A gorgeous brunette catches my eye, and my stomach does a revolution. Piper. Her hair is up in the requisite ponytail. Her lips shine a delicious shade of cherry. No pearls, though. I suppose that’s the goal. She’s already talking to the douchebag that’s probably going to swallow my father’s hedge fund one day before he does time for the crime, and I scowl at him. Winston. What the hell kind of name is that? It makes me sick to watch Piper throwing herself at the idiot just to get the approval of that fucked-up sorority.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?” Jet struggles to follow my gaze.
“That’s her, three o’clock. That’s the dick she’s supposed to bag and tag as her own if she wants a bed in that insane asylum.”
“Oh, shit.” Rex shakes his head, laughing to himself.
“You know him?” I lean in, suddenly interested in where this might lead. I knew this guy was an asshole from the get-go.
“It’s you that I know, Owen. I wondered why you went on and on about her like some thirteen-year-old love-struck girl. She’s beautiful. Your dick is leading the way.” He offers a conciliatory pat on the back. “Face it. You’re too far gone to come back now.”
“No, no, no—not true. She’s the boss’s sister. Boss’s sisters are a hell no. Plus, she has an attitude. I’m all for a good time, but not with someone like that. I like them sweet, mewling in my ear like a kitten. That girl is all bark, and trust me—she’s got the fangs to back it up. Her brother was the first to admit it. There’s no way in hell I want a piece of that action.”
“No way in hell, huh?” Jet plunks down his beer. “I think what we have here is a classic case of duck-and-evade to save face.”
“Meaning?” I’m not amused with the mutiny the boys are providing. These two fools had my back when my own family kicked me to the curb, and tonight they’re relishing in the misgiving that I want that little girl running around in high heels pretending to be a vixen so she can land herself the valedictorian of the accounting department.
“Meaning you’re into her, but you’re afraid she’s not into you. This might just be the first girl to hand you your walking papers, and we get it. It sucks hairy balls. I know it. Rex knows it. Unlike you, we’ve both suffered rejection on occasion.”
“Speak for yourself.” Rex gives a shit-eating grin.
“It’s true.” Jet flips off Rex. “Face it, Owen. This girl is in the process of delivering a blow to your ego, and once you realize what’s happened, it’s going to feel like a nuke just melted your balls together. Just deal with it now. You’re into her. She’s not into you. It’s easy math with a shitty outcome. Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club, my man.” He lands his meaty paw over my shoulder, and I bump him right off.
“It’s not true. I’m not into her,” I’m quick to refute, but there’s a hot stab in my gut that contests my words.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Jet plucks out that thick wad of green he keeps handy. Most of his clients pay in cash, which allows him the illegal privilege to report half of his income to Uncle Sam and literally pocket the rest. “You land Miss Priss in your bed tonight, and I’ll give you a thousand bucks. How’s that for a company bonus?” He muses. Both he and Rex were pretty impressed that Ryder’s start-up was willing to pony up so much for each new corporate account.
My gut cinches at the thought of thrusting into that gorgeous body, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight to flush out the image. “No way.”
Rex leans back, displeased. “That just proves my point. The Owen we know and love would have jumped at landing both a beautiful woman in his bed, and a beautiful grand in his wallet. If you don’t want to bang her on night one, you’re thinking too highly of her because you care.”
“Two thousand.” Jet leans in as the three of us inspect her.
“No.” This entire conversation is starting to irritate me. “Not for one, not for two. There’s no number high enough. And, trust me, I’m not upholding her virtue. She’s a fucking shrew. She’d chew my balls up and spit them out before I knew what happened. And I happen to be emotionally and physically attached my hairy ball sack, so the answer will always be no.”
“Okay, then I’m fucking her.” Rex knuckle bumps Jet. “Five hundred bucks says I’m pumping into her by midnight.”
“Would you stop?” I smack the shit out of their joyous high fives. “Nobody is pumping into her by midnight.”
