Chapter All Players On Deck
All Players On Deck
Turning to press kisses along Leo’s jaw, excitement swooped and soared in Finn’s belly, and he barely manages to hold back an undignified full-body wiggle.
His mate chuckles, placing a hand on Finn’s quivering thigh. “Excited, Finnie?”
Fuck yes, he was, his thighs tense, and he squirms under Leo’s sexy smirk.
He normally hates surprises, but the general mood has been high since the minute he woke up this morning in the nest. Everyone but Jay had been slamming through the compound, noise in the kitchen, on the stairs, and someone (Luca Wilde) singing Hey, hey it’s your birthday at the top of his lungs.
Rhodes Pack birthday celebrations were usually epic, both in scope and in general fuckery. Emphasis on the fuck part. It’s no surprise that everyone is riding the anticipatory high.
In fact, Gideon had no fewer than two suitcases packed at the front door for their two-day trip, and that could only mean good things.
Finn had been lying there with his head on Jay’s chest, wondering how his alpha might be planning to start his birthday, when Luca had poked his head in, carry-on bag in hand, and pants already covering his butt.
He threw himself on top of them, kissing Finn’s face and palming his morning wood for a second before rolling back out in a flurry of elbows and knees. He’d yelled, “Let’s go, you two! No time for fucking—the car will be here in an hour!” on his way down the stairs.
“Sorry, puppy. I told them noon.”
Always so thoughtful is Finn’s Pack Alpha.
His shift at the hospital had ended after 2:00 AM, and it had been exhausting in its drudgery. Emergency rooms were hardly hubs of activity, and aside from the occasional MVA, nothing good ever happened. Yes, he knew that sounded weird.
“Maybe you can sleep on the plane, pup.” Jay sighed, pressing a kiss to Finn’s lips. “But for the record, I did have plans to blow your mind—and a few other things—today.”
He could hardly be upset about the missed blowjob underneath all the excitement about the day, so Finn happily accepted a soft kiss and a smack on the ass from Jay instead.
On his way through the kitchen, headed for the shower, Leo had taken pity on him and pressed a tall glass of iced coffee into his hand with a grin.
“You’re packed already. Thank Grayson for that—he won rock, paper, scissors at risk to his life. Apparently, Gideon had plans.”
It would have been an even bigger surprise if Finn had arrived at wherever they were going with only the shit Gideon thought absolutely necessary (a toothbrush) or humorous (edible underwear) in his bag. This, he knows from experience.
“And happy birthday, Alpha,” Leo added softly.
He’d barely had time to shower and slip on the navy shorts and white button-down someone had left on his bed, and get back to the living room in time.
With total disregard for the itinerary, the pack had converged on him for a group hug.
He’d relished the tweak to his nipple from Gideon, a squeeze on his ass from Grayson, and Rowan’s hand somehow already down the front of his pants. The press of familiar bodies, along with the scents of morning coffee and body wash, wrapped him in Pack.
The driver’s honk had gone unnoticed until he’d had to ring the gate buzzer twice.
Riding together had been a surprise—they all rarely get to ride together—but the big vehicle easily carried the seven of them and all their bags. It was a short trip to the Tune airstrip, where the mid-size private charter had been waiting in the early afternoon sun.
Even Gideon and Luca seemed relaxed for the sixty-minute flight, although the short time frame was probably the key. Last winter, they’d flown to Bali for Grayson’s birthday, and that had been a long, long flight for the antsy fliers.
The hum of descent pulls Finn back to the moment. He reaches across Leo to flip up the window shade so they can watch the runway rushing up to meet them as they land.
His mate takes the opportunity to kiss his cheek. “I wasn’t sure you’d be down for the surprise today, let alone not being in on the planning.”
Finn can let other people plan shit, thank you very much. As long as the other people are Leo or Jay. Maybe Grayson. Never Luca or Rowan. Even Gideon is a wildcard—unless it’s a well-planned sex session. He takes his role as Architect of Pleasure seriously.
“I can let other people plan things.”
Luca snorts from behind him, his bare toes pinching the skin of Finn’s arm from behind them and between their seats. “As long as it’s got Jay’s stamp of approval and Rowan is just as surprised as you are, right?”
“Hey! I can be surprising!” Rowan mutters from across the aisle.
“That’s kind of the problem, baby,” Jay laughs.
No kidding.
All the ways Rowan Foster has surprised them this month alone could fill a long, long list. It’s a good thing chaos is part of the big man’s charm.
The plane taxis to a stop inside Herschell’s private hangar, and the ground crew opens the door with a whoosh. The heat hits them in the face like a sweaty fist, but the SUVs are air-conditioned, and the leather is cool against the backs of Finn’s thighs.
