The Sweet Spot (Playing To Win Book 4)

1. Brynlee

The stale scent of spilled beer mingles with the sweet smell of sunscreen on the insane number of bodies crowding in around me, while I try not to get smashed up against my favorite beach bar. Literally. The place is packed tonight, and based on the sheer wave of bodies moving in sync to the beat of the music, I’m fairly sure everyone in the entire town is crammed in here, singing along to “Sweet Caroline.”

It’s summertime at O’Malley’s, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

This place has been around since my parents were kids, and according to them, it’s always been this crazy. It’s one of those bars you know better than to wear nice shoes in because you know you’re leaving at the end of the night with questionable substances on them. Spilled beer being the least gross of those substances. And I’m pretty sure the bartender is still the same one who was working here ten years ago when my cousin Maddox and I came in with our very first fake ID’s.

A quick elbow to the back has me stumbling as Maddox hands me a margarita and passes out the rest of the drinks to our friends and family before we all raise our glasses. “Alla faccia di chi ci vuole.”

“In English, please,” his younger sister, Caitlin, snaps at him as a round of Salute is uttered back by everyone else before we all clink our glasses together and drink.

I swallow a mouthful of tequila with a hint of lime and choke as my mouth catches fire. “Oh wow.” The words burn almost as much as the tequila as it makes its way down my throat. “That’s bad.”

Callen slings his big, beefy arm around my shoulders and guides me to a now-empty bar stool. “Drink it faster, Brynlee. You won’t taste it as much.”

I hop up and spin my stool to face Maddox and him.

Even sitting on a barstool, these two tower over me.

Everyone does.

Short girl problems.

“You realize that defeats the purpose, right? I don’t drink something if I don’t like the taste.” I stir the concoction that should never be anyone’s definition of a margarita, hoping that will help before taking another sip. Nope. Still bad.

Maddox ignores me and hands Callen and me each shot glasses as the rest of our friends disburse to other parts of the bar.

I sniff the dark liquid and scrunch my nose, not in the mood to get burned twice. “What is this?”

“Don’t ask.” Maddox lifts his shot glass up much the same way we did a minute ago, and the three of us clink glasses again before Callen sets his sights on a bachelorette party at the end of the bar like a heat seeking missile.

“I think I’m gonna go bag me a bride.”

Maddox looks down the bar and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Callen. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Nah, man.” Callen just keeps smiling as he claps Maddox on the shoulder. “You won’t let me die.”

Callen disappears down the bar into a circle of bridesmaids, and I stifle a laugh. “Think we’ll see him again tonight?”

“Doubt it,” Maddox scoffs.

I push my margarita toward the bartender with my sweetest smile. “Hey, Lou. Think you could add more mix to this?”

Lou looks down my shirt before making eye contact. “Most people usually ask for more booze.”

“Most people who want to live wouldn’t look at her tits either, man. So how about you just do it, huh?” Maddox’s beer hits the bar a little harder than necessary as he glares at the old man. Guess you could say my cousin is a touch overprotective.

Lou’s eyes double in size before he quickly takes my glass away to fix my drink.

Hopefully, the next one won’t incinerate my taste buds.

“Did you have to scare him?” I nail Maddox with my attempt at a glare, already tired and wondering how long I have to stay here before I can go back to the house and crash in my warm, comfy bed.

Maddox cocks his head like an apex predator, silently answering me.

Like I didn’t already know the damn answer.

Everyone in this town knows exactly who Maddox Beneventi is. Or more accurately, who his father, Sam, is. And as my uncle likes to say, a little bit of fear is healthy. I glance at the bartender, who’s currently pouring my new drink with shaking hands. This dude has passed a little bit and is well on his way to terrified.

Madman, as those of us who aren’t scared love to call him, shrugs before he leans back against the bar. With crossed arms, his tight black t-shirt looks like it’s defying the laws of something... physics maybe, as it stretches across his chest. He looks around, taking the space in. Probably checking for his sister, making sure she’s not causing any trouble. Knowing Caitlin, she’s already relocated to the beach area at the back of the bar, as far away from her big brother and his prying eyes as possible. Smart girl.

