Gamed (Minnesota Caribou Book 4)

by Colleen Charles

  Luciana Garcia can be a little dramatic, but she’s rarely wrong. “I hate to cut our evening short, Jules,” I say, fishing a couple of twenties out of my wallet. “Take the chips and dip home to Adam. We’ll get together next week and get mani-pedis.”

  Julia nods. “Seriously, Sue-Ann. I can pay. You can get it next time.”

  I shake my head, feeling a headache coming on. “No can do. I feel horrible about this. It’s all my fault.”

  Because your head has been firmly up your own ass while your brain is dripping in pheromones.

  Speaking of which, his spicey citrusy scent hits my nostrils as I trail after him out of the restaurant. On the short walk to Luciana’s store, The Hot Tamale, I can’t help but admire the broad shoulders, trim waist, and sizzling hot ass leading the way.

  Chapter Six

  Max

  “Sue-Ann Johnson. This is not alive. This is a Roomba with Hubert H. Humphrey’s face taped to it.”

  She has the good sense to look chagrined, because I’m tempted to shake her. “I admire HHH. Did you know that he actually lost his first bid for mayor of Minneapolis?”

  My foot taps the hardwood floor as I stare at the dead machine. I wish I could punt it back to Sue-Ann’s. I can’t believe an electronic device ruined my evening. And isn’t even a good one like a 90-inch plasma, a Nintendo switch, or a vibrating cock ring. “Everyone in the state admires the man, but they don’t put his picture on a fucking vacuum! And they don’t let said vacuum wander around outside in the dirt and into the neighbor’s business, so it terrorizes the poor woman. I’ve never seen so many signs of the cross in my life.”

  A wince flutters across her heart-shaped face. “She’s very religious.”

  As if on cue, Mrs. Garcia stomps over and throws up a large, wooden crucifix between us. “El Diablo! Sue-Ann, no bueno! Keep that… that… thing at your store! It chase me! It chase my customer! I calling chamber! Maybe la policia!”

  “I’m so sorry, Luciana. It won’t happen again.” Sue-Ann crosses her heart. “I don’t know how he got loose.”

  Every time she does something like that, I can’t help but notice how long and tapered her fingers are. And how they might feel trailing down my chest to my abs.

  Maybe even the inside of my thighs.

  A jolt of electricity hits me, and I tell it to get lost. I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t charm out of her bad mood or out of her panties. And Mrs. Garcia will be no exception. Sue-Ann—Miss Control Freak—can just sit this one out and let a pro take over.

  Breaking out the old Monroe grin, I put a hand on the older woman’s forearm and squeeze. “Mrs. Garcia, who are those incredibly cute kids on your register?”

  “Those?” She points at the silver-framed photo of three young kids in front of a playground. “Those are my precious grandchildren.”

  “Are they sports fans by any chance?”

  The woman’s eyes light up into moons of excitement. “Santa Maria! Si! Si! The littlest one, Miguel, loves all the sports.”

  The corners of my mouth tug upward. “Would he like it if he could come see the Caribou this season? Lower deck right above the glass?”

  She claps her hands together. “Si! Oh, it would be fabuloso! He’s never been before. Caribou costs mucho dinero.”

  Sue-Ann looks between us, her frown deepening.

  I lean down and pick up Hubert. “I’ll have the front office call you and give you a choice of a few games. You can bring four people so all the grandkids and you can have a fun night out on me. And I’ll make sure Triple H here never darkens your door again.”

  Even if I have to pound him to death with a sledgehammer.

  For a split second, her huge smile fades and she crosses herself. “Yo te reprendo, diablo! Please, Senõr Monroe, make sure Herbert Humperdinck never come back here!”

  I throw my hand up in the air like I’m about to swear on the Bible. “I promise.”

  With one final sign of the cross, she reaches on a nearby rack and slaps a sombrero on my head. “Gracias, Max Monroe. I like you. Si, si! You take this as a token. And tell everyone you know come to Hot Tamale. Luciana take care of them.”

