Rookie Moves (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 2)

by Shelly Alexander

  “If she doesn’t, she will as soon as she sees that picture. Maybe give her a heads up.”

  I cough and pinch the bridge of my nose. Ava’s gotten a heads up from me this weekend many, many times.

  “I’ve got it handled,” I say. I so fucking do not have the situation handled.

  “Gotta go. The in-laws are having Chloe and me over for dinner.” I hear an eye roll in his voice. “More wedding plans.”

  “Have fun with that.”

  “Chloe’s going out with her sisters tomorrow night. Dinner and poker night at my place so we can talk business?”

  Poker night is code for “let’s play chess.” The three of us came up with it after college when we traded our khaki chess team uniforms in for GQ clothes, expensive cars, and two-hundred-dollar haircuts. It’s become a habit we don’t care to break.

  “Sure. See you then.”

  As soon as I end the call, I bring up the City Scoop. Under the Celebrity Sightings photo column, there Ava and I are, going at it on the hood of my car. It’s a profile picture, but there’s no doubt it’s me. The only saving grace is the tree I was parked under shadowed Ava’s face, concealing her identity. Her arm is looped around my neck, and my gaze settles on the gold bracelets.

  The headline reads Checkmate Inc.’s jet-setting playboy adds another notch to his designer belt. The photo is credited to Suzanna Byers. Aka, Blondie—the soulless reporter at Ava’s reunion. I wonder how much the City Scoop paid her for the photo. Or maybe she used it as leverage for a job. Who knows, since she obviously has no heart and no conscience?

  Thank God Ava’s name isn’t listed as the woman I’m with. That’s the way it has to stay. I’ve been alone my entire life. I won’t be the cause of Ava losing the only family she has left.

  From my phone, I fire off an email to the attorney Checkmate has on retainer. I want that reporter shut down. I tell him to threaten to sue Suzanna Byers and that smut rag for defamation. I tell him to imply that we can make serious waves for her career advancement if the identity of the woman in the picture is even hinted at. I don’t care what I have to do to protect Ava.

  When I’m done with my email rant, I make a promise to myself. One I don’t want to make, but I’ve got no choice. I’ll take Ava to the game. As friends. I won’t hold her hand like a boyfriend should. I won’t put my arm around her and pull her close like we’re lovers. I won’t kiss her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And when the game is over and we’re alone again, I won’t fuck her like a man who is hopelessly hooked on her like a drug.

  Instead, we’ll drive back to the city tonight. I can’t spend another night alone with Ava without breaking every single one of those promises.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After I show Ava the picture in the City Scoop, she wants to find Suzanna Byers. That’s a mistake I can’t allow to happen for Ava’s own good. She’s so bold and so upset that she might say something about our weekend affair that could end up in the papers again.

  I assure her my attorney is handling it. Then I suggest we skip the game and head back to the city instead. The drive is tense and we’re both quiet. I’m deep in thought, trying to figure out how to tell Ava that what happened upstate between us has to stay upstate. It’s best for everyone if we end it now.

  That’s total bullshit.

  It’s best for her, not for me. I guess that’s why I can’t find a way to say the words out loud that I know will end our friendship. Losing her will cut deep.

  Her scent taunts me. She smells sweet, like the grape vineyards of Tuscany during the early autumn harvest, and I want to drink her up like a fine glass of wine.

  A thunderbolt of lust rockets through me when I picture Ava and me tooling through Italy together, the rolling hills on fire with the vivid colors of fall. We’d stop at a quaint vineyard for lunch. We’d meander through the rows of vines, holding hands, and we’d get caught in the rain. I’d give her a soft, sweet kiss, and she’d taste like the thunderclouds showering drops of rain down on us. We’d spend lazy days in bed, and no one would interfere in our dream world.

  That really is a dream because I’ll be overseas alone, and Ava will be here.

