Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4) (6 page)

Two can play at this game, I remind myself as I watch Shayne. She’s sitting on the top of the picnic table, legs crossed under her dress, while some dude in a trucker hat talks her ear off as she eats carrot sticks with ranch dip off her plate.

She’s been talking to him, and only him, for the last hour. The sun is quickly setting and the whole lake is reflecting golden light from the pink-and-gold sunset and it’s making her look even hotter. And naturally that’s making me nuts. Josh started a fire. Audrey is pulling out marshmallows and hunting down sticks. The air is still muggy and warm, and my mood is making me even hotter under the collar.

It’s one thing for her to brush me off. I mean, I guess I kind of deserve it since I haven’t explained why I’ve been MIA for almost two weeks. I really want to, but I can’t tell her I’m a hockey player just yet, and I haven’t figured out how to lie without really lying. I could say I was on a business trip, which is technically true, but what if she asks me what I do? I’ve already admitted I have money, which is also not a lie, so she’s probably curious how I earn it.

I have to tell her what I do, but I want to get back to what we were that first night. And I’m not just talking about the sex part. I’m talking about the way she smiled at me, the way she flirted. The excitement in her eyes. I want to bring that out again. I want her to feel that again so she’s willing to make an exception to her silly hockey hate thing.

The douche in the trucker hat leans down and whispers something in her ear. Shayne tips her head back to laugh, but when she rights herself, her eyes find mine. And I am suddenly very certain she wants me to see this. I stand up from the camping chair I’m sitting on by the fire and walk right up to a blonde I met earlier named Carly. She made it clear that she was interested in me earlier with the way she flipped her short blond hair and begged me to be her volleyball partner.

“So how’d you do out there?” I ask, and nod my head toward the sandy makeshift volleyball court.

“We lost.” She frowns and then puts her hand on my chest. “But I would have won if you’d been my partner!”

I glance over to where my new friend Josh, who was her partner, is standing staring at us. He heard everything. I give him a quick “sorry, bud” look and he shrugs. I look down at her and give her my best puppy dog face.

“I wanted to play,” I say, making sure my voice is soft and deep, the way I talk to sports reporters after a tough loss, because chicks have told me they love that. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret…”

I let my sentence trail off and hold my breath as I glance around as if to make sure no one is paying attention, when in fact I’m making sure I have Shayne’s full attention. My eyes catch hers briefly, and she quickly looks away, which means she’s riveted to my little scene. I bend so my head is right next to the blonde’s ear, and I use my hand not holding a beer to push her chin-length hair back so I’m right against her ear. “I’m kind of injured.”

As I pull back her big blue eyes flare and her hand moves from my chest to my elbow. She squeezes it sympathetically. “Oh my God, really?”

Her voice got louder so I shush her, and I notice Shayne isn’t even pretending not to pay attention anymore. “Nothing serious, just a strained tendon in my wrist, but we start playoffs soon so I need to be careful,” I say quietly, because I haven’t told anyone—except the trainers and my coach.

“What happened? Did you fall on it on the ice or did someone hit you with a stick or something? What do they call that? Slashing, I think?” I nod, and she smiles like she thinks she’s a genius for figuring it out.

I smile and try not to think about the fact that the team doctor looked a little more concerned yesterday than I would have liked. “No big deal, I shouldn’t miss any games. I landed a punch wrong in a fight. Just bad luck.”

She nods and lifts her red Solo cup to her lips, taking a sip before smiling at me and batting her eyes. “Maybe your luck will change tonight?”

I watch her walk away, back over to her gaggle of girlfriends by the shore. Wow. That’s too easy. But I want Shayne. Only Shayne.

I glance over at her, and she’s staring right back at me. She says something to Trucker Hat, jumps off the table and makes her way over to the fire—right where I’m standing. She stops half a foot from me, her eyes set on the crackling fire in front of us.

“Hope you brought a condom, Frenchie,” she murmurs, still looking at the fire.

“You don’t have one in your bra this time?”

Even in the low light I can see the red flush on her cheeks that that comment is causing. God, I fucking love making this girl blush. As always, she recovers much more quickly than I’d like.

