#playerdown: Players to Men Read online

  Mom.

  She’d gone by Camile Dupont since my teens and not Jones any longer after multiple marriages. Currently, she was somewhere in the Mediterranean, on a cruise, recovering from her fifth marriage. It could only mean she was coming home or already on her way there. I didn’t return her call. The last thing on earth I wanted to do right now was deal with my high-maintenance mother.

  My gaze lit on the time. Shoot! I jumped up. “I gotta go. I have to get ready for my Zoom interview.”

  “We’re leaving, too,” Ila said, rising. “We only stayed to hear Ray’s news. But we’re all meeting up at Mulligan’s later. You coming?”

  I frowned as I picked up my backpack. “I’m not sure if I can make it. I’ll try.” I hugged my friends and then skedaddled out of there. More so, to avoid a certain player before he appeared and gloated over his easy victory at the stupid bet. Not that War gloated or some such inane crap. The guy could say volumes with just a look from those magnetic, deep blue eyes.

  Maybe I should own up, give him the ten dollars, and suffer the gloating. War had every right to do so. And I needed to learn to zip my quick mouth.

  As I headed down the steps and out the main entrance of the building, my mind slipped back to the rehearsal dinner…

  “They’re more involved than they’re letting on,” War murmured from his seat by my side.

  “What? Who?” My gaze lifted from my decadent dessert, clashing with War’s, and those indigo blues almost had me forgetting why he paid me any attention, making me feel as if I truly was his date and not just a bridesmaid to his best man. Darn, I had to stop letting my romance novels’ ideas bleed into real life. Only in fiction did a girl find a guy so solely committed to her that all others ceased to exist.

  “Ray and Jack?” I dismissed it with a wave of my spoon. “No way. Ray’s only interested in getting her degree.”

  He made a noncommittal sound.

  “You don’t believe me?” I demanded. War’s quietness irked me at times. I was damn sure when he had his groupies around, it wasn’t that way. It probably turned into a whole other ball—er, find-the-hidden-puck game.

  He shrugged. “While that might be true, I think Jack changed her mind about him. Their dynamics have altered.”

  “Yeah, right.” I snort-laughed, my attention back on them. Ray sat with her parents, and Jack on their other side. They barely said a word to each other during rehearsals. Heck, they didn’t even look at the other. It was as if they both existed on different ends of the country.

  “You don’t know her like I do.” I dug up a spoonful of my sinful citrus cheesecake, topped with fresh cream and raspberry coulis, and ate the yummy confection. “I’ve known Ray a long time.”

  When that annoying eyebrow quirked, my mouth ran off. “Ten bucks say they aren’t.”

  “And I say they are.”

  Yep, I’d lost that bet spectacularly.

  As I walked alongside the building, debating where to wait for Lyft, the blond hockey player War had rammed into the protective glass strolled out of an exit door marked “Staff and Players Only”. The few girls hanging around darted over and clung to him like extra limbs.

  The security guy stationed there simply shook his head and turned away to speak into his walkie-talkie.

  I slowed my pace and hung back several feet away, not wanting to be mistaken for one of the adoring fans. The exit door opened again and War stepped out, hooking his massive hockey bag over one shoulder, stick in hand.

  The guy was tall, easily around six-four, and muscled. My stupid heart clipped like it was on a fast-track to—to nowhere, dammit! We weren’t even friends, just partners at a wedding now long over. That was all.

  His cell beeped. He retrieved the device from his jeans pocket and glanced at it, the waning sunlight highlighting the lighter streaks in his overgrown brown hair and his lean, unshaven jaw.

  Before I could call out his name, a whirlwind of flying blonde hair rushed past, leaped onto him, and jammed her lips to his. He stumbled back a step, hockey stick falling as he grabbed her waist. She giggled as he set her down, then she shoved something in his hand.

  My fingers tightened around my cell. Hell, I could deal with our bet another time. Why intrude on his hook-up plans for the evening? Ignoring the dip in my belly, I remained where I was, near a parked gray SUV, hoping they’d leave and find some other place to do their canoodling.