  Before I know it, we emerge from the Lincoln Tunnel, and the lights of midtown Manhattan dazzle me. I gawk at them as I stop at a traffic light, waking from my dream. I’m going to miss living in this city. It’s so alive, flowing with energy at any time of the day or night. The way it shifts and changes with the seasons and the time of day is fascinating.

  But mostly, I’m going to miss it because this is where Ava will be, moving on with her life. Meeting other men. Dating them…probably fuc…

  My brain catches fire and goes up in smoke.

  Ava reaches for the stereo and turns down the music. “You’ve got a green light, Dex.”

  I’m jarred out of my daze. I bring the road ahead into focus and accelerate, shifting into second, then third. Unfortunately, my brain is still in neutral.

  “Okay, tell me what’s going on.” Her tone is sharp and strained.

  Can’t say that I blame her. I want to kick my own ass all the way to New Jersey for what I’ve allowed to happen.

  “Ava, you haven’t dated much because of Leo.” I want to crush the steering wheel in my hands because of what I have to say to her. “Maybe you’re attracted to me because I’m around a lot. You might meet someone else while I’m away.”

  She pulls in a breath and looks straight ahead. “My brother has created snags in my dating life, but the truth is, I haven’t tried very hard to meet other guys.” Her voice goes quiet and vulnerable. “You’re the one I want. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me. You finally did.” She turns a naughty smile on me. “The picture in the City Scoop proves it.”

  I run fingers through my hair. “That fucking picture is a problem.”

  “My face isn’t showing. Chances are no one will ever know it’s me,” she says. “But even if they do, I don’t care. I’m glad it’s me and not some other woman. The past few years, it’s made me jealous when I know you’ve been with someone else. I’ve got no regrets about the picture or this weekend.”

  I’ve got plenty of regrets because it’s going to change both of our lives and the comfortable friendship we’ve shared for so long. Yep. Definitely Captain of Team Asshat material.

  I pull in a breath. “It was a great weekend.” I execute each word with precision, emphasizing the last. It hangs in the air between us, and I silently run through the rest of what I have to say.

  I swear, she stops breathing and stares ahead as I get closer to her apartment. Before I can finish, she says, “Pull up in front of my building. I can manage from there.”

  I don’t pull up in front of her building like she’s instructed. I will not dump her off and drive away, leaving her and her suitcases on the sidewalk like old baggage. I finally squeeze into a spot against a curb and help her with her things.

  At her front door, she digs around in her gigantic purse and pulls out a ring of keys. The lock clicks, she pushes the door open, and turns to me.

  “Can I come in?” I ask. We need to talk about the elephant that’s filling the entire fucking building. I owe her an explanation.

  She gives me a skeptical look. She’s clearly pissed, and she has every right to be.

  “Do you want to come in?”

  Is New York City fucking crowded? Hell yes, I want to come in. I want to undress her and leave a trail of clothes all the way from the front door to the foot of her bed. Then I want to fuck her all night long, just like I did last night.

  “Uh.”

  I have multiple degrees from Columbia. My IQ is high enough that I should have the fucking dictionary memorized, and Webster should be my bitch. Uh is unacceptable terminology, especially at a time like this.

  I open my mouth to wax philosophical. “Uh,” tumbles out again.

  Goddammit.

  She holds up a hand, her palm facing me. “I get it.
‘It was a great weekend,’” she mimics what I said in the car. “Now it’s over.”

  I spear fingers through my hair, trying to find the right words. “Ava, I’m sorry. It’s complicated. I don’t want you to get hurt, but that’s going to happen no matter how this plays out. I made a promise to your brother, and I shouldn’t have let things between us get out of hand.”

  “I can do what I want, Dex. I’m not just Leo’s kid sister anymore. I’m all grown up now.” She crosses both arms under her gorgeous rack, and my mouth starts to water. I can’t help but let my eyes linger over them while I think of how delicious they taste.

  “Yeah, I kinda noticed the grown up part this weekend.” I chuckle and stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from feeling her up right here in the hall.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to notice for a long time.” Her voice softens.

  Oh, I fucking noticed long before this weekend.

  “So I’m going to ask again. Do you want to come in?”

