Dangerous Games: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  “You did listen. We were at two different places in our lives. Like Grams always says…”

  “Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Exactly.”

  I grab my bag and drag it up the few steps and onto the porch. Jessie scrambles after me, grasping the handle from me before I can reach the door.

  “But you know what I can’t understand?” he asks softly.

  “What’s that?” I flick my gaze to him.

  “For the life of me, I can’t come up with a reason for what happened between us.”

  Chapter Seven

  The lake house is almost as I remember it, despite the passing of nearly a decade. The living room just off the foyer still exudes a rustic chic vibe, a mixture of modern furnishings and wood accents filling the space. I inhale, able to make out the faint aroma of a fire crackling in the fireplace in the great room toward the back of the spacious house.

  As I look around, I feel like I’ve been here before. Not just in the physical sense, but also in an emotional way. The nervous energy filling me is reminiscent of the way I felt the first time Jessie brought me here to meet his family. It was the same day I realized the hot lead singer of the band I’d been following was also Jessie’s older brother.

  Sensing my nerves, Jessie grabs my hand, squeezing. I bring my gaze to his, offering him a grateful smile.

  “It’s about time you got here,” a deep voice rumbles.

  I stiffen, my breath catching as I fling my eyes toward the kitchen, my pulse skyrocketing, skin on fire. It’s official. I didn’t give this plan the care and consideration it deserved. I should have taken a page out of Evie’s book and made a list of pros and cons.

  Pros — Money. Paying my bills. Not ending up homeless.

  Cons — Asher York. Sleeping with Asher York. The fact I was once engaged to Asher York’s brother.

  Yup. The cons win.

  Panic setting in, I search for an escape route that won’t draw any attention. But it’s too late. The second I stepped into the SUV with Jessie it was too late.

  “You’re usually the one who’s on time. What held you…”

  As Asher rounds the corner into the living room and our gazes meet for the first time in over a year, he trails off, coming to a stop. His jaw drops, eyes blinking repeatedly, as if unsure he’s seeing correctly. When his stare focuses on my hand joined in Jessie’s, I quickly step away, lowering my head.

  “Up,” he finishes, doing his best to pretend this isn’t an awkward encounter. But it is. There’s no way this wouldn’t be. I’m standing in a room with two men I’ve slept with. Two brothers.

  “Sorry, man,” Jessie says. I push down the thought of Asher and Jessie comparing war stories. “Traffic leaving the city was rough. And this one has a bladder the size of a pea.” He hooks a thumb at me. “Pretty sure we stopped at every rest stop between the airport and here.”

  I slowly lift my eyes, meeting Asher’s gaze once more. I haven’t been this close to him since I kissed him goodbye in Vegas after we agreed we had no choice but to go our separate ways. And dammit, he looks even better than he did then. His dark hair is a little shorter, but still falls almost to his chin, a sexy, disheveled look to it. A bit of scruff covers his jawline, and I squeeze my legs together at the memory of it scraping along my thighs. His muscles pull at his V-neck t-shirt, his jeans falling sinfully from his hips. I could be wrong, but I think he has a few more tattoos than he did last year, the ink covering his left arm now a full sleeve.

  Remembering where I am and who I’m with, I clear my throat, putting a stop to my mental undressing. “Asher, it’s good to see you.” I thrust my hand out, doing my best to prevent it from trembling as I wait for him to shake it. “Congratulations on all your success.”

  “A handshake, Iz?” Jessie comments. “You guys used to be practically inseparable. I thought you’d be thrilled to see each other again.” He looks at Asher. “Thought you’d like this little surprise.”

  “I’m certainly surprised. I don’t think I’d be more surprised if Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all walked in together.” Eyes still trained on me, he arches a single brow, silently asking if I’m okay with a hug.

  I nod, my motion subtle. As apprehensive as I am about feeling Asher’s body against mine once more, especially in Jessie’s presence, I need to act as normal as possible.