She steals a glance at me and subtly points to Carly with the index finger wrapped around her beer. “She looks like she’s got more STDs than IQ points.”

“At least she’s not in a trucker hat,” I retort and snort a little in disgust. “Make sure he double bags it.”

She can’t keep a straight face at that comment. She cracks a grin and I grin back. She’s got one hell of a smile. It’s like it starts in her toes and pulls up her entire body. It’s honestly contagious. I lean toward her. “Oh, and by the way, next time you stock up on condoms, make sure to buy Magnum. That one the other night was a little tight.”

“Wet Hide and Go Seek!” Audrey yells from the water’s edge.

A roar erupts and people start peeling out of their clothes. I look to Shay for some indication of what the hell that means. She turns her back to me and yanks her dress down, leaving it in a pile on the grass. She’s in nothing now but a coral strapless bikini, and the sight makes my jaw drop so low I’m surprised it’s not hitting the sand. I watch her step out of her flip-flops and take a few steps toward Trucker Hat, who is beckoning me from the shore.

Then Shay and everyone else on the beach except for Josh, who is counting down loudly from fifty with his back to the shore, is running into the water.

I don’t want to be left behind so I yank my shirt over my head, drop my keys and my cell, kick out of my shoes and run for the water. It’s fucking cold! But I would follow Shay and her coral bikini into the Arctic if I had to, so I clench my teeth and keep wading in.

Shay’s stopped to pull her hair up. Trucker Hat hasn’t bothered to wait for her, thankfully. I run toward her, water splashing up around me, and I give her ass a tiny smack as I blow by her and dive under. When I pop back up I turn toward her. She’s a shadow now, but when I hear her say, “Fucking Frenchie!” I know she’s smiling and I smile back

She’s slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the water and I can see her wincing at the cold as she does it. I swim over and reach out and grab her hand and yank her forward until the water is up to her shoulders. She squeals, but it sounds like a delighted squeal. The kind of squeal my dick wanted to make as soon as she dropped that dress and revealed that tiny bikini. I keep hold of her arm and pull her as I swim deeper into the lake, away from Trucker Hat.

“So what the fuck are we doing?” I ask her, because I don’t know what Wet Hide and Seek is. When everyone ran to the lake I just followed along.

“We’ve been playing this for years. Started in college. We used to get drunk and hop the fence at the outdoor pool on campus. The lights are always off at night and it’s pitch-black, like this,” she explains, and she keeps swimming with me even though I’ve let go of her arm. “The goal is for everyone to ‘hide’ in the water. Because it’s so dark, you can’t see a thing. The person counting has to swim out and, by feel and sound only, try and find people. You can swim around or stay put. It’s ridiculously juvenile but somehow also incredibly fun.”

I can barely touch the bottom of the lake now, so I’m sure she can’t. Something brushes by my foot, probably some lake plant or maybe a fish, but when it brushes by her she squeals again and splashes backward into the water. I’m on her instantly, pressing a wet hand to her mouth as she finds her footing.

“Shh! Josh’s almost done counting,” I warn her.

She bites down on my palm. I swallow a yelp and yank my hand away. “Since when do you like it rough?”

“One lightning-fast quickie and you think you know anything about what I like?” she says and turns and starts to swim away from me, toward the long dock that juts out into the water from the left side of the half-moon beach.

I easily swim along behind her. She reaches the dock and raises her arms, bobbing up in the water so her hands can grab onto the wooden planks above her. She steadies herself just as Josh yells out, “Ready or not here I come, bitches!”

I tread water directly in front of where she’s hanging from the dock. My eyes are level with her stomach, I think, but there’s not enough light to be sure. I want to reach out and touch her, but I want to do it with my tongue, so I refrain completely.

“You know your attitude is making this lake even colder,” I whisper to her quietly. I can’t see her but I can hear her breathing. “If you aren’t careful, it’s going to freeze over.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then another blast of cold air. “I’m sorry if you’re used to more fawning or stalking or something after a fling.”

