by J. L. White
We fall into an awkward silence yet again. I glance at Corrine, unable to help myself. She always seems to be looking at me whenever I’m looking at her, and my blood thickens. My dick twitches, as if to encourage me to engage further with this intriguing woman, but I determinedly look away and to my phone, which is on my thigh.
She’s off limits, dude.
I try to subtly check the time on my phone. God, I haven’t even been here a half hour yet. Is it too soon to leave?
“So...” Lizzy says, smiling in my direction. “Are you checking out the house tomorrow?”
Rayce gives her a brief, hard look before returning his attention to the roasting pan he’s scrubbing. We haven’t discussed the reason for my trip here, and Rayce seems not to like that Lizzy brought it up. I don’t know that I blame him. There was a shift in the air when she said that. Even Corrine pressed her soft-looking lips together and dropped her eyes to her lap. She has pink lipstick on—not that it matters, mind you—and I get the sudden urge to wipe it off with my thumb.
I look at Lizzy and nod. “That’s the plan.”
“Any idea what you’re going to do with it?” Brett asks.
“Mr. Hollister thinks I should keep it as a rental,” I say. I think I heard a grunt of disapproval from Rayce. If I did, I’m ignoring it. “But I’ll probably sell.”
Corrine’s eyes come up to mine, as if she doesn’t like that this is probably my one and only trip to California.
“Selling makes the most sense,” Rayce says, grabbing a towel to dry the pan. As if he’d very much like this to be my one and only trip here.
“Why’s that?” My hackles rise every time he speaks, even though he’s yet to say anything for me to be offended about. It’s more his tone. His stance. Everything.
“Multi-family is better for rental income, if that’s what you’re after.”
“I’m not after anything.”
Rayce gives me a steady look, because I think we both know I’m not talking about the house.
“Um...” Lizzy glances between us uncomfortably. “Well, yes,” she says more cheerfully, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Usually units are better than single-family houses if you want an investment property.”
“I don’t know that I do.” Hell, I didn’t inherit the house because it’s an investment property. It was my fucking childhood home. I take a sip of my beer, suddenly irritated with Lizzy too. Maybe I should just go. In the awkward silence that follows, I open my mouth to say as much when Corrine speaks up.
“Want to play Gin?”
I give her a questioning look, trying to ignore the way my body reacts any time I pay her any attention.
“Look out,” Whitney says with a smile. “Corrine’s a Gin hustler. She’s trying to add you to her list of conquests.”
“No,” Corrine says, shrugging one delicate shoulder and giving me a smile. “I just figured you missed most of the party earlier, so you might want to do something more fun than sitting around.”
Rayce comes part way around the island, leaning one hand on the counter and giving Corrine a piercing, appraising look. Is he worried she’s flirting with me? He honest to god looks like he wants to send her to her room.
It suddenly strikes me that he’s almost like the dad of this little group. I think of the way I took on the role of man of the house from such a young age, trying to fill my dad’s shoes, even though my mom never asked that of me.
I should turn down the game and go, letting them—and myself—off the hook. But I find myself agreeing to Corrine’s invitation. This draws Rayce’s attention back to me. He looks suspicious as hell. I try to keep my expression neutral.
At my acceptance of her invitation, Corrine smiles broadly. That gorgeous smile hits me with such unexpected force I resolve that very instant to play one game, and one game only, then leave. This has the potential to be dangerous as fuck.
She hops up and says enthusiastically, “See you guys in a bit.”
“Go easy on him,” Lizzy says.
I don’t bother defending myself against the implied assessment of my skills. I just follow Corrine into the living room, firmly repeating to myself, Only one game, then get the hell out of here.
She leads me to a little game table in the living room. Let it be noted, it’s the fanciest damned game table I’ve ever seen. The thick, cherry top and carved legs are a far cry from the folding card tables I’m familiar with.
