Easton: The Casanova Club #3

by Ali Parker

  “And?”

  “And,” he said, his tone a little sharper than I was used to hearing, “do you really think that’s the right foot to start this month on, sir? She’s a nice girl. And I think she may have had higher expectations than, well…”

  “Spit it out.”

  “She had higher expectations than being picked up by me and dropped off at an empty house with no warning and no notice of when you would return.”

  I chuckled and gave Raj a light bump in the chest with my fist. “Good thing fretting about my temporary girlfriend isn’t your job, huh?”

  “Uh. Yes, I suppose not.”

  “Go home, Raj. I’ll call you when I need you.”

  Raj sighed.

  “Is there something else you’d like to say?” I asked sharply.

  Raj shook his head.

  “Then why are you still standing here? Waiting for a tip or something? I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk.”

  “I’m not waiting for anything, sir. Have a good rest of your night.”

  Raj got back in the car and drove off. My teammates were already making their way up to the front door, and I could hear Brodie trying to shush the other two. “Shut up. She’s probably sleeping.”

  “Who cares?” I asked, sliding between them and fishing my house key out of my pocket. I opened the door and pushed it open. “I don’t know about you fuckers, but I’m ready for another drink.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Brett said, following me down the hall and into the kitchen as Brodie closed and locked my front door. He and Will came in behind us, and both of them looked around my place like there was a ghost hiding in a dark corner.

  “What’s with you two?” I asked.

  Brodie took a seat at one of the barstools at my kitchen island. “Nothing. Just seeing if she was up is all.”

  “It’s two in the morning,” I said.

  Brodie nodded. “I know. I thought she might wait up for you.”

  Will chuckled. “She probably went to bed early. She’s exhausted from spending January with the first guy. Who was it again, Easton?”

  “The Canadian,” I said.

  All three of my teammates started to giggle like little girls.

  I cracked a smile of my own. “She’s going to get a rude awakening here, boys. No sorries will be leaving my lips, unlike that ass-kissing Frenchie.”

  “Poor girl,” Brodie said.

  “Poor girl nothing. She’s lucky to have a whole month at my house. Living my life. She’d better be grateful.”

  The guys exchanged an uneasy look, but nobody said anything as I unscrewed the cap from a bottle of whiskey and filled up three crystal glasses.

  I looked evenly at all of them. “Here’s to a wasted February. Bottoms up, boys.”

  Chapter 6

  Piper

  Waking up in a strange room on Saturday felt odd, especially since in my dreams I was back in a bed with Joshua, curled up against his chest while he ran his fingers through my hair.

  It seemed that my subconscious wasn’t willing to let go of him yet, either.

  I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before looking blurrily around at my extravagant suite. Easton’s home was luxurious and over the top. I’d landed in Miami expecting extravagance, but I hadn’t quite anticipated just how lavish everything would be.

  My bedroom suite was bigger than the apartment I shared back in New York City with Janie. The hardwood floors were so pale they were almost white. The walls were the softest shade of blue, and the massive south-facing bay window was framed with sheer white curtains. The venetian blinds were closed, but sunlight still peeked through around the edges and between the slits, warming the space up.

  There was a reading chair in one corner of the room. Over the back of it was a floral-patterned blanket, and I wondered if this room had been feminized specifically for my stay or if this was what it always looked like. Perhaps someone like Easton Price had female company coming over that were in need of a spare room every now and again. Like family members.

  Or lady friends who didn’t share his bed.

  I shook the thought from my brain and pulled the feather duvet down to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. It was so high my feet dangled a good half a foot from the floor.

  I slid off the bed and landed lightly on my toes. I indulged in a long stretch, reaching my hands up to the ceiling before leaning forward and down to touch my toes. I exhaled and arched my back and then rolled my shoulders as I straightened back up.

  Feeling a little more awake, I went to the window and opened the blinds.

  Sunlight broke through and nearly blinded me. I shielded my eyes and peered outside over the bright green lawn to the palm trees lining the driveway that, when I arrived last night, had been lit up by multicolored lights shooting upward.

  The property was magnificent.

  I thought Joshua lived well up in Montreal, but Easton’s home put Joshua’s parent’s place to shame. It was high end, far from understated, and modern as hell.

  For example, in the bathroom connected to my bedroom, there was a sauna. And the shower doubled as a steam room.

  I planned on using both this morning while doing some light yoga to get my blood flowing and put my mind in a good place. Last night had been rough. Really rough.

  First off, I showed up at a glorious mansion with a handful of expectations of how my meeting would go with Easton. I was anxious and worried and full of nerves as Raj helped me inside with my bags, and it turned out that all my fretting was for nothing because Easton wasn’t home.

  And I fell asleep before he came back.

  I wondered if he was home yet. And if he was, if he would be up. I had crashed around one in the morning, and he still wasn’t back from wherever he’d gone. Maybe he was the kind of guy who slept until noon after a night out.

  I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he’d been totally fine with me showing up and spending the first night alone in his house.

  It didn’t matter. I was still determined to have a good introduction, whenever it happened. I could only control me and my thoughts, so starting the day with some yoga and a good sweat would help with that immensely.

