Game Player

by B. J. Harvey

  “Two weekends in a row and no willing victim—I mean, woman. Are you settling down on us, Matty boy?” Daniel asks with a grin.

  Matt squares his shoulders and the confident swagger returns. “Nah, no way. Figured I need to give my dick a break now and then. Can’t be wearing the poor guy out too soon, otherwise I’ll end up needing the little blue pill, like old man Taylor here.” He tips his beer bottle in Noah’s direction, earning a scowl from his older brother and again, the table laughs at a Taylor’s expense.

  Standing up, I finish my drink and place my glass on the table. “I’m going to head home. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow before I’m back being Master Taylor’s slave on Monday.” My words and the potential double meaning behind them make me wince and I wait for Matt or Noah to make a smart ass comeback but they don’t. I chance a glance at Matt and he tilts his head at me, a sly smile on his lips but his mouth firmly closed.

  “Heaven save you from our son’s demanding ways,” Zoe teases.

  See? I knew one of my siblings wouldn’t let me down.

  “He’s just lucky he’s the cutest Taylor I know.”

  “Hey!” Noah says in mock offense.

  “You know I love you, too. I just love your son more.”

  “You lie, but I’ll let you get away with it. You’re just saving my wife from having to bitch-slap you for ogling me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That must be it,” I retort sarcastically.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Matt says, standing up and walking around the table.

  “No!” I quickly answer, before backtracking. “That’s okay, Matt. I’m like two hundred feet down the road; it’s nothing.”

  “No bother,” he says, curtailing my escape plan. “Be back,” he says to Noah, who just lifts his chin in acknowledgement.

  We walk through the house and into the dining room where I’d left my things.

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For helping me out last week. Some chicks just don’t get the hint.”

  At his words, my mind drifted to the bunny boiler hanging off him at the club. “That happens when you treat women like a commodity that’s owed to you.”

  “Excuse me?” he scoffs.

  “You heard me.”

  “You seem to have a pretty low opinion of me, Mia. Why is that?”

  “I call it as I see it. Now if you don’t mind, I’m just going to get my purse and leave. You can go back to the party.”

  Before I can do that, he crowds me into the living room wall, out of sight from anyone if they were to walk in. He moves in close to me and my traitorous bitch of a body reacts immediately. My breathing grows heavy then hitches when he stops just short of touching me, his body heat taunting me as it radiates between us.

  “Got an itch you can’t scratch, Matt?” My bravado is all for show, but at least it’s a good one.

  A mesmerizing grin covers his lips, and I get lost in a Mini Walking Dildo daze. His chin dips and I freeze as I wait for the bone-shaking kiss to come, a repeat of Kissgate. Instead, he leans in and gives me a polite, seemingly appropriate peck on the cheek before stepping away. It’s the kind of thing that’s normal to give your sister-in-law’s sister.

  He smirks as he grabs my purse from the dining room and makes his way toward me. “Don’t you worry about me, Legs. There’s a whole black book worth of willing volunteers.”

  “Legs?” I ask, taking my purse out of his hands.

  “Well I can’t call you Tits, can I?”

  “You’re a piece of work, Taylor.”

  “It’s okay to admit you want me, Mia,” he says cockily.

  “For what? The medical experiment known as your dick?” In my defense, the thought of him sinking his cock into just anybody makes my skin crawl. He may be a man-whore but he also undersells his worth with the quality of women he associates with—read: fornicates with. I’ve suspected it for a while, but watching him tonight and his ability to quickly switch on the playboy persona, confirmed it to me.

  He advances on me again and I push back into the wall. Leaning into me, he whispers, “You won’t be able to walk straight for days once I’m finished with you. You’ll love it so much you’ll still be begging me for more even after I’m done.” He pauses for a moment, almost as if he wants to do more, say more.

