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

by Teagan Kade

  “I’m going to go find Stone,” says Alissa behind me. “Don’t worry about him. He just needs time to process.”

  Alissa drifts away and I take Phoenix’s hands, looking him in the eyes and marveling as always at the clarity and depth of their color. “You did it.”

  “I had to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told Bria and she’s going to tell the world. I had to beat her to it.”

  “I take it the basketball session didn’t go so well.”

  “She wasn’t there for basketball and I wasn’t there to put up with her shit.”

  I nod, secretly high fiving my inner self. I had a bad feeling about that girl. “Alissa is right. Your dad just needs time.”

  Those eyes cloud over. “You don’t know him like I do.”

  “I know you can’t drop a bombshell like that and not expect a bit of shrapnel.”

  “I would have been better off bringing an actual hand grenade in here, trust me.”

  Almost on the cue the office door bursts open and in stomps a red-faced Stone, spittle erupting from his mouth as he shakes his finger at Phoenix. “Get out, right now.”

  I thought he’d left.

  Alissa’s behind him, trying to pull him back, but he shrugs her off, stepping aside and pointing out the door. “Get the hell out. You’re no son of mine.”

  “Dad…”

  “You’re not welcome here anymore, Phoenix.”

  The heat has left his words, but the sting is still there.

  Stone refuses to even acknowledge me, and I’m not about to get into a shouting match.

  I squeeze Phoenix’s hand. “Come on,” I whisper.

  We walk out together, Alissa giving me her best ‘I tried’ face. I do my best to smile back and help Phoenix leave the house. Only when one of the staff closes the door behind us does it become real for him. I see the change.

  I rub his chest as he watches the house. “It’s going to be all right. You did the right thing.”

  “Right, right, right,” Phoenix repeats. “Who knows what that even means anymore? What’s right?”

  “I’m sure your dad doesn’t mean it.”

  Phoenix finally looks at me and the sadness I see there is almost too much to bear. “That I’m disowned? Oh, I’m quite sure he does.”

  It’s a very subdued ride back to my place. I don’t think there was any agreement where we should go. It just seemed the natural progression. I’m sure once word reaches the other King brothers it will be a real shitshow, but for now it’s Phoenix and me, and I intend it to remain that way until I can make him see sense. Yes, this is going to hurt like a bitch for a while, but in the end, it’s going to be for the better.

  That said, it’s hard to tell someone who’s caught in a fire that it doesn’t burn.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PHOENIX

  I thought only babies slept this peacefully.

  Heather has barely stirred the half hour or so I’ve been watching her. She’s been flat-out organizing the soup kitchen, putting pressure on the mayor… Just generally being awesome.

  If I reflect on myself, I don’t really know what I’m feeling apart from a strange inner peace. I haven’t heard from my father, didn’t expect to, but now it’s out there it’s like I’m finally fucking free. It’s liberating, but I also know that liberation comes at a cost. It’s not going to cost me Heather. That I am damn sure of.

  I fielded a few calls from my brothers. They seemed surprisingly sympathetic, especially Peyton. Ever since he hooked up with Erin he’s become quite the walking marshmallow. Nolan thought it was a crying shame at first, shared his future misery at not being able to secure free courtside tickets, but once I explained my reasoning he came on board.

  And Titus. His opinion mattered most. We didn’t have to say much. We share some of that twin telepathy you can’t explain. He told me he knew something was up, expected this, but what he didn’t expect was what I planned to do next. I haven’t even told Heather yet.

  I decide to go out for a run before the day starts in full. It’s going to be a big one and I sense I’m going to need a clear head if I want to service it intact.

  I close the bedroom door and throw on the tank top and running shorts I keep in the back of the car. I put in my Airpods and dial up the playlist I always put on before a game entitled ‘The Ass Kicker’. Put On by Young Jeezy starts to play as I head off down the street.

  It’s short-lived.

  Before I’ve even made it to the corner, I see the first of them approaching—what appears to be a college reporter with microphone in hand, cameraman stumbling along trying to get his equipment in order.

  A sliding door opens on another van down the street, more of them emerging, this time local news.

  I switch off the music, take out my Airpods.

  Yep. It’s going to be one of those days.

  God knows how I missed them all hiding out here, how they even found me, but they’re here and there’s no time better to deal with it.

  I stop and place my hands on my hips as they encircle me, the questions coming rapid-fire.

  The local newswoman has managed to elbow her way to the forefront, microphone shoved into my face like she’s looking for a saliva sample. “Is it true, Phoenix? You’re giving up basketball?”

  “Is it an injury?” comes another.

  “Is this the end of your NBA chances?”

  “Did Crestfall kick you out?”

  “Did the arrest have something to do with it? Are you in trouble with the law?”

  God damn.

  I put up my hands. “Please, let me speak.”

  That shuts them down, the only sound in the air the chip, chip, chip of camera shutters firing. It’s quite a crowd, power in silencing it like this. I can see how it could become addictive in time.

  Where to begin. “I’m going to keep this brief. Officially, I will not be accepting any team offers going forward. My basketball days are done.”

