Game Saver

by BJ Harvey

  It was fun while it lasted though. It was almost cathartic in some respects, and boy do I have some stories to tell about my time there, but all good things come to an end.

  The problem is, I haven’t told Cade about quitting the Pink Monkey or Bryce’s visit. I don’t want to be the cause of any more friction in that family, because Lord knows there’s enough passive-aggressive behavior all around, and I know that Cade would lose his ever-loving mind if he knew his family still had investigators looking into me.

  When he came over after Golf I was just grateful to see him, having tossed and turned all night Friday because I wasn’t with him. It’s irrational and unbelievable that I’m so used to being with Cade now; we barely spend a night apart.

  I’d be worried that I was turning into one of those clingy obsessive ‘single white female’ types if it wasn’t for the fact that Cade seems to be just as keen as I am to be together, too.

  Last night at my place he was watchful, almost cautious around me. We had dinner, we cuddled on the couch—who knew I would like domesticity so much?—and when he tried to ask me about Friday night, I did what any woman would do when they needed some head space—I distracted him with sex.

  It’s quite ironic. It’s usually the woman who wants to know what the man is thinking.

  You ask ‘Does my ass look good in these jeans?’ and he says yes and checks out your ass, but that yes is never enough. We want to know whether that’s a confident ‘Hell yes’ or a ‘Yes, now stop asking me if I like your ass because I sleep with you, so I obviously like the whole package. Otherwise I wouldn’t be tapping said ass.’

  In this situation, it’s Cade who is the girl.

  My inner mini-breakdown is interrupted by Mia’s best friend, Nat, who’s sits opposite me. All the guys except Jase—Nat’s boyfriend—are inside with the kids watching the football game.

  “Can we all talk about anal for a minute?” Nat asks, and I stop my spoon mid-flight, my mouth dropping open.

  “Babe, I’m trying to eat chocolate mousse,” Jase replies.

  “Um, how about we not talk about it and say we did,” Mia pipes up, choking back her laughter at her best friend.

  I take a sip of my wine and look at Mia. “What’s wrong with anal?”

  “Um . . . err . . .” she stutters, and I wink and Nat who is smirking. She’s totally my type of girl.

  “I for one am not a fan,” Mac explains. It’s not that its gross—it’s just . . .” She shrugs and scrunches up her face. “It’s weird.”

  “It’s only weird if he’s not doing it right.” That was Zoe.

  Both Mia and Dani’s eyes bug out as they stare in astonished wonder at their big sister. “What? Like neither of you have ever tried anything back-door related?”

  Their silence speaks volumes, and I’m suddenly proud of my little Dani for being so open-minded, and even happier for Zach.

  “Can we please stop this conversation before my chocolate pudding decides to make a reappearance?” Jase pleads on a groan.

  “Can I ask why you’re sitting at the table with the women instead of watching the game inside with the dudes?” Nat asks her man.

  “Because, hello? Chocolate pudding,” he replies in a ‘duh’ tone.

  Then out of nowhere, Sam, the most prim and proper of the group, blows our mind. “You should not discount anal play if you want to broaden your horizons. There are things that Sean can do that I would never have contemplated but by God, do I see them in a different light now.”

  The entire group is silent—except for the sound of Jase’s mouth demolishing the dessert, of course. Sam Miller is now my idol.

  “I think I might love you,” I blurt out to her.

  She giggles, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Blame the wine,” she replies, holding up her glass.

  “If that’s what wine does to you, fill me up.” I hold out my empty glass to her and she pours the rest of the bottle into my cup.

  “To taking the brown highway,” I toast.

  “Oh God. Can’t a man eat his dessert in peace without all this poop-shoot talk? Next you’ll be talking about rimming . . .” Jase grumbles. Mac, Kate, Mia, Zoe, Dani, Sam, Nat, and I all look at each other and start giggling, Jase’s groans setting us off all over again.

  “Everything okay, Abs?” Dani asks, cornering me when we decide to move inside to join the guys.

