Playing for Keeps (Hope Valley Book 10)

by Jessica Prince

  I tipped my head farther back to get a better look as hilarity washed over him. His smiles were a thing of beauty, his chuckles made my heart flutter, However, this laugh was unlike anything I’d ever seen. I hadn’t thought it possible for him to get any more gorgeous than he already was. Then he laughed, and the world stopped spinning so I could take it all in. Only I wasn’t sure what he found so damn funny.

  His eyes were still dancing with humor when he finally got a hold of himself and looked back down at me. “What’s so funny?”

  “The fact you thought you had to convince me you weren’t perfect,” he said, a chuckle still shaking his chest. “Believe me, Thumbelina, I’m well aware of the fact you aren’t perfect.”

  My eyes narrowed into slits when he started cracking up again. “All right,” I said snootily. “You don’t have to laugh so damn hard about it.”

  “You did everything you could to make my life miserable when I was put in charge of keepin’ you safe. You were loud, you picked fights constantly, you’re hardheaded, you had shit taste in music, you’re messy, and you were constantly eatin’ my yogurt, even though I put my name on it before stashing it in the fridge. Christ, baby. You pretended to have menstrual cramps just so you could sneak out on me when I was tryin’ to protect you. Straight up, you were a pain in my ass, so trust me when I say you don’t have to warn me.”

  I squirmed in his arms until he was forced to let me go, and took a step back, planting my hands on my hips while shooting fire from my eyes. “First off, I do not have shit taste in music.”

  “Babe, every one of your playlists is like bein’ trapped at the goddamn Lilith Fair with no escape.”

  “Second,” I continued, ignoring his dig, “I’m not messy. I know exactly where everything is.”

  His brows climbed high on his forehead as he looked around my apartment to the piles of clothes and shoes strewn about.

  “I got really tired after finishing my laundry,” I defended snappily. “But I’ll have you know, they’re all clean, and like I said, I know exactly what is in each and every pile.”

  He grinned arrogantly, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, kiss it or smack it off his sexy, stupid face. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

  “And last, that yogurt was in my fridge. That means, labeled or not, it was fair game.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his chin up. “Do you even like yogurt?”

  The answer to that was a firm no. I really didn’t. I thought all yogurt tasted like absolute crap. But Dalton liked it, and back then, after he’d invaded my privacy and was fighting me every step of the way when it came to taking down Cormack and his operation, I might have been feeling a tad bit petty.

  I kept my expression snide, but my gaze darted off to the side as I mumbled, “I like yogurt just fine.”

  He chuckled again, making warmth pool in the center of my chest as well as in the apex of my thighs. “Liar.”

  “Fine,” I snapped, looking back at him and mimicking his stance with my arms folded over my chest. “I hate it, okay? Happy now? But you’re a pain in the ass too, you know. You’re bossy and controlling and way too macho, and—and—you leave the toilet seat up after you pee! Like every time.”

  Back when he’d been in the role of my babysitter, arguments like this would blow up into much bigger fights. Both of us were stubborn as hell, and we had a knack for pushing each other’s buttons to the point I’d started to suspect it wasn’t because we hated each other, but because we both seemed to get off on it, like it was our own twisted version of foreplay.

  He hit me with a full-blown smile just then, and I got the eerie feeling he knew exactly what I was thinking and that my suspicions were right. “At least we know now that shit’ll never get stale or boring between us.”

  Before I could say another word or think up some kind of argument about why this couldn’t work, he reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me back into his embrace, and I couldn’t stop myself from turning all gooey inside. Being in his arms like this just felt . . . right.

  He placed his palm on the side of my neck and dragged his thumb along my jawline and bottom lip, making me shiver with need. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and gentle, his eyes glinted with sincerity. “You’ve had more bad in your life than anyone deserves, baby. I know you don’t think happiness is in the cards for you, but I’m gonna do everything in my power to prove you wrong. We can take this at your speed, Charlotte. Just give me a chance to show you what it’s like to be with a man who knows how lucky he is to call you his.”

