Chapter 5
TELL US EVERYTHING
Trina
Look, Ryker’s still an asshole.
And Chase’s definitely still a playboy charmer.
But Chase also seems like a legit good guy.
And Ryker’s not quite the jerk I’d thought he was three hours ago. Or twenty minutes ago in the limo either.
My reassessment is partly because I’ve just learned he’s got a soft spot under that gruff exterior. A desire to make things right.
And so does Chase.
But partly because I think I’ve seen Ryker before. I’m not positive, but if memory serves, a certain burly, bearded, inked guy likes to buy stacks and stacks of game books and crossword puzzles every few weeks at An Open Book.
When I mentioned my store, I swear he perked up. That led me to cycle back through the memory banks of where I’d seen him before, and yup. Figured it out quickly. He’s a loyal customer.
But then he shut down the book talk, so maybe his book buying fetish is a secret.
It’s safe with me.
Once we reach the doors of Sticks and Stones, he turns to me, stopping before we go inside and guiding me to the left so we’re chatting just outside the closed coffee shop next door.
“Here’s the deal. Chase and I just talked about it, and you’ve got an endless supply of revenge selfies at your service tonight. Even a revenge video if you want to shoot us playing pool or whatever. Anything to make that good-for-nothing shitcake suffer.”
“Aww, you really feel bad for forgetting my name earlier,” I say, patting his arm through his white dress shirt.
Oops. Rookie mistake. That rock of a muscle feels real nice.
“I didn’t forget it,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t elaborate, and I decide to let it go since, seriously. These guys are going above and beyond in the getting even department.
“Thank you, Ryker,” I say genuinely, meeting his dark blue gaze. “I appreciate your zeal for payback.”
“I’m not an Avenger for nothing,” he says.
I look to Chase on the other side of me. “And thank you. It’s more than I could have asked for.”
“Happy to do it,” he says. “I’m just glad we’re spending the evening with you instead of him.”
The funny thing is…so am I. I’m having a better time than I’d imagined, and I’m about to head inside when Ryker clears his throat. “But that’s not all. Chase had an idea for what to do with the gifts you got for him. The jerseys and pucks.”
Well, bring it on boys. “My ears are wide open,” I say, turning to the golden guy.
“Why don’t I get the Sea Dogs jersey signed by the whole team and Ryker will get the Avengers one signed by his team. Then we can set up an auction and donate the proceeds to a cause you like? Like rescue dogs or something?” Chase suggests, and I’m launching myself at him before he can finish.
“Revenge for charity! I love it!”
He wraps his arms around me, one that has me almost drawing another yummy inhale of him. But I don’t want to overstep and go all pervy on him, so I keep the hug nice and chaste, then give Ryker one too. “You’re not such a big bad wolf after all,” I say.
He grumbles something I can’t understand before I let go.
Don’t want to push the grumpster, so I go inside.
We head to the counter, and I stare up at the list of games on a chalkboard. Shuffleboard, Ping-Pong, pool, darts and cornhole. Chase steps closer, bumping his shoulder to mine. I don’t know if that was on purpose, but I like the feel of him so close to me. “So, what’ll it be, Miss Book Babe?”
I blink, surprised. “Did you just give me a pet name?”
Chase’s grin is all kinds of cocky. “You gave us nicknames. Only fair. And it seems fitting,” he says.
“Was Miss Bookalicious taken, Weston?” Ryker asks his friend dryly.
Before they can get into a bidding war over it, I cut in with, “What if I want to pick my own nickname?”
Ryker shakes his head. “Nope. Rules of nicknames. You picked ours. We get to pick yours.”
“But you can’t agree on one for me!”
“I haven’t even gone yet.”
“Go. Now,” I say, sweeping out a hand to give Ryker the floor.
He doesn’t give in to my demand right away. He takes a deep breath, then, with a smirk, he declares, “Miss Inquisitive.”
Damn. That’s good. It’s parallel with my names for them. With a huff, I narrow my eyes, a little annoyed he nailed it.