  I look sideways at her. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Her head almost does a full Exorcist turn, snapping so fast I almost get whiplash. She grips my arm and holds me back, waiting until we’re the last ones left in the backyard.

  “What gives, Cook?” she asks, spinning my shoulders so my body faces hers.

  “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.” My voice gets a teeny, tiny bit loud by the end, totally giving me away. My body tenses as if preparing for a fight.

  She tilts her head and quirks a brow, seeing right through me.

  Looks like little Dani got some sass. Maybe it has to do with all the kinky back-door sex she’s having.

  “You forget that I lived with you for almost two years. You can’t honestly think I don’t know when you’re bullshitting? Is it Cade? Has he done a stupid man thing?”

  I snort, all tension disappearing. “Stupid man thing?”

  She waves her hand in the air. “Oh, you know what I mean. All of the boys do stupid shit. Not often, but I swear, the more time you spend with them, the more likely it is that you’ll witness their expertise at being stupid, be it through their words, actions, or sometimes, even the mere thought of something stupid is enough to get themselves in trouble.”

  I giggle. I can’t help it because everything she just said was one hundred percent true. “Whatever was wrong isn’t any more, Danika Roberts, knowing you’ve let Zach tap your ass,” I say, slapping her butt with the palm of my hand, “has made everything better.”

  “Stop trying to change the subject,” she grumbles.

  “Did it work?”

  “Obviously not,” she retorts.

  I let out a loud melodramatic sigh, knowing she’s not gonna let this one slide. “What if I told you I’m just working through some shit in my head?”

  “I’d tell you that a problem shared is a problem half-solved?”

  I scrunch my face up. “I don’t think that’s the saying.”

  “Me either, actually,” she says with a laugh. “You’re okay though?”

  “I will be. Is that enough for you?”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I suppose. As long as you promise to talk to me if you need help sorting your head out. Deal?” She holds out her pinky finger to me.

  “Deal,” I reply, wrapping mine around hers and shaking on it.

  Now to actually sort my head out because Lord knows, Dani won’t let me get away with it for long.

  And if I’m honest with myself, I know Cade won’t either.

  I’ve never spent the holidays with a woman.

  I had a few girlfriends during high school and pre-med, not so much during my residency, but the decision to not pursue anything serious was mainly because I was dedicated to my career, knowing that it wasn’t fair to anyone to be in a relationship that wasn’t going to be my priority. So Thomas and I would go out, pick up, and get laid, but it never went any further than that.

  Then fifteen months ago, I saw Abi sitting at the bar in Throb, and it was as if there was a string pulled tight between us, drawing me in.

  Still stuck in the mindset that I wasn’t in a place to start anything with anyone, I left her bed the next morning and didn’t look back. Actually, that’s a lie. I spent many a night wondering whether I should give her a call. It wasn’t as if she was a complete stranger. We saw each other a few times over the following ten months, and every time that string tugged at me.

  Ten months later I saw her—again at Throb—laughing and dancing with all the girls while the guys and I sat sentry on the balcony above them, and I knew I had
to have her again. When she shot down her ex-fuck buddy, I wanted to lock her up and keep her forever.

  In the months we’ve been working on our “real,” I’ve come to realize that she’s the calm in my life. It doesn’t matter what happens at work, or with my family—as long as I know I have Abi at my back, nothing fazes me.

  Now she’s in my bed, a fixture in my life that I hope stays that way, and a bright light to combat the shadows caused by my parents and their campaign for power. I’m not planning on ever letting her go. Thanksgiving with her family is a good start.

  However, Abi has been a bundle of nerves all day—despite the double orgasm I gave her in the shower this morning. Knowing my parents have threatened to fuck with her in the past—both to her face and to me—I do wonder whether she has moments of indecision about us. If I was in her shoes facing the baggage à la Carsen, I’d definitely be taking stock of our relationship because I’m the first to admit that I’m a lot to take on.

