Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

JENNIE

You know that icky feeling when you pull on a pair of underwear fresh out of the dryer only to find they’re still damp? Or when you’ve got no time to heat up your leftover mac and cheese, so you have to shovel it back while it’s cold and hard? Both fucking gross, exactly like the feeling I get when my dance partner watches me the way he is right now, like he can’t wait to make me his next meal.

Poor guy hasn’t figured out yet that I’m caviar; he can’t afford me no matter how hard he tries.

Simon leans against the bench press, dropping his elbow to the bar, and flicks his head up. His brows waggle. “Like what you see?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” I brush by him, heading to the change room. He follows, because he’s a persistent little shit.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Simon well enough. We’ve been dancing together for four years now. But in addition to his persistence, he’s cocky as fuck and seems to be under the misguided impression I’m simply making him work really hard for it.

It’s not that difficult a concept to grasp. I have absolutely zero plans of letting him inside my Disneyland. The sooner he accepts this, the better.

“This is the women’s change room, Simon. You can’t come in here, no matter how far back you tuck that thing.”

Grinning, he slaps a hand over his crotch. “I couldn’t tuck this thing back if I tried.” His breath smells remarkably like beef jerky when it brushes the shell of my ear. “Can’t hide a package this size.”

I shove him backward, shooing him away and stepping inside the change room. “Knock that ego down, like, a hundred pegs, fuckboy.”

Simon chuckles. “I’ll grab a shower and meet you out front.”

One of my character flaws is agreeing to plans in advance. By the time they come, I’d much rather take my bra off and not have to put it back on.

I swipe at a line of sweat making its way into my sports bra. “I’ve got plans tonight, and I’m pretty tired, so—”

“But it’s your birthday.”

“Right, and I—”

“Five minutes!” He kisses my cheek and jogs toward the men’s change room. “Gimme five minutes! Gotta freshen up for my favorite birthday girl!” He winks and disappears before he can catch my eye roll.

Sure, we’re friends, and yes, we spend 75 percent of our time together in intimate positions with his roaming hands on me. Still, on a pseudo–lunch date with Simon ideally isn’t how I’d spend my twenty-fourth birthday. In fact, I can think of at least ten better ways to spend it, like a two-hour couch nap, jilling off in my bedroom, or taking my cat for a walk.

I don’t have a cat.

But I’m partial to free food, and we wind up at Taco Cantina, which is nice—tacos are life—though I’m unimpressed with Simon’s insistence to share the chips and guac as a starter. He devours all but two chips I manage to sneak.

“Oops.” His fingers brush the dusty bottom of the teak chip bowl. “Kinda ate it all, didn’t I?”

“You sure did.”

He dismisses me with a wave. “S’okay. You don’t wanna worry about the extra calories.”

My brows rocket so fast up my forehead I’m worried they might fly right off. “Pardon?”

“The extra calories.”

“Right, I heard you. I was giving you a chance to change your words.” I sip my virgin mojito, savoring the sweet tang. “When has it ever been okay to comment on what a woman should or shouldn’t eat?”

He regards me cautiously. “Calm down, Jennie. I was joking. And it’s not like you’re not used to it.”

I am used to it, that’s exactly the problem. I’ve spent my entire life fighting the urge to cower from the scrutinizing stares of dance coaches that nitpick any amount of softness, that scour my food logs, searching for any indication that I’ve been anything other than strict with my diet, something to explain why I’m moving a bit sluggish one week, or why my outfit fits a little snugger one morning. I’ve hugged too many toilet bowls and cried, afraid of harsh words, but more afraid to start an addiction that can too quickly turn lethal.

That I can sit here now and order three loaded tacos and a sugary drink without a care in the world or an ounce of remorse is a miracle, something I’ve been working toward since high school with an incredible amount of therapy. I won’t let Simon’s careless words steal years of progress.

And then he adds: “Plus, the winter show is next month. You don’t wanna be packing on unnecessary pounds.”

I keep from crushing my glass simply because this drink is banging. “You’re digging your own grave. Keep it up, and I’m going to put you in it.” I tack the dipshit on in my head.

He covers my hand with his. “You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl out there, Jennie. I’m lucky to have you as a partner.”