Ryker smirks. “That’s what I thought.”
“What’s what you thought?”
“You like it,” he says, and he’s cocky too.
Chase flashes me a crooked grin. “Yeah, I think you do,” he says, then steps a little closer, and takes his time saying in that smooth, deep voice, “Miss Inquisitive…” After a deliberate pause, he adds, his tone even swoonier, “The Book Babe.”
I fight off a tremble. I feel almost surrounded by them.
Ryker lifts a brow. He noticed the shiver. Dammit. He turns to Chase. “A combo. Looks like we have a winner.”
“And it fits,” Chase says.
The name is bookish and kind of sexy, and I’m hoping that means he thinks I am sexy.
But wait. Which…he do I hope thinks I’m hot?
The trouble is I don’t know. Is it both?
But I didn’t swipe those tickets hoping a couple of pro athletes would fight over me.
And yet, here I am, enjoying the spotlight.
Maybe even enjoying the twin focus on me.
I can’t blame the one glass of wine. Maybe I just like their attention after Jasper’s attention strayed.
That has to be it.
That’s all. No big deal. This is normal post-breakup stuff. I’m allowed to enjoy it, I’m sure.
I break from my thoughts as Chase gestures to the chalkboard. “Now, tell us which game you want to play first. As long as it’s Ping-Pong.”
Hmm. This is a tougher choice than I’d expect. Especially since Ryker clears his throat and says, “It’s ladies choice. You said you might like both. You get to pick,” he says, showing off that he remembers what I said earlier.
I tap my chin, considering Ping-Pong, Chase’s favorite, and pool, Ryker’s choice.
Whichever one I pick will send a signal.
Like I’m picking one guy over the other when both are helping me immensely.
Before I can decide, Chase leans an elbow on the counter and meets my gaze.
“Actually, I’m wrong. Pool is better for our plan. ”
That’s not at all what I’d thought he’d say. “Why?”
“We want to make that asshole suffer, right? You said we’re his favorite players. So let’s make him really fucking jealous. Because pool is sexier,” he says, and his smile is gone. It’s replaced by a dark stare with those deep brown eyes that feel like they’re…undressing me.
I shiver, enjoying the eye fucking. I even like the charm. I won’t be fooled by it, but oh boy, do I ever like it, especially when he adds, “You said you wanted to learn how to play. We’ll teach you.”
I can picture the scene. Me stretching out against the pool table. Chase behind me, showing me how to line up a shot. Ryker coming around to the other side of me, adjusting my hips just so.
My chest flutters at the images racing through my brain. Images that are sexier than I’d expected them to be. Naughtier. Images of two men touching me at the same time.
The image makes no sense though. Who’d take the picture if they were both showing me how to play?
No idea, but maybe I don’t care about the picture at all. I want to play pool with these two hockey hotties instead.
I don’t let on though. They don’t need to know that yet. “Let’s rack ’em up,” I say.
* * *
Ryker lifts his beer bottle and knocks some back, then sets it on a ledge next to the pool table.
With a serious stare, he regards the array of pool balls on green felt—most are mine—then tugs on his tie a little more.
Chase doesn’t wear a tie.
I can’t decide which look I like better—tie or no tie. “All right, you’re gonna want to hit the purple ball,” Ryker says decisively.
“Easy enough,” I say dryly, because of course it’s not. I haven’t played much but I know pool is ridiculously hard. I’m determined to knock at least one ball in not by accident.
Which means I need a little help.
“You can do it,” Chase says brightly, then comes around the table, moving next to me, his pool cue in one hand. “Let me show you.” He nods across the table to his rival.
“Ryker, you want to take pics for her socials?”
Ryker nods and tilts his phone in the air. “On it.”
“Then it’s showtime.” Setting down the stick, Chase unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, taking his time rolling up his right sleeve, and revealing his strong forearm.
Then the other.
Mmm.
Wait, did I just purr?
I think I did.
