More Than A Game (The Kings of Kroydon Hills Book 2)

by Bella Matthews

  “It’s looking like the wedding might be around Christmas. Cooper has to finish boot camp, and then he’ll stay where he is until the holidays. I think he said he’d be starting his spec ops training there. It sounds like he’s going to get to come home for two weeks at the end of the year. Once he knows something for sure, we’ll throw it together. I don’t need anything big. Just you kids and Joe.”

  Guess we’re getting a bigger family for Christmas.

  Yo Coop,

  What’s going on? You gotta be just about halfway done at this point, right? Any word on where you’re going next? Mom said she thinks you’re in Great Lakes until the end of the year. She actually said until your “spec ops” training. Sounded weird as hell coming out of her mouth. Good news. You’re not getting booted out of your room when you come home. They’re putting me in the basement. I’ll break it to my mom later that I’m probably not going to be moving home. Guess you won’t be either. Miss you, man.

  Murphy

  PS – you getting any good ass out there? Come on, you had to know I was gonna ask.

  Murphy,

  I still can’t get over the fact our parents are getting married. I got a letter from Dad saying they’re thinking about trying to schedule the wedding sometime the week after Christmas. He’s got a game that day, but it’s his last one of the regular season. Sounds like they’ve got a good chance at the playoffs. Just glad to hear Declan’s not shitting the bed as the starting QB. How are things going for you? Still got a blown mind over the whole Sabrina thing. I did not see that coming. I like her. She’s a cool girl.

  Hey, can you convince Nattie not to send me anymore brownies? The guys all begged me to share them, then bitched at me all week about them being the worst things they ever tasted. I think she used salt instead of sugar. While we’re at it, try to get Annabelle to send me more cookies. Hers were fantastic!

  Talk soon.

  Coop

  27

  Sabrina

  Nattie and I have just ordered our post-yoga smoothies at the regular spot. We’re sitting down at the table we now think of as ours when my phone rings. Glancing down, I see Annabelle’s name and picture flashing across my screen. “What the heck is Belles doing calling me this early?”

  Nat sits up straighter. “Put it on speaker.”

  “Hey, Belles. I’m with Nattie, and you’re on speaker. What’s up?”

  “Sabrina, I hate being on speaker. Take. Me. Off.” She throws a sugary sweet please in there, but Nattie laughs and swipes my phone. It’s noisy in here with students coming and going all around.

  “Shush it, Belles. We’re going outside anyway. And, you know she’s just going to tell me whatever you say.”

  “Fine. But give Brina back the phone.”

  I stick my tongue out at Nattie, throw my hoodie over my sports bra, and snatch my phone back. We walk outside, and a shiver runs down my body. Fall is turning to winter early in Philly this year, and the quad is freezing. I can see my breath coming out in smoky puffs as we speak. My sweaty yoga pants and damp hair are not helping matters much. “What’s up, Belle?”

  “So . . . what exactly is the dress code for your Dad’s fundraiser?” Nat and I move further away from the door. She sets her bag down on the raised concrete platform surrounding the fountain in the middle of the quad.

  “Why do you want to know—” I don’t get to finish my thought because Nat rips the phone back out of my hand. “What the hell, Nattie?”

  She holds the phone up to her face. “Declan asked you to go, didn’t he?”

  “Natalie Sinclair, did you give him my number and not tell me?” Annabelle does not sound pleased.

  Nat smiles her evil Tinker Bell smile and wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  “Natalie! Warn a girl next time before the starting quarterback for the Philadelphia Kings asks her to accompany him to a formal function!” Annabelle’s screech is so high pitched dogs may be the only ones to actually hear her.

  Murphy and the guys, who are walking toward us, have stopped and are staring at the phone in Nat’s hands.

  “Oh, come on. He’s not anything special just because he plays football. So, tell me, are you going on a date with my brother or what?” I don’t think Nat’s smile could possibly get bigger than it is.

  Brady’s mouth drops open, and so does Murphy’s. Bash smiles like he knew this was coming. We all swear he has a sixth sense or something.