Corrine and I settle in across from each other. We’re alone, and I let my guard down a bit. Maybe because Rayce is way in the other room. Maybe for some other reason. But either way, when she starts shuffling, and our eyes meet, I forget to act like she’s not having such a strong effect on me.
Just for a second.
Chapter 5
Corrine
It only lasts for a moment, but it’s a moment that’s still vibrating through me as I focus on trying to shuffle the cards. The way he just looked at me. Holy god. Yeah, okay, we’ve been kind of checking each other out ever since he got here, but just now? It was like my own feelings and desires were reflected right back at me, simmering hot in his eyes just like I know they were simmering in mine.
I’m sure it’s just biology. I don’t really know this guy. But I mean, look at him. I glance up from the cards mid-shuffle. Seriously, what hot-blooded female wouldn’t be affected by that? Even if just for a second. Immediately after, he cleared his throat and shifted his gaze to the table as if he hadn’t meant to look at me like that.
Good thing, I guess, because that one second was quite enough. I’m so distracted, I slip on the bridge and the cards flop awkwardly on the table.
“Want me to do that?” he asks with a slight grin.
The female part of my brain gets a little fluttery at the sight of that lovely smile, but there’s this teeny, weeny, itty, bitty competitive side of me that wins out. I straighten, split the deck, and execute a fucking beautiful bridge. “No thanks.”
His smile widens and I grin back.
Okay, confession time. I love Gin. Like, crazy love it. I don’t even know why I love it so much, but I kinda can’t get enough of it. My cousins are good at humoring me, which is nice because for some reason my college friends refuse to play with me anymore. Connor says they might be more willing if I’d let them win from time to time. But hey, I can’t help it if I’m good.
“Oh.” I glance at the cards, remembering my manners. “Did you want to deal?”
He juts his chin forward a bit. “Go for it.”
“You know the rules?” I ask as I quickly deal out the cards.
He gives one massive shoulder an easy shrug. “I know the game, yes.”
“All right then.” I place the remaining cards between us and flip the top one over.
We pick up our cards and spread them out, rearranging. I instantly spot my potential strategies, then peek through my lashes at him. He’s examining his cards, holding them in two hands and resting his forearms on the edge of the table. Not for the first time tonight, I allow myself to enjoy those eyes. They’re such a lovely, dark brown, and much softer than the rest of him. The rest of him is all hard muscles and strong angles.
His eyes make me wonder who Mason Reeves really is... beyond being the son of the man my uncle Grant killed so many years ago.
“So are your cousins not into football, or something?” he asks, taking a card from the draw pile. I make a mental note that he didn’t need the card that was showing.
“We’ll watch sometimes. Why?” He lays down a king of spades and I pick it up.
“It’s Thanksgiving Day.”
“Oh, right. Was there a game you wanted to watch?” I put down my discard.
“Not necessarily. We usually watch games today, but the Phins aren’t playing, so I think I’ll survive.”
“The Phins?”
He pauses in his reach for a draw card. “The Dolphins,” he says, as if I’ve committed some sort of blasphemy against his team.
&nb
sp; “Oh, sorry,” I say teasing him. “How could I not know?”
“I don’t know,” he says, teasing back. “They’re the only team that counts.”
“Well, we used to watch on Thanksgiving day.” Before my Aunt and Uncle died, I think, but I don’t mention it. “But today was an event, you know. Lizzy banned TV up front.”
We go through a few more rounds of draws, and I learn he used to play in high school. I’m not surprised. He’s practically an entire football team all by himself. I wonder what it would feel like if I ran my hand along his shoulder, down his arm, over his chest, around his—
“Gin.” I’m jarred out of my ruminations as he lays down his cards. As if he just won or something.
My eyes sweep over his hand and sure enough. He won. “Huh...”
“Is that a ‘Gin’ I just heard?” Whitney asks, coming in from the kitchen. She’s grinning broadly. It didn’t take her long to learn the Rivers family tradition of rubbing it in my face any time I lose.
