Game Maker (Game #2)

by BJ Harvey

  “I worry about you, that’s all. It’s my job.”

  I move toward him just as he pulls me in for a hug. “You need to get out more, socialize, and as much as it pains me to say it—date.”

  “Zan . . .” I say with a groan.

  He lifts his hands to my shoulders and gently pushes me back to hold me in place. I lift my head and look at him, seeing nothing but love in his soft eyes. “You’re a strong, independent woman now, Dani. You have spent all this time focusing on getting your dream job, and I’m so damn proud of you for doing it,” he says with a squeeze. “But there needs to be a balance. You can have the job, the fancy apartment, and the good friends, but believe me when I say it means so much more when you’ve got someone to share it all with.”

  My heart melts and I love knowing that my brother has that with Kate—and now their daughter, Rose.

  I lean forward, stand on my toes, and kiss his cheek. “I love you, big brother.”

  “I love you too, Squirt. Now do me a favor and put yourself out there.”

  I smile and give him a nod, trying to ignore the guilt that tries to rear its ugly head. It’s not like I can say, “Don’t worry, Zan. I am putting myself out there—maybe with your best friend.”

  “Good,” he says with a nod. “I better get back to Kate. I’ll call you over the weekend. Maybe you can come save me from another tea party with your niece?”

  “Maybe,” I reply with a laugh.

  He kisses my forehead once more before turning and walking away down the corridor.

  Locking the door behind me, I rummage through my purse and grab my cell. Flicking off all the lights, I walk down the hall and into my bedroom.

  Sitting on the bed, I undo my sandals and throw them in the general direction of my closet then stand up, pull off my clothes, throw on some underwear, and slide into bed.

  With my phone in my hand, I lie here flicking through technology news sites and gaming forums when a text comes in.

  Zach: You get home okay?

  Danika: Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. You all tucked up in bed now too?

  I go back to reading a particularly vicious discussion between two groups of feuding gamers, my fingers itching to respond especially since it was the first game I helped develop. Thankfully I’m saved by Zac’s reply.

  Zach: You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?

  I grin at my phone, slightly buzzed and still pent up. If tonight proved anything, it’s that Zach definitely likes what he sees when it comes to me. He even lost his mind a little in that scene at the bar, but it’s not like I was complaining—like at all.

  Danika: What use will you be to me then?

  Zach: What use do you want me to be to you?

  Danika: Testing what works and what doesn’t is my specialty. Functionality, ease of use, and checking for glitches. It’s all in a day’s work.

  Zach: You want to test out my ease of use? Why the hell does that sound so sexy?

  I giggle, burrowing down deeper under the covers with a stupid grin plastered on my face.

  Danika: I’d need to make sure everything has to be in perfect working order.

  Zach: Answer the door, Little Grasshopper.

  I jump out of bed and get halfway down the hall before I realize that I’m pretty much naked. With a little shriek, I run back to my room and chuck on my Superman hoodie that’s two sizes too big and some yoga pants, and—calmly this time—make my way to the front door.

  Checking the peephole, I see Zach’s gorgeous face looking back at me. I reach down, unlock the door, and swing it open.

  “Uh, hi . . .” I say quietly, leaning into the doorway.

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes drop to my chest—earning a snort from him—then down to my bare feet and back up to my face. When he doesn’t say anything, I feel the need to break the silence.

  “You wanna come in?” I ask.

  “How is this outfit just as hot on you as your skirt at the bar?” he says, not answering my question or moving inside the apartment.

  “What?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

  He moves into my space, his gaze not leaving mine for a second. “All night I wanted to be near you.” He lifts his hand up and runs his knuckles down my cheek. “My hands were itching to touch you and not being able to fucked with my head.” I lean into him, my body sagging against his of its own volition. “I watched you, imagined what you’d smell like in this spot . . .” He drops his head down to the curve where my neck meets my collarbone and slowly runs his nose up the side of my throat, stopping just below my ear. “Right here . . .”

  Houston, we have a problem. My body trembles as his words and touch combine, threatening to gift me my first ever spontaneous orgasm. Abi would be so proud right now.

  “Zach, come in . . .” I moan as he nuzzles into me, one hand snaking its way around my waist, the other gliding down my side.

  “I can’t,” he rasps. “If I come in, I won’t be coming out.”

  “Exactly. Come. In . . . side.”

  He lifts his head and gripping my ass, he pulls my hips hard against his. For the second time tonight, I feel his God-given glory hard against me. “If I come in, I’ll be coming in, and that would be me thinking with my dick instead of what I really want to do, which is think with my head.”

  “Well, it would be thinking with one of your heads,” I say without thought, and his entire body goes completely still, his eyes growing wide before he throws his head back and bursts out laughing.

  “Sorry, I get verbal diarrhea when I’m out of my element,” I explain.

  His face softens and he brings his lips to brush against mine. “Do I have you off-kilter, Dani?” His voice is deep and low, sending more than a few shock waves down to my happy place—well, the place I want him to make happy, anyway.