  “It’s not a date,” Annabelle says over the phone. “He doesn’t really know anyone in town other than his teammates, and the owners of the team gave him a ticket and told him to bring a date. I’m apparently the only female he knows who’s over the age of twenty-one who lives in Philly and doesn’t charge by the hour.”

  Murphy leans his chin on Nattie’s shoulder. “Damn, Little Sinclair. Your brother’s paying hookers? He can’t get ass on his own?” Leave it to Murphy.

  Nattie punches his arm, and Murphy smiles.

  Annabelle screams again, “Natalie Sinclair, take me off speakerphone right now.”

  I grab the phone back from Nattie and walk a few feet away, with Murphy following behind. “Belle, I’ve got you off speaker. It’s just me now.”

  “Were the guys there the whole time?”

  “No, they just walked up.”

  Annabelle sighs dramatically. “Sabrina, just tell me what you’re wearing to the fundraiser. Declan wasn’t even sure if he needed a tux or a suit. Apparently, the only thing he was sure about was that he needed a date.”

  She sounds frustrated, and I hate that for her. “Listen, Belle, Declan needs to wear a tux. This is a formal event at the Union League. I’m wearing a gown. I would say you could get away with a really fancy cocktail dress, but you’ll probably get photographed since you’ll be with Dec. If you’ve got a gown, I think you should wear that. If not, I’m sure we can find you something.”

  “I’m good, Brina. But thank you for the offer. When I was with the NYC Ballet company, we had to attend formal events throughout the season. I’ve got a closet full of clothes that I never wear now that I’m back home.”

  I can’t imagine having to give up your whole world to take care of your brother after your parents die, but Annabelle never complains. She’s pretty amazing. “Okay. If you need anything, make sure to call.”

  “I will. Thanks. Tell Nattie I’m going to kick her little ass at the studio later.” I hear Belle take another deep breath, and then the call ends.

  “Wow. I’ve never heard Annabelle seem pissed-off before.” Murph is in front of me, blocking my view of the others when I turn around.

  I step into him. “Nat gave Declan Annabelle’s phone number and didn’t tell her.”

  “My mom mentioned something about Dec going to the fundraiser, but she didn’t mention Annabelle. Apparently, she and Coach Sinclair are going, too.” He slings his arm around my shoulders, and I hide my face against his chest, then groan.

  “Crap. I meant to tell you that. My mom mentioned it a few days ago.”

  “The fun of living in a small town, I guess. Oh well.” Murphy moves his hands to my face pulling my lips to his.

  The catcalls and whistling immediately start from our friends. I think Nattie may be the loudest.

  Traitor.

  I lean in, wrapping both arms around Murphy’s shoulders and flip them all off behind his back.

  Murph pulls back and touches his forehead to mine. “I’ve got to get inside to lift, then head to Psych. You wanna come over tonight after practice?”

  I slide my arms down and grab his waist under his hoodie. My hands are cold, and his skin is always so warm. “Ugh. I wish I could. I’ve got so much work to get through tonight. Can I take a rain check?”

  He runs his fingers through my sweaty, post-yoga ponytail. “I’ll call you tonight, Princess.”

  “Bye, Murph.” If I were in a cartoon, little bubble hearts would be bouncing above my head now. When did I get in this deep?

  He heads ins
ide to the gym with the guys, and Nattie walks over to where I’m stuck in place, watching him.

  She links her arm through mine. “Damn, girl. You two are on fire.” She hip-checks me. “It’s so awesome to see the mighty Murphy finally fall.”

  I roll my eyes, but it’s a front. I love that she thinks he’s falling.

  Hope she’s right.

  28

  Murphy

  Friday night at the football house is exactly what we all needed. It’s our first weekend off since preseason started in August, and we’re all enjoying the freedom of knowing we don’t have a game tomorrow. This party isn’t huge. It’s just the team and anyone we wanted to bring. There’s still more people than you would think would fit in this house, but it’s not the usual post-game crowd. The beer is flowing, shots are being dispersed in the kitchen, everyone’s chillin’, and the bass of the music is pumping through the room like a wild pulse thrumming through my veins before a big play.

