Demise of a Self-Centered Playboy

by Piper Rayne

  “You’ve been staying at Glacier Point? This entire time?” Rome asks.

  I nod. No need to mention that it’s on my sister’s dime. “Yes.”

  Rome looks at Wyatt, who I realize I’ve seen walking the halls of the resort, usually in a suit. “She’s probably richer than you, Whitmore.”

  Wyatt raises his beer bottle and chugs it, not fazed in the least. He probably knows who’s paying my hotel bill.

  “You can’t stay at a hotel forever.” Dori comes from out of nowhere. “You could always stay at Savannah’s. Denver and Phoenix are there now.”

  Everyone cracks up.

  “Stop fixing everyone up. You’d never think with the way you keep pushing people to live in sin, that you were in your seventies.” Savannah wraps her arms around Liam, and he kisses her cheek before whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.

  “Oh hush.” Dori grabs a carrot and dips it into what looks like hummus set out on the large island. “Come, Cleo. Away from Denver.” She waves me over.

  I step forward, but Denver wraps both arms around me, securing me to him.

  “Don’t listen to anything she has to say. I’m not a good guy,” he whispers and releases me.

  Still I surge forward, and she turns me around toward the living room, where Calista is replaying “Baby Shark” as if it’s her job and she’s being paid to do so.

  “Calista, be a dear and go to the basement,” Dori says. Calista’s bottom lip sticks out, and Dori changes her tune. “You can sit in here, but we can’t have the song on, okay?”

  “Okay.” She drags out the word and rolls her eyes. Calista picks up a doll that’s been discarded on the floor and puts her in a stroller before she leaves.

  I watch Harley and Holly go upstairs while Rome and Austin head outside. Dori sighs. Is there some family drama that I don’t know about? Savannah comes over, sits on the floor by us, and puts Dion between her legs before spreading out some toys that go right into his mouth.

  “I’m so sorry about your father,” Dori says. She told me this same thing at the funeral.

  “Thank you.”

  “How are you liking Lake Starlight?”

  “Other than being in the Buzz Wheel, I’m liking it.”

  They both laugh.

  A dark-haired girl comes over. “What’s the secret about?” She nods toward the stairs where Holly and Harley just went upstairs. “Phoenix, by the way.”

  “Hi, Phoenix.”

  She doesn’t really pay attention to me though. Her attention is on Savannah and Dori.

  Savannah looks at Liam, who is trying to be discreet in looking at her. They share a glance at the stairs and door as though they’re worried about impending doom.

  “Nothing,” Savannah says without looking at Phoenix.

  Phoenix curls into the big oversized chair. “How nice it must be to know all.” She rolls her eyes.

  This family is fun. Not like Phil’s, with their stuffy “it’s impolite to pry” mentality.

  “Now that you have the TV show coming, I assume you’re staying for a while?” Dori asks.

  My eyes zero in on Dori’s bluish tinted hair. Did she just get it done?

  Phoenix’s back straightens like a guard dog’s ears. “TV show?”

  Savannah mouths “sorry” to me.

  “Denver!” Phoenix jumps up and heads into the kitchen and gets right into Denver’s face. He must fill her in about Uncovering America’s Beauty because she hits him in the stomach and jumps in the air. “Griffin Thorne!”

  He dodges her and comes my way with the bottle of wine.

  Phoenix follows and jumps in front of him. “You have to get me an introduction. He has to hear me sing!”

  “No,” he says, sliding by her and coming over to me. “It’s not American Idol.”

  He holds out the bottle, and I lift my wine glass so he can refill it. Look at how cordial we’re being.

  The front door opens and Austin barrels up the stairs, but Holly and Harley are already on their way down. Harley meets Rome at the bottom of the steps while Austin whispers to Holly. She smiles and puts her hand on his arm, almost reassuring him that she’s okay. Was she sick or something?

  “Hey, everyone!” Holly yells to grab the household’s attention.

