Played (Trapped Book 3)

by Beverley Kendall

  The summer Erin and I got together, we were having relationship sex. That’s sex three to five times a week. Hell, that’s more than a lot of married couples have, and they have the convenience of living together.

  I like regular sex. Regular sex is good. Regular sex that’s as good as it was with Erin is almost impossible to give up, and mourned like a death when it’s gone. I think I mourned the loss of it for six months straight.

  Not only was the sex gone but I’d had to get used to not seeing her. Get used to not being with her or talking to her. It had been worse than everything that went down with me and Stephanie. I can’t count the number of times I picked up the phone to call her before I remembered we weren’t like that anymore. That those days were over.

  I’d been less successful at stopping myself from asking Mitch what was going on with her. The conversations usually went something like this:

  You seen Erin lately?

  Yep.

  How’s she doing?

  He’d shrug. She’s good.

  Is she seeing anyone?

  He’d cock an eyebrow at me. Do you really want to know?

  I’d shake my head. Forget we had this conversation, and don’t say anything about it to Paige.

  The last time I asked, he told me to ask her myself. I’d kept my mouth shut from then on.

  We’d seen each other now and again over the following year—at two of Bree’s birthday parties, a couple of cookouts at Mitch’s parents’ house and at his grandparents’ this past Christmas—but every time I tried to strike up a conversation, she coldly rebuffed me. She hadn’t even invited me to her graduation or the party afterwards. And since I stopped asking about her, I had no idea what was going on in her life.

  I refused to stalk her on Facebook. Shit, I’m not that pathetic. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because she rarely posted.

  It wasn’t until last fall that I found out she’d gotten a full-time job at Atlanta Tribune Ledger. And that had been the last straw. She’d been working a couple blocks away from where I worked for five months and she hadn’t said a thing. She’d sat beside me during Christmas dinner and had said not one word about us practically being work neighbors. Shit, it was bad enough that she’d Dear Johned our frenemies-with-benefits arrangement, but to freeze me out of her life completely? That’s cold.

  So what if we’d had sex—as great as it was—she’s the one who cut me off. For chrissakes, our best friends are getting married. I thought we could at least remain on speaking terms.

  Fuck it, I was done. I’d started dating Chloe two weeks later.

  And it was the best decision I ever made—relatively speaking. Chloe is great and it’s been a good four months. She’s the three “easies” I was looking for: easy on the eyes, easygoing and easy to talk to. She also has a great sense of humor, and enjoys all the major professional sports: football, basketball, baseball and hockey (hey, my mother’s Canadian, what do you want?).

  So far, the only thing we’ve ever disagreed on is her trying to set Erin up with her brother. But I think I finally convinced her to leave well enough alone because she hasn’t said a word about it all week.

  Thank God.

  As for my attraction to Erin… It’s not something I can turn on and off at will, so I just have to deal. I figure as long as I don’t act on it, I’m okay. It’ll go away.

  Eventually.

  I just wish it wasn’t taking its own sweet time about it. The worst would be if I allowed it to ruin things between Chloe and me.

  Which is why it’s a good thing we’re staying in tonight. We haven’t seen each other since I’d taken her out for brunch on Sunday. Then I’d gone home and worked the rest of the day, and that had set the tone for the week. It had been another week of twelve-hour days in the office, and then I’d gone home and worked three more every night, not getting to bed until one or two in the morning. I was able to snatch a few minutes at night to call Chloe, and I have to give it to her, she never complained. Not once. I’m lucky she understands the demands and stress of my job.

  “Would you prefer beer or something stronger?” Chloe calls out from the kitchen.

  We’re having dinner at her place tonight. I planned to take her to a nice restaurant, but she insisted I deserved a home-cooked meal for all the extra hours I’ve been putting in at work.

  I extend my arms along the back of the couch and stretch out my legs. “Beer’s good.” I can’t afford to be hungover tomorrow. I’ve got another working weekend in front of me but tonight belongs to Chloe.

