Playing House: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (The Playboys of Sin Valley Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  "Jesus, no!" I cringe. "Wyatt has no idea.”

  "And…Jason? How is he handling this? He must be freaking out, huh?”

  “No…” I say, slowly shaking my head. “He’s handling it surprisingly well." I clear my throat and brush a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Actually, he doesn't want an annulment. At least, not right this minute."

  Mom’s brows leap with surprise. But gradually, her expression softens. She just sits there, nodding slightly.

  "Aren't you going to say something about that?" I question.

  She sort of tips her head to the side and shrugs. “Well, it's Jason. You know how he is about you.”

  Huh? “And that means…?”

  “That boy has always had a little crush on you." Her lips curl slightly.

  "What?!"

  “Yes, he has."

  "Since when?"

  Her eyes circle around in their sockets. "Since always. He’s a bulldog where you’re concerned. He's had a problem with every guy who has ever come near you. Frankly, I'm surprised he let things get as far as they did with Rocky."

  I blink. “I always thought he was just being over-protective. Like a big brother."

  Mom makes a gagging face. "If your brother ever ogled your butt the way Jason does, I swear I would have bopped him over the head with a rolling pin and shipped him off to boarding school. Inmediatamente.”

  We laugh.

  “Jace doesn’t take anything seriously, Mom. He thinks this whole marriage thing is just a joke. He doesn’t want an annulment because he thinks staying married will be ‘fun’!” I make air-quotes.

  He wants to use our knee-jerk marriage as a license for a dirty fling.

  She drops her head and shakes it. “With Jason, you always have to pull back a layer or two to figure out what’s really going on. That detached bachelor thing? It’s all an act. And when it comes to you? When it comes to you, he’s…different.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, for starters, Jason was right by your side throughout your engagement to Rocky. Hell, I think he was even more involved in your wedding planning than Rocky was.”

  I huff. “There’s no debating that.” My ex-fiancé barely lifted a finger to help me with our wedding plans. Meanwhile, Jason was with me every step of the way, giving me a shoulder to cry on and an ear to blabber into.

  Mom continues. “Then, when that fell apart, the guy volunteered to take in a freshly-jilted, emotionally-volatile, potential basket case as his roommate. And right at the start of the football season, no less.”

  “Well, he was trying to take care of me, to make me comfortable in my time of heartbreak. He’s just a nice guy.” My pulse is picking up but I lift a shoulder like it means nothing.

  “Honey, Jason wouldn’t have made that sacrifice for anyone else. For anybody else, he would have rented them a big hotel room with a view of the bay and sent them a nice fruit basket and called it a day. He wouldn’t have taken them into his home.” She laughs knowingly. “And then let’s just talk about the part where he married you. This a man who swore he’d never get married.”

  “We were drunk, Mom.”

  “Drunk or not, that seems like some subconscious impulse coming to the surface, in my perfectly biased and unqualified opinion.”

  Wow. This is not the reaction I’d been expecting out of my mother in this situation.

  For a second, I entertain the possibility that she’s right. Maybe…maybe Jace does like me that way. On some don’t-know-how-to-articulate-it, can’t-put-it-into-words, terrified-to-say-it-out-loud level, his actions do seem to be hinting that he might have some sort of not-so-platonic feelings for me.

  He took me in as his roomie at my lowest moment. Which also happened to be the beginning of the season—a.k.a. football groupie high-tide. He could have had his pick of playthings for the season and he basically cockblocked himself indefinitely for my benefit. And for Jason, that’s huge.

  But if he can’t say the words, if he can’t be honest with me about how he feels, then that’s not good enough. “I just got jilted, for crying out loud. I’m not about to go betting my future away—yet again—on another guy who doesn’t know what he wants. My heart deserves a break from getting slapped around.” I feel the tears coming. I brush them away with my fingers.

  I just got my heart crushed by one football player. Now, I’m just going to carry along with another? I feel like there was supposed to be a lesson in there for me.

