Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection)

by Ketley Allison

  “Any chance you want to come here?” I try.

  “I wish, but I can’t. Locke and Lily might still need me.”

  And that’s the meaning of family. My hand rubs circles on my belly.

  “Plus … I need to be here for one other reason,” Carter says. “Lily’s name change is almost official.”

  I sit up. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Carter laughs, and it’s bright, full, and happy. “She’ll be Lily Tobias-Hayes pretty soon, and I really want you here to celebrate it.”

  I fall back against the couch pillows. “Goddammit, Carter.”

  “Does that mean you’ll come? Locke has a ton of points we can use to fly you up. It wouldn’t cost you anything.”

  Shit. Every excuse I could think of, Carter was trumping it. Except, maybe…

  “I know you have vacation days saved up,” Carter continues.

  Double damn it.

  “And it sounds like you miss me.” Carter’s tone becomes softer. “And I miss you. So how about we put each other out of our misery? Even if it’s only for a weekend.”

  I swipe under my eyes, shining dampness coating my fingers. “You’re too good at this, Jameson.”

  “I know,” Carter says. “Locke barely survives our arguments.”

  “Give me some time to figure things out,” I say, fiddling with the rip in my jeans. “I’ll text you later.”

  “I hope you do. I mean it.”

  “I know.”

  “Love you, Soph.”

  “You too, Carter.”

  I click off, staring at the phone’s screen like its blackness can tell me what to do, even though I know what the right answer is.

  Rising, I pad over to my small kitchenette, microwave myself some instant mac and cheese, and eat it while leaning against the narrow laminate countertop.

  With each chew, I come closer to facing my fears. I scrape up the last of the neon orange cheese with my fork, lick the tongs, withstand the first stomach lurch, but can’t contain the second.

  I sprint to the bathroom, hurling up the contents I didn’t have the time to digest.

  I moan to myself, breathing heavily, forehead against the porcelain. “Soph, you’ve really done it this time.”

  When the warning stomach grumbles abate enough that I don’t think I’m going to hurl again, I dab my mouth with a piece of toilet paper, flush the toilet, and dig into my back pocket for my phone.

  Typing with shaking fingers, I text to Carter, I’ll be there in a few days.

  4

  Ash

  I’m standing in the middle of an empty space that should be my restaurant right now, when I get a phone call from my good buddy, Ben, asking me to flip burgers on his freezing-ass balcony.

  “Really, dude?” I say to him as I snap my fingers to get the head contractor’s attention. He turns, flips me the bird, then continues hammering distressed wood onto my walls.

  Fuckin’ guy.

  “It’s our weekly get-together,” Ben replies. “Everyone’s gonna be there. I don’t think Locke’s syphilis will be contagious anymore.”

  Ben laughs at his own joke.

  “Whatever the fuck they got over in that household, I want nothing to do with,” I say. I stalk over to Horace and flick him in the ear. “Find another line cook.”

  The head contractor startles, pulls out his earbuds, and gets ready to unleash, but I beat him to it.

  “I needed this done yesterday, H. If you keep dragging your feet, I’m looking for new guys. I don’t give a fuck about no winter weather. We’re indoors, for chrissakes. Either get the kitchen done today or we’re done.”

  “Don’t talk like you’re breaking up with me,” Horace says.

  “Get it done, H.”

  “I’m the best in town. You know it, I know it. If you want your fuckin’ Italian marble countertops, that’s gonna take time, you feel me? All this importing and exporting is frying my eyeballs, but I stick with you because I like you. So get out of my face so me and my guys can do the work.”

  “Horace, I’m about to punch your lights out.”

  Horace spreads his hands. “Then you’ll have no walls and no kitchen today. Do it, guy.”

  I level him with a look, smoothing out the lines in my face and going ice cold.

  After a second of hesitation, Horace falters. “All right, all right. You’ll have your kitchen today.”

  I say in a soft voice, “Exactly what I wanted to hear five minutes ago.”