  I hear cupboards opening and closing, and dishes clinking. “You can turn on the TV if you want. There’s a couple of good movies on OnDemand.”

  “Not right now. Maybe after we eat.” Dinner is stuffed shells and garlic bread with cheese.

  Her head pops out from around the corner. “I made stuffed mushrooms too. It’s a new recipe so I hope you like it.”

  Tonight, her hair’s up in a ponytail and underneath her snowy-white apron, she’s wearing jeans and a short-sleeved striped shirt. She looks good, which is the same thing I told her when I arrived bearing a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red wine.

  I reply the way any good boyfriend is expected to. “I’ll love whatever you cook.” She’s a good cook, so I don’t have to pretend. I’m not sure if Erin can cook, but I know she’s one hell of a baker. She made a delicious baked Alaska for one of Paige’s birthdays.

  Can you stop thinking about her for one night? One fucking night? Is that too hard to ask?

  I look around in search of a distraction as Chloe ducks back into the kitchen. Her place suits her. She says the style is arts and craft—whatever that means. All I know is that the furnishing is simple with clean lines, and the blue-and-white stripes in the living room gives it a nautical look. The kitchen and eating area are fairly small and her bedroom is the biggest room in the one-bedroom apartment.

  The sound of the doorbell shatters the silence. I turn my head in time to catch the back of Chloe as she exits the kitchen and hurries to the door, apron still on.

  “You expecting anyone?” I call out. She doesn’t know that many people here.

  “It might be Evan.”

  I blink. She says it as if it’s a normal occurrence, but it’s not. Her brother doesn’t drop by when I’m here.

  What the hell does he want? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’ve got anything against the guy, but after listening to Chloe go on and on about how she thinks he and Erin would make a great couple, I find myself liking him less than I did before.

  I hear voices at the door—Chloe whispering—then footsteps advancing down the hall.

  “Josh, look who’s here,” Chloe says as she rounds the corner. Trailing behind her is exactly who she said it might be, her brother Evan.

  I rise from the couch and start toward him, my hand extended in greeting. “Hey, Evan. How’s—” My voice breaks off abruptly. He hadn’t come alone.

  I blink twice to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

  They’re not. It’s Erin alright.

  You’ve got to be shitting me. My gaze snaps to Chloe and a growl forms deep in my throat.

  “Look who decided to join us.” A hint of nervousness threads the overly bright smile Chloe flashes me. That smile dims a fraction in response to the “we’ll talk later” look I send her.

  Evan grasps the hand I’d stuck out and forgotten, his handshake acting as a refresher course in my need to keep my wits about me. Especially when you know who’s around. “Hey, Josh. How’s it going?”

  “Good. Good.” I give one of those automatic nods before directing my attention to the person who’s not supposed to be here. Don’t worry, Josh, I’m not going out with your precious girlfriend’s brother. I’d taken her at her word.

  But dammit if she doesn’t look hotter than hell. Her lips are a dark pink and her normally straight hair hangs in a curtain of long, loose, silky waves. Snug, dark-blue jeans—the dressy kind—en
case those long legs of hers, and she’s wearing my favorite shirt. The blue fitted one that brings out the blue in her eyes and accentuates her full breasts and narrow waist.

  My dick twitches. Shit. Tonight is going to be a horror show.

  “Erin, this is a surprise.” I make no move to shake her hand. We’re beyond that and we’ve been too intimate for platonic kisses and hugs. As it is, I’m not sure I trust myself to touch her. And no, I’m not exaggerating.

  Her slender shoulder rises and falls in a negligent shrug. “I was free tonight, so I thought, why not.”

  Because fucking with me has always been her favorite way to pass the time. Literally and figuratively.

  “Lucky for me,” Evan says, looking pretty happy with his lot in life, and who can blame him. It still doesn’t stop me from wanting to do him bodily harm.

  “Let’s see if you feel the same after it’s over,” Erin jokes, returning his smile.

  Chloe and Evan laugh. Personally, I don’t find anything funny about this situation.