  Mom takes me in her arms. “Of course I want you to make wise decisions. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. And an annulment probably is the wise decision in this situation. But maybe there’s something to be salvaged in this whole mess. Don’t throw the whole Bellino out with the bathwater.”

  I giggle against her shoulder but I take her words to heart. I liked falling asleep on the phone with Jace while he was at away games last week. I liked cooking and cleaning and keeping his place home-y while he was gone—outdated, misogynistic gender roles be damned. I liked the excitement of watching the clock and knowing he was on his way home yesterday. And most of all, I liked the naked, sweaty homecoming party we had in his bed last night.

  Could it really be that simple? Could I get used to being Jace’s wife? Don't the reasons in favor of dissolving our marriage outweigh all the perks compelling me to stay?

  “I have a lot to think about.” I sniffle as I ease out of the hug.

  “You do, mija.” She watches me tenderly.

  “I hate asking you to keep secrets for me, but Wyatt can’t know about this. Not yet. Not until I decide what I’m going to do.” I mindlessly twirl around the fake diamond I’m still wearing on my ring finger.

  She nods in understanding but she adds, “I know you care about Wyatt's opinion but never lose sight of the fact that this is your life, Seraphine. Your brother would never ask your permission to make a decision he believed to be in his best interest."

  “It's not that I need his permission. I'm just worried about what this whole marriage thing would do to Jace’s friendship with Wyatt.” I frown. “Mom, you know Jace doesn't have that many people in his corner. I'd hate for one of the most important relationships in his life to fall apart because of me.”

  Jace puts on this whole outgoing, extroverted, I’m-the-life-of-the-party act but I see right through him. The man is terrified of making one-on-one connections. Real connections. Deep connections. When he's lost in a big crowd of faceless people revelling and having a good time, he gets to avoid growing close to any one person. Investing. Depending. His friendship with Wyatt means something. I don't want to be the reason he loses it.

  "Wyatt and Jason are both grown men,” Mom reasons. “If they have a disagreement to resolve then they’ll sit down and address it like adults. Why do you have to sacrifice your happiness to appease them? You are not the property of either one of them."

  Mom speaks with conviction. Her words resonate on such a profound level.

  She squeezes my shoulder. “Your feelings matter. Your needs matter. Your desires matter. And there's nothing wrong with that. With Rocky, I saw you constantly putting yourself in second place just to keep him happy. You deserve better than that…What should you do about Jason? I don’t know. But this time, regardless of what you choose to do, I want you to put your feelings and your interests above all else. You owe yourself that much."

  “I think you’re right…” We sit silently for a long moment and my mother watches me. I playfully bump my shoulder into hers. “What’s that look on your face?”

  “I’m just relieved that Rocky showed his true colors before you’d given him the best years of your life. You’re better off without him, Seraphine.”

  She gets that look in her eyes. The look she gets every time she thinks about my father. He’d betrayed her in a way that changed her fundamentally, that changed the entire trajectory of her life. She doesn’t want that kind of experience for her children.

  I swallow. “I se
e that now…”

  She gives my shoulder a final squeeze. “Call Kat and Minka. Tell them we’re having a girls’ night over here tomorrow night. We need to get a smile back on your face.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  She gives me a heavy smile then pads wearily out the door. Her advice keeps running in my mind. There’s a full-on tug-of-war match going on within my body.

  Right versus wrong.

  Yes versus no.

  Head versus heart.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  I’m in a messy headspace all evening, imagining every potential outcome, playing with the possibilities, mapping out worst-case scenarios. I can barely restrain myself from grabbing one of my old bullet journals to jot this out in a neat pro-con graph.

  It feels like so much is on the line. If this goes south, it could be so very bad.

  But then, I think about the way he smiles at me when we’re all alone, the way his body feels on mine, the way my heart soars when it’s just the two of us, laughing and joking around. To hell with pros and cons. If this goes right, it could be so very good.

