Risky Play (Red Card #1)(21)

His bluish-silver eyes twinkled as he adjusted his bow tie then ran a massive hand through his dyed dark-brown hair.

With a sigh I leaned back in my chair. “It’s work.”

“A job should never be work,” he countered.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Trust me, with the way things are going, I’ll probably be begging to get back on the payroll.”

“We paid you?” he asked.

“Very funny. Actually, I think I need a raise.”

He ignored me and poured a glass of Cab Franc. My eyes watered a bit as he held the glass to me and then swirled the liquid. “Look at the legs on this one.”

“You say that to all the pretty reds.” I winked and took the stem with two fingers, then held it to my nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmmm, raspberries? A hint of . . . is that chocolate?”

He shrugged.

“Jalape?o?”

“This woman”—he jutted his finger at me while talking to Mom—“has the best nose and palate in the world.”

I beamed at the compliment, because for the past few days I’d been beaten down by the one and only man to ever fully see me naked and give me an orgasm.

“Baby girl?” Dad leaned in. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I choked out the word with every ounce of mental strength I had. “Just tired.” I let the wine sit on my tongue as I savored the flavor. When I set my glass down, both Mom and Dad were waiting impatiently for my response.

“Full bodied, with a hint of tart, it would pair extremely well with a good Dubliner cheese or a sirloin.”

“That’s my girl.” Dad clapped slowly and then poured a round for the entire table. “I love you.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

And all was right in the world again.





Chapter Eighteen MACKENZIE

As promised, I let one of Dad’s drivers take me back to my apartment, and because I was a little buzzed and a lot emotional, I dug into my purse and pulled out two of the magazines, sat down on my couch, and started to read.

I read about his fiancée getting pregnant.

A light bulb went on when I realized he’d been flying to Puerto Vallarta a few weeks later.

Huh, so both of us were escaping our current situations.

Is that why he gave another name?

I did the same.

Were we both that mistrusting?

Or just in that much need to be different people?

I kept reading.

The details all seemed the same until I got to the part about his father’s fatal heart attack and the mental toll it had taken on him. Drugs? Really? Rehab? Angry outbursts? I frowned.

Loss did bad things to good people.

I traced a finger over his beautiful smile. He was at the World Cup, hugging his dad while his dad wiped away a tear.

I knew that feeling.

Accomplishing something great and having your parents be proud of you. I’d had a crap day, and just being with my dad made the day end on a happy note.

As my eyes started to get heavy, I lay down on the couch and grabbed a blanket. Slade had lost his happy.

His support.

He’d lost one of his best friends.

I fell asleep with a frown, wondering how I was going to make sure the cranky bastard had a friend he could trust—who didn’t want something from him.

How do you give someone a present they don’t think they want or need?

He wasn’t mine to save.

And I didn’t even like him ninety percent of the time.

He’d hurt me.

He’d made me feel insecure.

Ugly.

He changed the way I saw myself.

He didn’t deserve my help.

But I was going to give it anyway.

Because it was the right thing to do.





Chapter Nineteen SLADE

I stared at the breakfast casserole like it was poison.

Not only had Mackenzie labeled it so I would know what it was, but she’d left a pink sticky note on the side: Heat for forty minutes at 350. I ripped the note off and crumpled it in my fist.

Did she think I was an idiot who didn’t know how to cook?

Why the hell was she leaving me food?

It had been three days since I’d helped her with her bloodied hand. Extreme paranoia had followed that episode, making it almost impossible to sleep. Had I been too rough? What if she got blood poisoning? The cut went septic? Should I have sent her to the hospital? Even let her drive herself home?

It was stupid shit.

All of it.

But I couldn’t stop the rerun of what-ifs that kept slamming into my brain. It got so bad that the minute she showed up the day after, I’d been so relieved that I’d stared at her a solid two minutes before grabbing my duffel and leaving. She probably thought I had a learning disability.

Thus the sticky notes.

Because ever since that morning.

Food.

All the food.

I had premade food for breakfast, lunch, dinner. She’d even gotten the secret recipe for my smoothies and had one waiting for me this morning, all before humming her way around my house feeding my dog.

I slammed the door to the stainless-steel refrigerator and leaned against it. My phone started buzzing. I picked it up from the counter immediately. I never missed calls.

I’d learned my lesson once.