“Well, I was distracted,” I say thoughtlessly.
“By what?” Rayce asks, coming into the room, too. He’s giving me a big brotherly, protective, accusatory sort of look.
Uh... I think, looking at Mason and feeling slightly mortified. He’s grinning at me like he knows. “Nothing.”
Soon the whole group has migrated into the living room and is settling onto couches and chairs, making their little comments about my loss.
I ignore it. “Want to play again?”
His grin falters a bit. His eyes flick to Rayce. I glance over my shoulder and, sure enough, Rayce is still looking at Mason like he thinks he’s got some devious plan up his sleeve. Yeah, he’s got the obligatory, polite smile, but his eyes give him away.
I sigh, wishing he’d just relax over there, but knowing he probably won’t until Mason leaves. I’ve seen this side of Rayce before. He’s always had a sense of responsibility beyond his years, but that side of him became more pronounced since their parents died. To no one’s surprise. Rayce became the backbone of this family as automatically as we all kept breathing. He’s the one who, more than anyone, gave everyone strength to keep going. Like he always has. Even in my darkest moments, he’s always been my protector.
One day.
I ignore the reminder of my internal countdown and turn back to Mason. “Just one more game,” I say, giving him a winning smile that might be just this side of flirty. Not that I’m trying to use my feminine wiles to get him to agree. Nope, not me. “You have to give me a chance to redeem myself.”
“Quit while you’re ahead,” Connor advises.
I’m happy to see he’s more relaxed than he was earlier. Maybe having a breather from Mason helped. I’m glad because I have to say, I’ve never seen such social awkwardness in this house before. Normally, my cousins excel at making people feel welcome. They grew up being expected to do it. Yet earlier we all endured a shocking number of uncomfortable silences. Even Lizzy seemed at a loss sometimes, in spite of us really only needing to maintain simple, polite conversation.
But that’s the point. Our conversation was on the surface and inconsequential, which none of us are strangers to in social situations, but it felt different because there’s this Big Topic underneath it all that no one wants to bring up. Honestly, there have been so many missteps around Mason today, it’s a wonder he didn’t bolt ten minutes after arriving.
But he didn’t, and now he’s at my game table, and I need to set the record straight. Not that I’m competitive or anything. Okay, that’s a lie, but you knew that already. “One more,” I nudge, handing him the deck. “Come on. Your deal.”
With one last glance at Rayce, he takes the cards. I smile and straighten in anticipation. As he deals out, everyone else settles into their own conversation, leaving us be. Okay. No more getting distracted by brown eyes and hard chests. It’s go time.
We begin the game with harmless chit chat about California weather versus Illinois weather. But mere minutes later, he’s laying down another winning hand. His declaration of “Gin” apparently startled everyone else as much as it did me, because their conversation halts and the room falls to silence.
He looks at them in surprise, clearly not understanding that, pardon me, this was my hand to win. I look at his hand, confirming he has the necessary cards. I’m mentally running through the game, wondering what I missed.
“Wow,” Lizzy says.
He’s still furrowing his brows at everyone, but I’m gathering the cards and shuffling. He may not know it, but he’s freaking playing another hand. No way is this how it’s going to go down.
I do three hard bridges in a row, and now he’s giving me the same puzzled expression he was just giving everyone else. I don’t even ask. I just start dealing.
Our eyes lock as I smoothly hand out the cards. There it is again. That simmering desire, mixed up now with something else. Understanding? Regret? Intrigue? I don’t know, but I’m dealing, and he’s letting me.
There’s no conversation this time. Just the sound of cards flipping and snapping as a few people drift in closer to watch. Lizzy comes around and sits on the arm of the couch. Connor and Whitney float over and stand nearby, keeping a steady eye on things.
This time I don’t even need to remind myself not to be distracted by Mr. Hot Stuff over there. I draw a four of clubs and mentally rejoice. Victory is close. I have three different ways I can win. It occurs to me, not for the first time, that my Gin-winning fetish might be a way of showing people they shouldn’t underestimate me. It’s a hot, brief thought, though, because he just picked up my discard, tossing out the three of diamonds in exchange. Fuck. I did not think he needed that.