  I nod and gesture with my now huge head for Sue-Ann to fall into step with me as we navigate through the alley and back to her store to close up for the night. I’m sure she’s pissed I had to lock the front door for ten minutes while I tracked her down at girls’ night with Spencer’s wife. Hopefully, there aren’t any irate customers turned off by the temporary closure. Something tugs at my chest wall—like her thinking I can’t handle her store.

  Or her.

  Once we reach Sue-Ann’s, she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. Shit. That mouth. It’s entirely kissable. And I haven’t thought about much else since I set foot in this place. Damn Milo and his admonitions and warnings about keeping my mitts off Sue-Ann. I never thought it would be so hard.

  “What?” I ask, hugging HHH to my chest.

  Her gaze sweeps my body, touching me in all the places I wish her fingers would. It finally lands on my head. “You look ridiculous and hot all at the same time.”

  Her words echo through my chest cavity. She thinks I’m hot? Normally, she tries to avoid me. And why in the hell does that send a shiver through me?

  I almost forgot I had a huge velvet hat on my head in shades of red and yellow. With a chuckle, I execute a spin, the silky rope hanging underneath my chin. “Maybe I could start a new trend in headwear.”

  Her smile lights up the room.

  And my heart.

  She shakes her hands in front of her perfect rack and it jiggles while my breath stalls in my throat, imagining her nipples. Rose? Dusk? All I know is I ache to find out. “All you need are maracas and you’d be perfect. Too bad I don’t have any. We could go back to Hot Tamale and get you some.”

  Before I can lay into her for Roombagate, a smell wafts toward my nostrils. And it’s not pleasant. With the nearby rack of designer perfumes mixing with it, I can’t really tell what’s assaulting my nose.

  I wrinkle it up and inhale. “Something stinks.”

  Her forehead knits together. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not you. At least I don’t think so. Unless you were rolling in shit at the restaurant. You didn’t happen to eat some Limburger, did you?”

  Her nostrils flare. “Hardly. I didn’t really get to eat anything. I was interrupted before the spinach and artichoke dip came.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “A dip that contains vegetables is not a real dip.”

  “It has cheese too.” As she speaks, she reaches out and grabs the Roomba out of my hands and flips it over. “Yikes, the stink is coming from Hubert. This has happened before. It’s Cruz.”

  “Cruz?”

  “Luciana’s chihuahua.” She wags a finger at the Roomba as if it’s alive. “Hubert. How many times have I told you that you don’t pick up poop? You go around it!” Those huge eyes meet mine as her lower lip trembles. I imagine sucking it into my mouth. Where in the hell did that thought come from? Yeah, from my aching balls. “He’s supposed to go around it since it’s too big to pick up.”

  My forehead creases into an explosion of wrinkles. “Well, Cruz must have tiny shit. How much bleach do you have? I touched that damn thing.”

  Sue-Ann points toward the bathroom. “Under the sink. Just don’t drink it. They advise against that, you know.”

  “Ha, not so funny girl.” Winking at her, I slip by her, entirely too close. On my way, I catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s subtle and musky and sexy as hell. If Milo wanted me to keep my dick in my pants, why in the hell did he send me straight into the sin den? “The shit’s on my hands, Sue-Ann, not my esophagus.”

  She turns that rosy shade of freshly fucked pink I love so much on a woman. Am I getting to her? Nah, can’t be. She’s independent as hell, running her own empire and all that. And I’m just a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. A puck monkey. I don’t have anything this classy chick could want. />
  Scratch that. I’ve got one thing she would want. A big thing. But she wouldn’t want everything else that comes with it.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t flirt with her. Yank her chain just a little and muss up the ultra-perfect exterior. And I can imagine things.

  Naughty things.

  Peeling off every article of clothing with my teeth.

  Kissing my way up the inside of her thighs.

  Tasting her.

  In just a few short days, you’ll be gone, Monroe. Don’t fuck with this woman, or Milo will have you by the short hairs, and you’ll be right back in the same pickle hot chicks got you into in the first place.