  Heck, this discomfort was all on me. I knew his rep, and he was true to form.

  I really needed to find a new template. Someone a little more like me.

  You mean dorky?

  Yes, probably safer! I mentally snapped back at my annoying conscience.

  So, what if I liked hanging at home, reading, sketching, or watching rom-coms?

  It made me happy. I didn’t need a man for that.

  Mostly, I no longer trusted my foolish heart. It always made crappy choices.

  The sun lowered behind the hills, casting looming shadows. I called for a share ride. My app indicated seven minutes.

  “War!” The shrieks deafened me, and I winced, looking up.

  Three of the groupies left his friend and scurried after him like he was the best thing to happen since the internet took life. He stood with his back to me, his hands fisted at his sides, one of them probably still clutching the bit of groupie paper like the map to the holy grail.

  For him, it undoubtedly was.

  Wanting to get away from this Player Show and wait for my ride elsewhere, I stole past him.

  2

  WAR

  “War!” someone yelled again. “You have to come to the party with Cal!”

  Goddammit! My jaw clenching, I ignored the scream and picked up my hockey stick, wanting to get the hell out of here before the groupies descended. The second text I’d received moments ago had already put me in a shitty mood.

  I know who you are. I know what you did.

  The old scar on my biceps twinged as if in response.

  Feet stampeded. For fuck’s sake! I shot up my hand, stopping them dead in their tracks.

  Couldn’t I have a private, goddamn minute?

  Teeth gritted, I stepped back, slamming into someone behind me.

  “Oof!” the groupie at my back grunted.

  “Just. Stop!” I snapped, grasping the wrist of the sneaky girl, halting any bodily contact. Yeah, I was often called a cold bastard, both by my hook-ups who wanted more, and by my opposition who I rammed out of my way in a game. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood and needed to get the hell away before this situation spun any further out of my control—

  “That isn’t very nice, is it Eli?” a familiar, taunting voice drawled.

  My head snapped to the woman I had cuffed. Only one person persisted in calling me by my given name, to make a point.

  Charli lifted a dark eyebrow, her silky, spirally locks framing her delectable, heart-shaped face. Those lush lips slowly curved in a provocative smile, but her dark eyes gleamed with annoyance.

  Because I nabbed her while she’d been sneaking off without a word? Was she trying to avoid me?

  The thought didn’t sit well with me.

  “Yes, it’s not nice to yell, Eli Warrick, but we forgive you!” the groupies surrounding us chanted, along with the bubblegum chewing, lip-locking blonde who’d jumped me.

  “So you’re coming to the party?” someone asked again.

  Frustrated to my back teeth, I dragged Charli close, and they stopped dead.

  “No can do,” I said coolly to the horde, my gaze locking on Charli’s startled cinnamon-brown eyes. I’d forgotten just how tiny she was until I held her against me. The top of her head just about reached my clavicle. But it felt damn good holding her. “This beautiful woman finally said yes. I’m all hers forever.”

  A hush fell. Charli appeared as if I’d clocked her over the head with my hockey stick, and I barely kept from smiling. Before she made a scene, and she would, I put my arm around her shoulders and dr
agged her off, crossing the road to my black truck parked all by its lonesome in the quiet parking lot adjacent to the training center and overlooking the bay.

  I tossed my gear in the back of the double cab, opened the passenger door, keeping her caged between the Escalade and my body. “In you go. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  She finally found her voice. “What the hell, War?” She slapped her hands on my chest, using my nickname now.

  “You play with fire—”

  “Oh, cut the crap!” She sucked in an annoyed breath, then her eyes widened. Groaning, she palmed her face with both hands. “This is so bad. Oh, fuck me!”

  I bent closer to her, letting a taunting little smile form. Whoever watched probably thought we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. “Where do you want me to?” I whispered. “On the hood, inside the cab, back at my place?”

  Her hands lowered halfway to cover that tart, luscious mouth, but those pretty brown eyes blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “To fuck you?”

  She scowled.