Lou pushes my drink across the bar with a still-shaking hand before heading to the other end, and I give up on any attempt not to laugh. “You know you’re a dick, right?”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Dark eyes look over the top of his beer at me, and he grins. “Although I’m pretty sure I’m the one with the information you might want tonight. So maybe it’s me who needs to be doing the telling.”

I stir my fresh margarita before taking a sip.

Ohh . . . So much better.

“What are you talking about?” I press, intrigued. “What do you know?”

“The better question is who do I know about,” he taunts, clearly enjoying himself.

This fucker.

“What’s it worth to you?” His lips pull up with mischief.

The song switches to a Bon Jovi classic, and the entire bar goes wild. A pretty girl in a denim miniskirt and a tiny little crop top stumbles into Maddox’s chest, and I think he actually growls at her until she staggers away.

Hmm... it’s not like him to ignore a pretty girl. I’ll have to remember to press him on that after I find out what the hell he’s hiding. “Come on, Madman. Spill it.”

I sip my drink slowly and enjoy the smooth way it goes down.

I love tequila. It doesn’t usually love me back. But so is life.

“Again, what’s it worth to you?” The cocky fucker sits his beer on the bar and turns to face me head-on, smiling like an evil cherub. “And before you answer, think really hard.”

I run my finger around the salt-rimmed glass, too tired to play this game. “Quit being so damn cryptic and tell me what you know.”

He cocks an already cocky dark brow. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you before?” I challenge.

Maddox finishes his beer and points the empty bottle at Lou before bringing his eyes back to me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“So dramatic,” I tease and wait for him to give up the goods.

Seriously . . . how bad can it be?

“Your Mom is gonna have you moved from working with the Revolution to the Kings team,” he lays out before accepting his new beer while I sit staring in disbelief.

“But I’m the physical therapist for the Revolution...” I argue. “She can’t just have me switched from the hockey team to the football team. They’re different organizations altogether.” But before I even finish the sentence, I know I’m wrong. Scarlet Kingston-St. James is the vice president of King Corp. She’s the general manager of the Philadelphia Kings football team, and she works closely with my Uncle Max, her oldest brother, King Corp.’s president and the GM for the Revolution, which also makes him my boss. “Just because she could technically do that doesn’t mean she would. Hate to break it to you—but looks like you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” is all the response I get. If he’s trying to get under my skin, it’s working.

“You are. There’s no way my mom would do that to me. She’s proud of my career. She’s proud of the way I earned it. She wouldn’t.” I leave no room for argument because while the rest of the world may know Scarlet Kingston as an ice queen, she’s an amazing mom, and she’d never do this to me.

“Care to make a wager?” he asks in typical Maddox fashion.

Like I said before... he’s a cocky fucker.

“Sure. You ready to lose?” I cross my legs and sit my barely touched drink on the bar. “What are the stakes?”

This isn’t our first bet. We’ve been betting each other for as long as I can remember.

“If I win, I get the penthouse.”

“No,” I laugh. “No chance. That’s our penthouse.”

“Your penthouse, Brynn. Lindy and Everly are both married. Gracie’s going back to London once she’s done rehabbing her foot, and Kenzie’s residency has her in DC for the next few years. You don’t need all that space to yourself. And anyway... if you’re so sure I’m wrong, what’s it gonna hurt?” He’s also done this before. Played some form of chicken with me. He knows I hate backing down. I hate being challenged almost as much as losing.

“Fine. If you win, we swap condos. But if I win, I want the ‘Stang.”

He recoils like he just took a punch to the gut from my brother, who fights in a cage for a living. Madman’s 1966 cherry-red Mustang convertible is in mint condition with a white soft-top and shiny white rims. The engine purrs prettier than anything I’ve ever heard, and I have a thing for cars. It’s a classic, and I’ve loved it since the very first time he drove to my house to pick me up in it.

“Done.” He offers me his hand, and a chill runs down my spine.

I should probably be scared of how easily he just agreed. Maddox loves that car more than anything. He must be sure he can win this one. But there’s no way I’m losing. My mom knows how much I love my job. She knows how hard I worked for it. And after these past few months, she knows exactly what it means to me. She wouldn’t just force me to switch teams in a way she’d never force another physical therapist to do. She just wouldn’t.

