The Hot Gamer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #3)

by Alexa Davis

  I arrived at the gate with minutes to spare, and a concerned girlfriend who’s face quickly went from worried to irritated when she saw the small plastic bag in my hand. She looked at her phone and then glared back at me, and I handed her the bag as a token of peace before she could say anything that might ruin the flight for us both.

  “Oh, she’s my favorite author right now. Did you have to run because you stopped for it?”

  “Well, I didn’t run, but yes, it was a little time squeeze getting here. I figured you could use something nice for the flight, and you wouldn’t have stopped if you were trying to make sure we got on the dang plane.”

  She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, and I gave a wry smile to the gate agent standing behind us. She’d booked us first class tickets, and I reminded myself to get a total from her and make sure I paid her back before our return flight.

  Drinks were served and I got a double scotch, while C.J. settled for soda. She glanced at me, but said nothing as I finished off the small tumbler and asked for another. About my third or fourth drink, she broke in when the flight attendant asked if I was ready for another, and told her that I was good for a bit.

  “My God, C.J. I’m a grown-ass man. I can order a drink if I want.” I muttered angrily.

  “You sure can, Lover,” she replied drily, “but since we both know I can’t carry your two-hundred-fifty-pound ass off this plane, maybe you can slow it down and save some drinks for when we’re in the air.” I opened my mouth to reply, but the look on her face shut me down quick.

  She leaned over and kissed me on the neck, and rubbed my thigh. “If you are so nervous you’re trying to arrive passed out drunk, how am I supposed to feel?” she whispered in my ear, and kept rubbing my thigh.

  I felt like shit. She was right, but I wasn’t drinking because of my family. I could handle them no problem. “I’ve flown twice in my life, and one of those times was to see you. The alcohol worked well that time. I thought I’d try it again.”

  The gentle rubbing on my thigh became a firm squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. What can I do to help?”

  With her hand on my leg, I could think of a few things that would be pleasantly distracting, but I tried to keep it clean at least until we were in the air and they couldn’t throw us off the plane. “What you’re doing helps. I like the distraction.”

  “You like that I’m inches away from your zipper,” she countered.

  “No kidding. I always like when you’re close to my man-bits.”

  She snorted and shook her head, then glanced around. “I should’ve stopped you one drink earlier, it seems,” she snickered as a man across the aisle looked at us.

  I leaned forward in my seat and turned my head to stare him down until he looked away. “Nah, I’m good. The drinks they serve are ridiculous. Considering how many it takes to make you drunk, they must make bank on food service.” I glanced up at the friendly attendant who kept stopping at our seat, who smiled and shrugged. She set a tiny plastic bottle of water on the tray in front of me, and a Diet Coke in front of C.J. She kept looking at us, and I started to worry that C.J. was about to have an issue with the flirtatious blonde. She walked away and came back once more with cookies and packages with Harry and David meats, cheeses, and crackers. Carina watched her with a thoughtful look on her face, and my palms got sweaty.

  “I’m sorry I keep bugging you guys,” she finally said, “But are you C.J. Rivers, the model?” I exhaled a huge sigh of relief, and got a sharp knuckle in the side from my girlfriend in response.

  “Yes, I’m Carina Rivers.”

  I smiled up at the attendant, who was grinning ear-to-ear and glowing.

  “Oh, my God,” she gushed, “My husband is a huge H1Z1 player, and he streams, just like you do.” Her eyes got huge and she dropped her voice to a whisper. “He is going to flip his shit when he hears that I got to serve you and your friend!” Her voice got even lower, so even I could barely hear her, and she added, “Is he, like, with you, with you?”

  C.J. laughed and told her that yes, I was her boyfriend.

  The attendant squeaked and shook my hand. “Oh, you two look so good together! Are you a model too?” I blushed a hot, furious red and shook my head, frowning. She winked at C.J. and walked away to help a complaining passenger, and I leaned into C.J.

  “Does that happen to you a lot?”