  His gaze not straying from mine, Asher steps toward me. The instant he encloses me in his strong embrace, I exhale my held breath. His touch is hesitant, like that first dance with a member of the opposite sex during middle school. Awkward. Stilted. Forced.

  But as I melt into him, my own arms wrapping around his body, which feels even more muscular than it was a year ago, he relaxes, pulling me tighter against him. I close my eyes, resting my head against his chest, wishing I could stay in this place, in this moment, in this bubble, the rhythm of his racing heart soothing me in a cloak of familiarity.

  “Good to see you again, Iz.” Asher’s words vibrate through me, followed by the sensation of his lips against my temple. It’s a simple kiss, one shared so often between friends. But nothing between Asher and me has ever been simple. I try to ignore it, but even a slight brushing of his skin against mine causes a rush of need to fill me. It takes every ounce of resolve I possess to peel myself from him and return to Jessie’s side.

  “You, too, Ash.” I fight against the tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. I’d give anything to return to Asher’s arms. To live there. To die there. “Really good.” Too good.

  He peers at me with the same passion he did during our one night together. Then, as if remembering we’re not alone, he rips his eyes from mine. His expression hardens, spine straightening, flipping the switch from my Asher to the Asher who was forced to erect a wall around his heart after I broke it. After we broke each other.

  “Does Grams know she’ll be here?”

  His voice is almost accusatory, any affection he held toward me gone. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, our night together in Vegas was one big game of push and pull. For every step we took toward each other, he’d remember who I was and take two giant leaps backward. I imagine the same will be true now.

  Except I won’t take any more steps toward him.

  I learned my lesson last time.

  “Of course.”

  “And Mom and Dad?”

  I fling my gaze toward Jessie. “Your parents are here, too?”

  “I must have forgotten to mention that,” he replies. “It was a last-minute trip anyway, a belated celebration for Grams’ birthday.”

  I blink. It was one thing to be around Asher again. But their parents, too? How many more surprises will there be?

  “Is that Jessie I hear?” Mrs. York’s voice echoes against the tall ceiling before her short, petite frame appears in the doorway, then stops abruptly. “Izzy?” Her tone rises in pitch, obviously taken aback. Her stare shifts from me to Jessie, then takes a quick detour to Asher before returning to me.

  “Grams has been on my case to do whatever it takes to get her to come see her.” Sensing my own irritation with the situation, Jessie flashes me that megawatt smile of his that I couldn’t help but say yes to when he first asked me out. “So I did.”

  Mrs. York remains frozen in place as this turn of events registers in her brain, the situation only serving to increase my trepidation. “Well…” Her mouth curving into a genuine smile, she holds her arms wide and pulls me in for a hug. “This is wonderful. A bit of a surprise, but wonderful all the same.”

  “It’s great to see you, Mrs. York.”

  She releases me, narrowing her gaze. The years have been kind to her. Despite the fact she’s on the other side of sixty, her auburn hair shows just a hint of gray, a few laugh lines, as my mother refers to wrinkles, around her eyes.

  “Remember, Izzy. You’re family. And family members don’t use such formalities with one another. Call me Reagan.”

  “Thank you, Reaga
n.”

  She beams, then turns to Jessie. He leans down, his six-three frame dwarfing hers by over a foot. When he kisses her cheek, I can’t help but feel the love they share.

  “Well…” Reagan steps back. “I’m sure you’d both like to freshen up. Dinner won’t be ready for about an hour, so take your time.”

  “Thanks, Ma.” Jessie passes her another smile, then retreats, collecting our bags.

  Averting my gaze, I follow him toward the stairs, brushing past Asher, hyperaware of his overwhelming presence so close to me. Just as I’m about to climb the steps, I hesitate. My brain tells me to keep walking, to not look back, that I won’t like what I see. But my heart wants something else.

