Wylde

by Sawyer Bennett

  These are my new buds, the singles, who I hang with while my closest friends enjoy the harmony of monogamy and true love.

  I can’t help but snort, because while I’m happy for my friends, it’s not something I really aspire to attain.

  I mean… one day, sure. When I’m retired from the game, and I’m ready to settle down. Until then, I get all the willing pussy I could ever want, answer to no one, and have the best friends in the world. Who could want more than that?

  Looking to my left, I ask Kane, “You finally all settled in?”

  The poor dude had to make a move across the country right at the start of the playoffs just two months ago. It has been non-stop practices, team meetings, travel, and games since. He’d been basically living out of boxes.

  But now we’ve had a few weeks since the championship game for everyone to get settled into the off-season.

  Kane nods. “Finally got everything unpacked, but I still have an entire room full of cardboard boxes I’ve got to take to the dump at some point.”

  Kane lives just a block from me in another condo unit downtown, so I offer, “Let me know when you want to do it, and I’ll help. We can load it all up in the back of my truck.”

  “Or bring it to my house,” Jim interjects. “We can burn that shit in the backyard while we drink beers.”

  “Pretty sure there’s a perpetual burning ban in the southwest,” Baden points out. “You’d get arrested.”

  Jim grins and shrugs. “Hey… what happens in the off-season, stays in the off-season.”

  “Tell that to Dominik.” I give Jim a pointed look. “You’ll find yourself on the fast track to play in the Siberian league.”

  While it’s true our esteemed owner is equal parts generous and giving to his team, he also demands excellence on all fronts. Having his players arrested for any reason would not sit well with him.

  Of course, I suppose it all worked out for Tacker. He got arrested for drunk driving, but Dominik made him jump through some pretty tall hoops to stay with the team, one of which was mandatory counseling.

  Tacker’s my best friend, head and shoulders above the rest. We played together in Dallas, and luckily, we reunited on the Vengeance. But there were hard times in between, most notably Tacker losing his fiancée in a plane crash while he was piloting. If anyone had reason to spin out of control, ending up driving drunk and crashing his truck, it was him.

  Luckily, that’s behind him. He battled through it with the help of counseling and falling in love with Nora. While there’s no wedding planned for them yet, I expect it’s just a matter of time.

  Speaking of weddings, I glance around the table. “Are all of you going to Erik and Blue’s wedding tomorrow?”

  I get four nods in return, which is what I expected, but I wasn’t quite sure. Tomorrow’s nuptials were thrown together spontaneously after the season concluded. Turns outs, when a surprise baby happens along, people need to adjust their plans. Erik and Blue traded in a big fancy wedding for a get-together at their house with just the team and close family. Erik is renowned for his parties, and there will be food, cake, and music, promising a fantastic time for all.

  “Want to come back here tomorrow?” Jett asks the group. “After all the frivolity dies down? We can probably steal the Cup right out from under Erik’s nose, then bring it here with us.”

  We all laugh at the thought. It’s tradition that each player of the team is allowed twenty-four hours with the Cup, and Erik’s going to have it at his place tomorrow for the wedding. But there’s no way in hell it will get snatched out from under his nose as that Cup travels with an attendant who will never let it out of his sight.

  Jim shakes his head. “I’m out. I have Lucy for the weekend, so we’ll be hanging out together or she’ll be locked in her room refusing to talk.”

  I wince. Jim’s had it tough since separating from his wife, Ella. It’s been bitter with a lot of recrimination on both sides, and their daughter, Lucy, has not been making it easy on Jim, seemingly laying the blame on his doorstep. I truly don’t know what’s happened between the two, but I know Jim’s been struggling with it all.

  “I’m in,” Baden replies to Jett’s invitation for another Sneaky Saguaro night out.

  Kane nods. “Me too.”

  All eyes come to me, everyone expecting me to throw my hat in the ring. After all, I’m the most notorious playboy on the team. There’s a reason everyone calls me Wylde instead of my first name, Aaron.