  But, as I’m crawling into my creaky twin bed a few hours later, I receive a text message that settles the matter for me.

  Jace: I’m available to meet with the lawyer Wednesday 3:30 p.m.

  The words punch the hope right out of my chest.

  This is what I wanted. An annulment. So why does my heart feel like it’s tumbling down a cliff, into a dark, grimy ditch? Why does it ache the way it does?

  Twenty

  Jace

  Dark sunglasses over my eyes, black hoodie pulled up on my head, I leap over the side hedge and dash around the back of the tiny, red brick cottage.

  My heart is pounding like I’m streaking down the field to make an interception in the middle of a championship game.

  When I burst through the back door of the house, my grandmother startles where she’s standing in the middle of the kitchen. A spoon slips from one of the two strawberries and cream bowls sitting on the antique dessert tray in her unsteady hands. The stainless steel utensil clatters loudly when it hits the tile floor.

  I pull my hood off my head and shove my sunglasses into the pocket of my sweatshirt. “Hey Granny. What’s up?” I crane my neck toward the front of the house to get a look out the living room window.

  “Goodness gracious, Jason.” She eyeballs me with a knitted brow and tense shoulders. “You scared the bejezus out of me!”

  By the time I pick up the spoon, toss it into the sink and grab her a clean one from the drawer, I’ve got, like, three yowling cats tangled up around my ankles. There’s another furry bastard balled up on the counter by the sink and another on the mat by the trash can. I’ve lost count of how many cats this woman has.

  “Sorry about that, Granny. Didn’t think you’d be in here.” I drop the clean spoon onto her tray and kiss her on the cheek. The tiny lady doesn’t even come up to my shoulder.

  She crinkles up her nose at me under her glasses. “You didn’t know I’d be here? In my own house?”

  “Yeah, I just…I…” I look her up and down.

  She’s wearing her favorite peach cardigan over a pretty floral blouse that’s tucked into the high waist of her grandma-skirt. Everything is perfectly ironed. Her lipstick is orangy-red and she has this whole swoopy-swishy thing going on with her silver bangs.

  “You’re all dressed up. You going somewhere?”

  Shit—I haven’t been paying attention these days. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own life. Does she have a doctor’s appointment today? I don’t remember seeing it in my calendar. I usually make sure she’s got a car picking her up when she has a doctor’s appointment because I don’t like her driving too far with her bad eyesight.

  “No, I’m not going anywhere…” Her gaze darts down the hallway toward her bedroom. “Can’t a woman just want to look nice in her own house?”

  I squint my eyes at her. She’s acting weird again.

  But movement on the street catches my attention through the wide-open living room curtains. I almost trip on a skinny tabbycat when I crouch down and zip around an armchair to get to the window.

  “Oh, just some delivery truck that drove by.” I straighten to my full height and take a relieved breath. “Look. It’s dropping off packages at the neighbor’s house down the street,” I announce. As if someone asked.

  Granny’s glaring at me. The cats are glaring at me.

  “Are you all right?” the old woman asks.

  I shove my hands into my sweatpants pockets. “Great. Great. Good.”

  A soft thud comes from the direction of her bedroom. Her widened eyes dart over that way.

  “You’re acting weird,” I tell her.

  “You’re acting weird,” she shoots right back.

  I laugh. “What is this treatment? I’m in town for a few days. Figured I’d swing by to check on my beloved grandmother. And this is the treatment I get?”

  She smiles sweetly. “Well, that’s nice of you, honey. Always good to see you. Thanks for stopping by. Make sure to call first next time.”

  Huh?

  Usually, I’m one of Granny’s favorite people, but today she’s trying to hustle me out the door. What is she up to?

  I grab one of the desserts sitting on her tray and saunter into the living room. The place smells like pot pourri air freshener and mothballs.

  I love it. It reminds me of my childhood.