  As I draw in a deep breath, I steal a glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Asher. While it probably only lasts a heartbeat or two, it feels longer, the emotions swirling in his chestnut depths making me want to wrap him in my arms, yet run as far away as I can. A dozen questions seem to be etched in those dark orbs. Why am I here? Why did I ignore his attempts to reach out to me? But the most important one… Am I back with Jessie?

  I’d love nothing more than to give him the answers to all of those and more. To shower him with kisses and convince him he’s still the man I want. Tell him he’s still the one my arms seek out in the middle of the night, only to be left bereft when I find nothing but a cold pillow. But we’re walking a dangerous tightrope as it is. I can’t make it more treacherous.

  With an apologetic smile, I continue up the stairs. The floorboards creak as I follow Jessie down the hallway lined with family photographs. I find comfort in the groaning of wood I once tiptoed around whenever I finally slipped into Jessie’s bed in the wee hours of the morning after staying up all night with Asher.

  He leads me into the room we once shared whenever I came up here, depositing my suitcase on an ottoman at the foot of a queen-sized bed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sleeping in another room. I just figured you’d want this room since it’s the one you’re used to. And there’s a private bathroom.”

  I stare blankly at the familiar surroundings, still trying to process the past several minutes.

  “You should have everything you need,” he continues when I don’t respond, “but if there’s anything missing, let me know. I’ll be right next door.” He turns, about to close the door behind him, when I finally find my voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  He stops and faces me, his brows scrunched. “What do you mean?”

  “That I’d be here. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I repeat.

  He shrugs, nonchalant. “I told Grams.”

  I hate how cavalier he seems over the entire scenario, that he didn’t think it a big deal to show up out of the blue with his ex-fiancée.

  “Yes, but there are other people here, Jessie! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it was to stand in that living room with your mother and brother looking at me like I’m not welcome? You know how I feel about that. You know I avoid these kinds of situations for a reason.”

  He approaches, running his hands down my arms in an attempt to appease me. Like he always did. “What makes you think you’re not welcome?” His voice brims with compassion and adoration. “Of course you are. You’re always welcome here.”

  “Then you should have told them,” I hiss. “Should have told everyone. This is awkward enough without you making matters worse.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” He sighs, dropping his hold on me. “I didn’t mean for you to feel unwelcome.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at it. But, as always, it seems to return to its place, not a single lock skewed. “But I had my reasons, Izzy. You should know that about me. I don’t do anything without having a damn good reason.”

  “And what was this damn good reason?”

  He chews on his bottom lip, his breathing increasing as he peers at me. With quick steps, he closes the distance between us. The suddenness of it takes me by surprise, and I back up until I hit the wall, nowhere else to go.

  “Because I still have trouble talking about you without wanting to break down, Iz,” he growls, his nostrils flaring. I part my lips, but I don’t know how to respond. As quickly as it appears, his frantic demeanor softens and he pulls back, sighing. “I guess I didn’t want to sit on the phone with Ma and listen to the hope build in her voice. Didn’t want to get her hopes up for something I ruined. Figured if I waited until you got here, she’d see for herself there’s nothing between us, not with how uneasy you are around me. Despite any fleeting moments that may have occurred, they’re not real. I’m still the guy who broke your heart. Nothing I do or say can erase the past. I have to live with that.” The anguish and remorse in his voice is enough to rip out my heart.

  “Jessie…”

  Slowly, I approach him. In a show of comfort I sense he needs, I rest my hand on his chest. He wraps his hand around mine, strengthening our connection.

  “You didn’t break my heart.”

  I peer up at him, on the verge of telling him the truth so he’ll no longer live with this burden weighing him down. But I doubt the truth will make matters any better. In fact, it’d make them worse. No person wants to learn you left them because you fell in love with someone else. And no person would want to learn you left them because you fell in love with their brother, their own flesh and blood. It’s better this way.

  “I still hurt you, Iz.”

