Vegas Aces: The Tight End Complete Series

CHAPTER 1 KAYLEE

I look at the man sitting across the table from me as I try to figure out the nicest way to get the hell out of here.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asks.

God, I freaking hate small talk on first dates. He’s definitely hot, but that seems to be about all he has going for him. It was, after all, why I swiped right. This getting to know you garbage just isn’t in my arsenal, especially when I just don’t care.

“Yeah, two older brothers.” I think about asking him if he has any when I realize it doesn’t matter.

“How much older?”

“One’s eleven years older, one’s ten.” I stare into my nearly empty Long Island. I’m definitely going to need more alcohol to get through any more of this date.

“Dang,” he says, lifting his eyebrows like he’s impressed. “Were you an accident?”

How the hell do I find these guys?

My brows dip at the insult. “Do I look like an accident?”

His eyes flick to my chest, and he slowly shakes his head as he gets that glazed look of lust in his eyes.

I heave in a breath, which I realize too late is a bit of a mistake since it only pushes my chest out more. “Just for future reference, that’s a really stupid question and really lowered your chances of getting me into bed.”

He laughs even though I didn’t intend it as a joke. “What do your brothers do?”

He isn’t smooth. His line of questioning tells me he already knows who my brothers are, and while they’ve certainly cast themselves in the roles of my protectors—even more so since our father passed away a year and a half ago—they don’t even need to be here to ruin my date.

Or my dating life in general.

Scratch that. My life in general.

I give my standard answer. “They chase sweaty men in tight pants while they juggle their balls.”

He laughs, and I pick up my handbag as I stand.

“It was nice meeting you…” I blank on his name. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Chad.”

“Right. Nice meeting you, Chad, but I’ll be going now.”

He stands, too, and at first I think it’s because he’s being polite. I’m wrong. Instead, he moves around the table and grabs my arm. “Can you get me tickets to a game?” he begs.

I blow out a breath as I peel his fingers from my arm. “Fuck off, Chad.”

“Oh, come on!” he whines as I storm out of the restaurant.

I open my Lyft app to find myself a ride home.

Or, rather, to find a ride back to my brother’s house where I’ve been living for the last few months.

Once I’m in the car, I stare out the window and allow my thoughts to wander about how I even got here. I’m living with my brother, working a job I can’t stand, and have pretty much zero friends that aren’t related to me in some way.

Here’s what I know: I need to find my own path before I’m ready to walk on someone else’s.

I know I want kids and dogs and a huge plot of land somewhere in the middle of nowhere someday far down the road, but I’m not ready for any of that yet. And the one guy I ever dated who wasn’t a complete waste of time didn’t want those same things. In the end, that’s why it was the end.

Ideally I’d love to find an easy friends with benefits situation for a few months while I make some life decisions, but I can’t even find a useful candidate for that sort of arrangement.

Every time men I date realize I’m related to not one but two professional football players, that’s all they care about.

The car turns onto Jack’s street, and I tell the driver to let me out at the front gate.

I punch in the code and walk up the sidewalk before letting myself into the front door.

Nobody’s around, which probably means my nephew is asleep and my brother and his wife are off doing the sorts of things a sister doesn’t want to know about her brother.

I walk into the kitchen and grab the bottle of Vodka from the pantry when I hear a splash followed by laughter.

I glance outside and spot Jack and Kate in the pool.

They’re probably naked, so I don’t stare too long. It’s their house, and they’re still in that honeymoon phase while I’m just here as what’s supposed to be a temporary guest.

It was nice while they were in Hawaii on vacation and I had this whole place to myself. Now they’re back, though, and I’m sure they’re ready to get rid of me. I just don’t have anywhere else to go at the moment.

Tears pinch behind my eyes when I hear more laughter. I’m happy they’re happy. Truly. I love both of them with my whole heart.

But it’s another reminder of how…unsettled I feel, and tonight’s date along with his stupid question about my place in my own family is just making me feel worse.

Maybe I should go for a run. That always makes me feel a little better, but it’s dark out and while it’s a safe neighborhood, I prefer to run in the mornings. Besides, I’ve already started drinking to numb the feelings, so I stick with that.

I gulp down some vodka and brush a tear away. I fill my cup to the top again, and just as I’m about to tip it back, I hear the sound of the front door opening.

It tends to be a revolving door around here, but only for a few select people who have the keypad code.

I hear footsteps through the front hall and into the kitchen, and then the man walking through the doorway looks up and his eyes connect with mine.

I roll my eyes. Of course Ben Freaking Olson shows up when I’m vulnerable and about to start crying after a shitty date.

He wears a simple white t-shirt with charcoal shorts, and he carries a small duffel bag in his hand.

He runs his hand through his short, dark hair, which sticks up a bit when he’s through, and he scratches the back of his neck.

His dark eyes are still on mine, and as he moves more fully into the kitchen, he watches as I brush a tear away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Bad date.” I draw in a deep breath and drink down some more vodka because hell if I’m going to stand here crying in front of Ben Olson.

“Who do you need me to fuck up for you?” he asks like any protective older brother would.

I sigh. “His name’s Chad. He’s probably still at the restaurant.”

He shrugs. “Never met a Chad I liked, to be honest.”

“One more addition to the Shit List.”

He tilts his head, and for a moment, I think he cares about me as a friend.

We have become friendly over the last five months or so as he’s attended our weekly family dinners, and while he’s definitely gorgeous, he’ll always be my brother’s best friend, the idiot meathead who crushes beer cans on his forehead for sport.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“The same damn thing that happens every time,” I admit. “He started asking about my brothers so I had a pretty good idea he knew exactly who they are. Then he asked if I was an accident when I told him how much older they are than me.”

“He asked you what?” he practically roars.

I raise my brows and nod, and then I take another sip of my vodka.

“Jesus, Kay.” His eyes meet mine, and his are flashing with anger. “Not all men are like that.” His words are strained and his voice is husky.

“All the ones I’ve met are.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, but the mood in here isn’t funny. “Oh, Kaylee,” he rasps. “There are plenty of men out there who’d want you for you.”

The vodka speaks my next words for me. “Are you one of them?”

I’m just teasing him since I know we’ll never be anything more than friends.

It’s a challenge issued to a guy who’s been sort of like a much older brother to me for a decade, and we’ve started engaging in harmless banter over the last few months when we’ve been relegated to the far end of the dinner table while my young nephews take center stage.

His eyes run the length of my body before he answers, and I feel their heat as they sear each place they touch. When his lifts them back to mine, they’re full of something I’ve never seen when he’s looked at me before. “You’re certainly not a teenager anymore.”

I squirm as a quiet beat passes between us while we each contemplate our next words, but before either of us can say anything at all, Jack’s voice fills the kitchen.

“Hey, you made it!” He has a towel wrapped around his waist as he addresses Ben, and Kate pads in a few seconds later clad in a towel, too.

“How was the date?” she asks me.

I roll my eyes. “Awful.”

Jack and Ben head off somewhere to do who knows what, and I launch into the story of my date for Kate.

But Ben’s words stick in my mind.

The first time we met, I was twelve and he was twenty-two. A large gap stands between our years. But the way he just looked at me paired with his words…

There may be other factors that make anything more than flirting with him a bad idea, but my age certainly isn’t one of them. Not anymore.

There are three things I know about Ben Olson. He’s hot as fuck, he’s a party boy, and he doesn’t do relationships.

As for me, I don’t date football players.

Still, though…I wonder for the first time whether he could be the perfect candidate for that whole friends with benefits situation.