Okay, Mr. Professional Meme… Memer? Meme Man? Explain your posting process to me.”

“Choosing which one to share each day isn’t some half-assed decision. There are various factors that have to be weighed.”

“Such as?” Her skepticism is thick.

“What day of the week it is?—”

She quickly interrupts. “What does that have to do with what you post?”

I slowly shake my head. Not many truly understand. It’s an underrated art form. “I try to post something funny on Sundays because most people are going back to work the next day and don’t want to be.”

“I love going to work on Mondays,” she cuts in.

“Well, in a perfect world, everyone would, but there are plenty just grinding day in and day out to make ends meet. I like to give them something to laugh about. Then on Mondays they need a pick-me-up, so I do a motivational post. Something that will hopefully inspire them. Tuesday is a day I play by ear. We made it through the start of the week and we’re starting to roll toward the midway point. Wednesday is hump day, so of course it needs to be reflected in my post.”

“Of course,” she drolls.

I smile. “Thursday is the day everyone wants to rush through, so I try to post something funny. When Friday hits, it’s so close to the official weekend, I switch it up and see which meme is speaking to me.”

She makes a sputtering sound. “Your memes speak to you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like they say, ‘post me, daddy.’” She giggles, and it might be the best sound I’ve ever heard, but I don’t want to call attention to it and ruin the moment. “It’s more of a feeling I get as I scroll through my collection. Some jump out more than others. I tend to go with my gut feeling on most things, so why would choosing memes be any different?”

“What about Saturday?” she asks.

“That’s when I like to switch it up. It could depend on my mood, what the weather’s like, if I’m hungry… You get the idea.”

“Yep, I do. I really had no idea you give the content you post so much thought.”

“Hey, I really like to entertain the people who support me. I appreciate all their comments and the encouragement they give me. And to be honest, I’ve tried to make reels but I don’t enjoy the process. The last thing I want to do after spending my day at work is lose my mind putting them together. If I get the pictures right, the music cuts out at the wrong time. If the music and pictures are right, the captions don’t follow along with the correct slides. By the time I’m done, I’ve lost an hour I’ll never get back and I want to smash my phone into a million pieces.”

“It’s not for everyone,” she says.

“Maybe I need you to teach me how to make reels.”

“If you’re enjoying your memes and your fans are too, why bother switching it up?” she asks.

“Yeah, I guess for now I need to focus on playing football.” And making her laugh.

“It seems to be working for you.”

“Thank you. But I’ve been warming the bench for too long, and this season, that changes.” It’s my time to shine.

I make the turn down her street and then the one into her driveway. I’m not sure what I expected her home to look like, but it’s not the picturesque beach cottage in front of me.

“Nice house.”

Her lips curve into a small smile. “Thanks. It’s our pride and joy.”

“Our?” Jesus, please don’t let Brett be the other part of that equation.

“My best friend and I bought this house for a steal and fixed it up. It’s been a two-year process but we’re pretty much done now. Aside from a few small things anyway.”

“It looks like you’ve done an amazing job.” Even the landscaping is well maintained, and there are pink, white, and purple flowers overflowing from boxes mounted underneath the front windows.

“Thanks. It’s a labor of love, for sure.”

“Did you do all the repairs yourself?” I ask. I’m still not ready for her to get out of my Jeep.

“We did all the painting, tiling, and we refinished the floors. But we hired someone to do the bigger stuff like the kitchen cabinets, plumbing, and electrical.”

The front door opens and a tall brunette comes out onto the landing.

“Is that your best friend?”

Her full lips curve into a wide smile that lights up her face. I even see her straight teeth. She’s so fucking beautiful, she steals my breath like a blow to my solar plexus.

She undoes her seat belt. “Yes, that’s Scarlett.”

“Seems like she wants to make sure you’re okay.” I open my door. “I guess I better meet her.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” she says, but I’m already sliding out to stand in the driveway. She hurries from her side and rounds the front of the Jeep. “Hey, Scar. This is Rogan.”

“It’s nice to meet you. You must be special if Autumn calls you her best friend.”

She smiles. “Oh, I am, and it’s nice to meet you too.”

Autumn gestures toward me. “My car wouldn’t start and Rogan gave me a ride.”

“Is this the same Rogan that Brett’s been melting down over?” Scarlett asks, walking closer.

I grin. “He’s melting down over me?”

“Oh yeah, big time. He’s giving my girl here all kinds of grief too.”

My grin instantly fades. “That asshole. Do I need to speak with him?”

“God no,” Autumn jumps in. “I can handle Brett.”

Scarlett casts a dubious glance at her before her gaze settles on me. “You might need to.”

Autumn scowls. “Hey! I said I could handle Brett and I will.”