  She giggled and shook her head. “It happens, but not all the time. The longer I go without a magazine cover, the less people remember who I am.”

  I wanted to ask her if it made her unhappy, but she smiled at me and threaded her fingers through mine.

  “This is what I want. I want to be known by people like us, and left alone by the ones who don’t get it. I’d rather be your girlfriend than be stopped for pictures and autographs by teenaged boys who are going to go home and tell their friends I slept with them.”

  I agreed to that wholeheartedly, and saluted her with my baby bottle of water before pouring it down the hatch.

  The rest of the flight passed in a lovely amber haze, as C.J. lifted the ban on scotch and regulated my use to keep me calm and relaxed, but still self-ambulatory. The latter was the most important part, since I drank so much I spent close to half an hour in the lavatory over the course of the flight.

  As we bumped and shimmied to a stop on the runway in Austin, I texted Danny to tell him we were back and that I’d be staying in town so I could ambush Tuck the next day. He agreed, and replied that he’d slip into town with Rachel and take us to brunch first, so he could fill me in on the family, and C.J. could ease into meeting the family, instead of being accosted by everyone at once. I knew it was an apology for the things he’d said about her on the phone, and I appreciate the effort. When I relayed the information to C.J., she seemed grateful too. Her sigh of relief made me laugh out loud, the sound ringing out in the confines of the first-class cabin.

  I couldn’t believe how happy I was to be back. It was different than I thought I would feel. Not relief at being home, just happy to be bringing C.J. here to see my family. I could imagine a Christmas trip would feel the same way. It would be nice to box up my computers myself, too. I didn’t trust anyone but C.J or myself to understand their value and do it correctly. It felt right to be here, and to have her by my side. Fast or not, everything I did with C.J. was right. We were young, but we were old enough to know the difference between living and succeeding. Together, I believed we really could take on the world, or at least face the judgment of the Hargrave clan.

  35. Carina

  The flight attendant that had recognized me squealed and clapped her hands when I asked her to be in a picture with me. We ended up taking a couple from each of our cameras, and I even got Jackson in on them. He wanted to ease me into his family… well, I figured I needed to ease him into mine too.

  I posted the pictures from my camera to Instagram, and added the attendant, Melanie, as a friend so I could tag her in them. Soon, comments were rolling in, and sure enough, the trolls started picking on me about Jackson. They called me names for selling out and dating a “pretty-boy,” which made me laugh to myself, and even wished heartbreak and loneliness on me for not choosing to date a nerd. I ignored them and put the phone away, but moments later, sitting at the shuttle stop, I heard Jackson mumbling to himself and looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

  I almost laughed when I saw how upset he was at the hateful and selfish things men had commented on my posts. It was just another day as C.J. Rivers, and I had developed a very thick skin when it came to nonsensical and angry criticisms of my personal life.

  “Let it go, Baby,” I wheedled as he typed furiously. “It doesn’t matter what they say.” He shook me off, and I tried again. “What could they have said that is so important you can’t just let it roll off your back?”

  “Since when am I just a pretty-boy? I have more technological know-how in my flipping pinky fingernail, than these Reddit-using quasi-geeks have e
ver dreamed of having.”

  I scooted away from him and stared at him until he looked back at me.

  “What?”

  “They tell me they hope you leave me or die, they call me the worst names for females their pea-brains can come up with, and send thinly veiled rape threats, and what upsets you is that they think you’re a male model?” I made it a statement, rather than a question, and he pursed his lips and slouched on the bench next to me.

  “I only read the ones I was tagged in. I didn’t know they were saying those things to you. I always stop reading after the third or fourth guy tells you you’re so hot you should direct message him so y’all can hook up.”

  I bumped him with my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It comes with the territory, and I’m used to it. The internet is my food ticket, my best friend, and my worst enemy, all rolled into one giant set of binary code that encompasses the planet and serves to sometimes make life hell.”

