Sydney was an old soul. Her eyes looked wise in her fourteen-year-old face. “Is she funny?”
Austin laughed—a deep laugh from his belly—because yes, his Evelyn was quite funny. “She is, Syd.”
His niece’s face lit up. “That’s great! That’s what you need, then. A woman who makes you laugh and smile.”
That sobered him up a little. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think you do it enough.”
He poked her in the side. “I laugh with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You don’t think I laugh enough?”
Sydney picked at a loose thread in her jeans. “I just think sometimes you seem lonely.”
In the past, he’d always said that he preferred to be by himself. He’d grown up lonely, with only his father for company. So he maintained the status quo, really only letting Grant and Sydney close.
But everyone else? No. They were kept at arm’s length—an arm clothed in a starched shirt with platinum cufflinks.
Lately, he’d been questioning this lifestyle of solitude. And just when he thought he could let Marley in, he had to keep his distance from her for her own good. Wasn’t that depressing?
He swallowed and stared ahead, not really seeing anything. “Sometimes I guess I am lonely.”
That confession seemed to perk up Syd. “So you’ll ask her on a date?”
He smiled sadly. “Won’t work out with her, I’m afraid.”
Syd’s face fell. “Oh.”
“How about this?” He wanted to make her happy, even if it was an insane promise. “I’ll ask a woman out this month, okay? I’ll go on a date this month.” At the rate he was going, he might have to pay a woman, but dammit, he’d do it.
Sydney beamed. “Great!”
He wondered how much he’d regret this promise. And he also wished he could date the woman he really wanted.
They talked for another hour or so and then it was time to take Sydney home.
Usually on his days with Syd, he dropped her off without visiting Grant. But today, Grant must have heard his car, because he opened the front door and leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, staring at Austin through the windshield. He wore an old college T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Ethan’s black tank of a Range Rover was parked at the curb.
“I think my dad wants to talk to you,” Sydney said from the passenger seat.
“Yeah? What gave you that impression?” he muttered as he turned the car off and opened his door.
Sydney hopped out and gave her dad a high five, then low five as she walked past him, their ritual the same since she learned what a high five was.
She waved over her shoulder to Austin, “Thanks, Uncle A! Got homework to do.” Then she disappeared into the house.
Austin stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly walked up the stairs of Grant’s porch. He waited for Grant to talk, which wasn’t long. It never was.
“Want some coffee?” Grant asked, straightening from the frame and dropping his hands at his sides.
Austin shook his head.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Just come inside. I want to talk to you.”
“You could have just said that,” Austin said, walking past Grant into the house.
He didn’t have to turn around to know Grant was making a face at the back of his head.
He wandered into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the cookie jar. Sydney was in to baking and always had some sort of fresh dessert. It was good for her, too, because many baked goods contained peanuts and weren’t safe for her to eat. Grant bitched about his waistline, but still ate every treat Sydney dreamed up. Austin reached inside and pulled out a brownie square with caramel drizzle.
“Help yourself,” Grant said, leaning a hand on the kitchen counter.
“Always do,” Austin said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Wow, these are good.”
Grant grabbed one out of the jar and took a bite. “I know, kid’s going to turn me into a blimp.”
Austin ignored the comment. Grant was his age, thirty-two. His hair was just as thick as it had been in college, the same golden blonde, and the guy still worked out every day. He wasn’t in danger of a thickening waistband any more than he was in danger of settling down. Grant enjoyed his variety in women as much as his desserts. “Where’s Ethan?”
Grant looked confused. “How’d you know Ethan was here?”
Austin swallowed his last bite of brownie and talked slowly. “His tank is parked outside your house.”
Grant’s face lit up. “Oh yeah. Of course. Sorry. I’m a little…” He waved a hand and stuck out his tongue. “…today.”
Austin didn’t mention that he was a little that way every day.
“Anyway, we were watching the game, and he had a phone call.”
Ethan’s footsteps announced his arrival. He entered the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt pulled snug around his neck. Austin could still see the burn scars, creeping up to lick at the underside of his jaw.
He nodded at Austin, his pale blue eyes cool as always. At least, since Austin had known him. Apparently he hadn’t been like that, before the accident that had permanently turned Ethan into the recluse he was now. Austin rarely saw Ethan, had truthfully only met him once or twice, and wondered how Grant got him to leave his home. He must have bribed him with brownies.
Ethan walked right over to the cookie jar and pulled out a brownie.
Yep, Grant bribed him with brownies.
Ethan took a bite and then leaned back on the counter. “How was your date with Syd?”
“Good.”
“What’d you do?”
The small talk was making them both uncomfortable. “Had a picnic at the park.”
“Fascinating conversation,” Grant interrupted. “But what I really want to hear is…” He lowered his voice. “‘Yes, Ethan, I’d love a whole lot of money. I’ll definitely sell you my half of Gamers.’“ Grant lowered his voice even more. “‘Great, Austin. I can’t wait to work with Grant because he’s so smart and handsome. Thanks for blessing me with the opportunity.’” Then Grant spoke in his regular tone, “Then you handshake, and everyone is happy.”