  “I’m out,” I reply, smirking at the shocked faces staring back at me.

  “Got a date,” I tell them, purposely leaving the vague words hanging.

  I get nothing but blank expressions.

  “You know… man takes woman out?” I tease.

  “No, seriously,” Kane says, shaking his head. “There has to be some other reason. Aaron Wylde does not date.”

  The resounding laugh comes from deep within my belly. What he said was usually true. Asking the hot nerdy bookstore owner out was definitely uncharacteristic of me, so I feed them a bit more. “She’s my date to the wedding tomorrow.”

  Kane looks to Jett. “We can bring dates to weddings?”

  Jett shrugs as if this is a foreign concept. “Maybe in this country, you can, but in Sweden… never heard of this.”

  There’s more laughter, but Jim is the one who presses me. “You’re bringing a date to the wedding? Is it serious?”

  My chin pulls inward, my eyes round with faux horror. “No, it’s not serious. Just met her yesterday, as a matter of fact. She owns a bookstore downtown, and I wandered in—”

  “You wandered into a bookstore?” Baden gasps outrageously. Wildly, he looks around the table. “Dudes… I fear Aaron Wylde has been kidnapped by aliens, and they currently possess his body.”

  Chuckling, I aim a sly wink his way. “Trust me… if you’d seen this woman, you would have wandered in, too.”

  “Smokin’ hot?” Baden guesses.

  “I wouldn’t say smokin’,” I hedge, thinking about her striking features.

  “Big tits?” Jett asks.

  I shrug. “Couldn’t tell. Her shirt was too baggy.”

  Frowning, Jett looks to Jim for perhaps some explanation as to my weirdness. Jim just shrugs helplessly.

  “Let’s just say,” I drawl, resting my forearms on the table, “that she pushed some of my buttons, and, if all goes well, the wedding and reception will then turn into an all-night event back at my place.”

  Kane slaps me on the back, pride on his face. “There’s the Wylde we all know and love.”

  “I don’t know,” Jett drawls, staring pensively. “I think you’re losing it. Not going to be the team playboy anymore. I mean… who picks up someone in a bookstore for a hookup?”

  I lift my chin, giving him a cocky smirk. “I’ll always be the team playboy.”

  “Prove it,” Jett challenges, giving a long slow scan of the place. “Plenty of ladies in here right now. Make a move.”

  I’m enjoying the ribbing. It’s half the fun of hanging out with my mates. “Hey.” I hold my arms out, trying for innocent. “I’m just enjoying my time with my buds, but the night is still young.”

  They make scoffing sounds, shaking their heads. Not buying it at all. And I simply can’t have my reputation diluted by inaction, so I peruse the surrounding tables.

  And right there.

  Hot blonde with her friends, watching our table… clearly knowing who we are. When she locks eyes with me, I crook my finger, summoning her to my table. Her friends giggle, pushing her playfully out of her chair, and she rises. Tugging on her short skirt, she wobbles my way on ridiculously high heels and all the guys at my table start hooting at my bold move.

  “He still has it,” Kane says confidently, just low enough I can hear it.

  “Hi,” the blonde breathlessly says as she wedges her way in between Baden and me.

  “Hi, yourself,” I reply, checking her out. She’s exactly my type, or, at least, the
kind I preferred before a nerdy redhead caught my eye yesterday.

  Regardless… it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a blonde tonight.

  I open my mouth, getting ready to offer to buy her a drink, when my phone buzzes on the table before me, the screen lighting up.

  And lo and behold, there’s a text there from the exact bookworm I’d just been thinking about. Leaning forward, I read the message.

  What’s the dress code for tomorrow?

  Smiling, I nab the phone—hot blonde forgotten. My fingers race across the screen.

  Summer casual. Flirty if you’re feeling it.

  I had texted her the address of the wedding last night, which is Erik and Blue’s house. I’d told her there would be valet parking, and I’d meet her in front at the valet stand at 5:45 PM.

  She had simply replied, Okay.

