Page 7 of Bluffed By the Offense

I stand still, waiting and taking a deep breath.

I hear Lizzy talking to someone. Giving her the same rundown I just got. The woman laughs. It’s a pretty laugh, full and sweet.

Their voices come closer and Lizzy says, “I’m just going to connect your hands and then if you’ll just stand here … when Bryce gives you the word, you can turn around and see the person you’ve been paired with. You can talk if you like. Or wait quietly. That’s up to you two.”

“Hey,” I say. And then my mind goes blank. Her hand is soft in mine—smaller, feminine.

“Hey,” she says back. “Are you … nervous?”

There’s something about my eyes being closed. Maybe it’s the smell of the flowers, or the brush of her body against my back. I feel like it’s just the two of us for a moment, so I say, “Yeah. A little. You?”

“A little. But we’re about to rock this photo shoot.”

“Yeah, we are,” I say, smiling to myself. She’s got spunk. That’s for certain. And her voice feels almost familiar.

“Whenever you two are ready,” Bryce says.

“Ready?” I ask her.

She says, “Yes,” so I slowly turn, opening my eyes when I’m facing her.

She opens hers at the same time. And we both say, “Not you!” in unison as the flowers drop out of my hand and scatter on the ground around us.

Cass places her hands on her hips.

I cross my arms.

This woman hates me. She’s made that abundantly clear. And, while I don’t hate her, every encounter with her has started to feel like bumping a bruise.

Ever since I was invited to her house at Thanksgiving and I tried to get the guys organized, she’s had an unexpectedly adverse reaction to me.

Did I take over that day? Yes. My heart was in the right place, though. She acted like I was the spawn of the Grinch and Scrooge when I was simply trying to direct hallway traffic for a bunch of two-hundred-and-fifty-pound guys. And her. I also directed her. Mistake number one. And somehow I can’t seem to stop myself where she’s concerned.

She has told me to keep my leadership on the field on multiple occasions—including the trip we took with her sister and my best friends to the Caribbean. She spent that whole week trying to get under my skin—and succeeding—despite how zen I appeared on the outside.

I never understood the term oil and water until I met Cass.

She drives me crazy. And not in a good way.

My mind is spiraling, rehashing all the times she’s reacted to me with stubbornness and annoyance.

Meanwhile, she’s turned her attention to Bryce.

“Nope,” she says. “Nope. Nope. Nope. I’m so sorry. This cause is beyond worthy. But … can’t I pair with another … literally any other … man?”

“Cass?” Lizzy says. “This is Marcus Delaney. He’s the …”

“I know who he is,” she says. “Winona is engaged to one of his best friends.”

“Right. Right,” Lizzy says.

And she has the decency to look at me apologetically and with a note of confusion as to why any woman would turn down a photo shoot with me.

Lizzy softens her voice to Cass. “And … for the sake of the shoot … could you just pose for the photos? The other guys are all paired up already. I didn’t realize you two were …” Lizzy points between us, unable to find words to describe what we are.

Her brows draw down and she resorts to practically begging Cass, “Can you just ... fake it?”

“Fake it?” Cass asks.