  After soaping up my hands to the elbows, twice, I wander back out to the sales floor to find Sue-Ann rearranging some t-shirts on the front table by size and color. Beside her, Catrick lays flat on his back, his legs spread as wide as they’ll go, showing Sue-Ann his kitty crotch. I’m not sure if he’s playing dead or a feline pervert.

  I run a hand through my hair. “Um… Sue-Ann?”

  Her wide-eyed gaze finds mine. “Yeah?”

  I point. “What is Catrick doing?”

  She glances over and then a little giggle escapes. “Oh, that. He does that all the time. It’s kitty language. When a cat exposes their most vulnerable parts to you and they do that slow blink thing with their eyes, it means they trust you and want to show you affection. He’s just trying to get me to rub his tummy. He doesn’t like it when I ignore him too long.”

  Lucky cat. “Oh, okay. I’m all cleaned up from the shit incident.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened,” she says, blowing her bangs skyward with a sigh.

  I hold my palms up for inspection. “It’s nothing. I have a dog. It’s not like I don’t deal with it on a daily basis. I just usually don’t pick it up with my bare hands.”

  She stops cold, holding a shirt in a shade of baby pink. I can’t help but think how gorgeous it would look stretched across her full tits. “What kind of dog to you have?”

  “Chocolate lab.”

  She nods and hisses in a breath. “Ooh, I love labs. I spend so much time here that I can’t handle the guilt, so I went with a cat. What do you do with him when you’re on the road?”

  “Her. My brother comes to my place and takes care of Meatball when I’m on a road trip, or I can’t get home in time. He’s a student at UMD.”

  Her wide eyes meet mine. “Meatball?”

  I step closer. “Yup. I picked the chubbiest puppy. What can I say? I like my females with a little meat on their bones. She’s brown and energetic like a spicy meatball.”

  She steps back. “Do you have a picture of her?”

  I whip out my phone and scroll through my camera roll, finally coming to rest on a photo of Meatball with my little sister. I took it at one of her high school soccer games. The huge smile on girl and dog make my heart happy. I shove the phone toward Sue-Ann. She drops the t-shirt and claps my phone in her hand.

  After she looks, she presses my phone to her chest. I stare, knowing what I’m going to be doing to that damn phone later when I imagine where it’s been.

  I enjoy her sharp intake of breath just a little too much. “They’re both beautiful. Is that your sister?”

  I nod. “Yup. Don’t let the sweet faces fool you. They’re both master manipulators.”

  “You have the same eyes. What’s her name?”

  “Megan. My brother’s Matt. We all have M names. Guess Mom wasn’t that original.”

  As Sue-Ann gazes at Meatball, it warms my heart. “Does she have an M name?”

  “Nah, her name’s Anne.”

  As if she finally realizes she’s holding my phone captive, Sue-Ann reaches out to hand it back. Our fingers brush against each other, emitting another firestorm of electric tingles that travel up my arm and always land in my crotch.

  Hard. As. Fuck.

  I jam my phone in my jeans and spin around, heading back toward the back room. My car’s parked in the back alley. I have to get the hell out of here before I go and do something crazy like touch her.

  Kiss her.

  Lay her bare.

  “See you tomorrow,” I call over my shoulder, tamping the lust down to keep regret company. “Sorry I interrupted girls’ night. Make sure you keep Triple H contained from now on.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sue-Ann

  “Sue-Ann, it’s good to see you again. You’re looking gorgeous, as always,” the man says, cringing and covering his head as if I might knock him on the top of it.

  The last time I saw him, I wanted to do just that. But time heals all wounds, they say. And this time the sight of him warms my heart.

  I allow a tiny grin to curve my lips. “Mark Spencer, as I live and breathe. Long time no see. Word on the street says you got your shit together.”

  He winces despite his smile and looks duly chagrined and chastised. “Word on the street? Or word from my brother?”

  I give him a quick hug. “A little bit of both. I’m just happy you’re talking to each other again. Family is family and blood is thicker than water. How’s business going for you?”

  A warm smile twitches his lips, and I remember how hot Mark is. Like all Spencers, charisma and charm roll off him in lazy waves, drawing women to him like flies to honey wherever he goes. I almost wish he hadn’t hurt Adam and therefore, my best friend by association.

