Since this game allowed for five players, Oliver was giving it a go. The poor guy looked pretty overwhelmed. He might play checkers with their dad and run circles around the competition when it came to soccer, but board games were a whole other thing. Given the years of animosity between Sam and him, Oliver hadn’t joined their games more than a few times. There was a world of difference between checkers and this game.
Had Sam told Oliver? Did he know?
Rashae glanced at her future brother-in-law, but he was too focused on what Declan was saying. And really, she should be too, since they were about to start the first round of game play.
Sneaking around with Declan was totally irresponsible, and yet...she wanted to do it again. She’d never had a man make her...feel. Not the way he did. Sex wasn’t just a little sweaty action and no pay off with him. It was the real deal.
“Shae? Your turn,” her father said.
“Oh. Right.” She considered her options and the lay of the land.
Dad would play it safe, building up his army before he advanced. Sam might realize the importance of striking out first, but Rashae went first. Declan would...he would be the real danger. Poor Oliver was probably going to catch on halfway through and make an epic comeback, but for now, he wasn’t her concern. Declan was.
“Okay, there and—there. Sam?” Rashae moved her pieces around and wrapped up her turn.
“What else do you do besides manage the making of games, Declan?” Dad leaned back, eyes on the board.
“I manage the crowd fundin’ campaigns and stay on through fulfillment. I also manage the grounds of a historical house in old DC to keep the lights on.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Dad shook his head. “I flipped burgers the first year I was mayor, before Shae was born. We owned this little diner. I sold it to a cousin who ran it into the ground. People used to come in and tell me their grievances while I served them lunch. We all start somewhere.”
Rashae waited a beat before adding, “Declan is also working on his own game.”
For the first time since they’d sat down, she met his gaze. If he wasn’t going to toot his horn, she would. He needed to just accept that his true talents were going to be in the crafting of games. What she’d seen would put John and Ayan’s game to shame.
“Is that so? You’ll have to bring it by and show it to me when you’re done. I don’t have anyone to play games with, now that Shae moved away from me.” Dad reached over and grasped her hand, winking with his grin. He liked to throw her a little guilt now and again.
“It’s nothin’ special,” Declan said.
“He’s modest. I’ve seen the bare bones and they’re good. It’s up your alley, Dad.”
“Tell me when you launch your campaign, Declan. I’d be honored to buy in on your first run at greatness.” Dad was in rare, jolly form. Probably because they were headed into the holidays with nothing hanging over them. No sex scandal. No huge political thing. Just—Christmas. “My turn?”
“Yes, sir.” Declan glanced her way, his gaze narrowed. He was not happy with her, and she didn’t much care.
Dad did about what Rashae expected, which left the last turn up to Declan before she started them over again.
“It is a harder time to do what you love. Not like it was in the old days, am I right?” Dad sighed. Since none of them were old enough to know what the Old Days were like, Dad kept right on rolling with his speech. “Used to be, anyone could go after what they wanted and if they worked long enough, hard enough, they’d get it. It’s a rare person these days who can do the same thing.”
Dad reached over and patted Rashae’s hand, startling her out of her study of the board.
“I’m proud of you, Shae. You make things happen.”
Rashae blinked at her Dad.
Had that just happened?
Was she dreaming?
Her parents had begrudgingly admitted to her success years ago, but they never seemed to...like it. She wasn’t a brilliant lawyer, like Lily. She didn’t have a hand in politics like Samantha. She made costumes. Often crazy, weird ones at that.
Her dad was...proud of her?
“Thanks...Dad. Stop trying to throw me off my game.” She glared at him, and he threw his head back, laughing.
“Keep her in your corner, Declan.” Dad thumbed at her. “She turns things to gold.”
“I’ll try, sir.” Declan glanced at his phone. He’d done that a number of times since they began setting up, and each time his frown deepened.
Was something wrong?
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute? Rashae, you got this?” Declan pushed to his feet.
“Yeah. Everything okay?”
“I just need to make a quick call, is all.”
He made his move and the round started once more with her.
She didn’t like the look on his face. Not one bit.
“John? John, can you hear me?” Declan paced the front walk outside the house. Shitty timing for reception to drop.
“I can hear you, Declan. Merry Christmas!”
“Yeah, so—you’re doin’ what?” He didn’t want to be rude or short with the man, but things were not going smoothly.
“Ayan and I had a talk this morning with our designer.”
“John—we discussed this.”
“And we never agreed—”
“Bullshit, John. I have meetin’ notes and a recordin’ of you sayin’ differently. I do not appreciate bein’ called a liar or puttin’ me between you and the person we agreed to hire.” Declan shoved his hand into his pocket.
“Relax, no one is calling you a liar. Maybe we misspoke when we agreed—”
“John. The truth? What’s the real problem here? The price? The design? What? I can’t help you guys if you aren’t honest with me.” And Declan couldn’t figure out how to keep everyone on board if he didn’t know what the two guys wanted.
John blew out a breath.
