The Trade

by Quinn, Meghan

  Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I clear my throat and say, “On three, we’ll look.”

  He nods.

  “One, two, three . . .”

  We both glance at the two of hearts staring back at us.

  Crap.

  I groan, while he roars with laughter and claps his hands, louder than expected. Joy crosses his lips as they stretch beautifully, scrunching up his cheeks and emphasizing the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

  Everything about this brings happiness to my heart.

  His unfiltered laughter.

  His addicting grin.

  The playful nudge of his foot against mine.

  And how even though I lost, I genuinely feel like I won.

  Chapter Nine

  CORY

  SPOTTED: Potter Playing with the Enemy

  Conspiracies have been running rampant since Potter became a Rebel.

  He was paid to suck.

  Traded by his beloved Storm because of a sex addiction.

  Secretly had pec enhancement surgery.

  We’re not saying these conspiracies are true, probably very unlikely, but the one conspiracy we see becoming clearer every day: Potter wishes he was a Bobbie.

  That much is evident from these recent pictures. Spotted at the airport, about to go on vacation with Bobbies starting shortstop and second baseman, Knox Gentry and Carson Stone. Where the boys are headed, we’re unsure, but they look awfully comfortable together, which makes you wonder . . . is Potter giving away all the Rebels secrets? Or is he secretly finding a way to take the L across the city to the Bobcats stadium? Fans are saying he would rather bleed blue and red.

  I close out the article on my phone, silently swearing to myself. Sex addiction? Jesus Christ.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself just as the crew starts to filter in.

  “Good morning,” I say over a cup of coffee as Milly and Carson walk hand in hand up to the large table I snagged for the group.

  “Morning,” Milly says. Carson flops down in a chair and stretches his arms above his head. His hair is rumpled, he’s wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, and he looks like a very, very happy man. How can I tell? Because he can’t seem to keep his hands off my sister as she takes a seat next to him.

  They’re married.

  They’re married.

  I need to keep reminding myself of that so I don’t feel the need to be overprotective and tell him to step away.

  “Get any sleep last night?” Carson yawns while draping his arm over Milly’s shoulder. He’s always been touchy-feely with Milly, besides the first time we met him after graduation. He was reserved of course, not wanting to maul his girl in front of her family, but ever since we’ve been on vacation, it’s like he needs to have his hands on Milly at all times. This happens right before the season starts up. I brought it up to Milly once when we were in the cages and she shyly smiled, her face turning bright red.

  She said Carson’s territorial instincts intensify right before the season starts every year because as he puts it, he needs to soak her in as much as he can because the season is long and there are road trip stretches that will prevent him from being near her, so he takes advantage when he can.

  Hell, I’d do the same thing if I had a girl.

  If I had a girl . . . why does that sentence immediately make me think of Natalie?

  Maybe because she destroyed me last night with her cute charm and polka-dot pajama set. Other girls in her position—girls I’ve come to know quite well—never would have hung out with me, makeup free, and chowed done on a simple children’s dish with no shame. But there she was, not a care in the world, totally being herself in front of me, and it made me ache for her even more.

  When we went to bed after my victory it was hard for me to calm my racing heart from our interaction, from seeing her pure, beautiful smile after I teased her for losing so badly. It was next to impossible to erase the image out of my head. It’s why I have a giant cup of coffee in front of me and plan on taking a nap by the pool later. I am dead tired.

  Not even trying to lie to Carson and Milly, I say, “Zero sleep.”

  Milly cringes while Carson laughs—the asshole.

  “Did she parade around in some skimpy piece of clothing?” Carson asks, enjoying my misery way too much.

  “No, worse . . . she acted like herself, as if I wasn’t even there. After she woke up looking like Godzilla’s bride with half her face melted off, she took a shower and then ate her chicken fingers like it was her job . . . in a robe.”

  “Oh shit.” Carson laughs some more.

