by Piper Rayne
“Hell no, you know they supply them for us. Or do you? You never blow off any tension with a good lay, Rogue.”
I do, I just don’t advertise it like my buddy does.
“Why are you calling again?” I ask.
“Just checking to make sure you’re alive is all.” Beckett’s laugh sounds in the background. Of course Dax isn’t alone.
“I hid all the knives,” I deadpan.
“Watch her and make sure you watch your six,” Beckett says.
“No worries, I’ll die of boredom first. She hasn’t come out of her room all afternoon.”
I slide to the back of the couch, my feet resting on the coffee table. At least if I was with them, we’d be playing cards or doing some other bullshit to pass the time. Dax would probably be boarding off the roof.
“You’re better off then,” Dax says.
“I don’t know, death by boredom is slow and painful. If she jabs me in the heart, it’s quick and over with.” I rest my head on the back of the couch, my eyes shutting, that nap sounding better and better.
“You underestimate me. I’d make it as slow and painful as possible.”
My head snaps up and sure enough Mia’s standing in the kitchen, a mug in her hands.
“Is that Little Salty?” Dax asks. “Hey, Lil’ Salty. You’re going to play nice, right?”
“I always play nice, Soups.” She starts heating water in the kettle on the stove. “Hoff, you there, too?”
“Hey, Mia...how’d you guess?” Beckett asks.
“Because the three of you do everything together.”
“Not everything,” I mumble.
“If you want us all, Mia, you just have to ask,” Dax says and laughs.
“I think she might only want one of us.” Beckett chimes in.
I roll my eyes. The guy wasn’t even around back when I got razzed about her following me around.
“Don’t flatter yourselves.” Mia grabs a tea bag from the cabinet.
She’s in pajama pants, a long sleeve tee with a big puffy pink sweater. I’m not sure what’s bigger, her sweater or her socks. She glances at her phone on the counter.
“I have references I can give you, Mia. Guaranteed stellar performance,” Dax says.
I shake my head at Dax’s idiocy.
“We better go hit the slopes. You two can just…hit it.” Beckett does his monster laugh.
“Screw off.” My gaze focuses in on Mia, while she grabs her cup and rounds the couch to sit on the opposite side of me.
“Oh, and FYI, our flight is canceled, so, use the manners your mothers taught you. I don’t wanna be haunted with a murder scene when I finally get there.” Dax laughs loudly and the line clicks off.
I bend forward and click off the phone. “You’re going to join me?”
She sips her tea, her brown eyes staring at me through the steam. “I did about everything I could to stay away. Turns out I’m way too efficient and organized.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“Television?” she asks, her gaze moving from me to the remote.
“No signal.”
She pulls a blanket from the edge of the couch, cuddling into the softness. “Do you think they have cards?”
“What are you thinking?”
She smiles, her expression suggesting that I should know, which I do.
“You sure?”
She nods still believing she’ll beat me.
“Your funeral.” I stand up and head over to the drawers on the nearby table and jackpot, every type of card imaginable. “Pinnacle?” I hold up the cards. “Bridge.” I hold up that pack. “Euchre.” Then I pluck out the regular poker cards. “Gin Rummy anyone?”
She places her tea on the table, rubbing her hands together. “Bring them to Mama.”
I toss them on the table and she misses no time in pulling them out and shuffling the deck using her fancy bridge method.
Instead of joining her right away, I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of pretzels and a bottle of water. I can’t wait until I can really spoil my diet, but that day is way too far into the future to think too much about now.
I jump over the edge of the couch and land on the cushion two away from her.
“Pretzels?” she asks.
I shrug. “Could be worse.” I pry the bag open and I hold it out to her. “Want some?”
She picks up the bag and holds it up to her nose, inhaling the scent and then passing it back to me.
“No?”
She starts dealing the cards while shaking her head. “I’ll eat the entire bag.”
Not about to beg her, I keep them on my side of the table, popping one at a time in my mouth.
She sips her tea as we start discarding and picking up cards. Then when I think she’s about to lay down three cards, she leans over and tucks her hand into the bag and sneaks a pretzel.
I say nothing as she chews, her eyes concentrating on the cards on the table.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, there’s a comfortable silence between us.
Chapter Thirteen
“And that’s two.” Mia lays down all her cards. “Gin Rummy, baby.” She does a little shimmy with her ass on the couch.
“Three out of five?” I ask, pulling all the cards my way to start shuffling.
She grabs a handful of pretzels and leans back on the couch. “Don’t say anything.” She points a twisted pretzel my way.
“Hey, I’ve said nothing.” I hold up my hands and then go back to shuffling. “You want a beer to chase them?”
Ding, a pretzel hits my head. I pick it up and throw it at her. She throws two more at me, and they fall to my chest. Picking it up from my lap, I pop it into my mouth and eat it.
I pass out the cards and she sits up straighter, poised and ready to win her third in a row. She’s lucky I’m not that competitive with her.