  “Why don’t you guys sit down.” Chloe gestures toward the couch. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to set the table.”

  “I’ll help,” I say before anyone else—namely Erin—can make the offer, and hastily hustle Chloe into the kitchen.

  Once there, she immediately throws her hands up to stay what she knows I’m about to say. “Okay, I know you’re upset, but hear me out. I didn’t want to say anything to you about her agreeing to the date because I knew how you’d react, although for the life of me, I can’t understand why.”

  “So instead you decided to just spring it on me?” I’m careful to keep my voice low but not as low as hers, which is barely above a whisper. The place is small, but the walls aren’t paper thin.

  “Oh come on, it’s a double date, Josh. Lighten up. It’ll be fun.” Smiling, she reaches up and gives me a peck on the cheek, before resuming whatever she’d been doing before her brother’s arrival. “Plus, I have such a good feeling about this,” she tosses over her shoulder.

  I stare at her, my eyes boring into the back of her head as she removes a stack of plates from the cupboard and places them on the counter.

  So that’s it, discussion over? She essentially ruins the one evening we have to ourselves this week and she thinks she can appease me with a kiss and everything’s fine?

  But what am I going to do, kick them out? No, so I’m stuck. Chloe doesn’t know that I spoke to Erin about it and I have no intention of telling her. If I make a big deal about it, she might suspect the truth. What I want to know is what happened to change Erin’s mind. What did Chloe say to her?

  “Erin doesn’t do blind dates. How did you get her to agree?”

  Chloe shoots a mischievous look at me over her shoulder. “No, she doesn’t, and she didn’t agree at first. I had to use my powers of persuasion.” She takes out cutlery from the drawer in front of her, briefly reminding me that I’m supposed to be helping her.

  “Really? And how did you do that?” I’m skeptical. The Erin I know isn’t easily persuaded, and it was clear from our conversation that she had no desire to go out with anyone remotely connected to me.

  “I told her how amazing Evan was,” she replies, glancing back at me.

  Nope, not buying it. She’s gotta do better than that.

  Her gaze narrows to a knife-edge sharpness as she adopts an accusatory tone, “I thought you liked Evan.”

  Wait, did I miss something? Where the hell did that come from? “Wh-what? Who said I didn’t like him?”

  “You have this look on your face. As if you don’t think he’s good enough for her,” she mutters.

  I let out a wry laugh. “Believe me, that’s not it.”

  Turning, she faces me and crosses her arms over her chest. “Then why do you have such a problem with Erin going out with him. I thought she was your friend.”

  God, what an unholy mess I’ve gotten myself into. “Look, Erin is Paige’s friend. The only reason I have anything to do with her is because of Mitch.”

  When did lying become this easy for me?

  Self-preservation. Don’t knock it until you need it.

  Chloe takes a step toward me, abruptly dropping her arms to her sides. “Are you saying you don’t like her?” she asks in a hushed voice.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that—” I break off, afraid I’ll end up inserting my foot all the way in my mouth. What am I trying to say? Not the truth but not a complete and utter lie.

  “It’s just that what?” she prompts. “I thought you said she was like a sister to you.”

  I never said that, Mitch did. I simply never bothered to correct him because I really didn’t have a choice, did I? But now it looks as if I have to stick with that story.

  I pull her into my arms. Lord, if ever a conversation needed ending, it’s this one.

  “I do—I mean, that is how I see her.” There are lies and then there’s this monstrosity. “But first and foremost, she’s Mitch’s fiancée’s best friend. Anyway, I thought tonight it was just going to be us.”

  Chloe’s expression instantly softens as she goes up on her toes and winds her arms around my neck. “Awwww. You’re so sweet.”

  The next lightning strike will definitely have me in its sights.

  “I’ll make it up to you next week, I promise,” she murmurs, puckering her lips and tipping her head back, silently demanding a kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  Erin

  Evan is nice. No, he doesn’t look like Chris E. but he’s cute. He does have a passing resemblance to Justin Bieber, though. Not quite as youthful looking and bigger, more muscular. Taller too.