  I bring my free hand up to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. A spark of something ignites in my core. I drag my body closer to his, his smooth skin familiar. And right now, with this strange energy surrounding me, I crave familiar.

  “We hurt each other,” I remind him. “And ourselves.”

  He inhales a shaky breath, nodding as he touches his forehead to mine.

  “I don’t want you to carry this blame anymore, Jessie,” I implore. “Please.”

  “But—”

  “Izzy, Ma wants to know how you’d like…”

  The second I hear Asher’s voice, I jump back, whirling around to face the doorway. I’d hoped I was fast enough so he wouldn’t walk in on us in any sort of compromising position.

  “Your steak cooked,” he finishes, words laced with venom as he looks between me and Jessie, then back at me again, his lip curling into a snarl.

  “Medium will be fine,” Jessie answers for me.

  Asher broadens his stance, his stare unnerving me. “I asked Izzy. Is that how you want your steak? Still medium, like you used to enjoy? Or have you moved on? Tried something different and liked it enough to take a risk on it?”

  My jaw drops, gaze widening as I attempt to come up with a response. This clearly isn’t about steak. Out of the corner of my eye, I take a peek at Jessie, whose brows are furrowed, the wheels spinning as he surveys us. His analytical gaze takes inventory of my flushed complexion, my increased breathing, my glossy eyes. Then he turns to Asher, assessing his flared nostrils, tight muscles, narrowed glare, a formidable presence in this small space.

  “Medium is fine,” I blurt out in the hopes of ending this standoff and putting to bed any lingering suspicions Jessie may have.

  “Medium it is.” There’s a bite in Asher’s tone. “I hope you enjoy the kind of steak everyone else eats.” He spins around, his footsteps heavy as he storms away.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Jessie says quickly, retreating from me.

  “Jessie, no. You don’t have to,” I plead, partly because it’s not worth it, partly because I worry what Asher will reveal in his angered state.

  “You’re a guest here. My guest. He needs to treat you as such.”

  “No. Really. It’s okay.” I rush after him, stepping in front of him. “Let it go. Trust me. Nine years may have passed, but I guarantee by morning, he’ll have left an origami dove outside my door.” I playfully nudge him, my lips cracking into a small smile. “You know how he can be. Brooding musician and all that.”

  Jessie studies me for a moment, then expels a br
eath. “I don’t like him talking to you like that.”

  I don’t respond to his statement, looping my arm through his and pulling him back into my room.

  “And so what if you like your steak medium? What’s the big deal about trying something new? Taking a risk? It’s steak! Not exactly a life-altering decision.”

  I avoid his eyes as I walk to my suitcase and busy myself opening it, searching for my toiletry bag. If he only knew the half of it. “Like I said, brooding musician.”

  “For a minute, I thought it was some kind of weird code between you two.”

  I keep my head lowered. When he doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity, I risk a glance at him to see him looking pensively at me.

  “But considering you haven’t spoken to each other in years, I don’t see how that would be possible.

  “Exactly.” I force a smile.

  Chapter Eight

  Nine Years Ago

  I stared up at the two-story white Colonial, drawing in a deep breath. A premonition formed in my gut that this was a bad idea. That I shouldn’t have taken the initiative and driven up here to surprise Jessie upon his return from spending Christmas in Florida with his parents. Maybe I should have waited to see him until the spring semester began, as we’d agreed. At the very least I probably should have called him to let him know I’d be here. But after weeks of ignoring him, not giving him any indication I still wanted to be with him, let alone marry him, I didn’t know what to say when I finally did see him.

  A knocking ripped me away from my increasingly tumultuous thoughts, and I flung my gaze to see Asher standing outside the driver’s side door. I lowered the window, peering into dark eyes framed with thick lashes.

  “Are you coming, or are you just going to sit in your car all day?”

  “Right.” I killed the ignition and grabbed my purse from the passenger seat, opening the door and stepping onto the street. “Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t…” I trailed off.