I smile up at the waiter, mouthing a silent “Thank you” as he slides a platter of tacos in front of me. To Simon, I say, “Damn right you are.”

He devours half a taco in one bite. “Your brother still married?”

“It’s been two weeks, so, yeah.” Also, Carter’s obsessed with Olivia. Good thing he’s a professional hockey player. If he were in town every day, Olivia might strangle him. I’m still unsure how I made it twenty-four years without doing it myself. My brother’s great, he’s just a little…boisterous? Ostentatious? Self-assured? Extra as fuck? All of the above?

“Two weeks seems like more than he can handle in a committed relationship,” Simon manages, showing me a mouthful of ground beef, lettuce, and cheese. How he manages to get into the skirts of every girl in the dance program at SFU is far beyond what my mind can comprehend.

“Should I remind you you’re as big a manwhore as Carter was prior to Olivia?”

“I am not.”

I accidentally cackle. Whoops.

Simon rolls his eyes. “How come your brother gets the chance to change his reputation, but I don’t? Maybe I want to settle down too.”

Do people deserve the benefit of the doubt? Normally. But I know this man. I’ve watched him lure in countless girls with his charm, only to sleep with one for a week or two before replacing her with another, one he likes to flaunt right in front of the former. He tosses women away without thought, all the while never missing an opportunity to hit on me.

Like right now, as he hooks his ankle around mine, pulling my legs between his under the table. He smirks that fucking smirk, and I’m reminded of exactly why I’ve affectionally labeled him Simon Syphilis.

“C’mon, Jennie. Let’s go back to my place. Lemme give you a real birthday present.”

“Yeah.” I catch the waiter’s eye, twirl one finger in the air, then point at my tacos. “Can I get a to-go box, please?” I lay my chin on my laced fingers and smile. “You know, Simon, I’d absolutely love to. Love to stay and finish this lunch too.” I accept the small box from the waiter with a grateful smile and start lining up my tacos inside. “Unfortunately, I don’t feel like making any fuckboy-sized mistakes today.”

I stand and pop a chaste kiss on his cheek, mentally cataloging his epically surprised face into the never wanna forget this file in my brain. “Thanks for my birthday tacos. Can’t wait to enjoy them silently and alone.”

The thing about a Beckett grin is it’s irresistible, even to other Becketts. My brother can’t say no to me, and I’ve been known to take advantage of that every now and again.

So not only do I get steak and lobster at one of the fanciest restaurants in Vancouver for my birthday dinner, I devour an Oreo explosion banana split at my favorite dessert bar, too, after nothing more than a simple request and a dimple-popping grin. Carter ate two, so as I follow him down the street after dinner, I’m trying not to let the fifteen pounds I feel like I’ve gained tonight weigh too heavily on my mind.

Still, I’m stuffed, uncomfortable as hell, and Carter’s making me walk. Plus, it’s cold as balls and I’m wearing my pretty coat, not my warm coat.

I shiver, snuggling my chin into my scarf. “I’m cold. Where are we going? How come Hank got to go home after dinner, but we’re subjected to walking in the snow? Don’t you love us?”

Carter ignores me, but Olivia groans, both mitten-sheathed hands on her stomach. “I need to walk all that food off. I ate way too much.”

I pat her adorable baby bump. “Little mama was hungry. That’s okay.”

“Little mama is always hungry.”

“Big daddy’s always hungry too,” Carter rumbles, patting his torso.

I make a yuck face. “Please, no. Never again.”

He deflates, frowning. “What? Why?”

“Because that’s utterly disgusting.”

“You’re dramatic.” He wraps an arm around his wife, pressing his mouth to her ear but not lowering his voice. “I could eat again, just not something suitable for public if you know what I—”

“Carter!” She slaps a palm across his mouth before yanking him down to eye level. “For the love of God,” she whispers in that threatening teacher voice of hers. “For once in your life, stop talking.”

His smirk is slow as we stop in front of a tall building downtown. “I just wanna love you out loud. Why won’t you let me love you out loud?”

Olivia gives him a reassuring pat while my mom swoons and I gag. “Trust me, baby. Nobody loves as loud as you do.”