  I made sure my bedroom door was locked before stripping out of my silk sleep set and padding into the bathroom, where I turned on the sauna and the steam room. I steamed first and then did a good half hour stretch and flow session in the sauna.

  After that, I showered. I ended the shower with cold water and got out to dry off, tie my wet hair back in a braid, and put on a bit of makeup. I still had to make a good impression and put in a bit of effort.

  The shiny pink gloss on my lips made for the perfect finishing touch. I went back into the bedroom and put on a pair of tight, dark blue jeans and a white tee. Then I made the bed, spritzed some perfume in front of me, shimmied through it, and went to leave my room.

  The anxiety swelled up in my chest as soon as I touched the door handle.

  “Come on, Piper. Don’t be a baby. This is nothing. Just some dude.”

  Just some millionaire playboy football player, more like. A guy so self-involved, he couldn’t even be bothered to be here when you arrived last night.

  “Stop it,” I scolded myself. Those thoughts would do me no favors. I was here. I was in this. The second month of the process was already underway, and I couldn’t spend it holed up in my room, all because I was nervous about meeting an athlete.

  After I did my time with him, I would move on to the next guy and keep my eye on the prize, the million dollars.

  I opened the door, lifted my chin, and made my way down the winding hallways toward the living area and kitchen.

  Male voices floated my way as I drew closer.

  Several of them.

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway. My bare toes were right up against the line of shadow and sunlight on the hardwood floors. Once I stepped around the corner and into the sun, whoever the men were out there would see me, an
d things would start.

  Easton and I would meet.

  There was no telling what might happen from there. I swallowed my nerves, lifted my chin, and straightened my already straight tee. Here we go.

  The sun washed over me as I rounded the corner. The group of talking men was farther away than I’d anticipated. I had to walk through the living room, dining room, and second lounge area near the back doors to a fancy backyard with a pool before I arrived at the threshold of the kitchen.

  None of them saw me standing in the doorway.

  I licked my lips and resisted saying “um”. Instead, I said, “Good morning.”

  The three men sitting around the island in the kitchen stopped talking and looked at me.

  It was easy to tell that they were athletes. It was also easy to realize that none of them were Easton.

  Figures.

  One of them, a broad-shouldered, muscle-rippling beast of a man, slid off his barstool and came over toward me. He held out his hand, offered me a frighteningly white smile, and introduced himself. “Good morning, Piper. I’m Brett. These clowns are Brodie and Will. But I imagine you know that already.”

  “Um.” I stammered as his massive hand engulfed in mine. So much for not saying “um” and trying to look like I was a confident young woman who had her shit together. “Sorry. No, I don’t.”

  Brett’s eyes widened a bit with surprise, but he recovered quickly.

  “Sorry, I don’t watch sports,” I said.

  Brett chuckled. “Don’t tell Easton that.”

  “I won’t.” I smiled shyly.

  Brett stepped aside and motioned for me to come join them. “Have a seat, Piper. Can I brew you a pot of coffee?”

  “Sure,” I said, taking the vacant stool beside the one he had stood from.

  The other two men, Brodie and Will, were studying me. I could feel it in their gazes, and I was glad I’d had the foresight not to wear my sweatpants out to grab breakfast and coffee. I was also glad for the thin veil of makeup I’d slapped on.

  It would have been nice if I’d bothered to do my hair, rather than leaving it in a wet braid to drip onto the back of my shirt.

  Oh well.

  “So,” I said, looking around at the three of them with a smile that I hoped looked friendly instead of terrified. “Where’s Easton?”

  Brodie, the hunky blonde with a tan that couldn’t be naturally occurring, hooked a thumb over his shoulder to point down the hall from which I came. “Sleeping.”

  “Right,” I said.

  Brett slid a mug of coffee between my hands. “Cream? Sugar?”

  Sensing I would receive judgement if I asked for almond milk, I shook my head. “Black is fine.”

  Brett reclaimed his stool beside me and leaned forward on his elbows. He watched me take my first sip of coffee before saying, “Sorry last night didn’t go the way I imagine you expected it would.”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Why should you be sorry for that?”

  Brett exchanged a look with the other men. “Well, the three of us could have tried a bit harder to make Easton leave the club last night.”

  I shrugged. “You’re not his babysitters, are you?”

  Brett surprised me by barking out a laugh. The others joined in, and I looked around at the three of them, hoping my comment had indeed amused them and hadn’t crossed any lines.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I said, hiding my frown by taking a sip of coffee.

  Brett snickered. “I’m glad you did. I like you already.”

  Brodie nodded. “Me too. Don’t worry too much about Easton. He’s a lot of talk, but if you give him some time, you’ll see he’s more than the asshole he wants you to think he is.”

  “Sounds like I’m going to have a fun month,” I muttered.

  “Can’t be worse than your last thirty days with the Canadian, eh?” Will mocked, nudging his buddies in their ribs with his elbows. They all indulged him in a couple chuckles.