  When she told me about my mom cornering her, I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t need to know what Mom had said because I could just imagine it would’ve been along the lines of ‘Name your price to walk away from our son.’ One of the most frustrating things about my parents—besides their need to control everything and everyone—is their mistaken belief that money can buy you anything.

  “You okay with me coming today?” I ask Abi, reaching across the center console of my car and lacing my fingers with hers.

  Her head turns slowly towards me, her eyes wide and panicked. “Of course. Did you not want to come? I know Mom put you on the spot and everything, but I figured since you said yes and didn’t mention it since then, you were alright with it?”

  “Is that why you’re so nervous? You think I don’t want to be here?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re twitching more than a junkie looking for their next hit.” I give her hand a—hopefully—reassuring squeeze.

  “I am not,” she replies indignantly, trying to pull out of my hold.

  “Sweetheart, do you know how adorable you are right now?” I reply, one corner of my lips curling up.

  “I’m not adorable. Puppies and babies are adorable. I’m a hot, sexy smartass who’s sometimes cute, but never adorable.”

  “Totally fucking adorable,” I say, lifting the back of her hand to my mouth and placing a gentle kiss there. Her eyes go a sexy mix of soft and hot, and I’m suddenly thankful for the need to watch the road otherwise I’d be doing things we’d likely be arrested for. Needing to distract myself from that particular thought, I decide to change the topic.

  “So tell me about Jamie. Should I be scared of the big, bad older brother?”

  She snorts, and I see her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “Jamie is a big softie.”

  “He might be to you, but to the man her other three brothers caught defiling said sister, not so much.”

  “I thought it was me defiling you. Besides, it’s perfectly natural. Defilement all ‘round, I say.”

  “Stop making me think of sex when I can’t have you for at least another . . .” I look at clock on the dash, “six hours?”

  “Is that a statement or a question? Because I’d definitely be up for some road defilement while you’re driving. I could totally defile the shit out of you right now,” she says with a giggle.

  “Not helping, Spitfire.”

  Walking through the door of what was once Abi’s family home, the stark difference between my world and hers slams me in the face. The biggest change—and the best—is the fact it’s a home. Immediately I can tell that it’s warm and welcoming, the complete opposite to the perfectly poised museum of a mansion I grew up in.

  “Precious!” Marcy cries, rushing down the hallway towards us, her arms out wide, followed by a man who could only be Abi’s father.

  “Mom . . .” Abi says with a groan, albeit an amused one.

  After hugging Abi, Marcy turns to be, lifting up on her toes and wrapping her arms around my back, squeezing the life out of me.

  “Do you mind letting Cade go so he can breathe again, Mom?” Abi muses.

  With a loud smacking kiss on my cheek, Marcy releases me and moves back to stand next to Abi’s dad who holds his arm out to me.

  “Rick, Abi’s father. You must be Cade.”

  I step forward and shake his hand, meeting his eyes as I do. “Hi. It’s good to meet you.”

  “You too, son.”

  “Son?” Abi whispers, sounding horrified and making her mom giggle.

  “Rick, you’ve only just met the guy,” Mom says.

  “He’s looks the same age as Jamie, he’s like a son, therefore—son,” Rick replies with a wink and a shrug just as a younger version of Rick walks out to greet us.

  “Jamie,” Abi says, rushing forward and hugging her brother.

  “Hey Sis.” He turns my way as soon as Abi moves back to my side and holds out his hand.

  “I’m Jamie, the only brother you haven’t met yet,” he says with a guarded smile. When he gives me a firm—okay, very firm—handshake, I’m in two minds about whether to bolt out the door or face the music and await my untimely death at the hands of the brother who may or may not know I was face-fucking his sister on her couch a few weeks ago.

  “Anyway,” Abi announces, wrapping her arm around my waist and obviously trying to change topics, “are the rest of the guys here yet?”

  “You two are the last to arrive.”

  “Dammit, that means they’ve already started eating.”

  “Not yet . . .” Marcy says, her lips twitching.

