Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  “Sounds like quite a sanctuary they have there.” I headed to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and brush my teeth.

  “It is!” she said, missing my sarcasm. “They have their own restaurant. They make their own wine and even have kangaroo on the menu.”

  “So you ride it…? And then you eat it…?” I wasn’t sure why I was even engaging in this conversation, but I found it too ridiculous not to.

  “Well, not the same one. That’d be cruel.”

  “Right.” Because they love being sedated and forced to carry around middle-aged women who have nothing else to do with their husbands’ money.

  “Anyway,” she said, “that’s not why I called. I sent you something that should be there tomorrow, so I just wanted you to be aware. Also I looked on Street View on Google Maps and saw a man relieving himself into a recycling bin. Honestly, Taylor, I’m happy your new community is doing its part to preserve the environment, but I’m more than a little worried about the types of characters you might be encountering. It seems a bit dangerous.”

  “No offense, but it’s hard for me to take any of your safety concerns seriously when you’re paying to drink and ride a wild animal. Does Australia have DUIs?”

  “I’m not drinking before the ride.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “But seriously, Tay, I wanted to get you something, and I didn’t wanna risk having it left outside your apartment, so you’ll have to sign for it. It should be there sometime in the morning. Will you be around?”

  “Should be. I’ll let you know when it gets here. You really didn’t have to send anything,” I told her.

  “Of course I did. I should’ve sent you something sooner.”

  “Well, thank you,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t want to be my mom’s and Joe’s charity case, but I wouldn’t turn down a little housewarming gift. “I’ll text you tomorrow when it gets here because you’ll probably be asleep.”

  “Okay, love you. Have a good night.”

  “Love you too. You have a good night too. Or…morning? Day? What time is it there?”

  I laughed, and she did too. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  That was one of the strangest phone calls I’d had with my mother in recent memory, and our conversations were usually a little odd, mainly on my mom’s end. After straightening up the kitchen a bit, I heard a knock.

  I waited a few seconds to answer so I didn’t look like I’d been sitting by the door anticipating his arrival. I’d expected to hear the buzzer first, but obviously someone must’ve let him into the building. Why someone would allow a nearly six-and-a-half-foot male they didn’t recognize into the apartment made me realize how right my mom had probably been about it being a little dangerous.

  Pulling open the door, I straightened the cat tank top as if it might make me look more presentable. It didn’t, since my decision not to put on a bra—which I realized only after opening the door—was really weird. Or maybe it was weirder to put one on. No one wore bras under their pajamas.

  “Hey,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face that revealed one of his dimples.

  In a white fitted T-shirt that hit just below the waistband of his navy workout shorts, he was more dressed down than I usually saw him but no less beautiful to look at. The muscles stretched the fabric on his chest and biceps, and his quads bulged below the hem of his shorts. It made me want to see other bulges that might be in there.

  Not many guys looked good in shorts above their knees, but Ransom was definitely in that minority. The short distance between us made him seem even taller, and I was suddenly aware that my head had probably been moving up and down the length of his body as I ogled him.

  “You okay?” he asked, reminding me that I hadn’t said anything in response to his greeting.

  “Hi,” I said, but it came out as more of a breathy sound than an actual word with any sort of meaning. “And yes, yes, I’m fine. I just… I don’t think my contact’s in.” I reached up to my eye to make it more believable.

  “I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

  “I don’t…anymore,” I explained. “I used to wear them, but I recently switched to glasses, and now I keep thinking a contact fell out even though I never put them in at all.” I hoped he didn’t comment on the fact that I wasn’t wearing glasses either.

  He nodded slowly, but I wasn’t sure if it was because what I said actually made sense or if he just wanted to make me stop talking. “So…can I come in?”

  I moved out of the way and gestured for him to enter. “Of course. Sorry. Yes. Come in.”

  He almost laughed. “Thanks. I was hoping you weren’t rethinking hanging out tonight.”

  “Nope. The only thing I’m rethinking is my outfit choice.”

  This time he did laugh. “I’d offer to get puppy ones to coordinate, but I wouldn’t look very good in that tank top.”

  You look good in pretty much everything.

  “Pretty much?”

  “Oh my God, I said that out loud?”

  “Yup. But I guess I should return the compliment since it’s true. Not many people could look good covered in feline faces, but somehow you make it work.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I was glad when he held up the bag he had in his hand and said, “I brought three flavors of ice cream. Why don’t you start up that Shit Show or whatever it’s called and point me toward the spoons?”

  R A N S O M

  Even though Taylor didn’t have much furniture, she somehow managed to make the place feel comfortable. She’d propped some large pillows at the head of her bed—or mattress—against the wall so we would have a place to relax while we watched the show. She still only had two bar stools and an oversized chair in her living room. And though it looked comfortable as hell, it probably wouldn’t fit both of us without things feeling awkward.

  And even though we found ourselves physically close by most standards of intimacy, nothing about lying—or sitting—in a bed with Taylor felt strange. Maybe it was the chocolate marshmallow or the fuzzy gray blanket we had draped over us, but everything about this felt right.