  I hold my breath and wonder what the hell I’d do if he was to make a move, to actually cross that physical, theoretical line between us. But then to my relief—read: disappointment—he moves away and walks straight out the doorway, heading toward the backyard. I manage to turn my head in time to catch his tight, jean-covered, perfectly formed and begging-to-be-grabbed ass strut away, but I do it with my mouth agape and wondering what the hell just happened.

  Who says that to their sister-in-law’s sister anyway . . . I mean, who does he think he is? A hot-as-fuck, hard-in-all-the-right-places—and the wrong ones that feel damn good pressed up against you—man-boy, who thinks with his dick ninety-nine percent of the time?

  Oh right, he’s exactly that. My bad.

  That’s the biggest problem. It’s not our connection or families—it’s the fact that he is the epitome of kryptonite to my resolve. Everything is attacking my determination to keep his man bits—as large and as talented as its bound to be—out of my self-abused but desperately-in-need-of-male-attention lady garden.

  One touch two years ago was not enough, and if I don’t keep myself in check, I’ll be helpless to resist him the next time this happens.

  And I have a strong feeling it will.

  Seven forty-five a.m. Monday, I’m on site waiting for my crew to arrive while scarfing down a coffee and breakfast burrito when Jase turns up.

  I’m the site foreman for this project. It’s a four-story office building refit, and we have fifteen workers involved, Jase being one of them. He’s a carpenter and has been with us for the past five years. I hired him when my dad handed over some of the reins to me.

  Now that I’m nearing thirty and Dad is past sixty, Noah and I have talked to him about taking a step back—a semi-retirement that hopefully leads into a full-time one. We’ve even got Mom on board the pulling-out train, but every time we bring it up, Dad says I’m not ready to go it alone. It’s frustrating as fuck.

  From the moment I left high school, I’ve worked for Dad. Before that I would work all summer at his side, learning the ropes. It was always going to be Taylor & Son Construction—Dad and I working the business together—with Noah always destined to become a doctor.

  He was the smart one, the studious, geeky one—glasses, braces and all—and I was good with my hands, and more of an action man than a book one. It frustrated the hell out of our parents when our report cards would come home and they were like night and day—Noah an honor roll student, me the one spending most of the time in after school detention.

  “Hey,” Jase says, walking up to me. “You’re here early.”

  “Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

  “Couldn’t sleep or too busy to sleep?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

  “I was alone. Just couldn’t shut my mind off.”

  “Not being alone would’ve helped with that.”

  I tilt my head toward our site office. “Let’s go, ya doofus,” and together we make our way over to the rest of the crew.

  “Can’t lead the guys if I’m late, can I?” I reply, lifting my cup to my mouth as I wait for the caffeine to do its thing. “Besides, Dad said he’d swing by this afternoon to check progress, so I’ve gotta be on my game today.”

  “Is he still giving you shit?” Jase asks.

  I shrug. “Not exactly. I want to show him I’m capable of running the company and supervising projects.”

  “We all know you can.”

  “Aw shucks, Jase. You don’t have to sweet-talk me to get in my pants. I’m a sure thing, baby,” I joke, bumping him with my shoulder and laughing when he staggers to the side and spills half his coffee.

  “Bastard.”<
br />
  “You love me.”

  “I love your dirty mouth,” he shoots back with an exaggerated Southern drawl.

  “On that note, time to get to work,” I say to him just as we arrive at the office, meeting up with the other workers. I put on my game face and run over the day’s jobs with them before we head into the building and get started.

  Lunchtime comes and goes, and Jase and I are working on the walls of the top floor when he shocks the shit out of me.

  “You think you could get Nat’s number off Mia?” he asks, just as I drop the hammer in my hand down to hit a nail and instead, slam into my thumb.

  “Motherfucker!” I yell, my thumb throbbing as it transforms from white, to pink to dark red then purple, in the blink of an eye.

  Jase, the prick, laughs his ass off. “Dude, total amateur mistake.”

  “Go fuck a donkey.”