  I drop down onto the brocade-pattered sofa and the plastic covering makes a crunching crinkling sound under my ass. I grin at her as I bring a heaping spoonful of dessert to my lips.

  Now, that just seems to piss her off.

  My message is clear; you’re not getting rid of me so fast, old lady.

  Reluctantly, she joins me in the living room. She moves a vase of plastic flowers aside and sets the dessert tray down on a doily. Her eyes keep bouncing down the hallway as she sits in her armchair and gives me short form answers to every question I ask her. Suspicious as hell.

  At the sound of another car passing on the street, my neck snaps over to the front windows. I jump to my feet to go check it out. Another false alarm.

  Granny follows my gaze. “Where did you park? I don’t see your car on the street.”

  “I, um, I didn’t take my car. I came in an Uber.” I stare down at the big-eyed black and white tuxedo cat rubbing himself on my leg.

  Her gaze narrows. “And why did you come in through the back door?”

  “I was, uh, just wanted to check it. Make sure the hinges are, uh, greased. They’re a little bit squeaky. I’ll make sure to put some oil before I leave.”

  More eye-narrowing. “You sure everything’s fine?”

  “Perfectly.”

  I need to take some of the heat off of myself. I start asking Granny about what she’s been up to this week. Something is off with her but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Still, she asks about the next games on my schedule and the plans I have for my down time. The conversation flows easily but my eyes shift to the front window every time a vehicle passes by on the street.

  A loud, rattling cough bursts from down the hall and my grandmother’s eyes go saucer-wide as they bounce in that direction.

  I drop my spoon into my dessert. “Did you hear that?” I ask, my body tense and ready to defend my grandmother and her cats and my childhood home, if necessary.

  “Hear what?” She bats her eyes innocently.

  “Coughing. Coming from your bedroom.” I’m on my feet, shoulders squared, fists balled up.

  “Oh, that? Oh, it’s, uh…it’s nothing. Just one of the cats.”

  I glance around the room. Five cats are accounted for. I’m not sure how many others are hanging around, though. “Which cat?”

  “The other one…”

  “The other one?”

  “Yes, uh. The new one. Another old stray. He wandered in. You know me—I didn’t have the heart to turn him away.”

&nbs
p; Story of her life. Granny has never been able to turn anybody away. It was an unspoken rule in our neighborhood growing up. Once you showed up at Juliana Bellino’s house, you knew you’d be taken care of.

  She’s rising from her seat now. “The poor thing. Let me go check on him. He has fur balls.”

  Before I can ask another question, she grabs her dessert bowl and hobbles off down the hall. The rickety blue sedan pulling up curbside distracts me from my grandmother’s weird behaviour.

  I get up and inch around the couch to peek around the edge of the drapes. Sera gets out the front passenger seat of her mother’s car. Katrina and Minka hop out of the back. Along with Sera’s mom, they grab groceries out of the trunk, talking and laughing the whole time.

  She’s so pretty. With her long waves pulled into a high ponytail, a simple white sweater and some tight jeans that show off every curve of her ass and thighs.

  My heart feels like a crushed up soda can in my chest as I watch the beaming glow on Sera’s face. It’s not that I want to see her miserable but damn, there’s not one hint on her face that she’s as torn up over our situation as I am. I’ve been tossing and turning, losing sleep. And her she is cheesing it up with her friends.

  I stay at the window, staring at my reluctant wife until she disappears with her girls into the house next door.

  A snarky voice comes from over my shoulder. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you?” My grandmother is back in her armchair—sans dessert bowl, mind you—staring at me with her arms folded over her chest. “Last time we spoke, Sera was staying with you after that rat bastard who shall not be named disappointed her on her wedding day. And the next thing I know, she moves in with her mom next door two days ago, and nobody will give me an explanation. Now, you’re here, sneaking through my bushes, peeping through my living room curtains and creeping me the hell out. Start talking, young man.”

  I look at the woman. There’s way too much sass in that tiny, little body.