  “You’re a scary ass motherfucker sometimes,” Horace mumbles before swiping a gallon of paint off the floor and stalking away.

  “Job well done,” Ben says in my ear. “If only you’d slay burgers the way you slay your employees.”

  I spin on my heel, primed to yell at someone else. “I’m a formally trained culinary arts master who out-cooked the chef of consommé on my second day in school. I make lemon meringue pies in my sleep. I do not barbecue burgers.”

  “Sophie will be there.”

  That stops me in my tracks. Ben is the only person I told about my one night with Soph after a few too many bourbons, and I threatened to kill him with my chef’s knife if he ever mentioned it again.

  “You’re lucky you’re too far for me to reach,” I growl.

  “Hey, I’m just the messenger. And,” he adds, “We love your burgers.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Are they on the menu of this new place you’re opening?”

  “Of course they are,” I snap. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Then, show us your goods. Cook us what’s on the menu. We’re your investors, after all.”

  “You think you assholes deserve Wagyu beef sliders with black truffle hot sauce?”

  Shockingly, Ben laughs. “You know, you’d think I’d be used to a tattooed biker mofo like you spouting off about black truffles, but I’m really not.”

  “Double fuck you.”

  “Cook us your meat. Enjoy our company. It’s important to me that you be there.”

  I pause in my prowl of the nearly empty space, having nearly stormed over a few petrified sub-contractors in my wake. “Fine. But it’s not because of Sophie.”

  “Never said it was.”

  “Good.”

  “She’s cute, though.”

  I hang up on him.

  The space is strangely quiet now that I’m not barking into my phone or at H, and the eight or so guys spread throughout are intensely focused on their tasks at hand. I glare at each and every backs of their heads I come across while stalking into the kitchen, pretending like the one night I had with Sophie hasn’t been consuming my thoughts since she snuck out of my bed before sunrise the next morning.

  I never called her. More importantly, she never called me.

  And once women taste one of my morning maple-bacon muffins—and I was one short of a Bakers’ dozen when I woke up—they always ask for more.

  Yet, dead silence from one Sophie Addison.

  The kitchen is covered in construction dust, but I’m pleased to see all the main appliances have been installed, including the walk-in cooler. I brush dust off the stainless-steel countertops in the service area, but Sophie still clutters my mind.

  Seeing her at Ben’s place will have more than one benefit, at least. I’ll get to tell, through her expression, if she remembers my tongue between her legs and the types of cries I made her sound out after each and every orgasm.

  I’m usually not forgotten so easily.

  Frowning, I cross my arms and study the food prep section, decidedly unhappy with the distraction Ben put into my head. Either I can continue mulling over the motivations of a one-night stand, or I can move on to what’s important.

  Exactly. The better use of my time is to threaten some more contractors.

  I storm over to the kitchen’s entrance and throw open the doors. “Horace!”

  Fast-forward to this evening, and they got me grilling burgers.

  The scarf is doing shit-all to
prevent the icicles from forming like fangs against my teeth, but this is what you do for family.

  Everyone’s inside, toasty and warm, and I hope they see my glare through the sliding doors as I flip the patties and flip them off at the same time.

  “They better enjoy these fuckin’ burgers,” I mumble into my scarf as I do the last flip.

  Their muffled sounds come through the doors, fogged over with snowflakes and Jack Frost’s ass print. Everybody’s inside, including the girl I slept with a few months ago.

  The name I pretend not to remember. Sophie.

  Hot and small. Exactly how I like them. Flowing, curly blonde hair that tingled my skin every time it got caught in my nipple ring, and a great ass. I made her wear her glasses all throughout fucking her, a hot little librarian who likes to be spanked. Only requirements I need, really.

  Carter spots me, blows a kiss and twiddles her fingers in a wave. I use my spatula to make a sign of the cross like she’s still a carrier of the plague, but it does little to dissuade her.