  “Not a donkey, but Nat, definitely.” He smiles and nods, his eyes glazing over thinking about god knows what. “Bet she’s a firecracker in the sack.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I ask him, waving my thumb around to try and quell the pulsing throb.

  “Would I not be serious about a hot chick? Have you seen that girl? You could bounce quarters off that ass all day and still not get tired. Man, the things I could do to her . . .”

  “Dude . . .”

  “Can you get her number or what?”

  “Whose number?” I ask, messing with him.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Natalie’s number, Mia’s best friend. You know, your sister-in-law’s sister,” he says slowly.

  “You can’t fuck her over, Jase. It’s a bit too close to home for my liking.”

  “And making out with Mia wasn’t?” he shoots back and my mouth, already open and ready for my next retort, stays open, but nothing comes out, so I slam it shut and glare at him.

  “Low blow.”

  “Well, it would’ve been had you followed her home,” he says with a knowing grin, and I throw my drink bottle at him. “Seriously though . . . Nat’s number?”

  It’s disconcerting to see Jase that interested in Mia’s best friend. Just the thought of them hooking up opens up a whole new playing field in the game that is getting Mia to give me a chance.

  “You do know that Mia might not give it to me,” I warn.

  “No, she won’t give it up to you, but she will give you Nat’s number. Work your magic, my friend.” He claps me on the shoulder as he walks past. “If Matt Taylor can’t get a girl’s number, then all hope is lost.”

  “I’m more than just a cock, you know.”

  Jase bursts out laughing—I’m talking loud, out-of-control bellows that have him bent in half as he struggles to regain composure.

  “What’s so funny?” I say, shoving his shoulder with my hand.

  “Did you just hear what you said?” he asks, standing up straight with an expression I cannot read. “Because I swear I just heard you say that you’re more than a cock, yet for the past however many years, that’s all you’ve let yourself be when it comes to women.”

  And just like that, I swear I’ve been teleported into an alternate universe, one where it’s Jase dishing out relationship advice.

  “I’ve dated,” I reply defensively. “Once . . .”

  “Dating a woman just to get between her legs after dessert is not dating. That’s just dedication to the cause. We call you the King of Cut ‘n’ Run for a reason.”

  “Who calls me the King of Cut ‘n’ Run?”

  “Everyone. This can’t be news to you, man. It’s your thing. You own it, and you don’t mislead them. Definitely not after the fact, anyway.”

  “It’s just sex, Jase. It’s not exactly brain science.”

  “No, but sex is different when it’s someone you care about. You should try it sometime, buddy. You might like the fit.”

  “I always like the fit, especially if it’s tight and wet,” I say with a chuckle, and Jase joins me but stops suddenly when he sees something over my shoulder and his eyes grow wide.

  “Jase, what the fuck—”

  “Jason . . . Matthew . . . hard at work, I see,” my dad says, sarcastically. I slowly turn around and see Dad smirking at me from the doorway with his hard hat on and a bright orange vest over his shirt.

  “Hey Dad, that time already?” I walk over to him and give him a one-handed shoulder hug.

  “I’m a bit early, but I’ve already checked out the bottom floors and it looks really good, son. Really good. And ahead of schedule, too.” I can’t miss the smile on Dad’s face as he looks around the open-plan floor Jase and I started working on today.

  “And the inspectors are happy?” he asks, walking to the far wall and giving it a shake as if to check stability.

  “Yep. No concerns. We’ve even kept the neighbors happy by staying within the ordinance hours,” I reply proudly.

  “Of course, Matthew. You learned from the best.” He smirks at Jase then winks at me, before walking back to where I’m standing.

  “That I did, and surely the best should be living it up on the golf course rather than checking up on his son,” I jibe.

  “Watch it, Matthew,” he warns, jokingly. “Or else I’ll tell your mother you’re missing her and you want to have a mother/son bonding weekend redecorating your condo.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Keep up with the retirement talk and I’ll make it happen. Then Noah and I will come over with a six-pack and supervise.”

  “That’s low, Dad,” I say.