Austin glared at Grant, who smiled back at him with a lot of teeth.
“I said I’d think about it,” Austin said. He turned to Ethan. “Why do you want to get involved in this?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Is this an interrogation?”
Grant’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of them, like he could be called in any minute to pull them apart.
“This business is important to Grant and me,” Austin said carefully. “I want to make sure it’s in the right hands.”
Ethan didn’t move for a minute, his cool eyes boring into Austin. They were like two bucks about to clash antlers. Ethan’s jaw moved as he chewed, and then he swallowed his brownie. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t think mine are the right hands.”
Austin had to give it to the guy, he didn’t back down. “Well, I—”
“Okay,” Grant stepped in. “The temperature in this room is about twenty degrees lower than I ever allow my balls to get, so can we cut the crap? Ethan wants the business and he’ll do a great job with it, Austin. I trust him.”
Ethan didn’t take his eyes off of Austin. “Someone has to keep Grant in line.”
“Hey!” Grant protested.
Austin needed to let this go. He was in Grant’s house with Sydney nearby and his puffing chest routine with Ethan didn’t belong here. So he backed down. Reluctantly. “I’ll let you know by the end of the month.” He had a lot of things to do this month now. Like find a date. His stomach rolled just thinking about it. “The game still on?”
Ethan checked his watch. “Halftime should be about over.”
Austin nodded and walked to the refrigerator. He grabbed three beers, handing one to Grant and another to Ethan, keeping the th
ird to himself. “I think I’d rather watch football than discuss business.”
Grant’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Austin doesn’t want to talk business? Are pigs flying?”
Ethan snorted and Austin gave them the finger over his shoulder as he walked to the living room.
Chapter Eight
Marley sucked on her straw, catching the last of her Long Island Iced Tea until the straw gasped and gurgled from lack of liquid.
She set it on the table and glared at it. It was her second, and she still wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this.
Chad was on the dance floor, grinding with some woman who wore a short skirt and a top that looked suspiciously like lingerie.
Marley sighed and looked around the bar.
Dance clubs were so not her thing. The bass of the music slammed into her skull like a hammer, the strobe lights hurt her eyes, and all she could smell was alcohol, sweat, and cologne. The Cherry on a Thursday was barely tolerable. The Cherry on a Saturday was mind-numbing. Why had she agreed to come? She’d rather be home watching Die Hard on Blu-ray with Sadie.
The smack of a palm on the table jolted her from her musings. Chad plopped down in the booth next to her. He handed her another drink, which was the only thing that made The Cherry worthwhile tonight. They truly made the best Long Island Ice Teas. The drink knocked her on her ass, but that was probably what she needed because she sure as hell wasn’t getting her hands on an ass any time soon.
Which only made her think of Austin.
Which brought her back to the reason she was drinking in the first place. Full circle, Mars, she thought.
“Okay,” Chad said. “You have two drunk stages depending on your mood before imbibing. We either get happy, giggly Marley who tells lame newspaper jokes, like what’s black and white and red all over—”
“That joke is timeless—”
“Or we get sad, moaning Marley who listens to Smashing Pumpkins and reminisces about her goth, emo high school years.”
“Hey, my eyeliner game was on point in high school,” she protested.
Chad rolled his eyes. “And I’m thinking we’re going to get Billy Corgan-like Marley tonight because you’re still moping about losing out on that hot computer stud who tapped your home keys.”
“I thought we talked about these puns.”
“I thought we talked about how I will never stop.” Chad took a sip of his water. “So, are you going to admit how you’ve been in a funk all week because of a certain man?”
She was just drunk enough to be stubborn as hell. “I’m stressed about work. I didn’t even miss his dirty emails.”
That was a lie. She sipped on her straw. “I also didn’t avoid the supply closet in any way.”
That was another lie.
Chad raised his eyebrows.
She refused to admit she ached for Austin’s touch. She needed to stop pining after this guy. “Your job, Marley,” she chanted to herself. “Remember your job.”
“What the hell? Are you talking to yourself?” Chad laid the back of his hand on her forehead, like he was testing her for fever.
She swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.” Another lie? “And to show you how fine I am, I’m going to go find a man on that dance floor, and I’m going to debase myself with him to prove it.”
Chad swept his arm in front of him, gesturing toward the dance floor. “Be my guest, Mars. I better see tongue and boob-grabbage.”
She huffed and stood up, a little unsteady on her feet. She decided stiletto heels were a bad idea when she planned to wallow in a corner with Long Island Iced Teas lined up in front of her.
She shook her hair over her shoulder and walked with as much balance as she could muster onto the dance floor.
It was a club, full of drunk people, so it wasn’t like it was hard to find a man willing to grab her by the hips and grind his crotch into her ass.
She guessed he was cute, but it was kind of hard to tell. She had beer goggles. Or Long Island Iced Tea goggles, which she assumed were even more skewed. But he had hair and facial features and all his limbs, so what the hell. She went with it.