  “Then she changed into her pajamas, which was some matching T-shirt and shorts combo with polka dots.”

  “Oh hell.” Carson scratches the side of his cheek. “Sometimes those matching sets are more of a turn-on because they’re cuter.”

  “Seriously?” Milly asks.

  We both nod. Women think they’re being casual, but casual means you’re cuddle-able. Cuddle-able for a guy who appreciates holding the soft, supple body of a woman . . . yeah, way more of a turn-on. Don’t get me wrong, if Natalie walked out in a negligee set, I’d find it hard to not have my jaw unhinge in lust, but that matching shirt and shorts combo, the way it clung to her curves but was also loose, it was as if she was teasing me the whole night with that thing. Which I know she wasn’t, she was just trying to be comfortable. But still . . . torture.

  “They can be dangerous if worn right,” I say, looking over at the open restaurant where the breakfast buffet is set up. “And last night, polka dots were worn correctly.”

  “You sorry motherfucker,” Carson says, shaking his head, completely understanding. “Where is she now?”

  I nod at the restaurant. “Getting food with Jason and Dottie. Knox and Emory haven’t emerged from their room yet.”

  “Doubt they will,” Carson says, pouring him and Milly some coffee. I watch how he expertly prepares her coffee just the way she likes it, and then I watch as my sister looks at Carson as if he walks on water. She’s so in love, which makes me really happy.

  “Understandable.” I push around a strawberry on my plate, waiting to digest some before I go for seconds. I stacked my plate pretty high, but not high enough to deter me from round two. “I’ll be spending most of my time outside of the room. If I can avoid that space as much as I can, I will.”

  “Is it terrible?” Milly asks, her face full of worry and concern. I know she’s feeling bad because she invited me, but she never could have guessed that Jason and Dottie were going to bring Natalie.

  To ease my sister’s caring heart, I shake my head. “It’s not completely terrible. I actually had a really great night last night. We played war out on the balcony, laughed, and talked about stupid shit. Nothing of importance. It was nice.”

  “So how is that terrible at all?”

  Carson leans into Milly and presses a kiss to her neck before saying, “Remember how I told you it was torture for me to go through batting practices with you before we admitted our feelings?” She nods. “That’s what Cory is going through. He likes her, finds her attractive, but now he’s forced to keep things on lockdown.” Turning toward me, he continues, “Honestly, I think you should just go for it and give in. Could make your vacation that much better.”

  “And when we go back home and she wants nothing to do with me because I was her rebound, what then?”

  He scratches his chin and says, “Take it out on the ball?” He chuckles, knowing it’s a shitty solution.

  “Really fucking helpful,” I say just as Dottie, Natalie, and Jason walk up to the table. Jason sits next to me, Dottie next to him, and Natalie on the farthest end.

  “The old married couple emerged,” Jason says. “Did you guys fall asleep doing a word search puzzle together?”

  “Yeah,” Carson says sarcastically. “I was looking for the words with my tongue in Milly’s—”

  She clamps her hand over his mouth and chastises him in h
is ear.

  I should say thank God he didn’t finish that sentence, but I’m pretty sure everyone knew what he was going to say.

  As a warning and courtesy, I say, “Dude, please. I’m her brother.”

  He shrugs unapologetically. “We’re married now, no need to impress you. I got the goods.” He chuckles. I roll my eyes, even though I am grateful Milly married someone so chill.

  “What’s the plan for the day?” Dottie asks.

  “Snorkeling, right?” Jason asks. “Aren’t we going to Buck Island?”

  “Is that today?” I ask, thinking that was on Thursday.

  “I think so . . . right?” Jason asks and looks around at the table. No one knows, because Knox and Emory are the ones who planned the trip this go around.