Atlanta is a beautiful city, and he spends the drive holding hands with Grayson as he points out architectural interests along the way.
More often than not, he is philosophical and poetic.
It’s easy to forget that his mate is climbing the ranks as a celebrated architectural prodigy in their daily life.
Finn listens as he breaks down Atlanta’s skyline, pointing out everything from the incredible graffiti artists to the soaring Peachtree-Dunwoody & Buckhead Skyscrapers.
“This part of Atlanta thinks it’s New York. The proportions are off—there’s no shadow, see? It’s all built to reflect. No civic rhythm,” he mutters.
Finn loves listening to him, coming away from their discussions wiser for every word. Grayson’s architectural style is what his boss calls “art and soul”—art married to function, and always serving the community rather than catering to wealth and making statements.
He’s most insulted by the fakery of the Cumberland District and the looming concrete of Truist stadium set down in the middle, where Braves fans mingle with bourbon brunchers.
“Everything’s a set piece, you know what I mean? It’s brick that’s never known weight, and fake gas lanterns burning LED. Don’t get me started on the facades…There’s no soul.”
Finn sort of agrees. It’s all very pretty on the outside, but with no substance. He’s about to commiserate when the driver of their Escalade slows, signaling their turn into a Truist security checkpoint.
It clicks and everything inside him lights up. Holy shit. “Are we going to the game?”
Finn loves few things more than baseball. As a hardcore Braves fan, only medicine and his mates make the very short list of things he loves more.
“The Braves are hosting the Nashville Tempest today,” Leo says—as if Finn didn’t already have a live feed queued up on his phone in case he got a moment to watch. “Jay has connections. We wanted to surprise you.”
“How…?” Finn asks.
“Do you remember Malachi Knox from Lolla, the year you mated us?”
Indeed, he does.
Half glambot and half goth, the genderfluid rock god had been mesmerizing. Despite charisma in spades and oozing sex appeal, it had been the alpha’s huge smile and humble demeanor that had set them all at ease, even while crowds of fans had screamed his name after his set.
Finn had felt jealousy for the first time that day, as the Appalachia-to-Florida transplant had laid a big kiss on Jay’s blushing cheek. They had history from their Clearwater days, when the two had dated briefly. Right before Jay had met Ivy—and then Phoenix—Rena.
Surely the possessive Gideon will have something to say if Knox joins them today—could be fun.
“Knox is part owner of the Tempest, and he’s been trying to get Jay to invest.” Leo rubs his hands together in anticipation. “Should be a helluva good time today.”
Wining and dining are right up Leo’s alley, but his scent is more fiery than Finn might expect from the promise of gourmet BBQ sliders and guac.
Grayson is smirking beside him as well, and now that Finn thinks about it, no one is wearing scent patches. The quiet alpha’s basil scent is lush, a greenhouse sultry with anticipatory arousal.
Finn frowns, his gaze darting around the car. “What are you up to?” he murmurs, voice just for them. “I know none of you like baseball that much.”
Or at all. Finn is alone in his appreciation of America’s favorite pastime.
Grayson winks, squeezing his hand, and Leo mimes zipping his lips as they pull up in front of the Delta SKY360 VIP entrance.
“Keep your secrets then,” Finn says.
Jay is out of his car, not waiting for the driver to get Finn’s door. Reaching in, he unbuckles Finn’s seatbelt and hands him onto the sidewalk. “Come on, puppy. Your birthday surprise awaits.”
The glass doors reflect his cheek-splitting grin.
Inside, they’re greeted by a bearded, middle-aged Were in shredded skinny jeans and a Tempest tee stretched tight across his barrel chest. He’s got the look of an ex-roadie who’s probably done blow with someone in Fleetwood Mac—and survived it.
“Jay Rhodes and Long Road Home—damn. I’m Del Raines. Knox says to show you a good time.” He hands Jay a matte black card embossed with the Nashville Tempest logo. Underneath, it reads: VP of Partnership Experience.
“Thanks for having us,” Jay says, shaking his hand. “We appreciate it.”
Del grins, a gold tooth flashing. “Knox sends his regards. He’ll call next week to catch up.”
“Later’s good,” Jay replies. “He’s got his hands full.”
Del chuckles. “That he does. Let’s get you upstairs. First pitch is in fifteen. Y’all could probably use a drink.”
The elevator’s tight, Pack-scented air thick around them. Luca’s hands ghost over Finn’s belly, fingers slipping beneath his shirt, and Finn flushes under Del’s twinkling eyes in the mirrored wall.