Altercation: Playmaker Duet (Prescott Family Book 4)

by Mignon Mykel

  Not for trashy girls like me. Girls who weren’t worthy of a place on this earth.

  So yes, the butterflies and Porter’s attention made me incredibly nervous.

  I moved my focus in the reflection from Porter’s outline, back to the landscaping. The fields were giving way to trees now—pines primarily, but also several regular trees that were changing colors with the season. It reminded me of Tennessee, and I wasn’t entirely sure how that made me feel.

  “How old are you?” Porter broke the silence in the backseat.

  I made myself turn my attention back to him. It would be rude not to.

  Avery and their mom were still having a conversation in the front so I gave Porter the answer he was looking for, quietly confessing, “Seventeen.”

  Both of his brown brows rose to his hairline. “Are you a runaway?”

  A dry chuckle escaped my mouth as I shook my head. “No, I’m emancipated.”

  “So, what, you’re legally on your own? What’d your parents do to make you want that?” His brows had dropped, but rather than be relaxed, his face now looked perplexed.

  If his family was truly like what I’d been gathering, I could understand his confusion.

  “I was a foster kid.” My eyes shifted between both of his as I admitted it and again I fought the need to turn my attention back to the window. His eyes on mine was nearly too intense.

  “Well that’s shitty,” he answered. “So, no terrible ghosts in your closet,” he added, a hint of his crooked smile—the one that gave way to a deep dimple—gracing his face.

  My mind flashed to dark nights of being woken up, nights where I didn’t sleep for fear of him, nights of my body betraying me—giving way to pleasure I didn’t want to feel.

  I gave Porter the same hint of a smile he gave me and shrugged. “No. No terrible ghosts.

  Seventeen.

  Seventeen.

  I wasn’t exactly that much older than her, no, but I couldn’t very well act on any attraction to her. Not right now.

  Fucker, you’re leaving.

  Yeah, yeah, there was that, too.

  I stared at her across the backseat; she kept her eyes on mine. Every time she turned toward the window, I fought the need to turn her face back to me. There were secrets swirling behind those fascinating colors in her eyes, and I was surprised to find I wanted to uncover them.

  Seventeen… I shook my head mentally, not because of her being jailbait but at the fact she was by herself and seemed to be doing alright on her own. Hell, when I was seventeen…

  I chuckled, which only caused Asher to frown at me.

  I shook my head. “Nothing, I was just comparing myself at seventeen, to you. I was only starting to get my shit together. You seem to be pretty put together.”

  She nibbled on her cheek, the action pursing out her lips. My eyes dropped to them and I forced myself to raise my gaze again.

  “How old are you?” she finally asked, before shaking her head. “Oh. Duh. Your mom said twenty-one and nineteen, so you must be the nineteen-year-old.”

  “Why can’t I be the twenty-one-year-old?” I asked, my lips curling up involuntarily.

  Whatever semi-humor I used did the trick because the soft, not-quite-there smile she gave me before was nowhere near as blinding as the full smile she gave me now.

  My dick didn’t seem to care that she was too young for me. It twitched under my zipper and I refrained from moving my hands to my lap to hide the impending tent action, which would only bring attention to it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

  Hell, maybe I could manage to keep it under wraps.

  “Avery referred to you as her little brother earlier.”

  “Ah, that would do it,” I answered, trying damn hard to keep the mood light.

  A guy could drown on her smile.

  When she turned her head away again, I battled disappointment but we were nearly to the house. I checked my phone to be sure my cancel request went through, and quickly typed in the airline website to change that over. Less than a minute later, I had a seat on a plane leaving Sunday instead.

  Granted, my shit was going to arrive to South Carolina later today, but I still had clothes in the house. I’d be fine.

  “You guys are taking the truck?” Mom cut through, lifting her chin to look at me in the rearview mirror. Her brows were up and I could swear there was laughter all over her face.

  My family was a bunch of comedians.

  “Yep! And Porter’s driving, because he wanted to come so badly.”

  Like I said, comedians.

  Mom pulled to a stop outside of the garage, cutting the engine. “The card should be in your dad’s glove compartment.”

  “I really—” Asher started, sitting up again.

  “Just be sure to bring me the receipt,” Mom continued.

  I was beginning to think Asher wasn’t used to receiving things. Sure, not many people were given a newly furnished place to stay, but that was the joy of ending up in the Prescott fold.

  For a foster kid whose car broke down in the middle of the countryside, she sure made out pretty good. It would probably take some getting used to.

  After Mom and Avery got out of the car, Avery folded her seat forward. I pulled myself out and stretched tall, and when Asher followed me out of the car, I watched as her eyes latched onto the skin that was making an appearance as my shirt rode up. Her face flushed as she finished getting out, tugging on the sleeve hems of her shirt again.

  Wasn’t intentional, the skin tease.

  But it worked all the same. Girl wasn’t immune. It gave me a slight thrill of excitement.

  “Truck’s this way,” Avery told Asher, who avoided looking in my direction as she skirted past me to follow my sister. I went the opposite direction, following Mom into the house to grab the truck keys.

  Mom held the door open for me and I walked into the kitchen behind her.

