Wild Card: A College Sports Romance (Rake Forge University Series Book 1)

by Ashley Munoz

  All of it had gone to hell.

  “No one is dropping names?” I asked, popping the lid off my glass bottle.

  Marcus took a big swig of his, shaking his head. “Other than the accident between your bro and E’s, no.”

  Relief nearly made my shoulders visibly sag. The longer he didn’t start putting things together, the longer I had to make my own plans.

  “You running a deal?” My best friend quirked a curious brow.

  I smiled at him. “You know I don’t run those anymore.”

  “I do know that. I also know your family history, and the very fact that E is still alive tells me you’re saving something for him.”

  Dude knew me better than I thought. I watched my feet, not answering him.

  “Just be careful. Don’t get caught. You’re already in enough shit with Coach and the team since last year. You don’t want any more attention on you. Just finish the season, get your Devils status, and then get the fuck out of here.”

  I nodded, because he was right. That was the plan: keep my head low, get my secured spot on the team so I’d have it for the rest of my life, and then get out. I just had one last thing to finish up before I did.

  “Yeah, I’m good, man. I’m not running anything,” I replied easily, tossing the bottle cap in the garbage can.

  Marcus smirked, following suit with his cap. “Something tells me you’re full of shit, brother.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  Chapter Eleven

  The day went by as lazily as a fat cloud on a summer day. The shift at the local bookstore didn’t do much to distract me from the article burning a hole in my computer or the fact that I needed more info. There was also the little issue that eventually someone might notice it hadn’t been Taylor Beck who’d shown up that night. It was only a matter of time before someone checked up on that.

  Eventually it would bite me in the ass, but I was hoping to have my article finished first. The only problem was that I didn’t have enough information. I needed more answers in order to form a full opinion piece.

  I was pulling into my small driveway, celebrating the fact that I’d beaten Taylor home for once, when I noticed a truck rolling past our house going slower than normal. It was already dark out, and since I hadn’t been home all day, there weren’t any lights on outside. The thing about my father getting Taylor and me the townhouse was we both knew the units on either side of ours were occupied by his security teams. We weren’t idiots; we knew if anyone found out who we were or who we were connected to, we’d have problems. So, this arrangement allowed us some semblance of normalcy while maintaining the image that we were just two regular girls going to college.

  Not wanting to deal with whatever was happening with the slow-moving truck, I decided I’d risk the hoarder’s nest of a garage. The truck that had gone past had just done a U-turn when I ran under the half-lifted garage door. I dodged two piles of magazines and a treadmill when I finally made it to the wall and slammed my hand down on the button to close the door. It was probably just a DoorDash delivery person looking for the right house, but it still freaked me out, and if anything nefarious were to happen, my dad would get his way and force Taylor and me back home, living with him.

  Not many people knew who my dad was, nor did they know about Taylor’s connection to him. It helped that I lived like a pauper, not landing on anyone’s radar around school. So far, no one had connected me to the millionaire.

  Letting out a sigh, I heaved my purse and bookbag into the small laundry space beside the garage door and toed off my shoes. I rarely got the house to myself, so the fact that it was still dark and there was no sign of Taylor had me nearly jumping for joy. How long would this last?

  I started listing things I was going to do. Firstly, a bath with music…ooh, and candles. I started stripping. My socks came off first then I undid the button of my jeans, and just as I began jumping out of the left pant leg, the doorbell rang.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, I remembered the truck, and the tiny hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. The house was still dark; maybe I didn’t have to answer.

  Another ring echoed throughout the house. Curiosity would hound me all fucking night if I didn’t just see who was on the other side of that door. Suddenly, I knew why all those girls always died so fast in horror flicks. I knew, and still I walked to the door.

  I flicked the porch light on and carefully cracked the entrance, hiding my body and the fact that I was currently pants-less. Eyebrows shooting up, eyes widening, I could do nothing at all to keep the shock off my face…because what the actual fuck?

  “Hey…uh…” The man who’d kicked me out of his bedroom then scolded me about walking in the parking lot the other night had an expression that seemed to mirror my own.

  His sexy smirk died quickly as he sized me up. My eyes hopefully shimmered with hate and not lust as I took in that sharp jawline, those high cheekbones, and those dark mossy eyes hidden under the bill of a dark Devils hat. Why did he have to look so good? How was that even remotely fair? My thoughts quickly sobered as he tipped his head just the slightest bit, and I noticed the way his eyes narrowed on me, as if I had yet again ruined something for him.

  “What are you doing here…?” If his voice had been a whip, I’d have been on the floor bleeding. His eyes narrowed further, nearly slits as they moved to the emptiness behind me.

  My heart sank into my chest, down, down, down. Why, for even one tiny second, had I thought he was here to see me? I hated that subconsciously I had tethered myself to the idea. He was an asshole, and I wasn’t the type to cater to those…but there was something about him. Something about that night, the way he watched me before he touched me, like every place he pressed his fingers to was calculated and measured. The way his lips felt fevered on my skin, the way his tongue lavished me, like I was a delicacy…something sacred…

  “Isn’t this where Taylor Beck lives?” He stepped back a foot or two to catch the numbers on the side of the house. His words were a bucket of ice water, bringing me back into the moment.