Rex tilts his head with that disbelieving look again. “Admit that you have a thing for her, and I’ll lay off the Ice Princess for now.”
“You’ll lay off the Ice Princess forever. She’s off limits. I’m claiming her—and not to bed her. I’m protecting her from assholes like you.”
Jet groans as Winston wraps an arm around her waist like he owns her. “What about that asshole?”
I take in a mean breath. I’ll admit, it yanks my dick to see him touching her so intimately, especially knowing what I do regarding why she’s letting him.
“Okay, I’ll make this easy.” Jet pushes his wad of spare change closer to me. “If you can steal Little Miss Priss away from the frat brat—to protect her”—he and Rex exchange amused yet goofy grins—“I’ll give you the five grand anyway. Make her yours.”
“To protect her from that idiot?” Every muscle in my tired body jumps at the thought of having five grand to my name. I have a great job with even greater pay, but there used to be a line of what I’m willing to do for money, and somewhere along the way I’ve clearly crossed it.
“You can be the hero and score some cash.” Jet thumps his fistful of dollars onto the table. “Hell, you can even run around with a cape if you like.”
I glance to Piper. She has a nervous look in her eyes as Winston edges his body close to hers. Something in me desperately wants to protect her, wants to make sure that neither the demonic sorority she’s trying to score a bed in nor that idiot who’s just plain trying to score can hurt her.
“She won’t go for someone like me.” It stings to admit it. “She comes from money, and she wants her man to come from money, too.” I can read people, especially when it comes to what they think they want in someone else. It’s a gift I’ve been profiting from for the last few years. “I know her type. It used to be me.”
Rex slaps his paw over my shoulder. “You’re right, dude. And that’s where the challenge comes in. You’re good enough for her. Both you and I know that. But she’s a tough nut. You can’t crack ’em all.”
I scowl at him a moment. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You think you can do it?” Jet’s brows rise. “Five K is on the line.” He shakes his head as if I should consider this lunacy.
“You’re going to give me five K if I make that chick mine. Really?”
“Really.” Jet’s smile slides right off his face. He’s been closer than a brother. They both have—through all of my formidable bullshit, and now he’s willing to gift me five K to do what the two of them feel is impossible. “Make her your girlfriend.”
“I’m up for a challenge.” I knock back the rest of my beer and shake his catcher’s mitt of a hand. “I’m in. She’ll be mine in no time, and that tree trunk she’s trying to climb will be long gone by homecoming.”
Rex blinks back with disbelief. “That’s in a month.”
I cinch my cheek high and pin it as I observe the two of them across the room. They do look friendly. A little too friendly for my taste. “I’ll do it in half the time.”
Rex holds back a laugh. “There goes that ego again. All right, you have until homecoming. I’m being generous.”
“You think I’ll need the extra time, but I won’t. We’re dealing with an expert here, remember?”
“Okay, I’ll even up the ante. Six grand in a couple of weeks, a solid five in a month—either way, you’re about to get lucky.”
Rex shakes his head ever so slightly while studying Piper and that gasbag she’s attached herself to. “No, he’s not. Owen is right. She’s doing th
e sorority thing. She comes from money.” He looks to me. “She’s looking for a social climb, and you, my friend, were recently demoted. I know her type, too. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
My eyes can’t look away from Piper and those skintight jeans. “She can look past all that social bullshit.” My stomach wrenches because I’m not too sure she can.
A brisk knock erupts over the table. “What’s going on?”
We glance up to find Bryson delivering three fresh beers with a smile.
“On the house.” He nods to me. “You got a second? I’d love for you to meet Baya.”
“Yes.” I’m on my feet as the guys thank Bryson for the kind gesture. I follow him to the bar where a trio of girls stands laughing amongst themselves, one of which is my cousin Roxy, Ryder’s sister. She offers up a knuckle bump, and I meet her there. Roxy is a big sweetheart hiding under a tough exterior. She’s easy to spot, with her bright red hair and big bright eyes. She has a successful baking business that she runs from her apartment, Sprinkles Cupcakes. I’ve been meaning to stop by and down a few dozen, especially now that we’re in the same building.
