Playing House: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (The Playboys of Sin Valley Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “Say what you want. I’ve already had a few beers and I promised Wyatt I'd take care of you.”

  I growl. “Why am I not surprised that you and Wyatt have been conspiring behind my back to overtake my life?”

  Smiling to himself, Jace tugs off his jacket and ditches the neck tie before undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then he rolls his sleeves back to his elbows. I can’t help it. My eyes stay transfixed to the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt at his movements.

  When his gaze smacks into mine, I remind myself that I’m drunk. And I’m heartbroken. And I’m suddenly single. Just this once, I get a pass for checking out my long-time friend.

  The waitress comes back with our drinks. I reach for my cocktail but Jace cuts me off, thrusting his water bottle my way. I give him an irritated glare. "I don't need a babysitter. Despite what Wyatt says.”

  “You're gonna be grateful for this gesture in the morning when you don't wake up with a hangover.” Jace holds the water out to me until I reluctantly take it.

  “Fine.” I uncap the bottle and exaggeratedly take a few long glugs.

  As I drink, he stares at me like I’m some fragile thing. Like he’s scared that if he looks away for a second too long, I’ll accidentally lose my balance and fall face-first into the fishbowl.

  “Happy?” I ask challengingly.

  “Blissful,” he says with a triumphant smirk as he grabs the bottle from my hand. He takes a swallow.

  I roll my eyes. Jason Bellino is six feet, three inches of broad-shouldered, chisel-faced, chocolate-eyed charm. He’s so good-looking, it’s borderline annoying and he’s not humble about it at all. Sometimes, he gets on my nerves.

  Before I can say something snarky, Wyatt thunders into our space, snapping me back into the moment. “I hate to leave right now, but I could only be away from base for a few hours. I’ve got to get back. Jace is going to drive you back to his place.” Wyatt’s eyes swing over to Jace’s. “I’m entrusting my little sister into your care.”

  Wyatt’s words send a jolt through me.

  I shake my head roughly. “No. I don’t want to be a burden on Jace.”

  But my brother doesn’t flinch. “You don’t have anywhere else to go right now,” he reminds me.

  “I can stay at your cabin, Wyatt. I could clean it up for when you get back.” My words fall out in a desperate rush. “I’m sure it could use some TLC since you’ve been go—”

  “Sera, no,” my brother interrupts. “The cabin doesn’t even have running water right now.” An almost-smile flutters across his never-smiling face. “And let’s be real—you’re scared of raccoons. You wouldn't last a night out there in the woods by yourself. And I’m not letting you go back to stay at Rocky’s condo, either.”

  “Jace only has one bedroom,” I argue back.

  “His football season starts this weekend, and he’ll be on the road most of the time. He’ll be so busy for the next few months, you’ll hardly see him.”

  “And what about his days off?”

  “His ass can sleep on the couch when he’s home.”

  I look at the man in question, the man who’s been uncharacteristically silent throughout this entire exchange.

  Jace doesn’t seem surprised or put off by Wyatt’s plans for me. That’s when I realize what’s happening. “The two of you cooked up this plan without me? You didn’t even bother to run it by me? Well, that’s just offensive.”

  “Oh, come on, Sera,” Jace says, like I’m the one being unreasonable here. “When this night is over, you’re gonna need a safe place to recover. Not one of your girlfriends, who’ll be overly emotional, suffocating you with their weepy energy and drowning you in boatloads of wine. Not your mom or your sister who’ll just baby you to death. At my condo, you’ll have all the space you need.”

  Wyatt intervenes, impatient as always. “Sera. You’re moving in with Jace, and that’s final. You can stay at his condo until you’re back on your feet and get your own place.”

  I hate when he uses his military voice on me. I’m a twenty-four-year-old-woman and Wyatt knows I don’t like being bossed around. But today was a long day, and under all this makeup are dark circles and tired eyes. My whole life just got turned sideways and I don’t trust myself to make any big decisions at the moment. Plus, if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to go back to Rocky’s condo and be surrounded by his things, even if he’s not there.