  Hurt slithered in between my ribs, stupidly…so, so stupidly.

  “I…uh…” I cleared my throat, hating the burn behind my eyes. A whisper of lust brushed against my core, remembering those eyes that night…but it was all fake. All for Taylor.

  “Why would I give you that information?” I crossed my arms, deciding we’d go a different route.

  My heart thrashed to protect, protect, protect.

  Elias looked behind him at the street, where his truck was parked. It was the same one he’d bent down to inspect that night in the parking lot, but I hadn’t even noticed it when he drove down my road.

  “Maybe I’ll come back later.”

  His boot scuffed against the concrete near our welcome mat. His head dipped, but instead of turning around, he lingered.

  “Why are you…what…” His questions died on his tongue as he slowly lifted those eyes. They stared at my pink toenails then slowly moseyed up my body like suddenly they’d grown phantom fingers, raking over my skin and hair like he wanted to touch me. I noticed his hands clench at his sides.

  “What do you want with my stepsister?” I was tired of the questions, and I didn’t want him to come back to ask them.

  “Stepsister?” He choked on the word, running his left hand over the side of his face.

  He had a day’s worth of scruff on his jaw, more than the night his face had pressed against my skin.

  “Yeah, what do you want with her?”

  My heart thundered as I waited for him to confirm that he wanted to date her or fuck her.

  “It’s a business thing,” he muttered, taking a step back.

  Relief sailed through me. I tried to tamp it down because he still wanted her, not me, but I could still feel it billowing inside.

  “Okay…well, I can tell you she doesn’t do business unless it involves at least six digits. She avoids responsibilit
y like the plague and will avoid you too, so good luck.” I smiled and pushed the door, ready to close it in his face.

  “Wait.” His large palm pressed against the cute teal wood finish, his pinky grazing the obnoxious white wreath I knew had cost Taylor fifty dollars at some uppity home shop.

  I paused, watching the bulge in his neck move up and down, his eyes assessing me with what seemed like caution…and maybe curiosity.

  “I need a shot with her. I need…” He trailed off, his head dipping once more. “The other night, you seemed like you were looking for answers to something.”

  I lifted my left eyebrow. Was this Lady Luck finally throwing me a bone? I wasn’t in the habit of denying bones, so I sagged back an inch, only to remember I wasn’t wearing anything but a tank and a thong.

  “I was…” I mumbled, trying to hide myself a bit better. The angle was wreaking havoc on my neck.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. You can come out from behind the door,” he suggested, softening his tone.

  “Uh…no, it’s not that. I just…what were you about to say?” I internally begged for him to say he’d be willing to spill all the secrets about the game. My stomach clenched with anticipation. I’m so close.

  “Tell me why you won’t open the door first.” His mouth slung to the side in a mischievous smirk.

  Red-faced, I lightly shook my head as my answer tumbled out. “I’m not exactly wearing pants.”

  A light scoffing sound left his chest as he dipped his head, and when his sharp gaze returned to mine, it was with a heated look that I refused to acknowledge. It was the same look he’d given me when he first saw me in his room that night.

  “You do realize I had my face buried between your legs the other night, right? My fingers too…so I think it probably wouldn’t be too crazy if I saw you without pants.”

  It was my turn to scoff and internally slap away the lust-soaked images he’d planted.

  “That night was…well, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, how about that? Now what were you saying about me wanting something and you needing a shot?”

  The dip between his eyebrows made it seem an awful lot like I’d hurt his feelings, especially with the way his neck turned red, but maybe he was just ashamed of talking about being in between my thighs when he was here to ask about dating my stepsister.

  “What if I offered you a trade?”

  He’d hooked me. Locking my gaze with his, I carefully left the safety of the door and allowed it to open enough for him to enter. I walked a few steps away, fully aware that I was now flashing him my ass before dipping to grab a pair of sweats Juan had left in case of emergencies.

  The man on my stoop walked in after me, shut the door, and then sat down on the nice lounger chair my dad had purchased. My thrift-store furniture was currently in the garage.

  Clicking on a lamp, I sat across from him on the couch. I tucked my legs underneath me and hated how aware I was of my form. I had thighs, I had an ass, I had boobs. All of this anatomy often battled it out when I tried to tuck my body into the couch. More often than not, there was at least something protruding in an undignified way.

  “Nice place.” His elbows landed on his bent knees as his eyes searched the space, moving across the brick fireplace and settling on my borrowed sweats.

  “Nothing less than the best for Taylor,” I muttered quietly, immediately wincing at how immature it had sounded coming out. “Anyway, this deal…” I kicked out one of my legs, loathing how awkward this all felt. Plus, I wanted him to leave. A bath was calling my name, and who knew when Taylor might get home.

  “My name is Decker James…not Elias Matthews. We should start there. I’ll save you the long story, but Elias is really into Taylor, and I need her to be into me. I need a shot with her, a real one.”

  Well, that was unexpected.

  “Wait…what?”

  He let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head like it weighed a thousand pounds.