Scarlett fires back,“There’s a difference between handling him and appeasing him. He’s a big baby, and the more you pacify him, the more he expects.”

I jump in before they get carried away. “Ladies, I think you’ll both agree Brett Barlow isn’t worth fighting over.”

“Hell no,” Scarlett agrees.

I glance at Autumn and she shakes her head. My gaze swings to her best friend. “It’s been nice meeting you.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks.

“I was going to head home and have some dinner.”

“Why would you do that when I made Autumn’s favorite—lasagna—and there’s plenty to go around?”

“That’s a good question,” I say, catching the look of annoyance Autumn directs at her friend.

But seemingly undeterred by it, Scarlett hooks her arm around Autumn’s and leads her toward the door.

“I’m sure Rogan has better things to do than have dinner with us,” Autumn says.

“On the contrary. What could be better than a home cooked meal and two beautiful dinner companions?”

“Exactly,” Scarlett tosses out over her shoulder.

Trailing behind them, I allow myself the privilege of checking out the rear view of Autumn. It doesn’t take long for my focus to narrow in on her abundant heart-shaped ass. Hot damn. I sure do love a woman with curves.

Unfortunately, the pathway isn’t nearly long enough and my attention switches to where I’m walking as I follow them up two stairs and inside.

The first thing I notice is the change in temperature, and I’m instantly relieved. After being out in the sun and heat all day, the air conditioning is welcome. Autumn kicks her sneakers onto the welcome mat and I do the same with my slides. Moving along behind my hostesses, I pass from the entryway into the main area of the home. With the open floor plan, the windows allow in plenty of natural light, making the space feel larger than it is.

“Nice shiplap. Is it original to the home?” I ask.

Scarlett nods. “Yeah, but we whitewashed it all. Every single room. Talk about a time-consuming project.”

“You did a great job. It looks amazing.”

“I shouldn’t take credit since Autumn did most of the painting.”

“Not really,” Autumn disagrees.

“Bull.” Scarlett points at her. “You spent every night and every weekend here painting for the better part of two weeks.”

“Brett didn’t help you?” I can’t help but ask.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Pfft. As if he’d lift a finger to help another person.”

“We saved a lot of money by doing it ourselves,” Autumn adds.

“We did, but it would’ve been nice if we’d had some help. Even though he was no longer your boyfriend, he still could’ve contributed to the sweat equity.”

“Sounds like you ladies need better friends.”

Scarlett arches one of her dark eyebrows. “Are you volunteering to fill the vacancy?”

I’m not picking up on a flirty vibe from her at all. I think she’s hoping to push Autumn and me together. And if that’s her plan, I’m on board.

“I suppose I could fit you two into my busy schedule.”

“Ignore her, she’s just kidding,” Autumn jumps in.

“No, I’m not. We need some new, muscular friends. You never know when we might need a couch moved.”

Autumn’s green eyes cooly assess her friend. “Really?”

Scarlett shrugs, picking up the metal spatula, and begins cutting into the lasagna. She dishes three squares onto plates and adds a slice of fresh-from-the-oven garlic bread too. “We’re pretty informal here and usually eat at the island. Have a seat.” She sets down a plate along with silverware in front of me.

I slip onto a barstool. “Thank you. This looks amazing.”

“Wait until you taste it,” Autumn says, grabbing water from the fridge. She places a bottle in front of me and sets the other two on the island.

Scarlett pushes Autumn’s dinner plate over next to mine before nudging her friend in the arm. “Sit down and eat.”

I’m surprised by how quickly Autumn accepts her direction and climbs up onto the stool next to mine. Scarlett settles next to Autumn, and we all dig in.

“Wow. This is delicious,” I say.

Autumn nods. “It’s as amazing as usual.”

“Who needs a husband when you have me, right?” Scarlett winks.

Autumn laughs. “I can think of a few reasons I might need one.”

“You don’t need a husband for those things,” I say.

Scarlett snickers. “Sounds like Rogan is volunteering.”

Autumn turns her head, glancing at me. “You don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

My lips spread into a slow smile. “I’m pretty sure I do.”

“So you want to hang pictures for me? And take out the trash? Fill my tires with air? Check the oil in my car?”

I nod. “If that’s what you need, sure. But just so you know, I’m capable of handling more challenging tasks, and I’ll do so with finesse.”

Scarlett makes a whooping sound. “Sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Her eyebrows dip inward as she frowns. “No, thanks. I’m not looking to complicate my life.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

Autumn’s eyes flash wider. “Okay?”

“Yep, that’s what I said.”

“You don’t care?”

Of course I care.

But maybe she needs to think I don’t. I’m still trying to figure her out. She’s different from most of the women I know.