  That had flummoxed me.

  The woman didn’t show a single bit of curiosity in the man she’d agreed to go out with, to a wedding of all things. Disappointingly, that told me she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in me. Instead, she was just fulfilling her obligation to attend the weddings with me.

  I’m heartened by the fact she’s reaching out now, because, truth be told, she could have figured out what to wear to a wedding on her own.

  I wait for her to reply, but nothing comes back.

  “So, my name’s Heather,” the blonde says, touching my arm. I’m startled, having completely forgotten about her.

  My head snaps up, first to take in the gorgeous creature in front of me, who bats her eyelashes. Then around the table to find all four of my buds snickering at my uncharacteristic lack of game.

  I look past her to Baden. “Hey man… will you get her a drink? I’ll be just a moment.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Baden replies with an easygoing smile. The blonde knows she’s just been dismissed by me as a potential hookup, so she turns her charms to Baden, looping her arm over his shoulder and leaning into him.

  By the time I turn back to my phone, she’s forgotten completely. I send Clarke another text.

  Or… you don’t have to go with flirty if you’re not feeling it. You’re not feeling it, are you?

  I stare at my phone. In the back of my mind, I vaguely wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I just turned down a guaranteed fuck tonight so I could poke at the fascinating bookstore owner who doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.

  I’m so surprised when she responds I nearly drop my phone.

  It’s hard to be flirty via text. Also, I suck at flirting.

  I bark out a laugh. Lifting my eyes to see Jim and Jett watching me curiously, I drop my gaze back down to the phone.

  Believe it or not, it’s kind of attractive you acknowledge that.

  It takes her a few moments to respond, which makes it clear the conversation is most likely over.

  Goodnight, Professor. See you tomorrow.

  I can’t let that go, so I type back.

  Professor?

  Her reply is nearly instant, because she was expecting me to ask.

  Yeah… professor, because you totally schooled me in classic literature yesterday.

  My heart actually skips a beat when she adds on a crying-laughing emoji.

  Which means she finds me at least partially funny, and that’s something.

  In this moment, one thing becomes abundantly clear via this exchange. There isn’t going to be any hookup tomorrow night after the wedding and reception. That’s not her game, nor her style.

  And oddly… I’m okay with that.

  CHAPTER 4

  Clarke

  For the first time ever, I doubt my GPS as it guides me into a neighborhood filled with gargantuan-sized houses. Aaron had told me there would be valet parking, so I just assumed the wedding would be at some type of public venue. At the very least, at this neighborhood’s clubhouse, yet the map leads me right to a salmon-colored Mediterranean-styled home that has to be at least seven- to-eight-thousand-square feet if it’s an inch.

  Sure enough, there’s a valet stand in front with five tuxedoed men waiting to take cars and park them down the street so people don’t have to.

  I pull my little Honda Civic hatchback manufactured circa 2009 directly behind what looks to be a Ferrari. Making sure to leave plenty of room between our cars, I then step out, immediately assisted by one of the valets. Scrambling inside my little clutch purse, I curse when I realize I don’t have anything smaller than a ten. I hand it to him and move to the curb, giving a last glance at my little car. It’s been so trusty and loyal, and I love it far more than any Ferrari.

  “That dress is definitely flirty,” a deep voice behind me says. I whirl to find Aaron Wylde standing exactly where he said he’d wait, holding the gift he’d bought from me two days ago.

  Damn it… I have to admit he looks exceedingly handsome in a pair of light gray slacks and a lavender-colored dress shirt. It’s hot as hell—love a summer day in Phoenix—and I’m guessing that’s why he’s without the matching jacket. His blond hair is swept back in waves from his face and whereas he was sporting some stubble when I met him the other day in my store, he’s clean-shaven now.

  I’d chosen a sleeveless dress in a light coral that complements the vivid coloring of my hair. It’s made of chiffon, and it swishes lazily around my knees when I walk.