  The questions swarm again, but I use my hands to settle the crowd once more, speaking calmly and evenly. “This decision wasn’t made lightly, nor does it involve an injury or any action, intentional or otherwise, on the part of Crestfall Sports Academy. It is a decision I’ve made alone and without external influence.”

  I’m surprised how logical I sound.

  The questions come again. I hear one above the others: “How did your father take the news?”

  I ignore it. “That will be all, folks. Now, if I could get back to my run…”

  I’m about to jog off when the local news reporter manages to find her way in front of me again. “What are you going to do now, Phoenix?”

  I go to move past her but stop. Fuck it. Let them have the truth. “Actually,” I tell her. “I’m going to apply to culinary school.”

  There’s a murmur of laughter. Even the reporter in front of me smiles. “No, seriously, what are your plans?”

  “Culinary school,” I repeat.

  “You’re serious?” asks someone else.

  “Of course.”

  The laughter appears to have turned into shock, a good five seconds passing before the questions erupt again.

  I put my hands up. “That’s it. No more questions, thanks.”

  They try for another couple of minutes. I’m boxed in, but I remain silent, repeating what I’ve already told them. Once they realize there’s nothing more to squeeze out of me, they start to leave. I wave the last of them goodbye and take a seat on the brick wall that runs by the sidewalk.

  It’s done. It’s all out there now and there’s no going back.

  Liberating, yes, but just as terrifying in equal measure.

  “Vultures, huh.”

  Heather takes a seat beside me on the wall wrapped in a faux mink blanket. Her hair’s out, light bags under her eyes, but she looks absolutely stunning in the morning light. I’m about to scoop her up and head back inside when she looks to me. “How do you feel?”<
br />
  I can’t keep the smile away. “Honestly? Pretty damn good. You heard what I said?”

  “About culinary school? Sure did.”

  “You think I’m joking too?”

  She shakes her head and I know she believes in me, can see it in her eyes. “You can do anything, Phoenix. Whatever you want to do, you know I’ll support you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean, I’ll always be able to kick your ass in a cook-off, but—”

  I shoulder bump her, letting her steady before putting my arm around her and tucking her head into my chest. I breathe her in, wouldn’t be anywhere else. “You don’t think it’s a stupid idea?”

  She opens the blanket and throws her leg over me, straddling my thighs and wrapping the blanket around us, her hands locked behind my neck. She pulls away so we can see each other. “You have my full support.”

  I smile, can feel her support, know I’m cherished and heard when I’m with her. More than that, I know I’m going to be happy cooking with her, laughing, basketball and its hold over me a million miles away.

  “I love you.”

  The words come naturally. I don’t have to force them or think it through. They leave my lips like a whisper, the joy of them registering on her face. “I love you too.”

  We kiss wrapped together on the brick wall, the sun emerging from behind the rooftops on the other side of the street.

  I place my forehead against hers, breathe deep and long.

  “You want to help Gordy and I set up the building we just bought?” she asks. “We want to open as soon as possible.”

  I’m conscious of the flat heat of her crotch against me, wouldn’t mind expressing my love in a more physical way beforehand, but I nod. “Of course. I’m yours to do with as you wish.”

  She pulls back a little, spreading her legs and pressing tighter against me. “Is that so?

  “I did want to check out the culinary school I was thinking of sometime today, get my application in.”

  “It’s local?”

  “About an hour south.”

  “Sounds great, but how about breakfast first?”

  I reach around and find her buttocks, lifting us together from the wall and walking back towards her place. “How about breakfast second?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HEATHER

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  “What’s on the menu, doll?”

  Sal is looking a lot better these days—all of them are. It’s not just the promise of a good meal, either. It’s a warm place to gather, to share stories, and get out of the elements.

  I point at the dishes with the ladle I’m holding. “We’ve got a Romanian stroganoff here, four-cheese potato back there, and Phoenix’s spin on a Waldorf salad.”

  “I’ll take a bit of everything,” Sal smiles, holding her belly. “I’m eating for two, you know.”

  I play along, winking back. “It’ll be our secret.”

  “She’s looking a lot better.”

  Phoenix has appeared beside me. I used to think he looked pretty good in his Crestfall get-up, but there’s still something extra sexy about a man who knows how to wear an apron.

  I smile at the next in line. It extends out the door. In fact, ever since we opened we’ve been packed. “She is. Whatcha baking back there?”

  “Chocolate souffles.”

  “Advanced stuff. They going to look less like pancakes this time?”

  He bumps me with his hip. “Ye of little faith.”

  “Don’t you have class tonight?”

  The two-hour round trip out to the culinary school is a bit of a bummer, but Phoenix has never been happier. I think I’ve put on a couple of pounds since he started., but he doesn’t seem to mind. He was awarded a distinction last week for a deconstructed paella. I had to admit it was impressive. You could have plated it up and served it in any hatted restaurant worldwide, no problem. He’s taken the same focus and dedication he used to pour into basketball and given this his all. I couldn’t be prouder, even if he is making me look like a bit of a cooking chump these days. I suppose the killer sex makes up for that. There’s something special about slapping a bare ass covered in flour.