“So, that truce we agreed on?” I ask. She peeks up from her cards but says nothing. “You still gave me attitude earlier…”
Again, she glances at me then takes a card, discarding one of hers. “I’m just mad.”
“I get it, it’s hard to be told to sit when we’ve been working so hard to get here and we’re only months away from Winter Classics. But you need to pace yourself anyway. Otherwise, you’ll peak too early.” I discard a card, arranging the rest in sets. “I’m sure coach has told you this.”
“That’s not what’s hard.” Her hand reaches for a card and then slides it into the bunch fanned out in her hands.
I tilt my head. “What is? If you don’t mind me asking?”
She stacks her cards and lays them facedown on the table, picking up her mug. When her eyes meet mine, my stomach tightens.
We’re finally going to have the conversation.
“It’s hard to be around you.” Her words come out in a rush, but the pained look on her face suggests they were hard to put out there.
I lay my cards down, standing and rounding the couch, pushing my hand through my hair.
“We should just talk about it.” She swivels to watch me as I head to the kitchen.
I open the fridge and hide my head inside for a second, acting like I’m perusing what it has to offer. Really, I’m being a chicken shit because more than four years later, I’m still not prepared for this.
“You to clear the air.” The words catch in my throat. I don’t want to screw this up.
“Grady,” her voice holds a plea.
Finally, fucking the diet up completely, I grab a beer and shut the fridge door. With my back to the counter, I twist the cap off, flip it around in my free hand while gulping a good amount down my throat.
She watches me and knowing that I’ve been trying to outrun this moment for years and that it’s time to be a man and own up to my sins, I round the back of the sectional and take my seat.
“I understand why you hate me. I’m sorry for what I did. If I could take it back, I would. I shouldn’t have—”
“Disap
peared,” she cuts in. “No, you shouldn’t have. You were his best friend. How could you?” The pain in her voice lances through me like a scalpel.
I gulp down another chug of the beer, buying myself some time.
“I had to go to the Winter Classics.” Brandon’s accident occurred weeks before and it was our dream. A dream we shared. Maybe it was selfish of me to go, but when you reach that level it’s not just about you anymore. There are a lot of people who helped you get there and are counting on you to perform—coaches, sponsors, therapists, teammates.
“I know that. You think I don’t understand how hard that decision was for you?” She twists the edge of her sweater between her fingers. “Brandon gives you the benefit. He always says you did what you had to do, but you could’ve done both. You should have visited him after. You abandoned him at the worst possible time in his life. How could you?”
“I know.” The beer bottle slides along the coffee table when I set it down. “I know,” I whisper, my voice having lost some of the fight.
Silence occupies the room and I wish I didn’t want to hold her so bad right now—like I did the night of the accident. I remember how much comfort it brought both of us.
“Why didn’t you?” The soft plea in her voice makes my chest tight and it’s hard to push the breath in and out of my lungs.
“Because—”
“What, Grady? What was more important than your best friend fighting for his life? Even today he fights to have a normal life. He lost everything you gained and you still stay away. You deserted us.”
The way she used the word us and not him doesn’t escape my notice.
I stand to my feet without making eye contact, and end up back in front of the fridge, with my hand on another cold bottle of beer.
“Are you going to drink yourself stupid?”
She’s right behind me now, her signature scent of honey lingering around us.
God, I hate what that smell does to me. Makes me want things I can’t and shouldn’t want. This whole fucking situation makes me so angry.
“I deserted him, not you.” The fridge door shuts at the same moment her eyelids do. “You’re upset because you’ve always had some sort of crush on me. You feel as though I left you behind, too.”
One tear slips from her closed eye, but when they open, you’d think she had some magical power to will the wetness away because her pupils are angry and piercing right through me.
“That’s not true. Did I have some crush on you? Yes. Congratulations you figured out what everyone else already knew back then. But after you left Brandon behind and found your success, you became about as attractive as an ogre to me.”
She slices me right back with her words.
Game on.
“Really?”
Her eyes narrow.
“So, if I stripped off my shirt right now, your mouth wouldn’t water? How about if I caged you against the counter, pressed my hard dick between your legs, your body wouldn’t react?”
She swallows, her eyes not leaving mine.
Brave girl.
“Try it and I’ll spit in your face.”
I shake my head, taking one step forward. “You still want me and guess what?” She remains silent and I step into her. She straightens her back, her hands clutching the counter’s edge. I run my thumb along her hairline, down the side of her face. “I’ve noticed you these past weeks. Your body.” My eyes dip to her chest, noticing the rise and fall of her rapid breaths. “And I want you, too.”
We stand there, my dick growing more uncomfortable every second. I think I finally found something to keep me busy while we’re stranded.
“I’m sorry, Mia. You were young and my best friend’s little sister. Our closeness those weeks after his accident...I couldn’t do it. I never meant to hurt any of you though. I just...” How do I tell her about the guilt that racks me, that I blame myself every day for what happened to Brandon?
A glop of spit lands on my right cheek.
I step back, swiping away the saliva from my skin.