  None of this is ideal, but I know Jace will give me a sturdy shoulder to cry on, while also awarding me with the space I’ll need.

  “Fine.” I pick up my cocktail and slouch back in my seat. If Jace wants to be my human ankle monitor, fine.

  Looking satisfied, my overbearing brother leans down to give me a quick hug before bumping fists with Jace and stomping off.

  I see the way Desiree’s eyes follow Wyatt as he moves across the club. He deliberately ignores her until she looks away. But right before he steps out of the room, he steals a half-glance at her through the crowd. The two of them used to date way back when. Then Wyatt went off to the military. Desiree got married then had a child then got divorced then became a single mom. I’m not sure exactly why things turned out this way between the two of them. All I know is I hate seeing them hate each other now.

  My attention comes back to Jace when his fingers wrap around my upper arm in a reassuring squeeze. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, kid.”

  I twist my lips to the side in resignation. “Yeah, looks like it. I just hope you know your playboy lifestyle is going to take a setback during this arrangement.” To be honest, with the current state of my emotions, I’m not exactly jumping at the idea of cohabiting with the wildest bachelor in town.

  His gaze falls to my lips and lingers. This time, I know I’m not imagining it. “The playboy lifestyle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be…”

  My heart flutters again. Yup—my old-time crush on Jason Bellino is definitely in da house.

  A guilty look comes over Jace’s expression. He quickly turns his attention back to the table in front of us. “So where were we, roomie?”

  I snap out of my daze as well. “We were about to get wasted,” I declare.

  “Off of some blue slush and gummies in a fish bowl?” Incredulously, he hikes a bushy eyebrow. “Sera, I'm a pro baller. I have a reputation to uphold. I can't be seen in public drinking blue slushies and gummies out of a fish bowl. My man card would be forcibly confiscated. The International Association of Dude Bros would enrol me in remedial classes. They'd probably set me up with a mentor.”

  I’m giggling. “Shut up. You're drinking with me.” I hold the cocktail to his lips. Reluctantly, he leans in and takes a sip. I laugh at his expression before taking an icy gulp of my own.

  If there’s one person I could allow myself to get uninhibitedly drunk with tonight, it’s Jace. He won’t let me get an x-rated face tattoo or take embarrassing pictures that can later be used against me for blackmail or make some other huge mistake I won’t be able to come back from. He’ll make sure I’m all right.

  So we drink and we talk and we drink.

  We share three more fishbowls. Or maybe four. I’m not sure. Secretly, he loves these damn cocktails but he’s too stubborn to admit it. After the drinks loosen him up a bit, he orders tequila shots to boost his ‘street cred’.

  Jace listens patiently as I pour my heart out. He dispenses the most ridiculous life advice. And every time I utter a word of self-reproach, he reminds me of who the fuck I am. Soon, I’m giggling like crazy and forgetting to be a quivering pile of heartbreak. That’s the effect Jason Bellino has on me. That’s why we’ve been friends for most of our lives.

  But he’s looking at me that way again and—oh my god—what’s happening here?

  I dare not hold his eye contact because with all the alcohol bubbling around in me, there’s no telling what dumb shit I might do.

  I eyeball the tipped over shot glasses and the empty water bottles along with the b
asket of curly fries and half-eaten chicken wings on our table. “We’ll need to leave a monstrous tip to whoever gets the honor of cleaning up after our little party tonight.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah…”

  He brushes my untamed hair back. His fingertips graze my cheekbones before he cups my face in his palm. He searches my eyes like he’s looking for the lost secrets of the Universe.

  My hand covers his. “I'm gonna be okay,” I tell him.

  “You'd better be.” He rolls out that sly half-grin of his. “I don't want you going all soft on me, dude.”

  “Never,” I declare on a scoff.

  He gives me a sober, meaningful look and silence stretches between us. I ignore the knot in my belly and remind myself that, above all else, this handsome bastard is one of my best friends in the world.

  Even though his lips look ridiculously soft right now. Even though my body is telling me that those big hands on my skin would take all the pain away.

  Shame. Shame. Shame.

  What the heck is wrong with me tonight?