  I notice his attention has turned to the front of the soup kitchen, the double doors where the line’s snaking through. “Phoenix?” I ask.

  And then I see what he sees—Stone and Alissa standing there like two fish out of water.

  “You should go,” I tell him. “See what he has to say.”

  The two haven’t spoken since that fateful day at Stone’s place, but I don’t imagine this visit is designed to antagonize. “Go on,” I encourage.

  I call for help, one of the staff emerging from out back to take over.

  Phoenix removes his apron, placing it on the counter and slowly making his way over to where Stone and Alissa are standing. They look like they’re jetting off to Milan the way they’re dressed.

  I follow cautiously behind, but not too close. I don’t want to intrude on what’s clearly a family matter.

  Which is why I’m extra surprised when Phoenix stops and waits for me, taking my hand and tugging me to his side as we come to a stop before the others. Alissa smiles at me, Stone focused solely on his son. He seems distant all of a sudden, hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat before he speaks. He looks around. “You did it.”

  Phoenix pulls me closer. “We did it, Dad.”

  Now Stone notices me, a token smile before returning his gaze to Phoenix. “Yes, I suppose you did. It’s not Crestfall, though.”

  Alissa takes his arm, the lightest of nudges.

  “If you came here to—” Phoenix starts.

  Stone puts his hand up. “No. Wait.” He pulls in a deep breath, a momentary flicker of conflict before he carries on. “I came here to say perhaps I was too hasty. Perhaps, I could have been more supportive.”

  If I wasn’t leaning against Phoenix I’m pretty sure I’d be on the floor following those words.

  “I—” Stone begins, faltering. A look of encouragement from Alissa gets him going again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m proud of you, son, for sticking to your guns, for putting this together and seeing it through.”

  Phoenix doesn’t let it show, but I know the impact hearing this will have. “I appreciate that,” he replies.

  It must have been so hard for Stone to come out here, to slum it and admit fault, but I imagine Alissa had something to do with it.

  “We’d like you both to come to brunch on Sunday with the rest of the family. Apparently Nolan has some news he’d like to share with everyone.”

  “It would be wonderful to see you both,” Alissa adds. “And there’s no cooking required.”

  “What do you say?” asks Stone, looking between us.

  It’s Phoenix’s decision. He has to make the call.

  “Sure,” he nods. “We’d like that.” He gestures behind himself to the kitchen. “Would you like to stay, have something to eat?”

  But I’m pretty sure Stone King’s had his fill of the soup kitchen for today. “No, thank you,” he smiles. “Another time, perhaps. We should be going. Plane to catch and all.”

  “So nice to see you both again,” says Alissa, as the two turn to leave.

  “You too,” I reply.

  I look to Phoenix when they’re gone. “I suppose that’s what they call a Christmas miracle.”

  “It’s not Christmas.”

  I turn us around, direct his attention at the serving line and everything we’ve managed to achieve together. “You sure about that?”

  His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, makes my skin tingle at his touch. He looks back to where his father just passed through the doors. “Even ol’ Ebenezer Scrooge seems to be softening up.”

  I turn my back to the line and press up against him, my hand finding his cock. “Unlike something else I know.”

  He takes me by the hips. “Careful now. We wouldn’t want to scare away
the clientele.”

  I shift my hand to his chest. “I’m proud of you, the way you handled that. It was very low key, very cool.”

  “That’s me,” he smiles. “Mr. Cool.”

  “Get a room, you two!”

  It’s Knobby waving his fist in the air from the line. He was our first customer, matter of fact.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Phoenix laughs. He knows everyone by name now, has more than one secret admirer. Pretty soon I’m going to need to keep a stick behind the counter to fight them off.

  I bring both hands up to his chest, sliding them into the center where I can feel his heartbeat firm and steady, my rock. “I know you were afraid you’d never be able to reconcile with your dad, especially after you dropped out of college, but see? Everything improves with time.”

  He pushes himself away. “Oh, shit, the souffles!”

  He dashes off to the back of the kitchen.

  I find him pulling them out of the oven. They’re perfect, of course.

  I lean against the counter. “You’re lucky.”

  He places the trays down to cool, examining each souffle.

  “You did forget one ingredient, though,” I muse.

  He looks up in surprise. “I did?”

  I slink my way over to the pantry, stopping in the doorway and popping the first button on my jeans, pressing them down until my bare ass is showing. “Yeah, I think you left it right in here. Why don’t you come and help me look?”

  “Yes, sir, boss lady,” he smiles, already loosening his belt.

  There, in the darkness of the pantry, his mouth on mine and his hand working its way into the crotch of my panties, I wonder how this could get any better. I know he’s yet to reveal the depth of his emotional reaction to the resolution with his father, but he will… in time. For now, all that need exist is us—our bodies, our passion, the connection that once seemed so impossible made real.

  EPILOGUE

  PHOENIX

  THREE YEARS LATER

  Heather cuts the ribbon and it’s done—the second soup kitchen location is open for business ready to serve a new part of the town.

  The mayor’s standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face acting like he never tried to legislate the homeless out of existence. He copped some serious heat after Alissa got the media stirred up, was almost undone until he came to us looking to negotiate, and negotiate we did.