Playing To Win: The Complete King Brothers Collection (A Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  He’s still trying to speak to me as I close the door and make a run for it.

  Back in the safety of my car it occurs to me I’m smiling to myself. I reach up for the rear-view, tilting it towards myself. “What’s got you so perky, huh?”

  As I drive and untangle my thoughts, I begin to realize it’s a combination of things—Heather, organizing the auction, learning a new skill and, as unbelievable as it is, the idea of leaving basketball once and for all. I haven’t put anything into motion on that front, but simply the idea of it, the thought of doing away with what I’ve come to loathe, has been enough to push me into a state of happiness I haven’t felt in years. That big-ass boulder’s that has been squatting on my chest is being lifted away and finally I can breathe… or at least imagine what it’s like.

  Still, giving up basketball seems like a pipe dream. I drive and mull it over, probe the idea from every angle. I’m giving it way more attention than the first time Heather brought it up. Back then it seemed like an obtuse, abstract concept. Phoenix King, giving up basketball? Does the sun rise?

  I head down Main Street and park, crossing the road to a sushi bar that opened last year, perhaps the most cuisine-forward thing to happen to Crestfall in years. It was a novelty at first, but the crowds have died down. Normally I’d enter to the usual greeting of ‘Irasshaimase!’ or ‘Welcome, come in!’, take a seat at the train and mindlessly grab dishes.

  Not today.

  I sit and watch the chef prepare the sushi. He’s older than the others, maybe someone’s father or uncle. I watch his knifework and the practiced moves of his hands, the ease at which he operates. He notices me watching and smiles, his hands continuing to work.

  Someone’s father, my head echoes, and I think of my own, of the disappointment on his face when I tell him I’m giving up basketball. It would be easier telling him I have terminal cancer.

  As much as I want to, I can’t do it. I can’t let him down. And just like that the spell is broken.

  I smile back to the chef and reach for a dish.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HEATHER

  As far as weather goes, you don’t get any better than this. There’s a blue sky settled over Crestfall so bright you’d think it’d been painted in place.

  I pull down under the bridge, the passenger grab-handle Phoenix reached for coming away in his hand. He stares at it curiously. “Shit. Sorry.”

  All I can do is laugh. “Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if the wheels fell off next.”

  “You need a better car.”

  “I need a lot of things, but a Lamborghini is a long way down the list.”

  He leans back towards the passenger door, eyeing me. “I can see you on a bike, actually, hair whipping behind you, not a care in the world.”

  “And you hugging me from behind like a big teddy bear? Doesn’t sound too bad, but I think I’d prefer it the other way around.”

  He smiles, legs spreading and yes, definitely something going on between them. “That can be arranged.”

  I park and turn off the ignition. “How’s the auction going?”

  In truth, I’m not expecting an answer. I thought Phoenix was simply getting swept away in the moment, pussy-whipped into this kind of philanthropy by Yours Truly, but his reply surprises me.

  He takes out his cell, that bulge in the crotch of his jeans doing strange, tingly things to the hot spot between my thighs. “Alissa’s already scouting out venues, been in touch with some of her old marketing buddies to put together a campaign. My father’s onboard financially, but I imagine he’ll take a backseat when it comes to the actual organization, and I’ve been busy blasting the message out. In short, it’s coming along.” He flicks at the screen. “Want to check out what Alissa’s come up with?”

  “No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s great that you’ve made this, ah, progress. I didn’t think—”

  “I’d go through with it?” He undoes his seatbelt and bridges the space between us, hand sliding into that tight space between my legs, his lips pressing to mine and forcing my mouth wide. If I could melt through the floor, I would, but I ease him away gently, looking through the windshield at the shadowy figures already emerging from under the bridge. “Raincheck?”

  He moves away slowly. “I’ll hold you to it, boss lady.”

  I open my door. “Come on. We’ve got mouths to feed, and cover up that erection, will you? I want you to help these people, not scar them for life.”