  Something about this night feels electric, like this is one of those days we’ll remember when we’re looking back years from now, reminiscing about college.

  We’re all in celebration mode tonight because Jamie walked into the house with his girl riding on his back and a diamond ring on her left hand. She’s exactly what you’d imagine a mid-west farmer’s daughter would look like. Curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, and long legs encased in blue jeans and boots. And she’s only got eyes for Jamie. Neither of them has stopped smiling all night, which is contagious.

  A group of us sits around a table playing poker while the girls dance in the center of the room, and I finally get it.

  I get why Brady won’t let Nattie out of his sight. I get why once they got together, that was it. I’m not saying I’m ready to wife it up just yet, but damn.

  I love my fucking life.

  I’ve got my friends, my family, my team, and my girl.

  Life is good.

  Sabrina has her shit to do, and so do I. But if we haven’t seen each other by the end of the day, I’m the one getting clingy. Not her. Which surprised the hell out of me. And it’s not just the sex, although that’s off the charts.

  I like talking to her. I love listening to her, especially when she’s talking politics. My girl is smart, and that is so hot.

  I like hearing her laugh . . . and she does that a lot. Sometimes at something someone else has said, sometimes at something she’s done. This uptight little princess doesn’t let everyone see her goofy side, but she’s opening it up to me, and it’s perfect.

  I want to see her smile and know it’s because of me. That’s not something I’ve ever wanted before. Not like this. I want to make her happy. I want to be good enough to deserve this girl. I’m not sure that I do yet, but I’m damn sure gonna try.

  A few of the girls come back to the table to grab the drinks they left with their men.

  Huh. I’m somebody’s man.

  Sabrina sits on the arm of my chair and leans against me.

  Jamie pulls Charlotte into his lap. “Come here, baby. Help me kick their asses at poker. You were always better than me anyway.”

  “Oh yeah, Jamie? You and the cows play a lot of poker back on the farm?” Our center, Dixon, who also happens to be Jamie’s roommate, loves to bust Jamie’s balls about growing up on a dairy farm. Jamie and his fiancée, Charlotte, grew up on neighboring farms.

  Charlotte flicks a poker chip at Dixon and hits him right between the eyes. “One of us at this table has perfect aim from years of shooting shotguns with her daddy, Dix. Choose your next words wisely.” Dixon and Jamie have been roommates for a few years, so I guess he knows Charlotte pretty well too.

  When “Pony” by Ginuwine starts to echo through the room, Nattie grabs Brady’s arms and tries to pull him up. “Come dance with me.”

  “Come on, Nat. You’re the dancer, not me.” Brady pulls his arm away, shaking his head at her.

  Nat drops his hands and starts to back away. She looks around the room with a devious tilt to her lips. “If you won’t dance with me, I’m sure one of your teammates will happily help a girl out, QB.” She extends her hand to the table. “Wanna dance, Dix?”

  Dixon starts to push out of his seat, but Brady’s hand goes to the center of his chest and pushes him back down. “Point made. Let’s dance.” Brady grabs his girl’s hand and lets her drag him to the makeshift dance floor.

  Dixon stands and grabs his empty bottle, asking, “Anyone want a refill?” A few of us raise our drinks and nod.

  Sabrina steals Brady’s now-empty seat and drops down next to me. She sneaks a peek at his folded hand of cards. “Yeah, Brady wasn’t winning this round anyway.” Then she hiccups. It’s cute as hell. Brushing her hair aside with the back of my hand, I watch the tremor slide down her body before I lean in.

  “Princess, what’s in that cup of yours?”

  Sabrina takes another sip, then licks her lips. “Charlotte, what did Dixon say these were?”

  Charlotte laughs like that was the funniest question she’s ever heard, and I shoot Jamie a what the fuck look. “I think he said it was jungle juice.”

  Jamie runs his hand down his face before moving the red Solo cup away from Charlotte. “Baby, that’s Everclear. It’s 190 proof. Those are really strong. You might want to slow down so we can keep celebrating later.”