Carter grins proudly and opens the glass doors. He ushers us into an elevator before I have time to admire the exquisite lobby, and as we ride up to the twenty-first floor, he finally answers the question I asked a full two minutes ago. “I do love you. Best sister ever.” He pushes me into the hallway. “That’s why we got you the best present ever.”

“Present? Here?” My head cranks, taking in the numbered doors lining the hallway. “Carter, this is a condo building.”

“Uh-huh.” He slips a key into a door marked 2104, then gestures into the space. “Welcome home, Jennie.”

My jaw unhinges, feet rooted in place. “Home? For…for me?” Cautiously, I step inside the bright space, which appears to be stunning and fully furnished if the living room is any indication. I turn to my family, and my stupid eyes well with stupid tears. I hate crying, but this is an emotional time of year for me. “This is for me? You got me my own apartment?”

“Guess some might call me the best brother in the world.”

He’s annoying and drives me up the damn wall, but Carter always has been the best brother, and my best friend. So I fling my arms around his neck and cry out, “I love you so much.”

Mom’s frowny face comes into view. “But you can stay with me if you want. If you want, Jennie, you don’t have to move. It’s not too late. Carter can back out of the lease. You can—”

Carter silences her with one giant hand over her face. “Shhh.” He loops his arm through mine. “C’mon. I’ll give you the tour.”

Carter pulls me around the apartment, showing me the sprawling master bedroom, the attached bathroom with the sparkling glass shower. There’s a second bedroom and another bathroom down the hall, much more than I need.

Not surprising, nor is him telling me he actually wanted to get me the penthouse. Carter loves to spoil his people, and he caught me looking up rentals last month. I don’t have much income, and Vancouver is expensive, so my budget was giving Criminal Minds vibes, sans hunky Derek Morgan. The face Carter made before slamming my laptop shut, grunting out a Fuck no, and walking away, was both entertaining and eye-roll inducing.

When we finish the tour, I dance my way through every room three more times because I’m so in love, and I can’t stop smiling.

“This is incredible and so, so perfect.” I spin around the living room before I crush my brother in a hug and throw myself over Olivia, who’s made the couch her home, and smooch her cheek. “Thank you, times infinity.”

“You can move in as soon as you want,” Carter tells me as we get ready to head home. “I can help you when I get back from our series next week.” He hands me a rose gold key chain with an acrylic J on it, filled with tiny flowers. “And one of the guys lives on the top floor, which is cool. I feel better about you living alone knowing he’s around. I haven’t asked him yet, but I know he’ll look out for you.”

“Great.” How like him to put me under surveillance.

He sweeps me into the hallway as the door opposite me opens. A soft giggle pierces the air, and Carter grins.

“Speak of the fucking devil. What are you doing down here? Well, I mean, I know what you were doing down here.” He pumps his brows. “Your hair’s all…and your shirt…” He shakes his head, still grinning, then points at me. “Jennie’s moving in. Told her you’d look out for her.” His expression sobers. “You have to look out for her.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I grumble to nobody in particular, buttoning my coat before peeking to see which poor, unsuspecting soul has been tasked with the job. My fingers halt their work when my gaze settles on a pair of wide blue-green eyes, the mess of dirty blond waves ruffled on his head, the gray sweatpants hanging haphazardly and way too low off his hips.

Carter’s right: Garrett looks exceptionally like he just had sex.

And the half-dressed blonde with her fire engine red nails wrapped around his elbow looks like she just got fucked straight into the ground. I find myself feeling oddly envious.

Garrett Andersen ranks a solid Chris Hemsworth on the fuckability scale, all glowing skin, rippling muscles, turquoise eyes the color of the ocean on the brightest day, and his sweatpants do nothing to hide that he’s packing some serious heat between his legs, because why wouldn’t he be? So sue a girl for wondering what a quick roll with him might feel like. It’s been way too long, and I have a couple—okay, a fuckload—of cobwebs in the dungeon.

Shit, did I call it Disneyland earlier?

Bright red heat stains Garrett’s cheeks as he holds my stare, and I have no idea what comes over him as he rockets away from the girl at his side, practically shoving her to the ground.