  He put his arm around me. “So, what you’re saying is, I should ignore all social media unless I post, then immediately start ignoring it again?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He sighed, but nodded and kept his arm around me until our shuttle picked us up. “When Danny and Rachel come down, I’ll ask if he minds driving the truck so we have it. Doesn’t make sense to rent a car in my hometown when I know my brother’s been putting miles on it for the past week.”

  I agreed, but couldn’t really think of anything to add to conversation. I was more nervous in Austin than I had ever been in LA. Back home, I could agree to anything, handle anything, meet anyone, in theory. Once it became reality, well, that was a different story.

  I would’ve been even more anxious if Jackson had told me where we were staying, instead of letting me believe we were headed toward a hotel. I knew something was up when we were the last people on shuttle and we were heading into a small subdivision right on the edge of downtown. My first thought was bed-and-breakfast. Then I remembered he had not one, but two brothers who lived in town: Tucker, and George, a vet who lived with his high school sweetheart. Next to Tucker, George was Jackson’s favorite brother, and I’d forgotten he even existed. In my defense, it was a lot of people to keep straight, when none of us had met yet.

  “We aren’t going to a hotel, are we?” I asked as we turned down a narrow road.

  “Ah, no. didn’t I tell you?” Jackson replied. “I checked in with George, just to make sure he and Callie were okay, and he demanded we stay with them. Callie isn’t sure how much longer she’ll be up to company with the baby coming, so she wanted to have us visit while she knew she could feed us and be a good hostess.

  “You agreed to impose on your pregnant sister-in-law, rather than spend the night in the hotel?”

  “No, I submitted to the will of my brother and his wife who are waiting for their surrogate to go into labor, which shouldn’t happen for a couple more weeks.”

  I knew there was something hinky about it, but I couldn’t really argue since that was when the shuttle shuddered to a stop in front of a cute Austin bungalow, and a pretty woman in a western button-down and a pair of skinny jeans came running out to meet us. Hot on her tail was a cute little hound and a big pit-bull, with his tongue lolling out of a face-splitting grin. Bringing up the rear was a good-looking man with shoulders as broad as Jackson’s, walking with the aid of a cane.

  “Hey Brother, man is it good to see you!” Jackson grabbed his big brother in a bear hug while I stood next to the woman, watching quietly. Finally, Jackson spun around, and I started to smile, thinking he was about to introduce me, but instead, he picked up his sister-in-law and swung her around, as the dogs jumped up and barked at them. I looked over at the bearded man, and he chuckled and limped forward.

  “I’m George. I’m the middle child, which still makes me older than that young buck.” He snorted, jerking a thumb toward Jackson and his wife.

  “George, this is C.J. Sugar, this is my brother, George, and his wife, Callie. Callie’s been a part of our family so long, when I was little, I thought she was my sister.” He glanced down at the woman under his shoulder. “I guess I was right.”

  I felt more out of place than I had in a long time, but it was George who seemed to pick up on it. He held out his arm and I took it, gratefully. He walked me into the house with the pit-bull prancing around our ankles. When he stepped through the door, the pit stopped and watched him, muscles quivering. George lifted the cane over the threshold, and the pit hovered under him, just in front of his legs.

  I glanced back at his wife in alarm, wondering why neither of them made the dog move, but as Jackson’s brother set the foot of his weaker left leg down on the tile inside the door, the burly dog moved into place, directly at his side, pressed against the leg until George moved his other foot inside and was steady again.

  “I have never seen anything like that before. Does he just do that, or did you train him to?”

  Callie laughed and George smiled at me briefly, before giving all his attention to the soft grey boy at his feet. “That, he just does. He is my trained service dog, but part of that is because he was just meant to be a service dog. Xavi’s my boy, aren’t you, Xavier?”

  Jackson grinned. “You are now in the home where all things broken or stray are welcome,” he teased as he patted his brother on the back and reached down to pet the little hound mutt, who instantly rolled over on her back for a belly rub.

  “So, they let you spend a lot of time here?” I retorted.

  “Oh yeah. We got to watch you play when he was down here too. Almost feel like I know ya,” George drawled.