  He lowered his head, the fierce longing heated that dark gray eyes, making the breath whoosh from my lungs. “Give me a chance to make you happy.”

  I’d spent so long wanting exactly what he’d just promised but denying myself and fighting him at every turn. As I looked up at him just then, my desire to have everything he was offering, to have him, became impossible to ignore.

  “Okay,” I said on an exhale.

  His head descended the rest of the way. His lips brushed against mine in a feather-light caress, but it was enough to light that fire in me all over again. I wanted him to take the kiss deeper, and judging by the groan that rumbled up his throat, that was exactly what he’d intended to do. However, before things could get hot and heavy, there was another knock on my door.

  We both froze, only moving our heads to look toward the door.

  There was another knock, this one followed by Ms. Weatherby’s raspy smoker’s voice. “Charlotte? Charlotte, you there?”

  Dalton’s focus returned to me, one of his brows rising in question.

  I sighed and gave my head a shake before whispering. “Well-meaning but incredibly nosey neighbor.”

  “Are you okay?” Ms. Weatherby continued to call through the door. “I saw a man go in a while ago. He was pretty darn big. Then I heard raised voices. Say the word and I’ll call the cops.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlotte

  I broke out of Dalton’s arms and raced to the door. “I’m here, Ms. W!” I called out as I stubbed my toe on one of my discarded shoes that was laying around. “Ow! Damn it!”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Her voice dropped to her version of a whisper, which wasn’t very quiet at all. “Is he tryin’ to get fresh with you?”

  I hopped on one foot the rest of the way to the door, shooting Dalton a glare as he chuckled quietly.

  “No. Ms. W. It’s all good.” I whipped the door open so she could see I was alive and well. “No need for the police. See?” I held an arm out. “I’m just fine.”

  Her beady eyes looked skeptical from behind her thick glasses as she scanned me up and down. She wasn’t convinced. “You sure? ’Cause you’re lookin’ a little rough.” Her eyes narrowed further. “Your hair’s a mess, your skin is all red, and you look like you have a rash on your chin and cheeks.”

  Oh my fresh hell. My elderly neighbor just called out the fact Dalton had given me beard burn.

  “Um . . .”

  A throat clearing came from deeper in the apartment, and when I turned to look, Dalton was scrubbing at his mouth in an attempt to cover up that he was smiling like an idiot.

  I threw him a stern look, scrunching my lips and bugging my eyes out, barely moving my mouth as I whispered, “Shut it.” That only made him laugh harder.

  “It’s rude to hide behind corners,” Ms. W called out. “Show yourself, young man.”

  I curled my lips between my teeth to hide my grin, but I knew it was shining through in my eyes as he came up beside me at the door. He was wearing a charming expression I knew was all for Ms. Weatherby as a way to soften her up, and as soon as she laid eyes on him, I knew his façade had worked.

  Her cheeks immediately began to glow a bright, vivid pink, and her eyes fluttered behind her glasses. “Oh,” she breathed out. “Oh my.”

  Yeah, oh my was most definitely the right reaction for the situation. I could still remember the first time
I’d laid eyes on Dalton Prescott, and it had certainly been an oh my moment.

  “Sorry about that, ma’am. Didn’t mean any offense.” He held out his hand, and I thought my little old neighbor might expire right there in the hallway. “I’m Dalton. It’s really nice to meet you.”

  If it wouldn’t have been so obvious, Ms. Weatherby probably would have fanned herself as she took his offered hand.

  My eyebrows shot up when her warning tone changed to spellbound. “Oh, that’s quite all right.” She gave him a full-body scan. “Well, aren’t you a big man?” Those beady eyes came back to me. “Charlotte, darlin’, you didn’t tell me you were seein’ someone. And a man so handsome to boot.”

  I swallowed down my laughter. “Sorry, Ms. W. It’s, well . . . it’s new.” I turned to Dalton, peeking up at him through my lashes as shyness washed over me. When our eyes locked, I saw the tender way he was looking at me and nearly melted into a puddle.