  “Jamie, I told you if you don’t send that damn bulldog somewhere else for the night, I’m not sleeping in your bed. My eyes were practically swollen shut this morning.” Charlotte pulls her cup back in front of her. “I wasn’t skidding . . . kidding.” Not a good sign when she’s starting to slur her words.

  Jamie starts laughing.

  “Stop laughing. I’m allergic to that dog, and she keeps looking at me like I stole her spot in your bed.”

  I flip a beer cap at Jamie. “Hey, man. I’ll take Rocky home with me if you want.”

  Charlotte tries to jump up, but Jamie has his arms wrapped around her waist so she can’t move . . . or, at this rate, can’t fall.

  I hear another hiccup and turn my head to Sabrina, who’s licking her lips again. “This stuff is really good.”

  When the clapping starts, my eyes move to the dance floor and see a very drunk Natalie twerking her little ass in the middle of the room right before Brady throws her over his shoulder and shouts, “We’re out.”

  This isn’t exactly the kind of dancing Natalie does when she’s teaching the baby ballerinas. Or when she’s sober, for that matter.

  His declaration is followed by hoots and hollers. I hear a few people yell, “Get it, QB.” Then Brady walks out of the house with Nattie slung over his shoulder.

  “Poor Bash.” Everyone at the table stops and stares at Sabrina, waiting for an explanation. Once she realizes we’re all looking at her, her big doe eyes close, embarrassed.

  Charlotte speaks before I can. “Why, poor Bash? Does he have a crush on the quarterback’s girl or something?”

  My girl’s entire face turns as red as a tomato, and she bites down on that plump bottom lip, exactly the way I plan to later.

  Leaning in, I ask her, “Why poor Bash, Princess?”

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious what Nattie and Brady are doing tonight.” She hiccups again. “And . . .”

  Charlotte leans forward. “And . . . what?”

  Sebastian and Dixon walk over just then. “Hey guys, Bash said he’d take QB’s spot.”

  Charlotte laughs, “Oh, I bet he will.”

  Sabrina jumps up and pulls my hand. “Let’s go get the dog now, Murph.”

  I look from her to Jamie, silently asking if it works for him. He nods. Then stands up and bends down for Charlotte to jump up on his back. “Come on, baby. Let’s give Rocky to Murphy for the night.”

  As we follow Jamie and Charlotte out of the house, I link Sabrina’s fingers in mine, and we head down the street. Jamie only lives a few houses down from the football house.

  “You wanna tell me why you felt bad for Bash?” Sabrina stops
walking. She looks up at me through those long, black lashes of hers and giggles.

  Charlotte turns her head to look back at us. “Come on, Sabrina. What’s so funny?”

  My poor girl looks mortified. “I was just thinking that Nat and Brady aren’t really quiet on a normal night, and she was dry humping him on the dance floor. So . . .” she trails off.

  “Princess . . .”

  Sabrina shakes her head, her hair moving to cover her beautiful face. “Nope, that’s it.” She tries to start walking again, but I don’t let her.

  I wrap one arm around her waist, stopping her from walking away, and tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear as I whisper into it, “Princess . . . what else?”

  She places her hands on my biceps and squeezes. “I was just thinking that I’ve been imagining you hovering over me all night.” She sighs the sweetest sigh, then runs her hands down my arms. “Caged in by these arms. Nobody should look this good in a t-shirt. The way the cotton stretches against your muscles is so fucking hot.” She squeezes the muscles I’m now flexing because, come on, a girl tells you she likes your muscles, you gotta make sure she feels steel.

  “And then, I started thinking about other things.” I nuzzle her ear, then kiss the spot below it. She sighs. “Hotter things.” Her voice is coming out breathier now. “What it felt like to have your dick in my mouth. How much I want your mouth on my pussy. What it felt like to ride you. Then, I felt bad for Bash because . . . Well, because I don’t know how soundproof the space between your room and Bash’s room is, and I think I’m gonna be loud tonight. He’s gonna be getting it from Brady’s room above him and your room two doors down. Poor Bash.”

  Holy Shit. I think I broke my uptight little princess.