  “It’s today,” Natalie says from the end of the table. It’s the first thing she’s said since last night. After we awkwardly said good night and turned out the lights, I woke up early, rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, peed, and came down here where I’ve been drinking coffee and eating since. She followed ten minutes later, wearing a pair of bike shorts and a baggy shirt, hair stacked on top of her head. She looks like she’s on vacation, letting her face breathe free of makeup and allowing the sun to kiss her beautiful skin.

  We all look down the table where Natalie is sitting, an egg-white omelet on her plate and bowl of fruit next to her. She’s sipping from a mug and looks half awake, half asleep. Did she have trouble sleeping last night too?

  “Emory sent that itinerary.” She holds up her phone that’s on the table. “It says Buck Island and booze boat for today. Departure is at eleven, which gives us forty-five minutes to get it together.”

  Jason thumbs toward his sister and says, “That’s why I keep her around.”

  “I’m so lucky,” Natalie shoots back with an eye-roll and then shoves a large piece of pineapple into her mouth.

  “Forty-five minutes gives us some time,” Carson says to Milly with an eye wiggle.

  Christ.

  “Keep it in your pants, Stone,” Milly says, standing from her seat. “We’re eating.”

  “Yeah, you need that protein, right, Coach?”

  Milly stops, turns to Carson, and even though her cheeks are blushing she says, “You’re going to make me puke with all your innuendo. Is that what you want, Carson? For me to puke?”

  “If she pukes, I puke.” Jason raises his hand, looking concerned. “You know how sensitive I am to vomit. Total trigger for me.”

  “He’s not kidding,” Dottie adds. “I’ve seen him throw up far too many times than I would like to admit.”

  “Fine.” Carson holds his hands up in defense. “If everyone is going to be so sensitive.” He stands as well, snags Milly’s hand, and walks off to get food with her. I watch as he lifts her hand to his mouth and gives it a soft kiss while smiling down at her.

  I remember when Milly was just starting college, how I teased her about boys. When I was in Baltimore, I asked if there was anyone new in her life during our weekly FaceTime calls. Her answer was always no, but when I asked her what she was looking for, her answer was the same every time. Someone who wanted to hold her hand.

  Seeing them now, the attention he gives her, it fucking lights me up inside, makes me want to find someone I can give attention to. Which is terrifying, because I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to complicate things with my career, but the more I spend time with the guys, watching them in their relationships, I realize how grounded they all are, how they’re stronger emotionally because of the women by their sides.

  It’s time I start pursuing a relationship, but I need to pursue one with the right person and even though the girl at the end of the table holds my interest, I know she’s not in the same frame of mind as me. Despite it being painful, I have to keep reminding myself that she’s not what I’m looking for.

  Clearing her throat, Dottie says, “Since we’re going to be together all day, would you two be offended if Jason and I sat at another table for some private conversation?”

  Natalie looks up from her fruit bowl. “Oh, of course not. Go ahead.”

  Jason looks confused at first but then Dottie whispers something in his ear. A sly smile pulls at his lips as he gathers his plate and cup and they find a table over by the garden.

  Glancing at Natalie, I awkwardly give her a quick wave as she leans back in her chair and folds her hands over her stomach.

  “Why do I feel like we’re going to get to know each other really well on this trip?” she asks, breaking the silence between us.

  “Why would you say that?” I answer sarcastically. “We came here with friends and siblings, not couples.”

  She chuckles. “Yeah, imagine if you weren’t here. I’d be having a conversation with my omelet about the light breeze that keeps kicking up, tempering out the hot beat of the sun.”

  “Don’t stop me from having that conversation.” I motion to her plate. “By all means, have at it.”

  She pokes her omelet and then shakes her head. “Apparently not much of a talker, this one.”

  “Shame, you could have heard eggs-cellent tips about the heart and soul of being a breakfast staple.”

  “There goes my book deal.” She dramatically flings her arm out to the side, making me laugh. And then she does something I wasn’t expecting. She picks up her plate and cup and slides down the table until she’s sitting across from me. She situates herself and then says, “Get used to this view, I think you’re going to be seeing it a lot.”