  A bit of that mesmerized awe lifted, her expression growing shrewder as she informed Dalton, “Well, then I’ll need to check you out, make sure you’re deservin’ of our Charlotte here. You’ll come over for a glass of lemonade, and we’ll have ourselves a little chat.” It wasn’t a question whatsoever.

  “Yes ma’am. You just tell Charlotte the time, and I’m sure—”

  “No time like the present.” There was absolutely no room for argument when her wrinkly little arm shot out and those arthritic fingers of hers wrapped around Dalton’s arm in a grip tighter than I thought her capable of. She yanked him forward and hooked her arm through his like she was a debutant and he was her escort.

  “Have fun,” I called out with excitement as she forced him across the hall. Dalton looked back over his shoulder in bewilderment, and I grinned like a maniac while lifting a hand and waving. “Ms. W makes the best lemonade ever. You’re gonna love it.”

  I quickly slammed my front door before I could be pulled into that nightmare. I’d already had my allotment of lemonade for the next few weeks, any more and the salt would most likely dry my insides out like a freaking sarcophagus.

  To be on the safe side, I grabbed some clothes from the piles scattered around and dressed like it was a sprint before grabbing my keys and jogging out of the apartment. I didn’t know where I was going, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that, after thirty minutes with Ms. Weatherby, Dalton would be raring to pay me back, and I had no intention of being here when that happened.

  My suspicions were confirmed when, just as I started my car, my phone pinged with a text.

  Dalton: Next time I see you, I’m putting you over my knee and tanning your ass . . . if all this salt doesn’t kill me first.

  I pulled out of the complex’s parking lot on a big belly laugh.

  The morning after abandoning Dalton to the insanity of my neighbor, I woke up feeling more rested than I had in a really long time. Hell, there’d even been a hint of a smile on my face as I peeled my eyes open and turned to look out my windows at the bright, sunny morning that lay beyond the glass.

  Thanks to those kisses we’d shared the day before, and how they’d left me twisted up and wanting more, my sleep had been riddled with erotic images of the man who was quickly driving me out of my mind instead of the dark, twisted nightmares that usually plagued my sleep.

  Halfway through my shower, I’d thought back to his words from the day before, how sincere he’d sounded when he asked me to give him a chance, and I’d decided I was going to try and be brave. I was going to step out of my comfort zone and show him I was taking this new attempt at an “us” seriously.

  And what better way to do that than with a peace offering of donuts and coffee from the best coffee shop in existence? Hopefully, coming to him bearing sugar and coffee would pave the way to getting him to forgive me for leaving him to the clutches of Ms. Weatherby.

  My steps were a bit lighter, and my shoulders didn’t feel like they were weighted down with sandbags as I pushed my way through the door of Muffin Top.

  As usual, the line extended nearly the entire length of the coffee shop, and as I moved to take my place in the back, I got that niggling, itchy feeling on the back of my neck again, a feeling of being watched. I’d felt it in the parking lot of my complex last night after I got back home, but as usual, there hadn’t been anyone there. I couldn’t wait for the day when my paranoia would eventually go away. I clasped the strap of my purse tightly, needing something to do with my hands as I discreetly scanned the faces around me, looking for God only knew what.

  Then I heard an unfamiliar voice call my name.

  My eyes darted to the other side of the shop, and when I caught the gaze of the woman who’d called me, my lungs stalled out.

  Across the room, at a table by the window, Dalton’s sister was waving me over with a huge, gorgeous smile on her face. And she wasn’t alone.

  With her was an older couple. The woman was smaller, more petite, her hair, sprinkled with gray that actually looked really nice with her dark chestnut locks, was cut in a very sophisticated bob, and the big man looked an awful lot like how I imagined Dalton might look twenty-plus years from now.

  His parents.

  Instinct told me to turn and run in the other direction, but my feet carried me in the direction of their table like they had a mind of their own.