  I felt the heat of embarrassment crawling up my neck and chest toward my face. “Um, was the volume up?” I squeaked, then cleared my throat. “I mean, could you hear the game, or me streaming?”

  “Oh, we heard enough.” Callie replied as she handed me a beer. “It was almost like George’s voice had lifted an octave,” she said drily, giving her husband a sideways glance.

  “I was in the Marines Corps,” he grumbled.

  I shrugged. “I was a professional model. I’m just glad that’s the only habit I picked up.” Callie laughed, and Jackson looked worried. “I eat and I don’t do coke or speed. You’re good.”

  He put his arms around me and set his chin on my shoulder. “You are something else, C.J.” He squeezed tight and released me so fast, I thought maybe I was imaging the wet shine to his eyes as he reached out and accepted a beer.

  Callie led us to the living room where George took up what I took to be his usual spot in the recliner, based on the dogs waiting for him there. Slinky was the little one’s name and, as she jumped up on the arm of the recliner and rolled down George’s legs just to bound up and slide down into his lap the way she had originally planned, without hesitation, I realized she suited the name perfectly. Xavi, the pit, sat by George’s side, and I watched George automatically reach out with his hand and set it on the big boy’s square head. He set to rubbing the dog behind the ears, and Xavi started blinking slower, but he never stopped watching out for his man.

  Jackson was a lot like Xavi, I thought, though I’d never have said so to him. He was loyal to a fault, but never overbearing. Just, there, to catch you if you stumbled, or make your way a little easier. I leaned in closer to him, and he put his arm around me while I rested my head on his shoulder.

  Callie fussed in the kitchen and I felt honor bound as the only other female in the room to get up and help, but the early morning and the flight had caught up to me. My legs were leaden and numb, and my eyelids sandpaper, more painful every time I opened them. I felt myself falling asleep, but couldn’t make myself move or speak to break the hold fatigue had over me. Even the sound of my own breathing was as calm and rhythmic as a lullaby, I drifted off to sleep in Jackson’s arms, as in the distance, Jackson’s voice told the story of how he had gone from Texas to California, and had now brought me home.

  36. Jackson.

  I felt C.J. slipping off to s
leep and gently laid her down on the sofa so she was leaned away from me. Her head was on a large throw pillow and I lifted her legs into my lap so she could stretch out more comfortably. Callie brought George and me a plate of Tex-Mex rice and beans with homemade tortillas and sweet pork, and told me she’d set something aside for C.J. when she woke up.

  “You know, Jackson, I never expected you to come home with a model. Logan or Danny, yeah, but I thought you had something for mathletes.”

  I laughed and nodded my head. “I do like ‘em smart, George. As a matter of fact, this young lady playing “Sleeping Beauty” on your sofa is not only a sometimes-professional model, but she sews, does leatherwork, creates costumes that win thousands of dollars in prize money, manages a small empire of online income through her entertaining, and she’s quite an accomplished engineer for someone with no education in the subject.”

  George slapped his thigh, setting his plate off balance and sending a small morsel to the floor where it was immediately Hoovered off the tile by the pudgy little Slinky.

  “Well, I guess that settles it. You are the smart one in the family, after all.” He scoffed. “Small empire, huh?”

  “You have a self-made millionaire passed out on your couch, George.” I put a small pillow under her ankles and gently rubbed her calves while she half-slept across me.

  “She seems very sweet,” Callie offered. “And very, very tired. Let me lift her legs off you, and you can carry her to bed.”

  I did as she asked, and was almost surprised when C.J. woke up in my arms. “Go back to sleep Sugar. I’ve got you.” She sighed but her eyes rolled back in her head even as she did, and she fell back to sleep. I took off her shoes and socks and put her to bed, lifting the covers under her chin and smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

  I rejoined George and Callie in the living room, and took a swig from the beer Callie had left on the end table. I was glad that she was sitting the party out. She’d been up earlier than I had that morning, and even I was suffering from travel fatigue.