  “Ever since the day I met you,” I reply on a whisper.

  “Good,” he whispers back against my lips.

  “Why did you come here if you can’t come in?”

  “Because it didn’t seem right to end the night without doing this.”

  And then he kisses me. His mouth opens over mine, his tongue flicking against my lips and diving inside when I tilt my head and give in. By God, can Zach Cooper kiss. It’s long and hard, wet and soft, deep and hungry, and hot as fuck.

  He presses me harder against the doorframe but I don’t register any pain; my sole focus is on his body against mine, his insistent cock rocking against my stomach, and the searing heat pulsing throughout my entire body as we continue to make out like hormonal teenagers in my doorway.

  He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath while thinking of ways to change his mind about coming inside.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he says roughly as his hands slide up my side, my neck, and stop when he cradles my cheeks. “Fuck you can kiss.”

  “Right back atcha.”

  His eyes drop to my lips again. “I’ve really gotta go,” he says with a groan.

  “You don’t—”

  He presses his index finger against my mouth to stop me. “I do.”

  Then, just as my brother did not half an hour ago, he kisses my forehead, and with a sexy smile, slowly walks backwards down the corridor. “Good night, Dani.”

  My mouth drops open, and I watch him disappear around the corner and out of sight, a short wave the last thing I see.

  Round two to Zach, it seems, but if the goofy grin I have on my face is anything to go by, I’m not exactly feeling like I lost. At all.

  Walking away from Dani tonight was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long time, but it felt like the right thing. She’s not like any other woman I’ve been with and she’s a breath of fresh air when it comes to being honest and saying whatever comes into her head.

  In a world where everyone is always trying to please someone, finding an intriguing, intelligent, and self-motivated woman, who just happens to be fucking gorgeous, is almo
st an impossible task. All I know is anyone would be a fool to not see Danika Roberts as a catch, and I for one, am not going to walk away anytime soon.

  I’m not a cliché; the single man who chases different tail every weekend, sowing his seed far and wide. I’m a relationship guy. I’ve never become involved with a woman who I haven’t been genuinely interested in pursuing.

  Dani is a whole step up from that though, because of what’s at stake between us. If it goes bad, I lose so much more than I normally would.

  Most important of all though is focusing on the two of us; I want to find out what she likes, what she hates, what her little quirks and habits are. I want the physical stuff as well—fuck do I want that—but I want us to develop a deeper connection first, the kind that makes all of the physical stuff mean something.

  And tonight was totally worth it just to see the dazed and completely blissed out look on her face as I walked away.

  Monday night, I’m chilling in the kitchen at the firehouse when my phone lights up.

  “Hey, Grasshopper,” I say, answering the call.

  “Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Not at all. What are you up to?”

  “I’m just lying on the couch testing a new strategy game beta.”

  I grin at my phone. “Why is it hot when you slip into geek speak?”

  She goes quiet.

  “Dani?”

  “You find my geek speak hot? Everyone usually just switches off or rolls their eyes.”

  “You’re playing a strategy game for fun. You develop games for a living. Enough said. Don’t let anyone stop you from doing what you love. And don’t call yourself dorky again,” I state.

  “Nobody has ever said that to me before. My last boyfriend found it annoying when I stayed up one night stuck in one part of a new real-time strategy game we were working on. I couldn’t sleep until I got past it.”

  “He obviously wasn’t creative enough,” I mutter, the thought of another guy with Dani sitting uncomfortably in my gut.

  “What?” she says with a laugh.

  “If you were more entertained playing a game all night than with other activities, he obviously didn’t know the right ways to distract you.”

  “And you would know how to do that?”

  “You bet your ass I would.” And my mind is awash with just how much I’d enjoy doing so, too.

  “Interesting . . .”

  “Not intriguing? Titillating? Maybe distracting?”

  “Believe me, you’ve always distracted me.”

  “Now this I want to hear more about.”

  She laughs again and I grin, earning a weird look from my workmate Scotty who’s sitting opposite me at the table.

  “Who’s that?” he mouths, and I shake my head.

  “Aren’t you working?” she asks.

  “Yeah, but I’m not exactly fighting fires and rescuing cats out of trees right now, so we’re good. So back to me being a distraction?”

  “Like you don’t know,” she says sarcastically.

  “Until last weekend, I didn’t. I just knew that you were beautiful, funny, driven, and had an amazing ass.”

  “So you’re an ass guy huh?”

  “Lately I’m an anything-Danika guy.”

  “Smooth, dude. Smooth.”

  “Just being honest.”

  “I like that.”

  “What?”

  “That you’re not just trying to charm your way into my pants.”

  “Grasshopper, I’m going to charm my way into your pants but when I do it, you’ll know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m going to get in there. I’ll know I’ve earned the right to be there. I’d never bullshit you. I want you. I’m not gonna lie about that.”

  “I like that you just say what you want.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty, baby,” I tease, earning another giggle. “Have I distracted you yet?”

  “Just thinking about you distracts me.”

  “Does that happen a lot?” I ask, curious about just how often I cross her mind.