“I’m going to look so good driving your baby, Madman.” I take another small sip of my drink and smile before Callen waves Maddox down to his end of the bar.

The fucker turns to me and smirks. “Enjoy your delusions, Brynnie.”

He slides out of his spot, and I turn back to the bar and wave down Lou. “Could I get a Coke?”

“Rum and Coke?” Lou checks, and I shake my head.

“Just Coke, please.”

“She won’t say no to a few cherries in it though.”

I whip my head around to see who the hell just slipped into Maddox’s space and nearly swallow my tongue.

“Deacon?” I gasp, shocked to see the boy Lindy and I used to drool over as teenagers. I haven’t seen him since the last time my family visited Block Island and stayed at the inn his family owns on the coast. Only the man sitting next to me is twice the size and at least ten years older than the boy I last saw.

Lou places my soda in front of me, and Deacon reaches across the bar and swipes two cherries to drop in my glass. “How are you doing, red?”

Deacon

Little Brynlee St. James isn’t so little anymore, but she blushes the same way she used to when we were kids.

With her entire face.

And fuck me.

She’s got a beautiful face.

Tiny freckles dot the bridge of her nose, tinged pink from too much sun. Strawberry-blonde hair hangs down over bare shoulders, dancing against porcelain skin. And those green eyes... Emerald green. Greener than the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Eyes that used to watch me every single summer are staring at me now, making my dick harder than it’s been in a damn decade. Brynlee fucking St. James.

Guess I knew I’d be running into her sooner or later.

But I didn’t expect it to be tonight.

“Cat got your tongue?” I tease when she sits silently, stunned. “You never used to stop talking. You and your cousin, and that little sister. Lilly?” I ask.

“Livvy,” she smiles. “Lindy is technically my aunt, not my cousin, and Livvy is my sister. But she started college and wants to be called Olivia now.” She tilts her head and just looks at me for a moment, her eyes scanning my face, then down my chest before coming back up. I don’t miss the way her flush deepens and her lips part. “What are you doing here, Deacon?”

“I promised my daughter I’d spend the day on the beach with her. Her mom and stepdad have a place down here for the week. My friend, Ripley, rents a house down here in the offseason. He was supposed to meet me here tonight. I was looking for him when I found you.”

Now I’m thinking I might just blow off Rip.

Hell . . . he’ll understand.

She nods her head slowly while she plays with one of the cherries I dropped in her soda. “Right. I heard you had a little girl.”

“Yeah. Kennedy. She’s a spitfire. Her mom always brings her down here for her birthday.” My kid’s got us all wrapped around her little finger. All of us.

She pops the cherry in her mouth, then pulls the stem out—tied in a knot—a few seconds later, then drops it on the damp napkin sitting under her drink. Everything about the move is sexy, but Brynlee looks like she’s completely oblivious to her sex appeal as she smiles almost shyly up at me. “We’re actually down for my best friends’ birthdays too. Guess they’re in good company.”

“Guess they are,” I agree and look at the stem, laughing. “You remember the summer you were determined to learn how to do that?”

She giggles. “What were we? Thirteen?”

“You might have been. Pretty sure I was sixteen or seventeen.” I think back to that summer. The last one before I left for college. It was the last summer I saw her for a few years. And the next time I came home, Brynn didn’t look like a little girl anymore. But she was still jailbait. Something her dad made sure I knew—more than once. Cade may have thought he was being nonchalant about it, but when a former MMA champion makes sure you know exactly how old, or more precisely how young, his daughter is, you don’t forget it.

“Yeah... I guess you were.” She stirs her soda and looks up at me through long lashes. “So I heard you left Boston University. Do you have a new coaching job lined up?”

“Guess you haven’t heard the news yet. I think it’s being announced at some point next week.”

Her nose crinkles in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but is. “What’s being announced?”

She pops another cherry into her mouth and closes those pouty pink lips around it.

“Your family just hired me as the Revolution’s new head coach.”