  “You’re full of it. Maybe if you invited their dates, they’d get the welcoming committee at the door like this, and I might just have a chance of hitting the table first,” Abi says haughtily, but her heart isn’t in it. I’ve seen Abi pissed off and this is nowhere near that level.

  “How I have four single sons is beyond me,” Marcy laments, pulling Abi away from my side and hooking an arm around her shoulders, leading her down the hallway. I catch Rick’s eyes just as he rolls them before turning and disappearing down the hall behind Jamie.

  “Let me get you a drink. You’re probably gonna need it if you’re going to survive Thanksgiving with Abi and her brothers,” he warns, leading the way towards the brothers and—hopefully—an ice-cold beer.

  An hour later, we’re all sitting around a large oval dining room table, Rick quickly saying Grace before Abi’s brothers descend on the huge spread of food covering every inch of it.

  Watching the mayhem with a grin, I turn my head when Abi leans into my side. “I’ll warn you now, it’s first in, first served whenever food is involved here. You wouldn’t believe how quickly I learned that lesson with four brothers who I swear can eat their weight in food,” she whispers, her lips curving into a wry smile.

  “Good to know,” I reply, scanning the huge amount of plates, all piled high.

  “I’m serious, Cade. Stock up, because there won’t be any leftovers. It’s like survival of the fittest, Cook-style.”

  “As opposed to Thanksgiving, Carsen-style, where the food prepared by caterers is abundant, excessive, and so far from home-style cooking it’s not funny?”

  She snorts loudly and covers her mouth with her hand. I quirk a brow, watching her eyes dance as she struggles to compose herself.

  “Seems we are from very different worlds,” she says before suddenly—and weirdly—tensing.

  My hand darts out to her thigh under the table. “Abi?”

  She opens her mouth to reply but before she can answer, we’re interrupted by Cohen. “Are you two going to eat or whisper to each other all day?”

  Abi opens her mouth to reply, but Jaxon interrupts. “At least it would be better than what we saw her eating last time.” He grins over the table at her, a surprised—and somewhat amused—chortle escaping my mouth.

  Abi huffs and glares at her brother who, along with Bryant and Cohen, smirks at the two of us.
<
br />   “What was she eating?” Rick asks, and it’s then my life flashes before my eyes, imagining not one, not even four, but five Cook males stringing me up by the balls and cooking me for Thanksgiving dinner.

  “You don’t wanna know,” three out of the four brothers reply in unison, all of them shooting me mock death glares before grinning at their sister’s horrified face.

  “I want to know,” Jamie says, leaning towards us, his demeanor screaming menacing, not ‘big softie’ like Abi said.

  “Do you like Cade?” Jaxon asks him, his lips twitching.

  Marcy giggles, and Abi’s cheeks flame red. She’d be the last person I’d ever imagine to get embarrassed over sex talk, although maybe the threat of having her Dad find out about her deep throating my cock in her living room is where she draws the line.

  “I did like him, but now I’m thinking I won’t for much longer,” Jamie muses, but there’s an edge to his voice that I can’t quite read. It’s enough to have me prepared for anything: a punch, a brawl, death by older brother . . .

  Deciding that offense is probably my best line of defense, I fall back on my deeply engrained manners to help move the conversation on to a far less dangerous—for me—topic. “Marcy, this food looks amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Oh you’re welcome, Cade. Thank you for coming,” she replies brightly, nudging her husband’s arm with her elbow. “Such lovely manners, honeysuckle.”

  I struggle not to laugh at her outrageous term of endearment for her husband, but considering she calls Abi ‘precious,’ I shouldn’t be so surprised. I wonder whether she calls the guys muffin, sugarplum, pumpkin, or angel? If she does, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a straight face around them.

  “Marcy tells me you’re a doctor, Cade,” Rick says between mouthfuls.

  I finish chewing before taking a drink of my beer and answering him with a grin. “I’m an Emergency Medicine Specialist at North Western.”

  “I dated a nurse from there once,” Jamie announces.

  Abi looks at me, her eyes wide, and I know just what she’s thinking.