  “More so lately, especially when I get goodnight kisses delivered to my door.”

  “What bastard did that? It must’ve been so frustrating getting all worked up and him just leaving you standing there so unsatisfied,” I say in jest, making the mistake of catching Scotty’s wide eyes.

  “I know, right? Someone needs to teach the man some manners, preferably all the ways he can say sorry . . .”

  “He should rectify such despicable behavior immediately.”

  “If only,” she says on an exaggerated sigh. “Exactly how do you plan on remedying the situation, Zachary Cooper? And when? In graphic detail please.”

  “Smartass.” I can’t help but laugh at her sassy attitude. She’s going toe-to-toe with me, and I fucking love it.

  “I’m not really. I’m just me.”

  “Half the time you don’t know you’re even doing it which makes it worse because it means it comes naturally to you. Which ultimately means I’m fucked. But you’re right, it’s you and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. So you’re good.”

  “Zach . . .” Her voice is soft. I make a note to tell her exactly what she does to me and how she makes me feel on a regular basis from now on.

  “What are you doing Thursday night?” I ask, knowing I need to change the topic or else I’m at risk of going from half hard to embarrassingly obvious in front of the squad.

  “No plans at this stage. Abi works at the club on Thursday nights so I usually just claim the TV and the couch as my own.”

  “Would you like to come to my place for dinner?”

  “You mean you cook?” she muses.

  “I taught myself, because I like food and I wanted to help my mom out by giving her a break from cooking when I was growing up.”

  “Zach, that’s so sweet,” she replies.

  “Did I score points with that?”

  “Maybe,” she replies coyly, just as the bells start to ring with a callout.

  “Even better. So dinner?” I ask, getting up off the couch and following Scott out toward the rig.

  “I’d love to. You’ve gotta go, don’t you? I can hear the alarm.”

  “Sorry, but yeah. Talk tomorrow?”

  “Okay. Bye, Zach.”

  “Think of me while you’re playing your game tonight.”

  “When do I not?” she murmurs.

  “I like the sound of that. I’ve got to go now, sweetheart,”

  “Be safe,” she says, just as I end the call.

  I drop my phone on the table by the door and quickly hop into my turnouts before jumping in the engine and slamming the door closed just as we pull out of the firehouse.

  The next day I have off, I go around to my mom’s place late afternoon and find her writing letters at the dining room table.

  Bending down, I kiss her cheek and straighten again. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, darling. This is a surprise.”

  “Can’t a loving son visit his mom?” I ask, earning a smile.

  “Always. Are you going to stay for dinner? I can cook something up for us.”

  “How about you stay there and I cook you something? I want to check your boiler to make sure that leak repair you had done is holding up.”

  “Zach, you didn’t have to come all the way over here to do that. I know you’re busy.”

  I pin her with a glare. “Mom, I will never be too busy for you.”

  “Must’ve done something right when I raised you.”

  “You did everything right, Ma. Now let me get into the kitchen first and see what our dinner options are.”

  Her eyes soften and like every time she does it, I feel it deep inside my heart.

  There’s something amazing that happens when you’re raised by a single parent. Obviously I don’t know any different because my father—or sperm donor—wasn’t ever anything other than that, but I’ve always had my mom to rely on. There wasn’t a time when I was gro
wing up when she wasn’t there; little league, football game, you name it.

  Now that I’m a grown man and self-reliant, I always make sure to call in at least twice a week on my off-duty days.

  “I think there are pork chops in the fridge,” she says as I round the kitchen island and make my way to the refrigerator.

  “How’s work?” she asks.

  “Good. Got my three days off this week, so looking forward to kicking back.”

  “Anybody catch your eye lately?” she asks in a typically mom fashion. My mom has never pressured me to find a woman and settle down. That being said, she’s also only ever met two of my ex-girlfriends. The last one being Amy, a friend of Mia’s, and my friend Sean’s bar manager—but that relationship ended after six months. That meeting wasn’t exactly planned though; it all came about because I had to stay with Mom after an unfortunate incident involving cooking dinner, getting distracted, and setting my apartment’s kitchen on fire.

  Two good things came from that. First, Zander was my roommate at the time and he ended up moving in with Kate while repairs were done, and now they’re married and are parents to my goddaughter, Rose.

  Second, seeing the CFD come in and do their thing sparked something in me that I could not ignore. I went to the local firehouse and talked to the guys, asking about the ins and outs of the job and what it was really like for them.

  It was as if I’d found my calling.

  Fast forward to now and I’ve been working for the Chicago Fire Department for five years and still love my job as much as I did that first day of training.

  There are hard days—believe me, there are horrific days—but they’re balanced out with the ones where we save lives and you go home at the end of shift knowing you made a difference.

  Mom clears her throat and I remember that I haven’t answered her question.

  “There is someone . . .” I say, holding my breath for the inevitable Spanish inquisition.

  The pen in her hand clutters against the table, and her head jerks toward me so fast I almost wonder if she was an extra in The Exorcist.