  He’s laughing as he pulls his jacket down. “Yes, ma’am.”

  We’re halfway through handing out the sandwiches when I see Gordy’s van pulling up next to my car.

  I hand Phoenix what’s left of my box. “Here. Keep going. I’ll be right back.”

  He looks over to the van. “Someone you know?”

  “Just give me a minute,” I tell him, jogging over to the van, a flustered Gordy emerging with some difficulty. He stands there taking in the scene. “I see you’ve beat me to it today.”

  I put my hands on my hips, smiling. “I don’t think anyone here’s going to complain about a second meal.”

  He spots Phoenix. “And you brought help, I see.”

  I can see the suspicion grow, the slight, sudden tension in Gordy’s posture. I recognize it from the hundred times I brought home a stray—animal or human. “You don’t have to worry about him,” I tell Gordy. “In fact, he’s already started putting that auction together for the food truck, thinks we might even make enough to buy a space for a new soup kitchen. Sounds like it’s going to be quite the event.”

  Gordy’s lips purse. “I bet.”

  I slap him lightly in the chest. “Oh, come on. Promise me you’ll give him a chance.” I put my hands together, dig up my best pout from my childhood. “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

  That elicits a smile. “Well, I do like a good cherry.”

  “That’s the spirit.” I take his hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  The tension remains when I set Gordy before Phoenix. “Phoenix, this is Gordy. Gordy, meet Phoenix King.”

  Phoenix places the box down to shake his hand, the hint of displeasure on his face given Gordy’s probably trying to break his fingers, but he smiles through it. “A pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Likewise,” replies Gordy deadpan, that protective streak so obvious now he may as well have brought a shotgun.

  I give him a subtle elbow in the side. “I was just telling Gordy about the auction.”

  Another line has started to form in front of us now Gordy is here, but his attention is very much set on Phoenix. “Sounds like a swell idea. You think you can pull it off?”

  And what follows is the infamous King grin, that smug come-at-’em smile that won me over in the first place. “Absolutely.”

  Gordy remains stony-faced. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Guess we will.”

  An awkward silence follows while the two size each other up, Gordy eventually thumbing behind himself. “I’m going to go unpack.”

  He gives Phoenix one last eyeful before forcing a smile and starting back towards his van.

  Phoenix picks up the box of remaining sandwiches and resumes handing them out, looking over to Gordy again. “Why do I get the impression he doesn’t like me very much?”

  “He likes you just fine,” I lie, “but we’ve known each other a long time. He’s just looking out for me.”

  “He’s a… big guy.”

  “With a big heart, a softy, really, but I consider him more like a father than an ex-employer. He’s given me a lot. He’s watched me grow up, taught me everything I know. Can you blame him for being a little defensive?”

  Phoenix hands out the last sandwich. “I guess not. Should I ask his approval to date you?”

  “Ha,” I laugh. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Because you’re an independent woman?”

  I bump his hips. “You better believe it, mister.”
<
br />   I feel his lips at my ear, the hot whisper of his breath against it. “Maybe later I’ll take that independence away, tie you up and have my wicked way with you. What would you say to that?”

  I fight against the sexual surge that follows, tongue running across my lower lip. “I’d say you have to earn that privilege.”

  His voice lowers filling with that gritty, gravelly tone that sends me wild. He looks to see if Gordy is watching before taking hold of an ass cheek and squeezing. “My heart might be yours, maybe more, but this ass? This ass is mine.”

  I reach around and remove his hand. “We shall see.”

  The line’s moved over to the back of Gordy’s van where he’s busy handing out what looks like containers of tuna casserole—his great grandmother’s recipe, if I recall.

  There’s a single siren whoop, everyone’s attention turning towards the patrol car that’s snaking its way down to us. It parks next to my car, Teddy getting out and straightening his cap, pulling up his belt and taking in the scene. He walks over slowly, stopping before Phoenix and me, looking upwards. He whistles. “Quite a day for it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Is this a friendly visit, Teddy?” I ask.