  Turns out, the chicks my buddies are choosing as their girlfriends have no fear of me. Carter couldn’t give a shit how many tats I have, and the dangle of my chains barely register in Astor’s ears. I watch Astor, a statuesque woman with short brunette hair and crazy-blue eyes, sneak in an arm squeeze as she passes Ben, and wonder when those two are finally going to admit they’re an item.

  A breeze hits the balcony right when I lower the lid of the Webster grill, and I curse, long and mighty.

  If it’s when hell freezes over, then it’s pretty fucking close to time.

  Finally, the damn patties are done. Assholes even had the balls to request certain types of cheeses on each.

  “‘Yo, food’s done,” I say as I slide open the door.

  “Aya!”

  Lily claps her hands at my arrival, the only one who cares I’ve been freezing my balls off. Or shows any excitement over the tray I’m holding. Since she’s the one woman who will ever get me down on my knees, she gets a smile.

  “That’s right, sweet-tart,” I say as I pass. The chains on my jeans do a little jangle, causing her to rise and toddle after me.

  “Someone get the ankle-biter!” I call as I try not to trip over the cherub.

  “Sorry, man,” Locke says and scoops her up. “We’re riveted over here.”

  I drop the tray on the kitchen island. “By what?”

  Now that he says it, it’s pretty obvious the chatter died down about the time I ambled inside.

  “Astor’s case is on the news. Defendants took a plea. Seventy-five years to life, with the possibility of parole.”

  “Shit, they got parole?” I ask and follow him back into the main room. “Didn’t they massacre a family?”

  “The defendants are in their late forties,” Astor says as I come to a stand beside her. She’s close to Ben, whose attention isn’t wavering from the flat screen. “Parole is like a far-off dream to them.”

  “So why’d they accept?”

  Astor shrugs, but there’s the barest consternation behind her relaxed pose. “The state managed to turn Garcia. He got a plea deal for agreeing to testify against Lopez. Lopez is the only one identified in the witness’s testimony.”

  “Witness? That secret little kid, you mean?”

  “Not a kid anymore,” Astor says. I’m kinda uncomfortable under her stare. It’s so … unwavering and strange, like she’s thinking about more than she’s saying. Fuckin’ lawyers.

  “Garcia didn’t want a trial with his best friend testifying against him,” Astor continues. “So, he agreed to a guilty plea.”

  “All gibberish to me,” I say.

  “They’re guilty as sin. And they’re going to pay for it,” Astor says.

  “Says the lawyer defending them,” I say wryly.

  At that, Astor tosses me another shrug.

  Okay, then. Not my problem.

  “Dudes.” I turn to the room. “Burgers. Before they’re cold, and I throw you all off the balcony for letting them sit with their juices leaking out.”

  Lily finds my pants and pulls. “Except you,” I say as I lift her into my arms. “You get first pick.”

  “Buh-guhs.”

  “That’s right, honey pot.”

  Everyone shuffles to a stand, but are halted by Ben’s sudden, booming voice.

  “Wait. We have an announcement to make.”

  I pause in chopping up a patty one-handed with a spatula, Lily wriggling in my other arm for a bite.

  “There’s a reason I’ve asked you all to my place,” Ben continues. He looks to Astor, puts a hand around her waist, and says, “We wanted to tell you all, together, that—well, that we’re together. Astor and I.”

  Silence. Lily babbles something.

  Then, I say, “Who wanted the bare burger again?”

  “Me,” Carter says and sidles up to the island with a plate. “If I eat any more cheese on that platter you made, I’ll become one of the city rats.”

  “There ya go.” I plop one on her plate.

  “I’m starving,” Locke says, kissing Carter’s temple as he passes and tickling Lily’s belly. “Gimme.”

  Easton follows suit, making his a double cheeseburger.

  “Uh, guys?” Astor asks.

  We all turn from our food, an epic feat.

  “What?” Locke says with his mouth full.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Ben asks.

  I shout at the top of my lungs, “Fuckin’ FINALLY!”

  Lily seconds my cheer, and I wince at Carter’s glare, but everyone else claps. Lily takes up the applause by grabbing the spatula from my hand and slamming it repeatedly on the countertop.