  Hell . . . if only she knew how much I want to stare at the view in front of me.

  Trying not to show my cards, I say, “Feel free to venture out on your own. Eat alone.” I say it in a joking manner, but from the way her face falls, I didn’t do a very good job on the delivery.

  “Oh, I didn’t . . . do you want me to—”

  “I was trying to make a joke.” I stumble through my words, hoping I didn’t just offend her. “I didn’t mean it like get out of my face.” Her face stays neutral and I gnaw on the side of my cheek. “I was kidding.”

  “Sure, yeah.” She gives me a small smile and then goes back to her fruit.

  Shit.

  I start to elaborate just as Carson and Milly come back to the table, both with waffles on their plates decked out with all the fixings. Looks like Carson has no problem with vacation food. I don’t blame him. Once we get back home, we’re going to be on a strict diet regimen.

  Carson looks around and asks, “Where did Jason and Dottie go?”

  “Wanted to eat alone,” I answer, glancing up at Natalie again, who is dabbing at her face.

  She tosses her napkin on her plate and stands. “I’m going to get ready. Meet you guys in the lobby.”

  She takes off before we can say anything else, and once she’s out of earshot, Milly asks, “She looked sad, what did you say to her?”

  I wipe my hand over my face and look to the sky, frustrated with myself. “She told me to get used to the view of her since it seemed like we’d be spending a lot of time together and jokingly, I said she could go off on her own. I don’t think I said it right.”

  “Clearly you didn’t,” Carson says, his mouth full of waffle. “Girl looked like she was about to cry.”

  “Really? You think so?” I try to catch a glimpse of her but she’s already out of sight.

  “She didn’t look super thrilled, but not crying.” Milly sighs and says, “Why don’t you just drop the act and tell her you like her?”

  “Because. That would be a huge mistake. She said it herself, she’s looking to have fun. I’m not about to get in the way of that and tell her about my aspirations to have a long-lasting relationship, something she just got out of. She needs her space. I’m going to give her that.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, I thought it would be a good idea to go back to the room and maybe apologize one more time to Natalie, but when I got there, she was already gone. The little bag she brought with her to
house her towel and water bottle was gone, so I guess she went somewhere until we had to meet up.

  The entire time we were waiting in the lobby and the drive to the marina, she was quiet and thanks to the seating arrangements, we seem to keep getting paired up, which should be no surprise. But it would be nice if one of the couples took a break from each other for a second to see how incredibly awkward the situation is for Natalie and me.

  Once we’d been given the safety instructions, we took off on the party boat. Drinks were handed out, snacks were distributed, and music was blasted while clothes were shed, leaving everyone in their bathing suits.

  Everyone.

  Talk about having a gulp moment.

  Thank fuck for my sunglasses, because I couldn’t avert my eyes from Natalie even if I tried.

  Remember when I said she was cute because she wore a matching set of pajamas? Well, guess who leveled up their hotness factor? Lying on the front of the boat with the girls is Natalie in a skimpy, red two-piece.

  I’ve been around bikinis before, I’ve seen cleavage, but Natalie’s body is fucking hot with her supple breasts and hips that firmly hold the bottom of her bikini in place. At first, I thought, hey, that’s a nice bathing suit, and then she flipped over revealing half her ass. It’s not quite a thong, but not a full bottom either. It has my dick aching in my thin trunks.

  What I think I like the most is she’s not super fit. Her edges are soft, smooth, but there’s a slight thickness in her hips that has me craving to grip them from behind. Images of her on the inviting bed in the hotel room, head buried in the comforter, my hands holding her in place while I drive into her, keep flashing in my mind.

  I’ve lost all concentration and every time one of the guys asks me a question, I know my responses are halfhearted, almost stupid at times.

  Carson finally calls me out on it. “Stare a little longer,” he mumbles next to me while Knox and Jason talk about the curveball Maddox Paige possesses. It’s deathly.