  I wondered if she felt the same.

  “What do you think of the show?” she asked when the fourth episode ended.

  “You couldn’t tell by the way I was laughing? The mom’s hysterical. She’s so self-involved and not even really a good mother in the beginning, but somehow I can’t help but like her.”

  “I know. It’s actually amazing,” she said, looking over at me. “My mom’s been self-centered and materialistic for years, and I don’t like her nearly as much.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, I knew she wanted to take them back, even without her saying, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine, really,” I assured her. “People can have issues with their parents without them being complete fuckups. Even though Melissa was a fantastic mother to me, we definitely had our differences.”

  I watched her take a large breath, and when she let it out, she seemed slightly relieved. “Really?”

  “Yeah, she was pretty overprotective. I always wondered if it was because I’d already been through so much that she wanted to do everything she could to make sure I didn’t experience any more trauma.”

  She hit pause on her iPad, which was between us, causing the room to sound uncomfortably silent. “That’s sweet, though.”

  “It didn’t feel sweet when she told me I couldn’t go to my buddy’s lake house with him and a few other guys from the team. She told me it was because she was worried about snakes and flesh-eating bacteria.” I laughed because the memory was funny now, but at the time I’d wanted to just up and leave the Holts’ house and go anyway.

  I wasn’t used to having rules or restrictions, and even though the rules at the Holts were probably for my own good, it felt suffocating then. “I don’t even know what that means, but it freaked me out enough that I didn’t put up a fight. I’m thinking she just didn’t
want me drinking and doing God knows what else with four other seventeen-year-old boys. It actually doesn’t seem that strange thinking about it now.”

  Taylor seemed to be listening to every word, and when I finished, she raised an eyebrow and said, “My mom just paid an obscene amount of money to ride a kangaroo later this week.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us even cracking a smile even though it was clear we both wanted to erupt in laughter. The silence lasted a few more seconds before we couldn’t hold it in any longer, and we fell into hysterics.

  “She’s really riding a kangaroo?”

  Taylor nodded but didn’t say anything because she was still laughing. When she finally calmed down, she said, “So I guess ‘strange’ is a relative term.”

  “Someone better take a video of that adventure so I can see it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Adeline Daws never misses a photo op. A few weeks ago, she uploaded a TikTok dance. It actually wasn’t too bad.”

  “I’ll definitely have to see that eventually too. I’m trying to picture Melissa or Matt doing something like that.” It occurred to me that years ago—in a time that seemed like another life entirely—they might have done something carefree and goofy like that, but now I wasn’t so sure. They’d always tried to remain positive and enjoy life, but after…

  “She’s in booty shorts with the words Perfect Peach written on them.”

  “Okay, so that’s probably a no to my parents doing something like that. I’m pretty sure Matt doesn’t own any booty shorts.” I was thankful that Taylor’s comment had pulled me from my memories, because the present was pretty fuckin’ good. I had to stop letting yesterday interfere with today. “Should we keep watching?” I was already reaching for the iPad but waited until she said yes before I pushed play.

  Before long, we were back to the show, and as the night faded into early morning, I felt myself dozing off.

  “I should probably get going.” I went to turn toward the edge of the mattress, but Taylor’s arm stopped me. Not physically, because I could’ve easily escaped if I’d wanted to. The problem was I didn’t want to. It didn’t matter that Taylor must’ve fallen asleep at some point and her movement could probably be attributed more to my shifting my weight than her desire for me to stay. But with her arm draped over me and her head on the pillow next to mine, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I did my best not to disturb her as I slid down a little so I could lie flatter until she woke up and kicked me the hell out. But for now, she was snuggled against me, her head on my shoulder and her blond hair spilling over my chest. With my free arm, I moved the iPad to the side of the bed and pulled a thin throw blanket over both of us. I’d just stay like this until Taylor woke up or moved off me.

  But when an hour passed without her doing either of those things, against my better judgment, I allowed myself to fall sound asleep too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  T A Y L O R

  Parts of my body felt so stiff they were almost sore. But I’d slept better than I ever had in this apartment. I must’ve been in one position all night, so my muscles needed to move, especially my arm and neck. I shifted my weight from my side to my back and reached above my head to stretch.

  But before my hands made it more than a few inches, one of them made contact with something hard. I heard teeth crash together and then a pained groan followed by an “Aww, fuck.”

  It took me a moment to register the voice had come from someone in my bed, and I jolted before realizing it was Ransom.

  “If you’re mad I’m still here, you could’ve just told me. You didn’t have to punch me in the face.”

  “Sorry. I’m not mad. I was stretching.” I sat up so I could face Ransom, who was holding his nose. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding. Hang on.”

  I jumped up, managing to hop over Ransom without hurting him but not without touching him completely. I did some kind of maneuver that looked like a poor combination of a burpee and an awkward roll like the ones they teach you in elementary school in case your clothes catch on fire.