  And those poor, sweet, stupid souls over there, the pair of them, are dumbfounded.

  “It was a waiting game,” East says, the first to feel sorry for Astor and Ben. “We actually had bets. Who won, anyway?”

  “Me,” I say. “Always me.”

  “No one’s mad?” Astor asks.

  “Why would we be?” Carter responds. She’s the first to sit back on the couch, balancing a full plate on her thighs. “You two hated each other so much, it was only a matter of time before you fell in love.”

  “Locke?” Astor asks. “Are you…?”

  “What, okay with the whole thing?” Locke gestures with his burger, already half-eaten. “You do know who you dated before Ben, right?”

  Astor purses her lips.

  “I’d say my best friend is an upgrade,” Locke continues, then pounds the rest of his burger.

  “Honestly, we’re fine with it,” East says.

  “Great, even,” I say. “Since now we don’t have to wait for you two to fuck it out.”

  “Ash,” Carter says. “You’re holding a child.”

  “That I am,” I reply. I set Lily down in a traveling high chair thing Locke always brings around these days and give her the chopped cheeseburger. I’m happy to say she demolishes it like a true member of this clan should.

  “I still got one burger left,” I say to the general room. “Who’s missing—wait. Where’s, uh, Sophie?”

  Carter scans the room from her seat. “She was just here…”

  “Ash?”

  Sophie’s voice comes from the balcony. What’s she doing over there?

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” she asks.

  Uh, why? I’m sure that question is all over my face, but it’s not like we announced our hook-up to the crowd. In fact, we kept it on the down low, mostly because I’m reluctant to get any sort of bashing from Carter, Sophie’s best friend. Locke would probably side with her, then I’d have three people up my ass instead of one, and that ain’t no kind of orgy I want to be a part of.

  “Please?” she asks again.

  The rest of the crowd feigns deep interest in their food. I guess Sophie’s happy to blow up our spot.

  “Fine.” I pat Lily on the head, then stalk to the other side of the room. “I’m pretty hungry, though.
”

  The closer I get, the easier it is to see the brown of her eyes turn into deep shit. “This will only take a minute.”

  I’m totally at a loss on how or why I’ve pissed her off.

  We step outside, and she shuts the door. I’m still wearing my scarf, but see she isn’t, so I offer it to her, since I am a gentleman, despite being tattooed in every place possible. She accepts it but won’t meet my stare.

  “What’s up?” I ask, since she’s not eager to speak now that we’re alone. “You couldn’t have done this when my testicles were turning into snowballs, cooking everyone’s dinner?”

  “I had to get up the nerve.”

  “Why are you scared? As far as I remember, I left you satisfied the last time I had you shivering.”

  She jolts, surprised by my bluntness. Well, that’s how I am, bombshell, even though we didn’t really get to know each other before we fucked.

  “I … I don’t know how to say this.”

  I lean an elbow on the balcony railing, its deep freeze leaking through my clothes. “When that happens, I find it’s easier to just say it.”

  She licks her lips, and I wince, because soon that delectable mouth of hers, so plump and warm around my dick, is going to turn into a popsicle. Poor, Florida girl, dumped in this polluted winter city for a supposed vacation. She shoulda waited until spring to visit.

  In a few days at least, she gets to go back to palm trees, and I wish her well.

  At last, her eyes meet mine. I cock a brow. “Well? Speak, bombshell.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  5

  Sophie

  I can’t hear my words over the drumbeat in my chest.

  But my lips are moving, my throat is vibrating, and Ash’s face has turned grayer than the clouds in the surrounding winter sky, so I take it he heard me say, I’m pregnant.

  Ash’s jawline goes rigid. Muscles chisel out of his cheeks. “Come again?”

  I swallow, wishing I could cling to the balcony’s railing to keep upright, but it’s colder than the pit in my stomach. “I … I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”

  Ash massages his neck, stretching the inked dragon’s head. He’s grown his hair out these past few months. I’m focusing on that, instead of whatever the hell is about to come out of his mouth.