  I stifled a grin. “Very well, rain check, then.”

  “Would you stop? If they—” she flung a hand toward the hockey groupies who’d trailed us to the SUV, cells out, and doubtless in a clicking frenzy, “post anything on social media, and my mother sees it, I’m so screwed. Go fix this right now!”

  Her striking light brown skin took on a red shade of temper. Hell, I sure annoyed her. But for the first time, I had a little reprieve from the groupies.

  Since the running board was high on my elevated truck, and she not only wore a short skirt and some kind of wedged heels but was on the smaller side, too, I grasped her by the waist and put her on the seat. “If you don’t want more photos or maybe a vid posted,” I said softly, “stop making a scene.”

  “A-a scene?” she repeated. “Me?” she shrieked.

  Smirking, I shut the door on her furious expression and rounded the hood to my side. Yup, she knew what I was about, using her to escape my stalker fans.

  I opened the driver’s side door and got inside, grateful she kept her delectable butt on the seat and didn’t try to break free. “I assume you’re going home, not joining in the celebrations since you’re not with the Ila or Ray?”

  A ten-dollar bill came flying onto my lap.

  I picked up the note, knew what it was for. “I agreed to the bet, not the stakes.”

  “You nodded at the time when I said ten dollars,” she hissed.

  “I agreed to your bet that I was right, not that I’d pay ten. Too bad you didn’t clearly state the wager amount was for the both of us.”

  I tried not to grin as she glared at me. Our bet amounted to playful words uttered at a party, and not a serious stake, but even so, I was enjoying having this sea urchin at my mercy. Perhaps a little too much.

  I grasped her clenched fingers, gently prying them open, and put the money in her palm. “Why would I bet a measly ten dollars on anything? My rewards are much, much higher. And don’t think I’ve forgotten you were sneaking off behind me to rush off unseen, Charlotte Jones, and without paying up, too. I always collect on my winnings.”

  Lips thinned, her delicate jaw jutted in ire. “Did blondie not pan out?” she asked sweetly, eyes spitting fire. “Banged her already? Slept your way through all the women of San Francisco, did ya? Too bad. Go find some other slank. I’m not sleeping with you!” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, mouth tipping down into a sulk.

  Did she think that’s what I’d been doing since I last saw her? And worse, what I’d expect from her as payment on a silly bet?

  I leaned my arm on the steering wheel and studied her tight expression.

  She had no idea I didn’t do real bets at all—hated them—one ingrained from my childhood and drunken father. But I wanted to shatter that ten-foot pole she used at the wedding to keep me at a distance. Oh, she was funny, amusing, and had a sarcastic mouth that would put Ray’s to shame, but the moment I’d taken a step closer to chat, to ask about something personal, like what she did job-wise, she whipped out the damn pole and shut me down.

  Yeah, I wanted Charli in my bed, but I wanted her to want it, too. The girl eroded the calm I’d worked damn hard to achieve. Hopefully, once this itch for her was scratched, I’d be back to normal. Whatever that shit was.

  “Who said anything about sleeping with me?” I cut her an arched stare. “I want a willing partner in my bed, not a thorny, sea urchin.”

  She growled, and I clamped my lips together, suppressing my smile. It was fun chipping at the pole she pointed at me. My friends all thought I was too intense—hell, my life was intense—but since meeting Charli, she brought out a lighter side of me, one I never knew existed.

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  If her glower could kill, I’d be dead several times by now. I buckled up and started the engine. “There is something I’m real desperate for,” I lied just to rile her, checking the chaotic Mission Bay Boulevard before easing into the evening traffic. I cast her a quick look and winged it. “I need help.”

  Her scowl faded. “For what?”

  “Weeds.”

  “Weeds?” Her mouth dropped open. “Weeds!” she reiterated in a near screech.

  It wasn’t what I’d planned to say. I only meant to bug her as much as I could, then tell her to forget it. But something about me seemed to rankle her, and for some reason, it irritated me. “Yes. My yard needs clearing.”