  “Charlotte, hey,” Dalton’s sister, Jolie, greeted like we were lifelong friends. “I’m so glad we ran into you.” I was thrown for a second because she sounded so genuine, given the one and only run-in we’d had with each other the day before had been less than pleasant.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Charlotte, Dalton’s . . . friend,” she stressed in a way I didn’t quite understand, and it left me feeling a little unsettled. When I looked to the older couple, I saw their eyes were lit and their expression looked almost knowing, like they were in on a secret I wasn’t privy to. It was almost as if they knew me. “Charlotte, these are my and Dalton’s parents, Lorene and Walt Prescott.”

  “Um, h-hi.” My smile was wobbly and nervous as I held out my hand to Dalton’s mom. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Prescott.”

  “Oh, no need to be so formal,” the woman insisted, her face shining with kindness. “Please, call me Lorene. Or Lori, whichever you prefer.”

  “And I’m just plain old Walt,” the man stated, offering his hand once I finished shaking his wife’s. “Pleased as punch to meet you, darlin’. Heard a lot about you.”

  My chin jerked back in complete surprise. “Um, you have?”

  “Oh, of course,” Lorene chirped. “Dalton’s been talking about you for months. We saw the story on the news when all that dreadfulness happened. I’m so sorry you were hurt, sweetie.”

  “But Dalton told us you were on the mend,” Walt added. “Glad to see you’ve recovered.”

  Lorene’s face grew gentle. “What you did was very brave,” she said softly.

  “Oh, uh . . .” My sinuses began to sting all of a sudden, and I had to clear my throat in order to speak past the knot that had formed. “Thank you.”

  “We’re really happy everything turned out all right in the end,” Jolie chimed in. “Are you busy? We’d love for you to join us.”

  This whole situation was so surreal. These people were complete strangers, but with how open and nice they were being, it kind of felt like I’d known them forever. I’d been dating their son for all of five seconds, but as odd as it was, I actually found myself wishing I could join them for coffee.

  “I’d love to, but I actually stopped in to pick something up and take it to Dalton at his office.”

  Jolie’s smile got even bigger, Walt’s expression turned to one of approval, and Lorene squeaked like a giddy schoolgirl. “Oh, what a lovely gesture,” Dalton’s mother cooed. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it. He works so much.” She gave me a conspiratorial look, like we were sharing in that knowledge when, in fact, I didn’t know much about Dalton’s work except for the weeks he’d been on Guard Charlie du
ty. “We have to travel here from our home in Wyoming every year just to see him because he’s too busy to come visit us.”

  “What he’s doin’ is important,” Walt said to his wife. “Case in point, the lovely Charlotte here. We’re retired. It’s easier for us to hop on a plane.”

  Lorene looked to Walt with a stern expression that didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. “We may be retired, but Jolie still has a job and has to take a week off every year.”

  “I don’t mind,” the woman in question stated before looking to me and explaining, “Pembrooke’s great and all, but it’s nice to get away. And we always rent this gorgeous cabin down by the lake. You won’t hear any complaining from me.”

  It felt like I was getting a crash course on Dalton and his entire family, and I wasn’t quite sure how to react to it. As nice as they were, these people seemed to know a whole hell of a lot about me, and I honestly didn’t know how or why.

  “I’m sure he appreciates you guys being so accommodating,” I offered, unsure what else to say or if it was even my place to speak up, but they kept looking at me so damn expectantly.

  “See,” Walt crowed. “She gets it.”

  I didn’t know what I got, but I smiled, playing along with whatever the hell was happening here.

  “We won’t take up any more of your time,” Lorene offered. “It was so nice meeting you, and I hope we see you again before we leave.”

  I opened my mouth to say my goodbyes, but Jolie got there first. “You should come to dinner with us tomorrow night,” she declared brightly.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” My palms began to sweat as nerves twisted my intestines into knots. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense!” Lorene cried, quickly jumping onboard her daughter’s train of thought. “It’s no intrusion at all. In fact, we insist.”

  I’d never done the whole parent gig with a man I was in a relationship with, let alone the minor fact that Dalton and I were nowhere near this level of seriousness. If relationships were marathons, Dalton and I would still be at the signup tent, pinning our numbers on. These three people were acting like we’d just crossed the finish line hand-in-hand.