  And when I say I’d chosen, I mean I raided Veronica’s closet as I had not one single thing suitable for a wedding. Luckily, Veronica has more than enough to compensate. It was just as convenient to raid her closet as to go shopping.

  Cheaper, too.

  I step onto the sidewalk, then move toward Aaron. Other cars pull up, people spill out, then start heading toward the front door of the sprawling mansion.

  Aaron’s eyes rake over me, making me feel entirely self-conscious and just a bit pretty when I see the approval on his face. “You look beautiful,” he says, turning to offer his arm.

  “Thank you,” I reply demurely, trying to remember the last time a man said that. Searching my memory, I work backward in time through the men I’ve dated in the past and I have to go all the way back to “him” before I can remember such a compliment.

  I immediately scrub “him” from my mind, not wanting to taste the bile in the back of my throat, which is a frequent occurrence with those memories.

  “You clean up very well yourself, Professor,” I tell Aaron, which is a phenomenal understatement.

  He laughs as we walk up to the house. “I love that. Professor.”

  “You really did school me,” I mutter, still a bit put out I’d gotten taken so easily. There’s a bit of a line waiting to get in the door, so I take the time to say, “You didn’t tell me that your friend who was getting married was rich as sin. I might have suggested a nicer gift than a wine opener.”

  Aaron laughs again. It’s that sort of effortless sound a person makes when they find genuine humor in life. “Trust me… Erik and Blue might be rich, but they are very down to earth. In fact, beer bottle opener would have been more appropriate.”

  “All evidence to the contrary,” I say, sweeping my hand against the backdrop of the grand house as we move onto the porch.

  Standing inside the doorway, I’m surprised to find a boy—no, a man—in a wheelchair with another tall man standing beside him. It appears they are the welcoming committee.

  Aaron pulls his arm loose from my hand and holds his fist out to the man in the wheelchair. “Hey, Billy… big day, huh?”

  Billy smiles broadly, sort of rocking back and forth before bringing his own fist up to bump against Aaron’s. He doesn’t say anything, and I guess he might be non-verbal.

  Aaron introduces me. “Billy… this is my friend, Clarke.” Turning, he says, “This is Blue’s brother, Billy.”

  I bend slightly, bringing my face more in line with his so he doesn’t have to look up. I’m not sure what to say, but I say what anyone might to the young man. “Hi, Billy… very nice to meet you. You look very handsome
for the occasion.”

  Billy grins back.

  Touching my arm to get my attention, Aaron nods at the man beside Billy. “This is my best friend, Tacker.”

  At first glance, the big man by Billy is a little intimidating, especially with the brooding look on his face. But then he smiles, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

  “You as well,” I reply.

  Aaron leans in, giving Tacker a classic bro hug—hands clasped, pulling into each other slightly with a hard clap on the back.

  A look passes between the men and I can read it loud and clear. Tacker is stunned Aaron brought someone to the wedding and I wonder why.

  There’s a large table in the foyer where guests deposit their presents and Aaron drops the wine opener from his hold. To my shock, he replaces it with my hand, easily lacing his fingers with mine to lead me through to what can only be labeled as a great room.

  It’s massive, despite the dozens of talking people milling about. Aaron leads me through the crowd toward the back of the house where glassed French doors showcase even more people outside.

  We stop periodically on the way, seemingly making it no more than a few steps at a time before he’s introducing me to someone new.

  People I would ordinarily forget if the men weren’t all so ridiculously good looking with unique names.

  Dax, Bishop, Legend.

  All the men bro hug it out, clearly very good friends.

  When we make it to the backyard, there’s a beautiful arbor set at one end with white roses and lush greenery draping every inch in a gorgeous cascade down the sides. Several rows of white chairs are split with a white carpeted aisle down the center.

  As Aaron leads me over to choose where we’ll sit, I can’t help but come to a complete stop by the… well, not sure what the hell it is.

  Aaron’s gaze turns to follow mine. “Want to see it up close?”

  It’s set on a table covered in white linen. Silver rings stacked on top of each other, about three feet high, with a bowl on top.