  He takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them. “Afraid not, folks. The mayor’s up for reelection and has decided to actually get off his ass for once and make it look like he’s doing something. Sorry to say he’s got a real hard-on for breaking up the party here.”

  I can’t help but get defensive. “What the hell has this got to do with him?”

  Teddy raises his hands, stepping onto his backfoot. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

  I take a step forward. “What possible reason could he have for trying to stop us?”

  “He says feeding these people, well, it encourages them to loiter.”

  “Loiter!” I snap, jabbing my finger at Teddy. “Are you for fucking real?”

  Phoenix has his arms around me, trying to pull me back. “Easy, easy.”

  “Like I said,” continues Teddy. “I don’t agree with it, think it stinks to high heaven, awful damn policy, but I have to enforce it. If I don’t, someone else will, and they won’t be anywhere near as nice.”

  “But you’re the only cop in this part of town.”

  Teddy scratches at the side of his neck. “They’ve brought on two more, real redneck power-hard-on types part of this whole damn citywide clean-up thing, get the place looking nice and polished, sweep the rest under the rug.”

  “Let me get this right,” I say, trying my best not to let my anger overflow. “This town can’t get funding for a simple soup kitchen, but they can hire a couple of goons from upstate to help stop us actually helping?”

  Teddy gives a short laugh. “‘Goons’ might be stretching it, but they’re looking to make a mark, sure. I imagine they’re not going to go easy if anyone gets in their way.”

  “And you’re good with this?”

  Teddy remains calm. “Not at all, but I’m just a lowly officer. I don’t have much say in the matter. They wanted to transfer me, actually, but I sort of begged to stay.”

  I’m fuming, but Teddy’s right. There’s no use taking it out on him. I want to take it out on someone, definitely, but not Teddy. Nothing useful would come from that.

  Teddy takes off his cap, runs a hand through his hair. “Look, normally I’d have to write you up an infraction, but I can ignore it this time. As I mentioned, I can’t guarantee the others will be so lenient, so you’ll need to be on alert.”

  I breathe as best I can and try to calm myself even though I’m raging red inside, a bull looking for the closet soft spot to bury its horns.

  Phoenix reaches out and shakes Teddy’s hand. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Anytime,” replies Teddy, looking to me.

  I exhale but it doesn’t do anything to bring my temper down. “Thanks, Teddy.”

  He walks backwards towards his patrol car. “Be careful now.”

  “We will,” says Phoenix.

  Once Teddy’s gone, Phoenix stands in front of me. “We should go.”

  I step around him and head towards Gordy. “Not a chance in hell.”

  Phoenix is on my heels. “You heard what he said. You want to go to prison for this?”

  I stop and face him. “I’m not going to stop doing the right thing just because someone else tells me to. Fuck that.”

  That earns me a smile. “Said with conviction, and that’s the way you want to play it?”

  “Hell yes,” I reply, stomping away towards Gordy, Phoenix matching my stride.

  “Count me in then,” he says.

  Gordy stops what he’s doing when I approach. “I take it the long arm of the law doesn’t want us here?”

  “More like the mayor’s office.”

  Gordy looks to the distance shaking his head. “This again, huh?”

  It’s not the first time something like this has come up, but it does seem to have more serious undertones to it. “You want a hand?”

  Gordy starts to smile, nodding towards Phoenix. “And you, son? You know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  “Yes, sir,” Phoenix replies, moving between us to grab a box of casseroles from the back of the van and preparing to hand them out. He winks to me. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I see the change in Gordy, the shift in understanding. He grabs a box himself and joins Phoenix, handing out what they can. I stand back and admire the sight, the two most important men in my life working side by side. It’s a beautiful thing. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a certain sense of relief that follows, but it’s juxtaposed by what Teddy said.