Evidently, I’m learning all sorts of things about myself tonight. Namely, that I like thighs and forearms, as well as grumps and cocky charmers.
Speaking of, Chase moves behind me. He’s not touching me. Yet. But his broad chest is mere inches from my back. His breath is dangerously close to my ear. His scent swirls past my nose.
He smells like the ocean, like I noticed before the game. It’s a little stronger now though, probably from his post-game shower.
Ohh.
Hello, shower images.
My breath catches as I picture him under the stream of water.
Or is my breath catching from him moving a little closer? “First you need to line up the stick,” he says in his smooth, deep voice that sends sparks down my spine.
I swallow, maybe to cover up the tingles. “Okay.” I lift the pool cue in my right hand and slide it back, the end of it brushing over my left hand, splayed on the felt.
He inches closer, then wraps an arm around me. I’m caged in by this big man. I look down at our hands, Chase’s coming around to adjust the cue. His hands are so much bigger than mine, and I’m flying ten steps ahead, picturing his hands on my arms, my waist, my legs.
I need to concentrate. Chase and Ryker aren’t here to seduce me. They’re here to help me get even.
A cause I hardly care about anymore.
I should try to care, so I lift my face, only to find Ryker’s watching us from across the table, his eyes gleaming darkly.
His camera’s still pointed at Chase and me, but he doesn’t look at the screen—it’s like he can’t stop staring at the action in front of him.
Perhaps he’s jealous. Or restrained. Maybe he’s holding back.
But what? What’s he holding back?
I don’t know. I can barely focus even as Chase whispers more instructions in my ear. How to hold the stick, how to slide it back, how to hit the ball.
I can’t think because he’s so close to me, and Ryker is so intent on watching us, and my thoughts are racing wildly out of control.
Maybe Ryker will come help too. Maybe he’ll give me a tip.
God, did all my feminism just fly out the door?
Since suddenly I want two big men to teach me how to play a bar game, when dammit, I can learn on my own.
I mean, there are books. In my store. And YouTube tutorials. And…
And…
And I still want them both to show me how to play.
Get it together, girl.
I yank back the cue, then slam it against the cue ball.
And it whacks the purple one with a loud and satisfying thwack, sending the ball speeding down the felt.
Right into the corner pocket.
Holy shit! I did it! “Hole in one!” I shout.
Both guys cheer, and I spin around and Chase is hugging me, and Ryker is right there too, offering a high five when I let go. I take it, then roll my eyes. “Gimme more than a high five,” I say.
His jaw ticks, like he’s debating it.
“C’mon, give Miss Inquisitive a hug. It won’t hurt you,” Chase goads.
Ryker stares at him like he wants to rip his head off, but then comes in for a hug and wraps his big, strong arms around me.
I draw a furtive inhale of Ryker. That forest scent makes me a little buzzy. A lot hot.
So does his beard. It whisks against my cheek. How would that beard feel in other places?
Like…between my thighs.
The answer comes astonishingly fast and in the form of an ache. Good. It would feel so good.
When he lets go, I slap on my best smile. “Should we keep playing?” I ask, and I hope my voice doesn’t sound as husky as it does to my ears.
As revealing.
I bet these studs have women throwing themselves at them all the time. I don’t want to be a groupie or a cliché.
I’ve got to stop fantasizing about the VIP experience I suddenly crave from the two of them devoted to me.
We finish out the game. News flash—I lose.
We play another game, and as we go, I try valiantly to return to the purpose of this night—making Jasper jealous.
I lift my beer, take a swallow, then set it down. “Jasper the dickless would lose his mind to be playing pool with the two of you.”
Chase laughs. “Tell us more of the awful things your terrible ex did,” he says. “This is your night.”
“Yeah, let it all out,” Ryker adds.
Well, there is one really terrible thing Jasper did. Besides that. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the company, and maybe it’s my residual anger. Or maybe I just want to move the hell on for one night. “He was awful at sex.”
You could hear a pin drop.