The water ripples around me so I know she moved, and I hear the wood creek from the dock. Did she let go or just adjust her position? Is she swimming away? But then she speaks, and her voice is still coming from in front of me. “Would you like me to create an I Slept with Frenchie Facebook page?”

There’s more attitude inside her than there is blood or oxygen. And I fucking couldn’t be more turned on right now. “I was out of town,” I say, because even though the snark is hot, I need to clear the air.

“What?”

“I left the morning after we met,” I explain quietly into the darkness. “And I got back last night.”

“Oh.”

“And since you disappeared as soon as you climaxed, I had no way of contacting you until this morning.” I go on swimming a little closer to where I think she is. “Until I took your little stretching class.”

“Yoga, not stretching. And you should take a few more. You’ve got the flexibility of a rock,” she mutters.

She stops talking as we watch a shadow, most likely Josh, swim in the other direction and someone else flail and scream as he catches them. It sounds like Audrey.

“Now she’ll join Josh and hunt the rest of us down,” Shay whispers.

When we’re sure that their splashes are getting farther away, we resume our conversation.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I ask bluntly.

“You think I slept with you when I had a boyfriend?”

“I think you’re a sexy, smart, beautiful woman who bends in yoga pants in front of men all day,” I reply calmly. “So it’s possible in the last twelve days you found someone else to lock in the laundry room.”

She laughs at that. It’s soft but I can hear it and it makes me smile.

“You were my last fluff-and-fold.”

“So you’re single?” I move closer—very slowly so as to not disturb the water and draw attention.

“Yes.”

“Because you had the most amazing sexual experience of your life in a laundry room a few week ago and now everyone else would be a disappointment.” I say it like it’s a statement of fact and not a guess.

“Frenchie, your ego is out of control,” she whispers, but she’s almost breathless.

“I have to believe it was amazing for you,” I tell her, the anonymity of the pitch-black making it easy. “Because it was amazing for me.”

She says nothing. Not a word. I reach out and find her bare stomach hanging in front of me. I touch her hips, feeling the edge of her bikini bottoms. Her breath hitches. I hear it. I’m about to pull her down and into a kiss when she hisses. “Someone is swimming this way!”

I slip under the dock with her. I reach up and grab the boards above me, right next to her, and inch a little deeper under the dock. She moves with me. We’re hanging side by side almost midway under the dock when suddenly there’s a small splash and a hand swings out inches from us. Someone giggles. It’s Audrey. She pauses in front of us. Her arm reaches out again, barely missing my stomach, and then she gives up and turns and swims away.

When I know she won’t hear the movement in the water, I move forward with my hands, then let go of the dock with my left and swing around so I’m hanging directly in front of Shay, facing her. I can make out the outline of her face and body at this close proximity. My injured wrist is starting to ache but I don’t give a fuck.

“You know all the right lines,” she says, and she sounds annoyed.

“With you there are no lines,” I tell her honestly.

“Shut the fuck up,” she hisses, but I can feel the smile in her voice.

“Make me.”

It happens so fast I don’t really know what’s going on. She swings her body forward and lets go of the dock. Her arms hit my shoulders and her legs wrap around my waist. She’s not trying to kiss me; she’s trying to drown me! She’s not heavy, but with my gimp wrist, I can’t hold us up, and we plunge under the water.

Submerged in the cold lake, I cup her ass briefly and pull her into me, knowing damn well she can feel my mostly hard dick pressed against the space between her legs, and then I bite her shoulder lightly before letting go, pushing away and breaking the water’s surface. I feel Josh’s big hand slam down on me as soon as I’m up.

“Gotcha!” he bellows.

I lunge forward and my hand makes contact with the back of Shayne’s head as she breaks the surface of the water. “Gotcha!”

“Damn it!” she bellows, and Josh and I laugh.

It’s late and everyone is finally packing up and going home. I should too. I have to work tomorrow
and
I need to wake up extra early so that I can take the bus, since I never did get my car to a mechanic. My eyes find Sebastian sitting across the campfire. That blonde is talking to him and he’s nodding every now and then, but his eyes are looking straight forward, over the dying flames and right at me. He winks at me. I roll my eyes at him and act annoyed, but oh my God, I want him so badly it’s making me squirm. I stand up and instantly rub my arms. It’s cold away from the warmth of the dying embers. I glance over at Audrey, who is packing up her cooler with Josh.