  Once it’s silent, Denver looks at his twin brother and takes in the whole scene. “Oh fuck,” Denver says under his breath.

  “Harley and Rome have an announcement,” Holly continues.

  As an outsider, I take in everyone’s non-verbal cues.

  “Are you moving?” Juno asks then laughs.

  “Are you finally gonna tie the knot?” Phoenix says.

  Harley’s eyes shift from Holly to Rome, almost pleading with him.

  “We’re pregnant,” he says.

  Holly claps and screams woohoo, but as I clap in congratulations, I’m hyper-aware of everyone in the room. Why aren’t they all hugging and carrying on?

  “Come on, everyone. Congratulations are in order! I’m going to open the champagne.” Holly flees to the kitchen, but when everyone stays seated, she turns around. “Hug them!”

  Everyone scrambles to their feet and hugs the couple on their third baby.

  Denver leans into me as we wait in line for our turn. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  Eleven

  Denver

  If Dori knew that Rome and Harley were going to announce their pregnancy and she purposely asked Cleo to come to dinner, she and I are going to have to have a serious conversation. Things were awkward all night—Holly acting as if it’s the best news ever and Austin’s perma scowl. Harley was practically in tears and Rome ran his hand through his hair so often it was sticking straight up by the time I said we had to leave.

  “We could have stayed longer,” Cleo says in the seat next to me.

  “We should get you back before the snow gets worse.”

  She doesn’t say anything more, and my silence doesn’t help the situation. I’m lying about leaving because of the weather. The two of us have had a nice evening where neither of us nitpicked the other. I should just be truthful, but I’m always gun shy about revealing family gossip to anyone not in our circle.

  I take a deep breath and plunge forward. “Holly and Austin were married last year.”

  “They’re a great fit.”

  She’s lying, because they weren’t their usual so-in-love-it-makes-you-sick tonight.

  “They’ve been trying to have a baby for a while now,” I say.

  Her long, slow nod says she’s placing all the pieces together. “Oh, that’s hard. Not that I would know or anything. I’m not getting ready for a baby or…” She stops and I laugh at her rambling. “Not sure where all that came from.”

  “It’s okay.” I touch her thigh. I need to stop myself from touching her so much, but I can’t seem to hold my hands back when they reach for her.

  Cleo and I are about as compatible as a crocodile and a bird, and we switch places daily on who’s the grumpy one.

  “I just mean that it’s hard for all of them. But man, Harley and Rome… three kids so close together.”

  I blow out a breath. “Supposedly they use birth control.” I quirk an eyebrow.

  “She must be fertile myrtle.” She laughs.

  “It’s scary as hell for me, I tell you.”

  She tilts her head as if she’s doesn’t understand.

  “I’m his twin. We must have some super powerful sperm.”

  She laughs again, but harder this time. So much, in fact, that she bends forward and can’t stop shaking her head. “Only you.”

  “What does that mean?” I stop at an intersection, and the red glow of the light allows me to see her wide smile.

  She is so gorgeous. I thought she knew she was, but I’m beginning to think she doesn’t.

  “You have such a big ego, it makes sense that you’d think you have sperm so powerful it could break through a condom.”

  “Supposedly Rome’
s did. And I do enjoy competing against him.”

  A look of fear crosses her face. “Do yourself a favor and don’t tell that to a girl until you put a ring on it.”

  “I’m sure there’re women out there who would love to bear my children.”

  “Not because of some immature competition. You’re already three behind him.” She giggles.

  I can’t help but laugh too, because imagining me spitting kids out with a wife is an absurd thought. “You think I couldn’t do it?”

  This is fun. Not something I’m used to when it comes to having a woman in my truck. Her hand isn’t on my junk. Her lips aren’t on my neck. And it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.

  “Oh no, I think you could. That’s the scary part.”

  Her eyes dart to the road and her laughter slowly dies, leaving us with an uncomfortable silence because on the right, we’re going to pass the road to Chip’s house. When I decided to take an alternate route, I forgot we’d pass it.