  “It’s a lon—”

  “Yeah, long story—you don’t need to tell me all that, but I want to be sure I understand. Are you only after my stepsister to get one up on this guy or something…or do you actually like her?”

  He paused too long. The muscle in his jaw jumped while he kept his gaze downcast, toward the floor.

  “It’s complicated.” He finally exhaled, looking up.

  “Well, I’m not setting my stepsister up for some weird game or Devils bet situation, but if you like her for real then I’ll help you.”

  He watched me, every second turning more and more intense. It was like I’d just turned him down or said no to something, and that was just strange. How hard was it to confirm that you actually cared about someone and wanted a real shot at having a date with them?

  “Okay” was all he replied with. I resisted the urge to walk over and punch him in the arm.

  “What’s in it for me then?” I needed to stay focused on the idea that he’d serve up this story on a silver platter, regardless of the fact that I wanted to cry because he was here to get a shot with my stepsister, the girl who got every guy. Memories of my junior and senior years of high school came back like a punch to the throat. So many guys had pretended to get close to me, when in the end they either wanted my dad’s money or my stepsister. Never me.

  “Whose sweats are those?”

  His right finger lifted just the smallest bit, pointing toward my legs.

  I stared at him. He stared back. What in the hell was with this guy? He’d clammed up about Taylor but couldn’t stop asking me weird questions.

  “Why?”

  “Because that emblem on the side…it’s familiar.”

  I ran my finger gently over the stitched hornet that fell at the hip. I wasn’t sure what the hornet situation was or what it meant to Juan, but I knew he was a sports guy and he had like five pairs of these sweats. He seemed to leave them everywhere. I knew Hillary had a pair at her house, maybe a pair in her car too.

  I waited a few seconds to reply because I wanted to control the situation. This guy had been an ass to me both nights, and now he was here in my home, asking me about sweats when I had asked him point-blank about what was in our deal for me. I felt like he was toying with me, so I decided I’d toy right back.

  “They belong to a guy.” I leaned forward. “Now, what’s in this for me?”

  He looked like maybe he’d slammed his back molars down or ground them together. I couldn’t figure him out. He seemed to be all over the place.

  “I’ll give you whatever answers you were trying to dig for that night.” His eyes were still on my sweats until he finally flicked them up to my resting bitch face. My knuckles pressed into the side of my head as I relaxed against my fist.

  “I want info on the card game…a lot of info.”

  His silky dark hair was covered by that hat, but I remembered how soft it felt, how good it felt under my fingers.

  “I can answer anything about the Devils, whatever you want.” He waved off the question, keeping his gaze lowered.

  “And in exchange, I talk you up to Taylor…get you a date, or invite you over and see if she warms up to your charming personality?”

  He laughed, his white teeth flashing, but he smothered it with his hand.

  “Something like that. I want her to give me a real shot.”

  Painful heat seared my chest, but I ignored it.

  “Deal.” The sooner we were done with each other, the better. “The only condition I have is that you don’t hurt her…physically or emotionally.” I held up my finger toward his face like I was telling him off. “And don’t fuck where I eat or sit.”

  He shuddered, his eyebrows drawing in tight. “Who the fuck does that?”

  I smiled at him, standing and needing him out of my space so my stupid idiot heart would stop trying to convince all the other parts of my body that we liked him.

  “Taylor does. Frequently.” I leaned forward to open the door, despite the fact that he was still sit
ting. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at the bookstore on Fifth. There’s a small coffee shop inside.”

  Decker sat, watching me and waiting like he wanted to say something else.

  “So, you’ll meet with me, I’ll give you info, and then we’ll figure out a way for me to start hanging around Taylor?” he clarified. He still sat in the chair, his greenish eyes dancing with amusement.

  I heaved a sigh.

  “Yes. We meet first, let me get some notes on the game. We will probably only need to meet three or four times to get the information I need for my story…and at those meetings, we can schedule playdates for you and Taylor.”

  His eyes narrowed, those gorgeous lips pressing together in a way that told me he didn’t like the term playdate being used. Whatever.

  Finally, he stood and moved until he was towering over me. I could smell his spicy, woodsy cologne, and just like that night, I wanted it to wrap around me until I couldn’t breathe.

  “Guess I should know your name.” He stepped out, only to turn and brace himself against the door with his left arm, giving me a sexy smirk.

  Damn him.

  I blinked, hating the magnetic pull I felt to this man who wanted my stepsister. I took a step back from him, and then another. Why was he being all sexy and charming with me when he wanted to bang Taylor? Maybe it was in my head…stupid fucking hormones.

  “Mallory Shaw. Nice to officially meet you, Decker James. Looks like we’re both big-ass liars.”

  I slammed the door in his face.

  Chapter Twelve

  The sun was bouncing off the aluminum napkin holders set up along each of the small tables inside the café. I looked around, taking in the shop. There was a glass case that doubled as a counter, and it was full of pastries. On the counter behind it was an espresso machine and a perky-looking high schooler making a latte.

  I kicked my leg out in front of me, taking in the other side of the space. The checkered black and white tile started right as the laminate wood of the café stopped. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, with a myriad of spines and colors spread along the racks.