“Can I grab a lift home?” I ask her.

She glances up at me and smiles, her eyes sliding from me to Sebastian. “Hey, Seb! Shay needs a lift home. Can you help her out?”

“Audrey! I meant—”

“Of course!” Sebastian says easily, and he starts to stand. “That’s what friends are for!”

“Naked friends,” Audrey adds so only I can hear, and I slap the air in her general direction.

Sebastian walks over and casually drops an arm over my shoulders. “Hey, buddy! Ready to go?”

I heave a giant, agitated sigh and try to shrug out of him, but I fail as his hand grips my shoulder tightly to hold me in place. “Oh, and Sebastian,” Audrey says as she starts to walk toward Josh’s SUV. “She’ll probably need a lift to work tomorrow morning, so maybe you should just spend the night.”

“Audrey!” I snap, my face flushing instantly. I throw my empty beer can at her.

She dodges it and laughs. “Call me tomorrow, Shaynie!”

I raise my middle finger at her even though she can’t see it in the dark. Refusing to acknowledge the cocky smirk I
know
must be on Sebastian’s face, I finally peel out of his arm and retrieve my empty beer can and throw it in the garbage. Sebastian pours the rest of his on the fire, extinguishing it completely. I glance around subtly and am relieved to find Carly, his blond admirer, seems to be gone. I was worried he would drive her home too. At least now I know he’s going to take me home and not fuck her in his car immediately afterward.

Unless he heads to her place after he drops you off,
my brain reminds me. It’s not unimaginable to me because it’s happened to me. My first college boyfriend, Dustin, used to drop me off early after dates claiming he was tired from hockey practice and then spend all night at sorority parties picking up girls. I push down the uncomfortable thought and turn to where Sebastian is dumping the ice from one of his coolers onto the now-dead fire. He looks up as I grab my bag off the picnic table and pick up his other cooler. He smiles. It’s not the cocky, smartass smile I’m used to. It’s softer, gentler, more humble. I like it just as much as his cocky one.

“You going to tell me where you live or should I just drive aimlessly around the city?” he asks me softly as he loads the coolers into the trunk.

“Head west. I’ll talk you through it,” I reply and walk to the passenger door.

He opens my door and then walks around and gets in the car. Wow, his game is on point. He can play the flirt, the cocky egomaniac and the gentleman. I’m sure he figures one of these personas will work on me, but I’m not like other girls. I try to ignore the pointed little voice in the back of my head that says I’ve already given in to him, just like other girls, and that I want to give in to him again. Because damn it, he’s hot. And he wasn’t blowing me off. He was out of town. He could be lying to me, but my life is generally a series of badly timed events so I can totally believe I met the hottest man on the planet the day before he got on a plane.

He starts the car and begins down the narrow, dark street. I keep stealing glances at him while he drives, when the occasional streetlight illuminates his profile. His hair is wavy from the lake water, and he’s got significant five o’clock shadow happening on his strong jaw.

“So how are you a millionaire?” I can’t help but ask.

“Guess.”

“Dot-com? You invented a popular website? An annoying app that the kids are obsessed with?” I say partly joking.

He chuckles and it’s so deep and sexy I feel it between my legs. “‘The kids’? What are you, eighty years old? In your day did you walk to school uphill in a snowstorm in bare feet?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. When we’re both quiet, he shakes his head. “Not a dot-com.”

I stare at the dark road ahead. “Trust fund? You’re parents are rich, so you don’t have to do anything but gym, tan, laundry all day every day.”

He makes a face like he ate something rotten. “No trust fund. I earned my money.”

He has a proud tone to his voice, and it makes me even hornier for him. I may not care about money, but I do care that whomever I date is a self-made man. I mean, not that I’m dating him. Because I’m not. He hasn’t even asked me on a date. He might not…

“So what then?” I demand.

“Nah. I like this game. You’re going to have to earn it,” he says firmly. “Keep guessing.”