  We’d agreed to meet in the lobby downstairs since I’d taken the bus directly from work (I’m a park and rider because parking in the city is expensive and scarce). He’d been waiting for me when I arrived. Casual Fridays are the one day a week we’re allowed to wear jeans to work so I hadn’t had to bring a change of clothes for what Chloe had promised would be an informal dinner.

  Her apartment is on the small side but it’s cozy. The blue-and-white striped decor suits her bright and breezy personality.

  “How long have you known Josh?” Evan asks. We’re sitting comfortably on the sofa, our conversation having run the gamut since Josh dragged Chloe off to the kitchen. After discussing our jobs, what we like to do for fun, we’re now on the subject of family and friends, specifically Josh.

  “Since high school.”

  “I guess it isn’t true then, what they say about men and women not being able to just be friends,” he says with a laugh.

  I tilt my head ever so slightly to the side as I regard him. Is he talking about…me and Josh? “Are you saying you don’t believe men and women can just be friends?” Because that’s what it kind of sounds like he’s saying.

  He gives a careless shrug. “I’m just saying that you are friends with Josh, which means it must be possible.”

  I eye him for a beat. “You sound skeptical. Don’t you have any friends who are women?”

  He thinks about it for a few seconds. “None that I haven’t dated at one time or other.” He pauses. “What about you? Other than Josh, do you have any male friends?”

  “Mitch is my friend.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t Mitch your best friend’s boyfriend or something like that?”

  Apparently, his sister has brought him up to speed on everything. “Yes, but that doesn’t stop him from being my friend.”

  His mouth quirks, his expression mildly amused. “But it’s not exactly the same thing, is it? It’s not as if you hang out alone together, right?”

  He has a point. Except that would mean I have no male friends at all if that’s the exacting criteria he’s set.

  Instead of answering his last charge, I insist obstinately, “Men and women can be just friends but it’s obvious you don’t believe it.”

  “Hey, you can’t blame me for asking. Chloe’s my little sister and you�
�re—well you’re gorgeous and you’re her boyfriend’s friend. It’s hard to believe he’s never tried to…to date you.”

  It’s good to see he chooses his words carefully.

  If I was the bitch I’ve been called on occasion, oh the trouble I could cause. But I didn’t agree to this double date to cause problems between Josh and his girlfriend. However, making him squirm for a few hours is the least he deserves.

  That isn’t the only reason I agreed to the double date. I liked that the presence of another couple would help ease the awkwardness inherent in blind dates.

  “Nope, he never has,” I say, shaking my head. The technicalities are critical to me not being forced to lie.

  Evan appears relieved, responding, “Good. He seems like a nice guy. Chloe likes him a lot.”

  If you ask me, it’s kind of sweet, the protective, older brother looking out for his baby sister. Not sweet is hearing how much Chloe likes Josh. I could have done without that part.

  “Josh is a good guy.” The words grudgingly form in my mind yet slide easily past my lips. I’m surprised how easily.

  Evan nods, whether in agreement stemming from his own interaction with Josh or his willingness to take me at my word, I’m not sure, but he seems satisfied that his sister isn’t currently at risk of being screwed over or having her heart broken by him.

  Then for the first time, we fall into silence, and not the comfortable companionable kind. It seems that any discussion about Josh is an instant mood killer.

  And Evan appears to be one of those people who views silence as the enemy of first dates and feels the need to rescue me from it. “But then, I guess it’s different for you guys. Chloe did say something about you guys being more like brother and sister, which explains why he’s never asked you out.”

  What the hell? Brother and sister? Me and Josh? Where on earth did she get that idea? Josh wouldn’t…couldn’t… I mean, it’s one thing for him not to tell her about our past relationship, it’s another to completely mischaracterize it.

  No, I’m being generous. It’s another thing to lie.

  But as I’m trapped in the straitjacket of that lie, I give a careless shrug and jokingly reply, “You know what they say about familiarity breeding contempt.”