  “Business is good. I never thought I’d see the day when I ran my own sporting goods store, but here we are. With all the hockey up here, I’m never lacking business, especially for the blade sharpening and custom sticks.”

  I nod. “That’s great. So, what brings you in today? Need a gift for someone?”

  And it better not be fucking Heather. When that woman left Duluth for LA, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  Mark glances around the store, his gaze finally landing on the Hermès case, and I know his mind has drifted back to her. I think he actually cared about Heather, but she trampled on his heart like she did every other man she used in her various schemes. But then again, he trampled on my heart back in high school. What goes around comes around. “Nah, I don’t have any special women in my life to buy gifts for right now. I’m here to ask you something. I need a partner for the chamber’s couples version of The Amazing Race this year. You game?”

  Couples? I don’t remember noticing that part of this year’s rules. I tug my lower lip between my teeth. With Max and the store and… Max, I totally forgot that the Amazing Race competition was next week and that I’d signed up like I do every year. But I’d signed up to volunteer, not to compete. “I thought I’d just man the sign-up booth like I did last year and hand out welcome packets.”

  Mark leans in close. Too close. “That doesn’t sound fun at all. Come on, Sue. The girl I used to know would grab the bull by both horns and give it a yank.”

  “She already has a partner.”

  At the sound of that deep, panty-melting voice, both our heads turn. Max stands in the doorway to the stockroom with a pair of jeans in one hand and a determined look on his chiseled face. His gaze moves between us but then ultimately lands on Mark. With a heated expression, he steps forward a few steps almost like he’s a lion stalking his prey.

  Mark stabs his thumb. “What is he doing here?”

  I sigh, not keen on Mark’s sudden attitude. “Milo sent him when he found out I was in a jam for help in the store.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would swear Mark’s lower lip juts out a sliver. “Seriously, Monroe, don’t you have anything better to do in your time off? Some old ladies who need help crossing the street or some boy scouts who need to learn how to rub two sticks together?”

  Max steps into the room, all rippling muscles and cocky smirk. “Nope. All of me is at Sue-Ann’s disposal.”

  If it wasn’t so obvious, I’d slap a hand across my forehead and drop my hanky. I feel like the damsel in distress and two knights are about to joust over my honor. Except
I lost that honor back in freshman year of college. Now, how to break this up without hurting either one of their tender egos?

  Mark’s nostrils flare. “How nice for her. But you can’t be Sue-Ann’s Amazing Race partner. Don’t you have to be at mini-camp?”

  Max shakes his head almost a little too hard. “Nope. That’s only for your brother and his line. I don’t have to report until training camp, so I have plenty of time.”

  Mark visibly deflates, then he turns to me. “Are you really going to race with this guy? From what I hear, a woman can’t trust him to make it to the next morning, let alone an entire athletic competition.”

  My past bubbles up to stab me in the heart, but Mark isn’t that guy. At least not anymore.

  Once Max reaches the counter, he leans against it casually, his tapered fingers tapping on the glass. But he’s wound tight. Tight enough to snap. “Oh, she can trust me. She can trust me to be the winner she needs.”

  Mark clears his throat. “Are you saying you think you can beat me?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. The competition is couples of the male/female variety. Seems to me that you’re without a partner. Doesn’t look good for you, Spencer.”

  The male dominance whiplash I’m getting between these two just about snaps my neck. What in the hell is going on? I don’t have romantic feelings toward either of them. Well, at least not one of them, and those other pesky emotions are being ignored and tossed back down into the dark shadow from where they came before they can get rolling full steam ahead. But they’re both acting like they have some kind of claim to me and my participation in the race when I don’t want to participate at all.

  Mark’s chest puffs out. “I asked her first.”

  Max’s hot gaze drills into me like he just bitch slapped Mark Spencer back into 1999 and he wants me to string a gold medal around his neck in honor of his efforts. “Is that true, Sue-Ann? Seems to me that the team representing your store should be the people working at the store. It’s only fair that way. He’s the competition.”