  “Why-why?” She twisted in her seat, facing me, her tempting breasts rising and falling. “You’re rich. You can afford a team of landscapers. Hell, get your slanks to clean your garden. You’re sure to succeed there.”

  Slanks? I didn’t know the word, but I got her drift.

  “First, that’s my part of the bet,” I reiterated. “And second, why would I want strangers around me? It’s enough I have to deal with them every time I leave my apartment. Besides, you’re not trying to get into my pants, so there’s that.” It was the truth, I realized then. While she might hate me, I liked her. So, all was good.

  She stared at me as if I’d come out of left field and clocked her with my puck. But if it got me what I wanted, I’d use it.

  “Ah, I see…” I dragged out the pause as I stopped at a red light, aware of her dagger-like stare nailing me. “So, you’re the type to back out when a bet doesn’t go your way?” I glanced at her, and her delectable mouth tightened. “Rrriiight. You’re all talk and—”

  “Shut up, shut up!” she growled, flopping back on her seat and glaring straight ahead. “Fine. How many days, two?”

  “You gave me ten dollars,” I reminded her. “For the insult, I think ten days.”

  “You must have been hit in the head with the puck one too many times,” she muttered. “Three.”

  “A week.”

  “God, I’m stuck in a nightmare. Fine!”

  Shutting off a smile, I changed the conversation. “So, you’re not joining in the celebration at Mulligan’s?”

  “As long as it’s away from you, yes!”

  I sighed heavily. “Why all this rancor, Blue?”

  “Don’t call me that!” Those brown eyes snapped to me.

  “But you decided to flash me your underwear.” I slanted her a fake-perplexed look. “G-strings, loved them, by the way.”

  I recalled all too well that evening as we walked out of Grace Cathedral after the wedding rehearsal. The wind had whipped up her short skirt, revealing her blue bikini panties.

  Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut as if lost for words, then another growl erupted. “The wind lifted my freakin’ skirt, and I don’t wear G-strings, ever, you-you butthead!”

  “Names, now?” I rubbed my whiskered jaw and stifled my laugh, then let her be. She lapsed into a sulky silence and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the drive to Pacific Heights.

  As twilight rolled in, I finally brought the truck to a halt outside the gates of the imposing, neo-classical, two-story mansi
on she called home. I knew where she lived since I’d dropped her off after the rehearsals. “Here we are. All safe and sound.”

  She opened the door and jumped out of the truck before I could go and help her down. “I hate you!”

  “Ah, Blue, you wound me.” But her fast exit worried me. She could have tripped, fallen off the running board, and hurt herself. And because I couldn’t resist, “Too bad you’re stuck with me for the next week.”

  Mouth tight, she grabbed her bag from the floorboard, stuck out her tongue, making me laugh, then slammed the door shut. I waited as she stomped off to the small side gate, near the massive one, then I slid down the passenger window and called out, “I’ll be here bright and early! Pack a bag.”

  She spun around, eyes shooting daggers. “I’m traveling to you and leaving at the end of each day! There’s no packing of bags!”

  “But you don’t know where I live, Blue.” I winked at her. She opened and slammed the gate shut, and stalked off. Smiling, I eased back into the traffic and headed toward my apartment.

  Knowing where Charli came from, the crème de la crème of society, no wonder she looked at me as if rats had dragged me out of the sewers. She wouldn’t be wrong.

  Trailer trash and a good girl never did mix.

  But then, I never let anything stand in the way of what I wanted, be it in the game or in life. And if this was the only way to get to her, and shatter that damn pole she used as a weapon between us, then so be it.

  For the first time in forever, outside of playing hockey, I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

  3

  CHARLI

  A bellow of raucous laughter grated my ears as I opened the door into Mulligan’s bar down in the Mission later that evening.

  My Zoom interview hadn’t lasted longer than an hour and a half, so instead of pacing at home, I wound up here to be with my friends. I sidestepped a couple and halted, inhaling a deep breath, the tempting aroma of grilled burgers teasing my nose. With my stomach tying itself into a bunch of knots, eating was the last thing on my mind.