  My thoughts are basically sludge inside my soggy brain. ‘Drunk’ and ‘heartbroken’ aren’t the greatest mix.

  But the way he’s looking at me makes the nightclub fade away. The thousand other hot sweaty gyrating bodies dissipate like mist.

  Just my friend…Just my very good friend…I remind myself.

  Right then, Declan stomps by with Minka tossed over his shoulder. Minka protests all the way, kicking her feet and swinging her fists as she makes ‘help me’ eyes at Jace and me.

  “Uh. Should we go rescue her?” I question as I dig a mushy gummy fish out of my glass with my fingers.

  “No way.” Jace chuckles. “They’ll either kill each other or end up in bed together. Finally.”

  I laugh softly. Despite their constant bickering, we all know the two of them have the hots for each other. They’re like children that way. Still, I stumble to my feet, clinging to the excuse to get away from this sexual tension. “No, seriously. I should go rescue her. Because chances are good that they’ll choose the ‘kill each other’ option.”

  Jace leaps to his feet. His big palms catch me, grabbing my hips. There’s barely an inch of distance separating his torso from mine, and since I’ve lost my heels, I feel two feet shorter than he is. The rich, familiar scent of his cologne captures me by the panties and tears the scrap of fabric to shreds. Metaphorically speaking, I mean.

  He’s steady on his feet, but I recognize the glassy twinkle in his eyes. He’s way more fucked up than he’s willing to let on. “Minka is fine,” he says, his voice rough as gravel and hard as concrete. “Tonight—for once in your life—I want you to focus on you. Instead of putting everybody else first, focus on what you need.” The alcohol on his breath sweeps over my lips and I just want to lick his whole damn mouth.

  Feeling overwhelmed, I break eye contact.

  But the handsome bastard cups my cheek, bringing my attention to his face again. “What would make you feel better right now?” he asks softly.

  “You mean aside from tying Rocky to his bed, giving him a gasoline sponge bath and accidentally dropping a lit match stick on his sheets?”

  Jace cringes and pulls back. “Yikes. Remind me to never double-cross you.”

  I huff a little laugh. “You know I'd never actually do it. But it’s the Wild West in there right now.” I point to my skull and make a screwing motion with my finger.

  He laughs. The rough, rich sound sets loose a cascade of something in my gut.

  Even on bare feet, I totter.

  He stares at me intently. “How can I make you feel better?”

  A million scenarios run through my head. Most of them involve his body, my body, sweaty bedsheets. But I’d never go ‘there’. I’d never compromise our friendship. So I settle on something a lot more innocent, if not a little bit petty.

  “I want to go back to the courthouse.” I narrow my eyes on his. “I want to cancel my marriage license. Scratch my name out of the registry. Delete any evidence that I was ever going to marry Rocky Pfeiffer.”

  Jace looks confused. “I’m pretty sure you don't have to do that…”

  “I know I don’t have to do that.” I heave a breath. “And I know it sounds stupid. But I want my power back, Jace. Rocky stole my dignity and I want it back.”

  He scans my face. His dark eyes tell me that he understands me even though I’m being unreasonable. “Fine.” He extends a hand to me. “Let’s go.”

  Half an hour later, we stumble out of a taxi cab outside of the Sin Valley marriage office.

  “Hi, I’m here to cancel my marriage license…” I slur when we amble up to the clerk’s desk. With Jace’s suit jacket draped around my shoulders, I slump against the counter. I can hardly stand upright by this point.

  The girl behind the counter doesn’t look old enough to work at a movie theatre, let alone the marriage license office.

  “Excuse me?” She’s struggling to tear her gaze away from the TikTok video she’s watching on her phone. When she finally looks up, her eyes sweep over me in my dirty dress and melted makeup before landing on Jace in all his wavy-haired, dimple-faced, effortlessly hunky glory. Her jaw drops open, exposing her blue wad of gum. “Y-you’re Jason Bellino! Oh my—”

  I interrupt her, head held high and dignified as I speak. “I want to cancel my marriage license. My wedding plans have been”—I pause and search for a sophisticated way to say ‘shot to shit’—“reconfigured, and I won’t be needing the marriage license anymore.” I pull the squished up paper out of my neckline. How the hell did I stuff all this crap into my bra?