  I forced myself to smile and let the comment roll off my back. I got to my feet and brought my coffee with me as I went and opened the fridge. I was here for a month. If Easton saw it fit to put me up in his house, then I was going to help myself to the contents of his fridge. I scanned the shelves and was impressed by the groceries he had. I supposed a pro athlete had to make sure his fridge was stocked full of healthy, high-protein foods.

  “I hope you’re hungry, boys,” I said, flashing them a smile. “I’m cooking breakfast.”

  Will shook his head. “Don’t bother. We’ll order something. What do you want?”

  I blinked at him. “Order something? For breakfast?”

  Will nodded and looked at the others, who seemed to think my bewilderment was a strange reaction. “Yes,” Will said. “There are tons of places nearby. Easton has the city’s best crepe place on speed dial, and they make special deliveries for him. Whatever you want can be here within half an hour.”

  I frowned. “When was the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

  Will shrugged. “Since I was at my ma’s for the holidays, I guess.”

  “That was a month ago,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Will said, scratching his chin.

  Brodie and Brett claimed the same thing. They hadn’t had a homecooked meal since they were back home visiting family over the holidays.

  “Well that just won’t do,” I said as I began pulling eggs, spinach, cheese, peppers, onions, and cherry tomatoes out of the fridge. I set everything out on the counter and looked for a cutting board. I started to worry that maybe Easton didn’t own one since he apparently never did any of his own cooking, but I found a pristine marble one tucked against the side of the last cupboard I opened.

  I started chopping and sizzling butter in pans to prepare omelettes. It wasn’t anything fancy, but being in the kitchen and keeping my hands busy was the best way to put me at ease, and three grown men should see what it was like to have someone competent in the kitchen.

  Too bad Easton wasn’t around to see it.

  Chapter 7

  Easton

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered after cracking open one eye and being blinded by the sun glaring through my window. I’d been so plastered when I came to bed last night that I forgot to close the blinds. Now, my presently hungover self was regretting every minute of last night. Especially all those tequila shots.

  I massaged my pounding head and raked my fingers through my hair to massage my scalp. The pressure felt good and alleviated some of the pain as I sat up. The room seemed to sway all around me until I grounded myself by planting my feet down on the floor.

  How much had I really had to drink last night?

  The whiskey. All the tequila shots at the bar. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost track of my intake. A little more and I was sure I’d have spent the night hunched over the toilet bowl.

  Thank God I wasn’t that fucked up.

  I made my way over to my dresser and rummaged around for a loose pair of gray sweats. I stumbled around pulling them on and had to brace myself against the wall to get my second foot through the ankle cuff.

  “You clumsy bastard,” I growled at myself.

  Then I heard laughter coming from the kitchen.

  I’d completely forgotten that the boys crashed at my place last night. Who knew what they were up to in my kitchen? If I wasn’t mistaken, I could also hear the telltale sounds of someone cooking.

  I opened my bedroom door and sniffed the air. Someone was definitely cooking.

  The air was rich with the smell of simmering onions and melting cheese. My mouth instantly started to water despite my somewhat unsettled stomach. I ducked back into my room to throw on a T-shirt and then hurried down the hall, past the guest quarters, and toward the kitchen. I froze in the doorway.

  There was a girl in my kitchen.

  She had long, dark brown hair. It was wet, so it looked almost black, and she had it pulled back in a somewhat messy braid that le
ft a wet track line down the middle of her white tee. Her ass in the pair of skin-tight blue jeans was impossible for me to tear my gaze from as she flipped something in a pan on the stove.

  How the hell had I forgotten that Piper was here?

  It was February second. She would be here for another twenty-six days. And there I was, standing in my sweats and a shirt with a hole in the shoulder, un-showered, unshaved, probably smelling like booze, and looking like I’d just rolled out of the gutter.

  “The sleeping beast lives,” Brodie said from his stool at my kitchen island. My gaze slid to him. Brodie chuckled. “How are you feeling, princess?”

  Piper looked over her shoulder.

  God damn.

  I didn’t remember her being that beautiful. Hell, I didn’t recall her being beautiful at all. Had I really been that absorbed in the bleached-blonde women walking around in skin-tight pink dresses to notice how much of a natural beauty Piper was?

  Her full pink lips curled up in a sweet smile. She had a spatula in her hand as she turned to face me. “Good morning, Easton.”

  “Morning,” I said, my voice a little gruff and thick from sleep and liquor.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, pointing her spatula toward the pan at her back. “I’m whipping up omelettes and bacon for everyone.”

  “I could eat,” I said. “Thanks. That’s… nice of you.”

  “I like to cook,” she said, shrugging one delicate shoulder before spinning back to the stove. “There’s coffee in the pot as well. I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home in your kitchen.”

  “Not at all. I don’t spend much time in here anyway.”

  “I can tell,” she said, shooting me a wink over her shoulder.

  I took a seat. Brodie, Will, and Brett were all watching me with shared smirks.

  “What?” I asked under my breath, hopefully low enough for Piper not to overhear.

  Brodie shrugged. “Nothing, bro.”

  I folded my arms on the countertop. “How much did we drink last night?”

  “A lot,” Brett said.