  “So you don’t want to be that girl?” I ask, but from her shaking her head absentmindedly and her eyes still pinned on the street we’re approaching, my attempt to distract her fails.

  “I haven’t been able to go in.” Her fingers graze the glass as we’re about to go by.

  I brake and turn the truck onto the road.

  “No, Denver.” She shakes her head. “Not now.”

  “I haven’t been either. Not since they put him in hospice.” I swallow a lump in my throat.

  She doesn’t say much else until the truck lights shine on his drive and I pull in, illuminating the small log cabin that could use some love. Chip never cared much for how he lived. He spent the majority of his life at the office or out in the wilderness.

  “Do you want to go in? I’ll go in with you.” I kill the engine which grabs her attention because she shifts her gaze to my hand on the keys.

  “I should do it alone.” She doesn’t move.

  “Why?”

  Her gaze refocuses on the dark house. “Why what?”

  “Do it alone.”

  Her head slowly twists in my direction. “Because he was my dad.”

  “So?”

  Her hand moves to the truck door, and my own heart rate picks up from watching her convince herself to do it. I can almost see the same war that was inside me five years after my parents’ deaths when I finally went to their grave.

  “It’s my job,” she says.

  I wish we were closer and I could tell her it’s not all on her, that it’s okay to lean on me. She might hate me, but if she needs someone right now, I can be that person.

  “What about Bridget?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I love the girl and she’d help me if I asked, but she’d have a hard time walking around in there without judging. I just can’t bear to hear it.”

  I open my door, the interior light blinding us for a moment. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Okay,” she says in a quiet voice.

  As I round the front of my truck, she’s still inside. I open her door and her cold hand lands in mine. She slowly steps down from the truck and pulls keys out of her purse. But before we hit the porch, she stops.

  “I’m not ready,” she says, retreating to the truck.

  “Okay.”

  A minute later, we’re back in the truck and I’m turning around in the driveway to get back on the road.

  She says nothing for five minutes. “Why didn’t you push me?”

  “Push you?”

  “To go in. Most people would’ve tried to pressure me into doing it. You just said okay, and we got back in the truck.”

  I pull up to Glacier Point and stop in the valet section. “You said you weren’t ready.” I place my hand on her leg again but retract it right away. I need to work on my self-discipline. “But you will be one day.”

  She stares into my eyes, and I allow her to see the truth I’m speaking. I’ve been where she is. She’ll find her way one day.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She nods and opens the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yep.”

  We stare at one another for a few heartbeats, and an energy fills the cab. One I’m not used to with her. If she wasn’t my business partner, I might break the tension by pulling her into my side to kiss the hell out of her. Her tongue slides over her bottom lip. For a moment, I think she’s thinking the same thing I am—until she hurries out of my truck and shuts the door, never looking back.

  This relationship between us is taking a turn down a forbidden path, and we need to get back on the main road so we’re walking alongside one another, not crossing over into other parts of each other’s lives that could make everything messy.

  As I pull out of Glacier Point, I remind myself again that Chip’s business and legacy is what matters here. My dick doesn’t get a say this time around. It’d be easier if I’d trained him better in the past.

  Twelve

  Cleo

  Bridget isn’t in the suite when I get back, but her dress is balled up in the corner of my bedroom. Her makeup is spilled out on the counter in the bathroom, and a wet towel lies on my bed. There’s a note on my pillow, so I step out of my boots and pick up the piece of paper.

  Met a hunter down at the bar. I’ll see you in the morning or hopefully the afternoon. ;)

  * * *

  I ball up the note and miss the trash can by a good foot.

  Falling onto the plush mattress a high-end hotel like this one offers, I stare at the white ceiling. I inhale deeply and close my eyes, imagining what would’ve transpired if I’d kissed Denver Bailey in the cab of his truck minutes ago.