  I know the mayor, or at least I know his type. They’ll steamroll over anything—no matter how good—for their own personal gain and not give a flying damn about who suffers in the process. It’s wrong and it’s ugly and it’s not going to stop me doing what needs to be done.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PHOENIX

  We spend the next couple of weeks organizing for the auction and drawing closer. I do my best to sneak Heather into my place and keep her away from my brothers, though Titus seems busy with that tutor of his of late and Nolan, well, he’s completely MIA.

  I did fuck up by expressing my disapproval of Heather distributing food in the current police-state climate again. She hasn’t asked me to come along again since. I know that’s a thorny issue between us, but I don’t want it to upset the equilibrium by pushing her on it. I hope she’s stopped, but I doubt it. She seems more determined than ever to stick it to the man. I just don’t want her ending up behind bars because of it.

  I find her making short crust, kiss my way up her shoulder until she stops. “If you’re looking for my secrets, I ain’t giving them up.”

  I reach between her legs. “I’m sure you’ll break under interrogation.”

  She continues to knead the dough. “I have more mental fortitude in my pinky than you have in that whole gorgeous body of yours.”

  I scoff. “‘Mental fortitude’ is basically embossed into the King family crest at this point. I kid you not when I tell you our father had us doing pushups before we could walk.”

  “Sounds like child abuse.”

  I keep rubbing at the hump of her sex with the butt of my palm, the denim growing damp and hot underneath my hand. “He called it ‘concreting’.”

  She laughs. “What?”

  “You know, concrete, as in ‘Harden up, boys, I want you unbreakable.’”

  “And your brothers went along with all this ridiculousness?”

  “I don’t need to tell you we can be quite competitive at times.”

  I draw my hand up and attempt to slide it down the front of her jeans, but my hand is slapped away and I’m shoved aside. “Later, dumbass. This is delicate work.”

  “Ouch,” I reply, feigning injury.

  “Make yourself useful and pass me your favorite rolling pin.”

  I hand it over. “I take it
physical labor wasn’t part of your childhood experience?”

  “My abuse was of the more traditional variety,” she says, rolling out the short crust until it’s smooth and thin.

  I resist the urge to touch it. “Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take you down that road again.”

  “The first thing a psychologist will tell you is to talk it out in detail, start at the beginning and recall as much as you can. ‘Name it to tame it,’ they say.”

  “You’ve seen a psychologist?”

  “Gordy’s actually a psychologist by trade, believe it or not. He used to work for the police force. Cops in the specialist branches see a lot of evil shit. They have mandatory evaluations and appointments. It was his job to make sure they could not only handle what they saw on a day-to-day basis, but process it, too.”

  “Sounds heavy.”

  She looks at me, hair done up into a loose bun, a streak of flour on her cheek I can’t help but brush away. “Heavy enough for him to give it up and pursue something a bit more nourishing for the soul.”

  “The soup kitchen,” I fill.

  “Right. He gave up that cushy government job with big benefits to do it, had to downsize and basically sell everything he owned.”

  “Where did he learn to cook?”

  “His mother. Dementia took her years ago. From all accounts she was a great lady, and an amazing cook.”

  Finished, Heather places the rolling pin down, bracing her hip against the side of the counter, eyeing me. “Why don’t you go to culinary school?”

  I can’t help but laugh until I see her expression. “You’re serious?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my father would have a fucking heart attack and cut me off, plus it’s…” I can’t quite word it.

  “It’s… what?” she presses. “Don’t tell me the mighty Phoenix King is afraid of what people will think.”

  “No,” I reply, thoughts unsteady. “I’m hardly good enough.”

  “That’s what a school is for—to teach. Here’s a better question: Do you enjoy it?”

  I wasn’t prepared for this line of questioning. “Cooking? Yeah, I guess so. Sure.”

  “Would you rather cook or play basketball? The truth.”