  I so fucking do.

  “I can’t.” I blow out a breath. “Ava, I owe Leo a lot…” I don’t know how to finish. “There’s our friendship to think about, our partnership, and Checkmate —”

  The glimmer of hope in her eyes fades. “Ah,” she says. “Bros before hoes.”

  “No. It’s not like that.” I reach for her hand.

  She steps back and grasps the edge of the door. “Sure it is. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. The weekend’s over, and we’re back to our real lives. Don’t worry about our coffee appointments anymore. Maybe it’s time I change my morning routine.”

  “Ava—”

  The door swings toward me and slams in my face.

  Chapter Twenty

  I don’t sleep worth a damn all night, so I go to the gym at the ass-crack of dawn. I need a hard workout to get my head on straight before I have to meet up with Leo and Oz tonight.

  I put on boxing gloves and take out my frustration on a punching bag.

  I wasn’t supposed to touch Ava at all, so getting the door slammed in my face after the incredible sex we had wasn’t a big surprise. I might be obtuse, but even I know I deserved it. Doesn’t make it suck any less, though.

  A Pound of Flesh Fitness is virtually empty at this hour on a Sunday morning. Sweat flies with each blow I land to the bag. Getting in bed alone last night sucked balls. Finally having the woman I’ve wanted for so long only made me want her more, and it took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to run all the way back to her apartment last night, get down on my knees, beg her to forgive me for being a douche and then fuck so many orgasms out of her that it would’ve defied all logic and reality.

  But I can’t cause friction between Ava and her brother since they only have each other as family. Getting between them when I’m not going to be in New York for her would make me an even bigger douche.

  Bottom line: I’m a douche either way. I should go ahead and have it tattooed on my forehead. Better yet, I should be the spokesperson for women’s hygiene products with my face on the goddamn package.

  Ethan Wilde, the owner of A Pound of Flesh, walks over to hold the bag for me. His dark brown hair is still damp from a shower, and he’s sporting his usual five o’clock shadow. “Lot of stress?” he asks.

  “You could say that.” I keep on swinging.

  Oz, Leo, and I met Ethan in college. He was the star of the baseball team and headed for the Bigs until a torn rotator cuff ended his career right before he finished college. He was a jock with a flock of girls following him everywhere he went. But he was one of the good ones, and when his pro athlete dream died, he put his skills to use in a different way, just like me and my partners. Now his chain of gyms is growing with four locations in the city and more to come.

  A gym membership and private training sessions are part of the five-figure package available to Checkmate clients. Our corporate agreement has helped Ethan’s business grow, and we’ve encouraged him to try to land more corporate contracts.

  “Business?” he asks as I take another swing. “A woman?”

  I crush the bag with a right hook.

  “Ah. A woman,” Ethan says with a laugh.

  I stop and take my gloves off. Ethan hands me a towel, and I wipe the dripping sweat while I try to catch my heaving breath.

  “What makes you say that?” I rub the sweat off my neck.

  He walks to the vending machine in the corner. “When a guy comes in here looking to destroy a punching bag, it’s always because of a woman.” He punches a code into the machine and brings me a bottle of water. I chug it down. “Besides, I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this.”

  True. Oz, Leo, and I were Ethan’s first members when he opened. He’s the one that helped us physically transform from scrawny chess team nerds to well-built men who can fill out a pair of jeans as well as any athlete. That’s how our joint company venture took shape.

  “First time for everything, I guess,” I say.

  Ethan nods. “I got fucked over once.” He slices a hand through the air. “Won’t happen again.”

  Ava didn’t fuck me over. It would be so much easier if she had. Walking away from her because it’s the right thing to do is the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do.

  “I keep my relationships simple, ‘cause I’m not giving up my bachelor status.” Ethan runs a hand through the top of his hair where it’s a little longer than the close-cropped sides. “Clean. Simple. No strings. I get into my bed alone every night and wake up every morning the same way. Alone.”