“The price. We can pay this other guy a flat five-hundred—”
“Do you hear yourself? Do you really hear yourself? You know what you get for five hundred dollars?”
“We just—”
“You get shit work and a borin’ box, John. You want to make some money? You spend some money. We talked about this when I agreed to take on your campaign. I told you I’d make this game the most talked-about title this year—if we changed the design. And now you’re goin’ back on me?”
“The costs aren’t adding up. We don’t—”
“John, you and Ayan came to me because you knew my track record. I can sell a game. But you can’t give me shit to sell and expect it to turn into gold. Understand me? You want to make some money—you have to spend some money. That’s how this works.”
“I know, but she’s completely unknown.”
“And you’re discoverin’ her. Think about it. She comes with buzz. People will know her name and want to know what she’s doin’ with us.”
“We just...aren’t sure she’s the right kind of name...”
“What’s the right kind of name?”
“Someone with...experience?”
“Experience is goin’ to cost a whole lot more than what Rashae’s chargin’, I promise you that. We are getting’ a steal of a deal.”
“I’m just not sure Ayan will see it that way.”
“Bring him around. Talk to him. I’ll talk to him.” Declan could feel the project slipping through his fingers. John and Ayan had never given him true control. Declan had realized that far too late.
“I’ll see what I can do.” John signed.
“You do that. Call me later.”
Declan hung up without waiting for the man to say another word.
Shit.
He scrolled back through his contacts and hit Dial.
The line rang a few times, but went to voicemail. So close to the holidays, Declan hadn’t expected an answer.
“Hey, Robert, it’s Declan. Loveridge Productions. I have some room in my s
chedule for next year openin’ up. Give me a ring, if you’re still wantin’ to work together on that game. Happy holidays.”
Declan ended the call, muttering curses under his breath. What was the other guy’s name? He’d turned down two potential gigs to focus on John and Ayan. Yes, they needed a lot more attention than the average project, but with the way this was going, he needed to be prepared to jump ship.
“What’s wrong?”
He stopped in his tracks, glancing up at Rashae. She stood on the porch, arms wrapped around herself. Her breath sent up little plums of fog.
“Nothin’. Nothin’. Get inside before you freeze. Are you mad?” He stepped onto the small porch, but she didn’t budge.
“Is it John and Ayan again?”
“No.” The lie popped out before he could consider telling her the truth. Fuck. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his insides knotting up. “Just followin’ up on a lead.”
Rashae stared at him a few moments more.
“I’m worried our project isn’t going to earn a lot, so I put some feelers out to get another gig.” That was a bit of truth.
“More irons in the fire, more chances to strike while it’s hot.” She smiled. “Come on, it’s your turn.”
Declan followed her in, dread wrapping around him.
He’d just lied. To Rasahe. Why? Because...without the game, she wouldn’t have a reason to keep seeing him. She’d find someone else to warm her bed. Make her scream. And he wasn’t ready to let go of that yet.
He was worse than a plonker.
And still she smiled at him.
Rashae sipped the wine and pretended to follow the conversation, all the while watching Declan, Oliver and the other men out on the patio around the fire.
He was hiding something from her.
She didn’t have the right to pry or ask him to confide in her, and yet it still bothered her that he didn’t. All day, she’d asked, he’d deflected. And now, this perfectly good wine was souring in her stomach.
Sam nudged her.
“Hm?” Rashae blinked, switching her focus to her younger sister.
“I’m hungry again,” Sam announced.
Their cousin’s gaze dipped to Sam’s stomach, brows lifting.
“I want another mini pie.” Rashae slid out of the booth-style dining table, her sister following her.
They retreated across the kitchen to the back-up desert area.
“How many people think you’re knocked up?” Rashae asked.
“Most of them.” Sam didn’t seem bothered by the question at least.
“Are you?”
“No.” Sam’s eyes widened. “We’re...careful.”
“Good.”
“What about you two?” Sam tilted her head toward the window, where they had a fine view of the men.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rashae tipped her glass up.
“Shae. Really? In all the time I stayed with you, not once did you notice a man, and now—”
“Sh!” Rashae swatted at her sister.
“I wasn’t going to say it. So, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged.
Sam didn’t respond.
“I really don’t know,” Rashae said again. She stared at the granite counter, her vision blurring. “We’re just...friends. We know that much.”
“Be careful. And might I recommend making use of the car?” Sam sipped from her glass, so dainty despite her insinuated meaning.
“Was that where you were last night?”
“It’s easier to...not get caught. In my experience.”
Rashae snickered. She was getting booty call advice from her little, prim, proper sister? That was rich.
“Uh-oh.” Sam set her wine down.
Oliver, followed by Declan, entered through the sliding glass doors. Oliver looked a bit green around the gills.
“What’s wrong?” Sam closed in, reaching up to feel her fiancé’s brow.
“I don’t think dinner agrees with me.” Oliver winced.
“Let’s go home. Now.” Sam glanced over her shoulder at Rashae.