“Get over here!” Roxy pulls me in tight. “Damn, I missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” I pull back and look to Bryson.
“Owen, you know Laney, Ryder’s wife.”
Oh, shit. I went to their wedding, and here I hardly recognized her in the low-lit bar with the all the noise and bodies pumping around us.
“Yes, of course. You were a beautiful bride by the way, as were you.” I recognize Baya. Ryder and Bryson had a double wedding. I was pretty choked up watching Baya walk down the aisle, especially since my sister almost made sure it didn’t happen. I still can’t fathom how she can have so little disregard for human life. Baya is a person who deserves to breathe every single breath God gives her, just like Stephanie did. My heart aches for the entire Jones family.
“Thank you.” Baya’s face contorts to a gripping sadness. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Yes.” I can barely get the word out through the brick lodged in my throat. Baya wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tight for a moment, probably too tight, but I can’t help it. I’m sorry for all the pain, all the heartache Aubree has caused. I wish there was some way to wipe it all away.
She pulls back with fresh tears in her eyes. “You are a sweetheart. I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I wish you all the success in the world.”
Roxy step in and wraps her arms around my shoulder. “I told them about the bullshit your family is putting you through. You know that your dad is just taking a cue from my old man. Only mine was kind enough to get Ryder and me through school before cutting us off. Are you doing okay? I’ve tried calling and texting, but you’re doing the I’m-not-getting-your-messages thing.”
That’s my favorite part about Roxy—she’s a no-bullshit zone. And she’s right. I’ve been avoiding any and all extended family for years, partly because I’ve got too much pride to take a handout and partly because I’m damn ashamed of what my branch of the family has done. My mother and Roxy’s father are siblings, but it’s no secret my father has been paying attention to how they raise their children. I’ve heard a million times how the Capwells have managed to raise decent kids who aren’t panning out to be a burden on taxpayers for the rest of their lives. As soon as he said that, I knew I didn’t want any government handout to help me along the way. I know the dig was meant for Aubree and the lifelong prison sentence under her belt, but I felt the sting and disappointment more than she ever could.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can manage. “How about we hang out sometime? I’m at Briggs now—just landed in your building, in fact, and I’ll be here more than you’ll ever care to see me.”
“Done. We’ll catch up.”
“Cool.” Our little group disbands.
I glance around the room for Piper, and my eyes snag on an unwelcome sight. Winston’s hands keep gravitating to her hips, and she keeps rerouting him to her waist, but he’s enjoying the slip. Too bad he’s playing it all wrong. That’s one thing I tell my boys when they’re desperate to get laid—act like you don’t really need it. Act like you’re the one doing them a favor. And for fuck’s sake, don’t accost the girl. I speed over with my cock on fire, ready and willing to beat this asshole’s head in if he touches her any lower and, shit—his hands glide right over her curves in an aggressive revolution. I snatch a half-full glass off an abandoned table, ready to initiate what’s quickly becoming my signature move. Only this time I don’t bother doing the traditional bump and dump. This time I fling it all in his face.
He jumps back, wheezing, inspecting the damage to his silk suit and tie. And who the hell wears an Italian suit to a bar? Another reason she shouldn’t be hanging out with this idiot. He’s suspicious in every capacity.
“Oh my God! Are your parents siblings?” Piper slices my throat with a mean look before making a lame attempt to mop him up with his already saturated tie. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Winston nods to me. “I advise that next time you be more careful. Excuse me.” He ducks into the crowd and heads for the bathroom.
Piper spins into me. Her hair fans out like dark flames, her eyes already lit with fire. She lets out a riotous roar right in my face, and I stand steady, unflinching because I know for a fact Jet and Rex are watching the entire exchange.