  His soft lips touching mine, his tongue slowly sliding into my mouth while his large hand lands on my back and nudges me as close as our bodies can get. I bet he’s perfected the move of sliding his seat back to make room for me to straddle him. I can almost feel the steering wheel pressed into my back while his hands skim up the hem of my sweater.

  I arch my back while he casts kisses along my jaw, and I grind along his length, pressing against the denim of his jeans. The steamed-up windows. Our sweaty bodies with clothes half on and half off. Him unable to stop kissing me.

  My phone vibrates next to me and I sit up in a panic like someone knew what I was thinking.

  Grabbing the phone from my purse, Denver’s name appears and I can’t help but feel like he knew I was a second away from sliding my hand under my leggings.

  Denver: Griffin is in town. He’s coming by tomorrow.

  I send a thumbs-up as a reply because my hands are shaking.

  I don’t want a man like Denver Bailey. Someone who thinks he has Olympic-level sperm and could impregnate me from across the room. A man who views commitment as a life sentence without parole.

  As I try to convince myself, his imaginary lips skitter up my bare shoulder and his hands explore the rest of me. I relish the strong build of his chest.

  No. Stop.

  He’s a disgusting man who doesn’t respect women. But even I know that’s a lie. I know little about Denver, but I’m realizing I might be in deep trouble if I can’t stop this sexual energy from challenging my hatred for him.

  I walk into Lifetime Adventures armed with Brewed Awakenings cold brews for Denver and myself. I added a hot coffee to my order today, because although Nancy always politely accepts the cold brew I buy her, I caught her heating it in the microwave the other morning.

  “Hi, Nancy,” I say.

  She looks up from her newspaper over the rim of her reading glasses. I hand her the hot coffee, and she smiles and thanks me as she always does then places it next to a cup of cold brew.

  “You like the cold brew?” I ask. Maybe I was wrong.

  She waves me off and sips the coffee I brought her. “Denver brought me one earlier.”

  I nod and allow us both to pretend she’ll drink it.

  I step into the office that we’ve only been able to half clea
n out. I keep meaning to come in one night and finish the job without Denver. He’s a little like Chip—a hoarder. Denver is leaned back in his chair, his feet on the edge of the desk and a phone to his ear.

  “No way, Phoenix. He’s here for Lifetime Adventures.” He rolls his eyes and they close briefly, so I sneak into the room, shutting the door. “Maybe if the topic comes up. Just let me get through this and then we can revisit him listening to your demo.”

  His eyes pop open, and when he sees me, a smile quickly hijacks his mouth. Damn, a girl could get used to that greeting. I put the tray of drinks on the desk but see a caramel-colored one on my side and a black one on his side. He got me coffee too.

  He laughs, looking at my tray, and I mouth thank you, getting a nod as a response.

  “You need to chill out,” he says into the phone. Another pause.

  I pick up some papers and boot up my laptop, hoping the website is loaded like our new designer promised.

  “I gotta work. Bye.” He hangs up and puts his fingers on his temples, massaging them.

  “Why are you so against introducing her to Griffin?” I sip my drink while my fingers slide around the trackpad, searching out our website.

  “I’m not against it, but I just asked the guy to risk his life for us. I’m not about to say, ‘And by the way, how about checking out my sister, the aspiring singer?’” He turns his attention to his computer. “It’s up and looks awesome. People aren’t in neon colors sporting mullets anymore, so that’s a good start.”

  He swivels his laptop my way. We had Wi-Fi installed last week, so we don’t have to hotspot through our phones anymore, much to my data plan’s relief.

  “There was a message from Selma on my phone this morning. I wonder if that woman ever sleeps?” he says.

  “What did she say?” I continue mindlessly searching the website to make sure all the changes I requested are complete. Everything looks awesome. Now we need to move on to advertising, which is hard when you have no money to advertise with.

  “She said they want to see how the taping with Griffin goes, then they’ll show it to a test group. If the response is good, we continue. They’re committing to six episodes if all goes well, but after that, they’ll see how the ratings and fanbase are.”