  His last word blares in my head like a fire engine. I understand “alone” all too well. I was the fucking definition of “alone” growing up. Ethan’s lifestyle might’ve sounded convenient a few weeks ago. Now that I know how it feels to wake up with Ava’s soft, naked body molded to mine, it sounds like a lonely hell.

  I run the towel over my face again. My breathing has slowed, but my heart is still pounding against the walls of my chest. I shove my towel and water bottle at Ethan’s chest, grab my gym bag, and head for the door.

  “Thanks, man,” I say to Ethan over my shoulder as I widen my strides. “That helps a lot.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he calls after me, his forehead scrunched. “Anytime.”

  I don’t walk; I run to the coffee shop where Ava and I have our morning coffee together. Our usual barista is there and doesn’t have to wait for me to order. She starts our regulars as soon as I hit the door.

  I grab two double-walled insulated mugs off the display and bring them to the cash register. “Put the coffees in these today.”

  Within minutes I’m hailing a cab and heading for the West Village. I’m soaking wet from my workout, but I don’t care. I need to see Ava. We have a morning tradition that started with her parents, and now she and I carry it on. Maybe in a different location, and maybe in a slightly different way, but it’s still our tradition. I’ve waited my whole life to have a family tradition, and I won’t let it go without a fight.

  I don’t ring the buzzer at Ava’s apartment. Instead, I pull out my phone and send her a text.

  ‘Morning Rookie. Can you buzz me in before the coffee gets cold?

  The dots jump, but then they stop.

  Shit.

  Swear to God, I’ll figure out a way to climb the fire escape up to her floor with two cups of coffee in my hands if I have to.

  Two twenty-something girls walk out of the front door, and I slip through. I take the stairs to her apartment two at a time, and rap a knuckle against the door while juggling the two coffee mugs.

  I hear shuffling, and I know she’s looking through the peephole.

  Then nothing but silence.

  “I’m not going away, Ava.” I’ll camp out in front of the door if I have to. She’ll have to open the door eventually.

  A loud exasperated sigh sounds through the door, and I wait for the deadbolt to slide open. It does, and there’s my girl, looking sexy as hell. Tousled hair, sleep
y eyes, plaid flannel pajama pants, and a T-shirt that says “Drama Queen.”

  Obviously, no bra, which just made my whole day.

  “Can I come in?”

  She holds the edge of the door with one hand. The other hand goes to her hip, and she gives me a why-the-hell-should-I-let-you-in look. “Gee, I don’t know, Dex. Did you get permission from my brother?”

  I deserve that. “I brought an offering.” I hold up the cups.

  She gives the mug a longing gaze.

  I open the spout and hold it out so the aroma can work its magic.

  Ava gives me a skeptical look and then her eyes trek back to the mug. Her expression doesn’t soften, but she sniffs the air. “Good thing you brought coffee because your current scent isn’t one of Checkmate’s.”

  Score one for bold roasted beans. I resist the urge to smell my armpit. I guess I could’ve showered before I hauled ass out of the gym, but at the time, getting to Ava’s door was the only thing that mattered.

  She grabs the cup without a word and turns on a heel. I follow her inside and kick the door shut.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ava’s bare feet shuffle along the wood floors of her apartment as she returns from the bathroom. Coffee in hand, she runs her pink tongue across pearly whites, and I know she’s just brushed her teeth.

  I’m still standing right where she left me, feeling awkward like I’m back in high school—a member of the chess team, trying to gain the attention of a beautiful girl. Seems hopeless.

  “Sit.” She points to a spot on the sofa and plops down next to it. Her braless breasts give a nice bounce, and my hand tightens around the coffee mug.

  “I’m all sweaty from the gym.” I discard my gym bag on the floor by the door.

  “Do I look like I care?” She takes a drink of coffee. “Maybe I’ll let you use my shower if you tell me why you’re really here.”

  “I wanted to have morning coffee with you. It’s what we do.”

  She looks as though she wants to stab me in the heart with a butter knife. Luckily, she doesn’t have one handy. Still…