  Drunk-Faced Jace stares openly at my boobs. I swear, he’s salivating. Somehow, he trips on his feet while standing in place.

  Wow—We are. Fucked. Up.

  The night clerk speaks to me, her attention still focused on my handsome friend. “C-canceling the license won’t be necessary. It’ll expire o-on its own i-in twelve months.”

  “Twelve months?!” I balk. “No, no, no! I can’t wait twelve months for the license to expire. You don’t understand—I need this license to go away. Now.” I hear my own panic rising with each word.

  “I—I…” She gives me a blank stare, fluttering her Bambi eyes.

  Jace lumbers close to the counter and leans over the desk. “Look—my friend’s asshole ex-fiancé never bothered to show up for their wedding today.”

  The girl looks at me, lips parted, sympathy in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry…” I chafe when she calls me that.

  Jace speaks again. “Understandably, she’s feeling pretty shitty right now. Can you do anything to make her feel better? To give her some closure? Even if it’s just symbolic.”

  Despite his drunken state, Jace manages to flash his trademark sex-pout, and it’s game over for the poor girl. She couldn’t say ‘no’ to him even if she wanted to.

  Her eyes are still locked to Jace’s hypnotic stare as she nods agreeably and pops up from her seat. “Um…how about, uh…” She lifts the linoleum counter flap and gestures me forward.

  I advance cautiously as the clerk flips on a whirring, industrial-sized paper shredder.

  Mischievous glint in his eyes, Jace watches on as I slide the license through the sharp, slicing teeth of the paper shredder. The roaring machine reduces the document down to thin, white ribbons, mixing it with the other indistinct strips of paper in there. I laugh and I laugh and I laugh like it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all year.

  Being drunk is great.

  Jace thanks the starstruck bureaucrat before bracing me by the shoulders and turning me toward the exit.

  As we’re walking off, I hear the woman mutter under her breath. “Poor thing…”

  Poor thing…Poor thing…Poor thing…

  Over and over the words replay in my head as I follow Jace toward the exit of the marriage bureau. The condescending tone in her voice. The pity. It gets under my skin.

  I stop in my tracks. My fe
et refuse to keep walking. Jace throws a glance at me over his shoulder. In a heartbeat, he’s backtracking in my direction, wrapping his massive fingers around my wrist. “You okay?” His brow wrinkles with concern.

  Am I? Am I okay? Or am I tired of settling for scraps while life has its way with me? Am I tired of being the Sweetheart of Sin Valley?

  I did all the things. I followed all the rules. Much good it did me.

  For once, I just want to say fuck the rules and do things my way.

  Our eyes hold. And in an instant, I know I’m about to do something crazy.

  “No. I’m not okay.”

  Maybe I’m drunk or stupid or desperate for validation. Or maybe I’m feeling a little vindictive after getting jilted at the altar. Or maybe I’m finally giving myself permission to take something that I’ve wanted for longer than I’d ever admit.

  All I know is I’m too emotionally compromised to control myself.

  I grab the front of his shirt in my fists. I jerk him closer.

  And I crash my lips into his.

  Five

  Sera

  The first thing I’m aware of is the heavy chill from the air conditioner, tickling my bare ass and sending a ripple of goosebumps down my legs.

  I try lifting my pounding head but apparently someone opened my skull and filled it with pieces of granite last night. Now, it won’t move and I can practically hear the rattling chunks of my brain clattering around in there.

  With a heavy arm, I pat around in search of a sheet or something to ward off the icy breeze kissing my booty. Instead, I find myself grasping at rough carpet fibres.

  Great. I spent my wedding night facedown on some hotel floor. Classy.

  Rocky and I must have gotten smashed at our wedding reception last night…But there’s surely nothing romantic about starting the first day of our happy ever after with a throbbing headache, a roiling gut and a raging hangover.

  But with each passing second, I become increasingly aware of the faraway voice deep in my mind, yelling at me that something doesn’t feel right.