“I told you, I’d spit on you.” She slides away from me, but I grab her wrist.
“Whatever this is, isn’t going away.”
“I wouldn’t want you if you were the last dick on Earth.” She wiggles out of my hold and heads down the hall back to her retreat.
Chapter Fourteen
I’m lying in bed, thinking about what I did. What I said and how I let my dick speak for me when I should’ve told her I was sorry and that I was an ass and my reasons for distancing myself from the Salter family have nothing to do with any of them.
Eventually, frustration over the spinning wheels in my head has me throwing the covers aside. I’m sick of tossing and turning, stuck in the darkness of my own head. Grabbing my T-shirt from earlier, I throw it over my chest and open my door. Seconds later I find myself two doors down across from my own room, my knuckles gliding down the wood. I shake my head. Not a good idea and head to the great room instead.
I flip on the outside light on the porch, leaning my shoulder on the window and watch the snowfall pile up on the deck. The branches on the trees are covered with white powder. I can’t help it. My first thought is of boarding on white powder and my second is of who I’d want to share the experience with.
Mia comes to mind, and I inwardly reprimand myself for allowing her name to pop to mind. What the hell am I thinking? If I have sex with her, there’s no going back. There’s no that was great, on to the next, or this was awesome, glad we worked each other out of our systems. I couldn’t do that to her—I’ve already caused her family so much pain.
I close my eyes and literally shake my head in an effort to gain my sense back. We’re friends again which is more than we’ve been in years and that’s where it needs to end. I have no choice but to forget the sway of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the curves of her body…
Jesus, I shift my stance and adjust myself.
“You’re right.”
I spin around, finding Mia in her pajama pants from earlier, but now she’s wearing a tight tank top that doesn’t hide the fact she’s braless. My eyes take in her hard nipples until she quickly pulls her hoodie closed over her chest.
“I don’t get the pleasure of hearing you say that very often,” I say, trying to keep the mood light.
She steps forward, one deliberate and slow step in front of the other, ending up on the opposite side of the large framed window, watching the snow come down.
“Yes, so savor it.” The sweetness of her voice has my head turning in her direction. A smile creases her lips. “I was hurt when you pulled away from Brandon. I felt abandoned.”
I nod. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle it all. I had to get back to competition, Brandon was unconscious and we were getting closer…nothing was making sense.”
“It was probably for the best. I might’ve embarrassed myself even more.” Her long dark hair shakes back and forth as she turns her face to hide it from me.
Stepping forward, my finger pulls back the strands of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“You were young. Seventeen and we were twenty-one. Everything in our lives was chaotic and uncertain.”
She glances at me from the corner of her eyes, a smile upturning her lips. “Maybe I just wanted what I couldn’t have.”
My vision dips again, and my hand clenches from the pure want running through my veins.
“Maybe.” She’s millimeters from me and I watch her staring out into the darkness. “I’m sorry, Mia.”
She nods, turning, her back to the window. Her eyes close and slowly open. “I’m kind of exhausted from hating you.”
“So, my punishment has been suspended.” I bend down so our eyes are on the same level.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” She rubs her face along the edge of her sweatshirt and shoots me a look that hits me right in the heart.
“Then let’s celebrate.” I grab her hand and pull her along with me.
“
That’s doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”
I glance over my shoulder, winking but saying nothing. We’re in agreement there. “We’re going to celebrate with ice cream sundaes.”
“I can’t,” she says, but doesn’t fight me and I pat the counter in the kitchen.
“Up.”
“Grady,” she sighs, but does as I ask.
I dig out the vanilla, cookie dough, and chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and put them on the counter. “Please, we aren’t going anywhere for a few days.”
I find chocolate sauce and cherries, but sadly no whipped cream. What a letdown.
“Fine. A small one.” She indicates a size with her hand, but that’s not going to happen.
“And we can finish our three out of five Gin Rummy contest.”
“Why bother, I’ll totally beat you.” She tucks her hands under her thighs and watches me scoop the ice cream.
Ten minutes later, she’s got a bowl of cookie dough with chocolate syrup and five cherries while I chose to stick with chocolate ice cream doused in chocolate sauce.
With bowl in hand, I prop up on the opposite counter so we’re sitting facing one another, our eyes meeting every bite or two. “You’re really nailing the trick. I think you’re ready without the airbag.”
A nervous look crosses her face. “Nah.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
She peeks up from watching her spoon move the ice cream around. “Sure.”
“Why do you play it safe? I mean…I get the Brandon thing.”
I’m unsure how to bring the subject up, especially since it’s me, but Mia was once fiercely set on upping the bar.
She continues to swirl her spoon around the bowl, her gaze never lifting. “I guess so, I mean it definitely set me back a little, but…”
Her attention finally moves from her ice cream and lands on me, hesitancy saturating her features.
“What?” I ask when she doesn’t continue.
“It’s just the pressure,” she says.
“I get pressure.”
“Not really the press and their expectations, it’s my family. If something were to happen to me…” She eats a heaping spoonful of ice cream.