Pay attention, boys—I’m about to show you how it’s done.
“I knew that was your stupid shtick!” She slaps at my chest a few times. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” Her jaw pops as she shouts the words, her pretty cherry-stained lips round out in a pout, and I’m dying to land my mouth over them—to impress the boys, of course. I nod at this misnomer I’m begging myself to buy into because the alternative, the very thought of me wanting this temperamental hellion makes my balls want to shrivel up in fear.
“That was me doing you a favor.”
She strikes her hand across my face so hard half the bar pauses in awe of her backhanded expertise. I’ll admit, it takes a talent to smack like that. The entire left side of my face is on fire.
Piper gets in close, nose-to-nose, her anger so ripe it’s thermal. “That was me doing you a favor. Get over yourself, Owen. Find another coed to manipulate into your bed!” She takes off to the hearty applause of the ponytail republic.
I turn back and spot both Jet and Rex shaking their heads like a couple of mournful motherfuckers.
I’ll prove them wrong, or in a Shakespearean turn of events I’ll prove myself wrong. Nope, that’s not going to happen. I need Little Miss Priss’s body to conform to mine, willingly, of course, and that blissful union will lead to a hefty boost to my bank account. My stomach goes rancid at the thought. Hell, I’d tame that shrew for nothing.
It’s getting late so I leave straight for work, and all I see, all I think about is Piper.
Hot damn, if Jet and Rex weren’t right about this one. And they were wrong about one thing. I’m not as infallible as I might have led them to believe—I’ve hit a wall or two of stinging rejection.
But my entire body begs for it not to come from Piper. I’ve seen where rejection landed my sister, and because of it I have no intention on ever chasing the ever-elusive tail of love. Not going to happen. I’m not interested in the insanity, the madness that fairy tales can lead to. No thank you. I have no problem landing girls in my bed and kicking them right back out once we’re through. I’ve never heard a complaint, and I’m a strong subscriber of the old adage, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.
Piper James has stained my brain, and I can’t seem to evict her. The thought of that firecracker committing—submitting to a relationship with me does seem a bit farfetched.
I give my truck a quick slap before hopping inside.
It’s game on. Piper James is landing in my bed sooner than her wild self can ever imagine.
This isn’t about the money.
This is personal.<
br />
Chapter 2 * This is a Test
Piper
This is personal.
Owen Vincent has crossed one serious line, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.
“Hello?” Cassidy waves a hand while breaking the simple greeting into six different syllables—a world record, I think. “What’s going on in that brain of yours? I said I’m headed into the English building. Which way are you going?”
“I’ve got Sexual Politics in Western Society down in Union Hall.” I point in the opposite direction.
“All right. Don’t think too much about that boy’ah.” She gives a knowing look.
“On the what?” Honestly, I’m not trying to be rude, but half the time I let the things I don’t understand slide because it feels as though all I do is ask her to repeat herself.
“That boy’ah! You know, the dude you slapped silly last Saturday. You keep mumbling about him. Hell, girl—you mumble about him in your sleep. ‘I hate you, Owen. Just like that, Owen. I hate you! Faster! Faster!’ It’s like he’s invaded your drawers without you even knowing it.” She snickers into this obscene idea, and we share a laugh.
“He did not nor will he ever invade anything of mine. And you’re a damn liar. I haven’t had one nightmare about the moron.” I wave her off.
“Me thinks you protest too much!”
I flip her the bird, and she cackles twice as loud. Cassidy is a breath of fresh air compared to all the society snobs I was forced to room with at the Bentley Academy. I really like her. I like Scarlett and Daisy, too. It feels good having friends again. Not that I consider any of the catty girls I went to boarding school friends at this point. It’s funny how everyone is willing to turn on you once they think their own reputations are on the line. I shake the thought out of my head as a familiar dark-haired boy who happens to wear my features—dimples, blue eyes, and all—heads in my direction.
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