  Dad, who was at the counter making a sandwich, leaned in to Mom to kiss her when he noticed me come in. Mid-bend toward Mom, he frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a flight?”

  Mom finished what Dad failed to do and turned his head toward her, kissing him square on the lips.

  They were always kissing and touching.

  It was awkward as a preteen, especially with friends in the house. Now I pretended to not notice.

  Hard to do when it was all over, all the time, but I tried.

  “There’s a girl,” Mom said, after kissing Dad, rubbing her hand over his stomach.

  “No, my flight was rescheduled.” I walked over to where Dad’s keys would be, making sure to grab the set with the guest house key on it too.

  “There’s a girl,” Mom repeated herself with a grin.

  “I’m confused,” Dad said. “What’s a girl here got to do with anything?”

  “Your boy’s smitten.”

  “So long as he wraps it.”

  “Guys!” I had to stop them before they went much further. “My flight was rescheduled. And I do wrap it, for your information, but that’s not what this is about. She’s Avery’s girl.”

  “What about CJ?” Dad asked me, bringing the knife he was using for mayo to his face. “I really thought she had a thing with CJ.”

  “She’s… Well not…” I rolled my eyes—yep, just like my sisters. “She’s not, like, with Avery, but she’s Avery’s friend. I’m just helping them with furniture.”

  “You think he likes this girl?” Dad asked Mom after licking the knife and putting it down on the counter, apparently not listening to me.

  “Oh, I think he likes this girl.” Mom smiled wide at me.

  “More than Mo-like?”

  “Mmm,” Mom contemplated. “Too early to tell.”

  “Mo’s a good girl.”

  “True.”

  “Alright, yeah. We’re going.” I slipped the keyring on my middle finger and waved at them. “Ciao.”

  I le
ft the kitchen, hearing their laughter behind me. Pretty sure Mom’s sudden giggles had to do with something other than me, to be honest, but I wasn’t about to turn around and check.

  As I left the house and headed through the garage, I thought about Mo for the second time today.

  Mo.

  She and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, but the summer before junior year—the night before, really, if you wanted to get all technical—we decided to give “us” a shot. We’d been friends with benefits for a while before then but with schedules and my own distaste for going steady, we hadn’t thought to cross that line.

  And it had been a fun line to cross.

  Mo and I had familiarity between us.

  But our lives were on two very different tracks right now.

  I broke up with her the week after graduation. The last I’d seen her was two weeks ago, before she left for school, and while she did text me earlier today, I was closing that door.

  I was going to be South Carolina for the foreseeable future. I didn’t want to hold her back.

  So why are you so curious about Asher?

  Who the fuck knew why.

  I was curious, and I was currently okay with it.

  Maybe I’d get to Charleston and the roommate would have some chicks I could meet. Maybe then, my fascination with the seventeen-year-old with freaking amazing eyes would go away.

  Yeah. Maybe.

  “You sure took long enough,” Ace scolded when I reached her and Asher. They were standing by the bed of the truck and Asher had her sleeves pushed up again. I tried to get a good look at her sleeve tattoo but all I could make out were colors—like a watercolor gone awry.

  But purposely so.

  “I couldn’t just get the keys. Dad was confused.”

  Avery lifted her brows and grinned, her arms crossed. “Yeah. Seems to be the general Prescott consensus at the moment.”

  Asher herself looked confused but rather than keep this going—because Ace and I could do this for days—I hit the unlock button. “Just get in the truck.” I pulled down the tailgate and hopped up, quickly rolling back the thick bed cover so we wouldn’t have to do it later.

  “I’ll sit in the back,” I could hear Asher say as they rounded the bed and went to the passenger side.

  I’d really rather she sat in the front but…

  “Nah, I get carsick in this beast,” Avery answered and I had to refrain from barking out a laugh.

  Carsick, my left ass cheek.

  I hopped over the side of the bed and climbed up into the driver’s seat.

  “But you were in the front before? And don’t people get carsick in the back seat?” Asher asked.

  Smart girl, that Asher.

  “Something about the truck,” Avery answered. I looked over my shoulder and watched as she scooted around Asher and climbed into the back. Asher’s eyes met mine through the short distance and she sighed heavily, before begrudgingly getting into the front seat beside me.

  I yawned behind the back of my hand, the IKEA wish list paper in hand.

  Avery was sipping from a soda as she pointed out towels and rugs in the different displays, but I didn’t see the thrill in an area rug with crayons on it. I was letting the two of them choose what should go in their guest house because, hello—it was their family’s guest house, not mine.

  If they wanted a crayon rug, they could get a crayon rug.

  Porter, munching on a meatball from a container he held in his right hand, shook his head. “Way too busy, Ace,” he said, referring to the crayon rug. “She can wait on rugs.” And then he turned his attention to me, and damn my body for getting all fluttery and excited. “You can wait on rugs. The guest house has heated wood floors. You’ll be fine until you absolutely want stupid decorative rugs.”

  I shrugged in response. I didn’t really care for rugs one way or another.