“Right, well, as I was saying.” Clearing my throat, I wrap my scarf around my neck. “I don’t need to be babysat, especially by Fuckboy of the Year over here.” I loop my arm through Olivia’s and head for the elevator, throwing one last look over my shoulder. Judging by her laugh, I’d say Olivia enjoys the way Garrett’s mouth gapes as much as I do. I’m sure he wants to be my babysitter as much as I want to hear my brother call himself Big Daddy ever again.

“Jennifer Beckett,” Mom scolds, chasing after us. “That was mean! Sorry, Garrett! We love you!”

“I’ve called Carter much worse,” Olivia points out. “But Garrett’s a sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles. “A sweetheart who was fucking my new neighbor.”

I don’t mind, but it might be a little awkward to see them together in the hallway. And what if the walls are thin? Do I want to know what he sounds like when he’s coming? Not particularly.

One of the reasons I avoided social media before Carter met Olivia, back when he was manwhore extraordinaire. No one needs to see evidence that someone else is getting laid.

“Maybe they’re dating,” I offer lamely.

“Nope.” Carter’s arm pushes between the elevator doors, making them spring back open. He shuffles inside. “Just fucking.”

I pin my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a babysitter, Carter.”

He hauls Olivia into him, pulling her scarf up until it’s damn near covering her whole face, despite her trying to swat him away. “Don’t think of Garrett as a babysitter. Think of him more like an extra set of eyes.”

“Carter!” I stomp twice. I’ve always been a bit of a drama queen. Like brother, like sister. “That’s even worse! It sounds like you’re spying on me!”

“I’m not spying!” he shouts back, arms waving. “I just wanna make sure you’re safe!”

The doors burst open, and I strut into the immaculate lobby. “You’re so annoying.”

“No, you’re annoying!”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“Oh good God.” Olivia buries her face behind her hand.

“Children,” Mom warns. “Get along.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Carter mutters when he opens the car door for us.

“You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass.”

His face shatters with a wide grin. “Get in the damn car.”

My finger glides along the edge of the old page in front of me, the plastic that protects the pictures that have lived there for years. It’s stiff and broken, sharp on the edges, and I hiss when my finger slides too quickly over a crack. A drop of blood pools on the tip of my finger, and I suck it into my mouth to stop both the pain and the bleeding as I stare down at the handsome face smiling up at me.

He’s wearing a pink birthday hat and has a newly six-year-old me on his shoulders, clutching the soft, pale pink bunny stuffie he surprised me with.

My bedroom door creaks, and Mom pops her head in, smiling when she spots me still awake. She shuffles in but pauses at the edge of the bed, and I watch as years worth of unending love and heartache flashes across her eyes as she spies the photo album open in my lap. I wish I could fix it, but I know I can’t.

“I miss him,” I whisper, tracing the shape of my dad’s face. “So much.”

“Me, too, sweetie.” Mom sinks down beside me, pressing a lingering kiss to my hair. “I know he’s looking down on you today, crying that his baby girl isn’t a baby anymore. He’s so proud of you and the woman you’re becoming, Jennie. I know that without a doubt.”

She touches the bunny little me is clutching, smooshed into my dad’s hair. Her gaze settles on the same bunny currently snuggled into my belly. “She’s always been your favorite.”

I pull the stuffie from my lap. Its coloring has faded, and one of the button eyes hangs by a loose thread. Years of cuddles, of towing it everywhere I went, refusing to let my mom wash it sometimes for months at a time, has made the once-soft fur coarse and dull.

“I always wanted a bunny, but you guys wouldn’t let me get one. Dad got me this bunny instead.” I stroke the long ears. “It was him who named her, you know. Princess Bubblegum.”

“He would’ve given you the entire world if I only let him. He bugged me for years about getting you a real bunny. You were his little princess, and he was a persistent little shit who didn’t like the word no.”

“Sounds like Carter.”

She chuckles. “Carter and your dad are too much alike. A dangerous duo when they got up to their shenanigans.” She threads her fingers through my hair with a tender smile. “I’m sorry he’s not here to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I swipe a tear from my cheek, then catch the one rolling down hers. “I’m lucky to have had sixteen years to make memories with him.”

There’s a quiet sadness etched in her eyes as they sweep my dimly lit room. “I’m really going to miss having you here. I’d keep you forever if I could, but you deserve to have your own life. You need space to grow.”

With my face in her hands, she kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you, and I’m so proud of you.”