  I didn’t land steadily on the ground, but I managed to right myself quickly and head to the bathroom. When I returned with a wet washcloth and some tissues, Ransom was already sitting up, pinching his nose. I was caught in some sort of mental purgatory, unsure of whether I should help clean him up because I was to blame for the bleeding or just hand him the stuff I’d brought and let him do it himself because…well, it was someone else’s blood. Instead, I just stared for a little too long without doing anything.

  “Can I have that?” Ransom reached out to take the washcloth from me so he could wipe his face. Then he took the tissues and pinched his nose before putting them in his nostrils.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

  And even though Ransom said, “Do you always laugh at the people you physically assault?” he was laughing too.

  “Don’t laugh. You’ll make it bleed again,” I said, but it only made both of us laugh harder. “You gonna tell people you got hit with a door again?” I teased.

  “Nope. I’m gonna tell people you punched me in the face.”

  “I’m not sure who that looks worse for, you or me.”

  He seemed to consider my comment thoroughly. “Good point. I’ll buy you a new washcloth too. And some new sheets,” he added, looking at the spots of red that had peppered the gray-and-white-striped fabric.

  “Thanks, but I was the one who punched you, so it’s not really fair to have you buy all that. Four hundred thread-count organic Egyptian cotton sheet sets can be pricey.”

  “Organic sheets? It’s not like you’re eating them.” Ransom’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head, and I tried to keep a straight face.

  But eventually, after he rubbed his forehead and asked how much I thought it would be, I told him I was kidding. “Not about them being organic Egyptian cotton, but about you buying me a new set. I’ll throw them in the wash. It’s not like I’m hosting any social events anytime soon where I’ll need to show off my bed.”

  “Will you be hosting events where you’ll need to show off your bed at some point?”

  I didn’t know Ransom well enough to tell whether he was messing with me, so I needed to set him straight. “I don’t need money so badly that I need to run a brothel out of my apartment, Ransom!”

  “That’s good to know,” he said dryly, “because I definitely would’ve appreciated a heads-up on that before I fell asleep here.”

  The door buzzer sounded, and as I headed over toward the speaker, I said, “Must be one of the clients.”

  Ransom shivered dramatically before heading into the bathroom.

  “Who is it?” I asked into the intercom.

  “Delivery for Taylor Peterson.”

  I buzzed them in and then ran to my room to put a bra on. It was bad enough I was in these ridiculous pajamas. I couldn’t answer the door with my nipples popping through my shirt.

  But apparently I could have my boobs out in front of Ransom, because right as I was pulling off my shirt to put on my bra, he exited the bathroom.

  “I guess I’m gonna get go— Oh, God. Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  I pulled on my bra as quickly as I could because Ransom was still standing there looking at me. He wasn’t staring at them, exactly. It was more of a deer-caught-in-boob-headlights look. He seemed to be putting a lot of effort into focusing on my eyes, which only made the situation more awkward.

  When I heard a knock at the door, I grabbed my shirt. “Can you get that? I’ll be out in a sec.”

  Ransom exited my room robotically without saying anything and closed the door behind him.

  I pulled my shirt on, and when I entered the living room, I found two delivery men in my apartment. They’d already put several large boxes on the floor and were standing with a clipboard.

  “We just need you to sign this, and then we’ll bring the rest up.”

  “The rest?” I asked, t
aking the pen from him.

  “Yeah, there’s a four-piece bedroom set, a couch, and a chair. Doesn’t exactly fit in these boxes.”

  “Oh my God.”

  He looked quizzically at me. “Didn’t you order this stuff?”

  “No, actually…” I muttered slowly. “I didn’t order any of it.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Me too,” Ransom chimed in.

  “So are we getting the rest of the stuff or no?” the delivery guy asked me.

  “Yes, sorry. You can get the rest. Thank you.”

  Once both of the guys had left the apartment, Ransom said, “I’m still confused.”

  “They’re gifts from my mom,” I said with a sigh. I knew I sounded unappreciative, but I was more embarrassed than anything else. “I’d told my mom I didn’t want her help—or more specifically, Joe’s help—but in typical Adeline style, she couldn’t resist.”

  Ransom gave me a tight-lipped smile that made me think he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

  “Shut up,” I said, smiling now too. I punched him in the arm, and he moved backward and began rubbing his arm and wincing.

  “Well, I was gonna offer to put some of this together for you, but since you’ve now hit me twice this morning, I’m worried for my safety if I stay any longer.”

  “You were gonna put it together for me?” I couldn’t hide my excitement because fuck if I wanted to try to assemble all this. I didn’t even know if I could assemble all this.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  The delivery guys came in and set the couch down in the middle of the living room.

  “Then I was thinking about making you breakfast,” I told him with a smile.

  R A N S O M

  Apparently Taylor had been kidding about making breakfast.

  She’d realized quickly that the only things she had to offer that could’ve counted as a breakfast food were two pieces of bread and some peanut butter, so she ran out to grab something to bring back for us. But that was over an hour ago.