  “What you need,” he continued, his sure stride picking up and leaving Avery and me in his dust as he wove through a few people to a bedroom set-up, “is a good bed.” He plopped down on the bed in the display. “A solid bed. If you can find matching dressers and shit, I’m sure my mom would appreciate it. This one is big and comfy.” He reached to flip the tag over. “More-gongala in hard. Good mattress.”

  “If you can’t say the names, you probably shouldn’t try,” Avery teased him.

  “Regardless.” He tapped the mattress beside him and lifted his brows. “It’s a good one. Come sit.”

  We’d only been here for thirty minutes and I’d already sat on ten different sofas. I was ready for this trip to be over, to be completely honest, and if sitting on a bed and agreeing about a mattress would get us closer to the checkout line, I was all for it.

  I walked around Avery and sat on the opposite side of the bed, my back to Porter, and shrugged. “It’s not bad.”

  I felt a slight movement in the mattress and looked to my side, seeing that Porter was now lying on his back across the bed, his head near my hip. He winked up at me. “It’s good.”

  I grinned and shook my head, embarrassed at how easily I smiled at him, then looked around. The bedroom set wasn’t too bad, either. A rich, dark brown wood with a matching tall dresser and a long dresser. “I’ll do this one.”

  “But there’s another neat set-up down the way!” Avery exclaimed, standing in front of me now. “It’s white and it’s—”

  Porter lifted his chin so he could look back at Avery, upside down. “How often do you come to IKEA, Ace?”

  Avery shrugged and crossed her arms, looking away. “Every now and then.”

  Porter rolled to his stomach, leaving a good foot distance between us, but then he went and scooted so he was right next to me again, his elbows in line with my ass. “When’s the last time you were here, Ace?” he asked in a placid tone.

  “Last week,” she mumbled in response, making Porter chuckle.

  “Get the damn white bed set for yourself.”

  “I don’t have a place to put it in!”

  “Get a place.”

  “Ugh.” She shook her head.

  “Let’s look at the white one,” I said, cutting into what I was beginning to learn could be a battle.

  A funny battle, but a battle all the same.

  These two fought like cats and dogs, an expression I knew, but hadn’t really experienced before this trip to IKEA. Both Avery and Porter had smartass comments for one another, slightly sarcastic remarks, and they threw the barbs at each other left and right.

  It made parts of this trip enjoyable.

  Like driving here and listening to Avery talk about what I assumed was Porter and an accident. She picked and picked and picked, but Porter never exploded on her. If anything, he just grinned and shook his head, letting the remarks roll over him.

  I pushed to stand from the bed, but Porter’s hand connected with my hip before I stood fully.

  And I froze.

  I mean, completely froze.

  And not necessarily in a good way.

  My blood grew cold and my heart began to race.

  “Jeez, Asher, are you okay?” Avery asked, concerned, stepping closer to me.

  I sat back down, the panicky feeling starting to dissipate as quickly as it came on.

  I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  Porter frowned up at me. “You sure?” He looked concerned.

  I shook my head and forced a smile. “Just lightheaded. I’ll be fine,” I lied.

  Porter still frowned at me, as if trying to get a read on me. I tried to offer a smile, but I couldn’t quite get my cheek muscles to comply. “I’m good,” I told him, before repeating it to Avery in front of me. “Let’s go look at that white set and I’ll make a decision.” I attempted to stand again, this time successfully. “Let’s do this and get it over with.”

  I put my hand on her and she fucking froze.

  Like, white faced, sweat on the brow, full pani
c froze.

  What the hell was that about?

  If anything, I was even more intrigued by the secrets Asher held behind her eyes.

  You. Are. LEAVING.

  I shook my head and followed behind Avery and Asher, whose arms were now crossed protectively in front of her.

  Avery was talking her ear off about this set she loved, but Asher kept her mouth shut, offering tight smiles and nods to show she was at least listening.

  While the white set was nice, I personally thought it was too feminine for someone like Asher—as if I truly knew her which, in these few hours, showed me I had a long way to go to have even an inkling of knowledge about this girl.

  I knew she was an emancipated foster kid, who swore there were no ghosts in her closet.

  There were ghosts, but just how bad?

  I mostly kept to myself the rest of our trip. Asher ended up choosing the brown set but refused to pick out a sheet set.

  I wouldn’t pick one out at IKEA either.

  Avery, on the other hand, had at least four IKEA sheet sets that she loved. In the end, Avery picked out linens for the guest house while Asher just agreed, saying, over and over again, it was our family’s guest house.

  Avery answered, again and again, that Asher needed to be comfortable.

  All of which I agreed with, but Avery could be a pushy bastard when she wanted to be, and it was clear that Asher was uncomfortable.

  After we loaded the bed of the truck, I pulled Avery aside.

  “Let her sit in the back,” I told her quietly.

  “But—”

  “Ace. She’s uncomfortable as all get out. Let her sit in the back.”

  Avery frowned but conceded.

  The drive home was done in silence, and about halfway there, I turned on the radio, keeping it low. The hits station was playing a number of flashback songs and as we neared the subdivision, an old Boyz II Men song came on. If I listened close enough, I could hear Asher’s raspy voice singing along. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, watching as her lips moved slightly with the words, all while her gaze was glued to the outside.

  God, I wanted to know this girl. In and out.