“We’ll go, too. Declan?”
“How ‘bout I drive?” He took the keys from Oliver. “You ladies just finished your wine, I haven’t had anythin’ to drink, save for that stuff you call tea.”
“Oh, I don’t feel so good...” Oliver braced his hand against the counter.
Sam and Rashae got coats while Declan steered Oliver outside. Rashae stalled Sam a bit in the foyer until the guys veered back from the cars by way of the bushes. Crap. If Oliver was tossing chunks, that was bad. Granted, he had a horribly weak stomach.
They said brief goodbyes, a few warnings and piled into the car. It was only a short drive to their house, and yet they stopped twice for Oliver.
“I think its food poisoning,” Sam said after the second stop.
“It’ll work itself out,” Declan said.
They made it back to the house and managed to get Oliver to the second-floor bathroom before his next episode. At least Lily, Sebastian and their parents weren’t there to make more of a fuss. Though, to be honest, they were all well acquainted with Oliver’s stomach acting up.
Rashae helped set Sam up in the big bathroom with towels, water and crackers. At the first exasperated huff, Rashae bowed out to leave her little sister to nurse duty.
Every year, it never failed. Someone in their little cluster wound up horribly sick. She almost wondered if they arranged it so they wouldn’t have to be around as much of the family.
Rashae glanced down the hall. Declan had gone to clean up and she didn’t feel right going in there. Not when she had such an uneasy feeling about things. Instead, she ducked into her room, and changed out of her slacks and blouse into yoga pants and a T-shirt. She could squeeze in some time refining the box design so it really popped for their next meeting.
She turned on some music and lost herself in the tune of the song and the feel of her pen on the digital drawing pad.
“What’cha workin’ on?”
The bed lurched and she jumped, clutching the pad to her chest.
Declan sprawled across the foot of her bed, clothed in clean jeans and a T-shirt.
“Fuck—knock maybe?”
“I did.”
“Oh.”
“Let me see.” He held out his hand.
She was tempted to keep the work to herself, make him wait for the finished product, but he was the man in charge.
Declan whistled.
“You’ve got some real talent.”
“Thanks.”
“But,” —he powered the tablet off— “no more work today.”
“Declan!” She snatched for the pad, but he set it on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Did you save it?”
He grasped her wrist and pulled her across his chest.
“Not funny.” She smacked his chest.
“Yes, I saved it. Now, come here.”
“No. I don’t like you right now. That wasn’t funny.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to be funny. Come here.” He tugged on her arm again.
She was tempted to say no. He’d just done a cardinal no-no in her book. Fucking with her work was the fastest way to piss her off. And yet...those bedroom eyes... The house was mostly quiet...
“I promise, cross my heart, I saved your work. I know better.”
“Don’t do it again,” she grumbled.
“Okay. Fair enough.” He let go of her.
Well, he was there and the tablet was off. Her fickle muse was disrupted and grouchy. There wouldn’t be any more work tonight, so why the heck shouldn’t she jump on board the Declan train?
“Did you have fun tonight?” She curled against his side, soaking up his warmth.
“I did. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you had a big family.”
“Hey, I warned you.”
“You did.”
“You don’t like the sweet tea, do you?”
“That’s not proper tea.”
“Proper tea has ice and sugar in it.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does.” She prodded his ribs, avoiding the ticklish spots.
“I’ve brewed you a proper cup of tea.”
“Yeah, that was hot water with a little flavor.”
“You cheeky little thing.”
Declan rolled, putting her on her back, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Her heart did a little jump for joy and the constant hum of awareness grew louder. She grasped his hair, tugging him down.
He bent his head, going for her lower lip first. He nipped her, rubbing his tongue along her skin. She shuddered as a ripple of lust snaked through her. He grinned, his gaze narrowing, full of sinful promises.
“Sam and Oliver are across the hall,” she whispered.
“If you’re very, very quiet, I bet they won’t notice.” He grazed her lips with his. “And they aren’t in the bathroom anymore either.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Do you still have the keys?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to go for a drive?”
14.
R
ashae shimmied out of her jeans. The car lurched over the speed bump.
Lust and adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her a giddy high so potent she giggled a few times.
“Rashae...” Declan ground his teeth together.
He wasn’t a fun, playful lover. He was...intense. And right now, he was focused on finding them a spot. It wasn’t as easy as Sam made it sound earlier.
Declan pulled the SUV around behind a shopping mall. On Christmas Eve, hardly anything was open, so at least the coast was clear.
He shoved the vehicle into park, pushed his seat all the way back. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her across the open space.
Had Sam and Oliver picked this truck because it lacked the center console? If they had, Rashae would have to thank her sister.
She sat in Declan’s lap, grinning and giddy, her body on high alert. When was the last time a man made her smile this much? Look for reasons to be with him?
Declan was completely unexpected, a whirlwind. He’d likely leave her devastated in his wake, but she couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Not with him.
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 12