No one else comes over. Brett’s on the couch with Rayce, who I assume is still glowering, but I’m not paying attention to that. I’m focused on the damned cards, because there are two things I’m known for in this family, and one of them is kicking ass at Gin. Consistently. Ruthlessly. Yeah, every now and then someone wins, but for the most part this game is mine. I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever lost twice in a row. Maybe. But I have never, and I mean never, been beat three times running.
But it turns out there’s a first for everything. “Gin,” Mason says, laying out his cards.
Mason
Mouth hanging open, she’s staring at the cards in utter disbelief. She’s not moving. She’s not even blinking. After I won the last hand, it became clear to me that this was about more than mere competitiveness. It means something far more to her.
It’s a little unsettling... this sense that I somehow understand her better than I did when we first sat down. Not just on a surface level either. I feel like I understand something important about her, and it morphed our obvious physical attraction to something different.
I considered throwing the game just to have a little mercy, but I have a feeling she would’ve sniffed that out. It would’ve been even worse. I feel badly, but it doesn’t matter.
This has all gone far enough. Too far. It’s time to go.
Corrine
At last, Connor breaks the silence. “Well,” he says joyfully, patting me on the shoulder, “it had to happen eventually. I knew there was someone out there better than you. And now we know who he is.”
“Be glad you weren’t playing poker,” Rayce says from the sofa. “He clearly knows his way around a deck of cards.”
Something hard flashes in Mason’s eyes, and I sense he’s had enough of Rayce over there. I kind of have, too. Rayce has pretty sharp instincts, so it’s possible he sees something concerning in Mason I don’t, but I don’t think so. I understand why this situation has Rayce’s guard up, but I wish he’d back off a little.
“You’re not accusing me of being a hustler, are you?” Mason’s gathering up the cards, tapping the edges of the deck against the table to straighten them out.
“Of course not,” but I can hear in Rayce’s tone that’s exactly what he meant. “It’s just that Corrine isn’t easy to beat.�
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Mason sets the deck to the side with a definitive thud. “Neither am I.”
Okay, shut up Rayce. Just let it go. Not that I’m able to let a certain thing go either.
I start to reach for the cards. “Again?” I ask urgently as Mason’s massive frame rises from the chair.
“No,” he says firmly, and I sit back, my hands dropping to my lap. Our eyes meet again and he says softer, but still firm. “Sorry. I need to go.”
My heart sinks. I can see he’s set on it. On not playing another hand. On leaving.
I slowly get to my feet as he says it was nice to meet everyone
“Thanks for having me,” he says to Lizzy. “The food was amazing.”
“It was great having you,” Lizzy says. “If you decide to sell the house, my offer still stands if you’d like any advice knowing what to upgrade to boost your price.”
“Lizzy,” Rayce says, “stop putting him in an awkward position.”
We all look at Rayce, taken aback by his lack of tact.
“You’ve been kind to humor my sister,” he says to Mason, and Lizzy narrows her eyes, “but you don’t need to feel obligated.”
“I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t,” Mason says.
Connor and I exchange glances. This is going downhill fast. Rayce isn’t even denying Mason’s implication that he just flat doesn’t want him here.
“Don’t be silly—” Lizzy starts, but the two have locked horns now and Mason cuts her off.
“You know if anyone should have a problem here, it’s me.”
“No one has a problem,” Lizzy says firmly.
“He does,” Mason answers, his eyes still on Rayce. “You know, it was your dad who killed mine, not the other way around.”
And there it is. In half a second, the bomb we’ve all been avoiding was dropped and detonated. No one speaks. No one moves.
But Mason’s words only seem to strengthen Rayce’s resolve, as if this only confirms what he knew all along, that the connection between our families has not been forgiven.