  “And so is recruiting your mother into the ‘let’s get the old man off to Florida’ plan.”

  I open my mouth to say something but stand there looking like one of those carnival clown games.

  “Noah was in on it, too!” I say, dumping my brother in it. I figure if I’m going to cop shit from Dad, my brother can as well.

  “I see you thought I was blind to your scheme.”

  “It wasn’t a scheme,” I answer.

  “You’re stuck with me for a while, Matt. I won’t interfere with you on site, but you’re not ready to take on everything just yet.”

  I have no reply to that. I had hoped that Dad would give me a chance to prove myself, but it seems he’s not at that place yet. It just reaffirms my commitment to work harder at showing him that I’m ready to step up.

  “So . . . I’m just gonna check on the guys downstairs,” Jase murmurs and moves toward the door.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I shout in vain as the bastard laughs and gives me a backward wave before I lose sight of him.

  “Matt, in all seriousness, you’re doing a great job managing projects and supervising the crew. Don’t be in a rush to take on the big stuff. You’re young; you don’t need the stress and gray hairs this job brings.”

  “And if I want that?” I ask.

  “Then we’ll work at slowly easing you into it. There’s no hurry.”

  I nod, and he just grins at me.

  “Besides, you’ve gotta find yourself a woman first, maybe one that you can bring to our anniversary party in a few weeks.”

  It’s actually not that far-fetched of an idea for me anymore. I see Noah and Zoe and all their friends getting married and having babies, and instead of being glad it’s not me, I look at them and see myself in their shoes in the future. I’m not talking about tomorrow, because I’m still having fun, but one day, sure.

  “Now that is something Mom would say.”

  Dad just chuckles and throws an arm around my neck, giving me a squeeze before letting me go. “Time to get a coffee and go over those plan changes you wanted to show me.”

  It was after I’d finished eating dinner that I remembered what Jase had asked me to do.

  Living alone, I’m grateful that I can feed myself. One thing my mother made sure Noah and I could do was cook. She didn’t like the thought that we might have had to survive on takeout for the rest of our lives once we’d moved out of home.

  There’s als
o the added bonus that a man who knows how to cook is apparently very attractive to women. You wouldn’t believe the amount of snatch I’ve got just by turning up at a girl’s door with bags of groceries and a bottle of wine, then instructing her to sit down and let me wow her with my culinary prowess. It always ends up with her showing her appreciation in other ways involving her mouth—and other parts of her anatomy.

  I reach over from my recliner to the side table, grabbing my phone in the process and bringing up Mia’s name. Hovering my finger over her number, I try to decide whether to ring her or not. Since I got that taste of her last week at Throb, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about tasting some more.

  It’s all kinds of wrong but when I kissed her, it felt so right. She matched me in creativity and enthusiasm—a rare double feat. It’s more than that though; it’s her whole approach to life. It’s all or nothing, no holding back. She says what’s on her mind, not giving the first flying fuck what people might think of her.

  My brother once said to me that he thought Mia was as outspoken as she is because of losing her father when she was eight years old. I think that’s part of the reason—the rest is just all her.

  Then Saturday at Nate’s birthday party, I couldn’t stop myself from backing her up against the wall and toying with her, not in the way I wanted to, but it was the best I could do in a pinch. The way she reacted to me though—that was a fucking dream. I meant every promise I made to her; one day soon she’ll be in my bed and I’ll have her screaming my name and taking my cock like the wildcat she is. Just fucking thinking about it has me getting hard.

  Maybe Jase’s request will help me out. It gives me a reason to use Mia’s number.

  I decide to send her a text.

  Hey Legs. How was your day?

  You’ll never believe what Jase asked me today . . .

  Fuck! I’ve never been short of a good pick-up line. I’m a master of chatting a woman up, and now I can’t even string a fucking text message together? Being a smartass, I type up what I would say if I didn’t give a fuck.

  Hey. The word of the day is legs. Wanna come over and spread them?