She closed her eyes and tried to let the beat of the music take her away. The man behind her heated her back, and his thighs pressed into hers, a hand at her waist, those fingertips digging through the thin fabric of her dress.
“You’re hot,” he said in her ear. And she couldn’t stop her flinch. Because that voice was wrong. Those words were wrong.
Her body screamed at her to pull away, to go sit back down at her table and drink more alcohol until every touch felt like Austin’s. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. He’d ruined her, hadn’t he? With that low, soft voice, the way he told her she was beautiful, the way he looked at her like she was precious. The way he played her body like he’d been born to bring her pleasure. As much as she loved her job, how could she deny herself what Austin did for her? She’d been denying herself for years, putting her career before her own pleasure. And really, what was the point?
And if…they made sure to keep their interactions far away from Gamers, well then, maybe she could have her cake and eat it too.
She popped her eyes open and stopped dancing. She stood frozen as the man behind her slowly came to a halt. “You okay, baby? Want a drink?”
She stared at Chad as he stood up and began to walk toward her, his brows furrowed in concern.
The hand left her hip, and its owner must have spotted Chad, because he said, “You got a nice little body, sweetheart, but I’m not getting involved with you and your boyfriend.”
His heat left her back and she exhaled, realizing how tense she’d been, how much his touch had actually repulsed her. And it wasn’t his fault. It was Austin’s. Damn that man.
Chad reached her side and grabbed her hand. “You okay, Mars?”
She looked up into her brother’s eyes. “I want to go home.”
Chad kept glancing at her while he drove back to her apartment, but she was busy doing important things, like squinting at her phone.
She didn’t have Austin’s number. She thought about looking him up on White Pages but didn’t feel like searching through a dozen Austin Rivers duds.
So she pulled up her email and began typing.
“What are you doing over there?” Chad asked.
“Typing.” Oops, she erased a letter when she tried to type “m”. Stupid small keyboards.
“What are you typing, Mars?” His voice was cautious.
“An email.”
“I—”
“Just shut it, Chad. You got me drunk and now this is the end result, me emailing a guy who’s now given me, like, three orgasms, but yet I don’t have his number.”
Chad shut up.
And Marley kept typing.
…
Austin sat at his desk and rubbed his forehead. The headache was forming, the one that told him he needed to quit working and go to bed.
It was Saturday and he’d been working all day. Well, not really working, more like staring at his computer screen and trying to decide if he wanted to sell Gamers or not. Why was this so hard? Grant was happy with Ethan as a business partner, so why couldn’t Austin pull the damn trigger?
He sighed and went to shut down his computer for the night, when he saw he had an email. He figured it was junk, until he noticed it was to his Aricofthelobby account. He had set it up that all those emails came to his main inbox.
And the only person who had that address?
Marley.
There was no subject. He took a deep breath and clicked to open the email.
i tried so hard but i can’t stop. thinking of you. we never got the chance to see if i could come just from your voice.
i want that chance.
He wasn’t breathing. If he were asthmatic, he’d be grabbing his inhaler.
She wanted that chance. And fuck, he couldn’t deny he wanted it too. He wasn’t done with Marley. She had more fantasies and he wanted t
o give them to her. He’d be her Sexual Fantasy Ambassador.
Well, that title wasn’t so sexy. He wouldn’t bring that up around her.
But it had to be him. He was born to touch her body, to see her flushed and sated. The thought of another man with his hand around her throat….
Austin growled. A real, honest to God growl.
He lunged across his desk for his phone, knocking it to the ground so he had to crawl under his desk to retrieve it. He bumped his head on his way back into his chair and swore.
His heart was racing and his hands were sweaty. He almost dropped the phone again.
In Marley’s email, she’d given him her phone number. He could have signed into Gamers’ electronic employee file and found her number. But that was weird, so he was glad he didn’t have to do that.
The phone rang six times and went to her voicemail. Austin swore again, rubbed his head, and tried again.
This time she answered, sounding breathless.
“Hello?”
Austin bit down on his lip, hard, until he heard a crunch.
“Hello?” She giggled. “Who is this?”
He released his lip. “Do you still want that chance?”
A small gasp, just a quick intake of air. “Austin.”
He closed his eyes, soaking in the way she said his name, the way she drew out the first syllable, pausing on the “s” and rolling it around on her tongue before it slipped off.
No one said his name like that. And he didn’t want anyone else to.
Only Marley.
He heard a couple of thumps in the background, a rustling of keys. “Where are you?”
“I’m home now.”
A voice in the background, masculine. Austin tensed. “You’re not alone?”
“It’s just my brother, he’s leaving now.” There was a smile in her voice, and then Austin heard a slam of the door.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly.
Another noise, this one sounded like a moan. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
A pause. Austin could hear every second tick on the swinging pendulum of the grandfather clock in his office.
“Yes, I’d like that chance.”
Changing His Game (Gamers #1) Page 8
