The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  “Chip doesn’t play fair. Be ready for some hard checks. The guy dances around like a fucking ballerina and throws elbows, but he’s a solid shot from downtown.”

  Gabe nodded. “The other guy?”

  “Some Vanderkamp. I’m not sure which one. There’s a fuck load of them in Mission Springs. My dad works with their family, too.” Michael glanced into the rearview mirror. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but I need to play this right. My dad has good relationships with all his clients. He’d fucking flip if I compromised his standing in the community because I started shit during a two-on-two basketball game. I’m not saying we can’t play our hardest and even kick their asses, but we need to play it clean.”

  “I get it,” Gabe answered. “I’ll take Chip. You take the Vanderkamp.”

  They got out of the car and strode toward the group.

  Chip puffed up like a peacock. “Nice of you to finally make it.”

  Michael gave him a cheeky grin. “Sorry, man, I got held up at the store. You danced around so much during our last game. I wanted to pick up a pair of tap shoes for you. Unfortunately, they were out of your size.”

  Chip gestured with his chin. “This must be your cousin.”

  Chip was a few inches shorter than he was, but the guy was built like a tank. He would need to make sure he didn’t let this fucker plow him over.

  “Gabe Sinclair,” he said and shook Chip’s hand.

  Chip eyed him. “You look familiar.”

  Gabe tightened his grip. “My father’s moving company did a little work for your family.”

  Realization sparked in Chip’s eyes. “That’s right, one of your packers was a real idiot. Threw all my trophies into a box. You guys need to work on who you hire.”

  Gabe hardened his gaze.

  “Dude!” Chip said. He released Gabe’s hand and took a step back. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  A lanky kid with long arms stepped up. “I’m Bryson Vanderkamp.”

  “I’m Andrea Rigley, Bryson’s girlfriend,” a petite blonde added, coming to Bryson’s side. “And this is Courtney Wilkes and Monica Brandt.”

  Gabe nodded to the girl who was now fussing with something on her boyfriend’s shirt.

  Courtney shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabe.”

  Unlike her brother, Courtney’s smile wasn’t condescending. She didn’t give off even a hint of arrogance. Monica stood a step behind Courtney. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy bloom, and her eyes darted back and forth as if she was doing everything in her power not to look at him.

  Gabe held out his hand and caught Monica’s gaze. She froze, her eyes locked on his.

  “Your name is Gabe Sinclair.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was asking him a question or making a statement. Even though they had been only inches apart this morning, she was playing it like their odd exchange hadn’t happened. Still, he was sure he could see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

  She grasped his hand to shake it, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive.

  He tightened his grip, and her eyes widened.

  How long had he fantasized about what it would be like to touch her? Days upon days? Years upon years? But nothing prepared him for this. It was like holding a bolt of lightning. Heat pulsed through his body, fed by her electric touch.

  He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Monica Brandt.”

  For a fraction of a second, her eyes shifted to his dimple before she raised her gaze back to his. She stared into his eyes as if she wasn’t sure he was real. They had been this close to each other this morning, but a window pane had stood between them. Now there were no barriers. Nothing separated them.

  What would happen if he leaned in? Would she push up on her tiptoes and meet him halfway? He would brush her bangs to the side. Let his fingers trail down past her temple, past her cheek. He would lift her chin and hold her there, suspended in that moment, her sky-blue gaze trained on him before she closed her eyes and melted into his kiss.

  “Hello?” Andrea called out. “Can we get this game started? We do have plans.” She ran her manicured fingers over the duffle bag slung over Bryson’s shoulder.

  Monica startled and clasped her hands behind her back.

  Chip loosened his prep school tie and rolled up his sleeves. His gaze darted between Monica and Gabe as a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “All right boys and girls, let’s do this.”

  “We’ll start on defense,” Michael said, gesturing for Gabe to throw him the ball.

  Gabe blinked. Jesus! He’d barely touched Monica. Their handshake couldn’t have taken longer than a few seconds, but that moment had stretched for eons in his mind. He glanced at his cousin. Michael gave him a pull your shit together look. Gabe had sandwiched the basketball between the side of his body and left arm. He’d forgotten it was there. He shook his head to clear the Monica Brandt haze and passed the ball to his cousin. He needed to focus. It was time to play some basketball.

  “Check,” Gabe called out, dribbling the ball back to midcourt. He wiped his wrist across his sweaty forehead. This friendly game of two-on-two basketball had become anything but amicable.

  The first team that made it to twelve points would be declared the winner. All shots garnered one point. It didn’t matter if it was a three-pointer from downtown or a lay-up. Each bucket equaled a point.

  The score was ten to nine with Gabe and Michael in the lead, but Chip and Bryson had won the last two points.

  “Go, Bri Bri,” Andrea cooed.

  Gabe glanced over at the girls. Monica sat between Courtney and Bryson’s girlfriend on the grass next to the court. Every time he looked over, he’d think she was watching him, only to find her gaze trained on Chip or Bryson or Michael or the fucking ground. Anywhere but on him.

  Gabe bounced the ball to Chip. Chip checked the ball, adding a little extra kick to his throw when he passed it back to Gabe. Gabe dribbled and shuffled from side to side. Chip leaned in and grabbed on to the end of his T-shirt. Gabe swiveled his hips, bouncing the ball between his legs and broke free of Chip’s hold. Gabe faked left. He drove forward, shifted his stance, and posted up. But before he could take the shot, Chip’s forearm caught him in the chest.

  “What the fuck?” Gabe barked. He passed the ball to Michael.

  “You better call your mommy,” Chip said between heavy breaths. “Looks like somebody left their game at home.”

  “Heads up, Gabe,” Michael called.

  Michael passed the ball back to him. Gabe dribbled back, giving himself some room while Chip’s gaze stayed locked on his.

  Chip tried to slap the ball away, but Gabe faked right.

  Chip let out an amused huff and lowered his voice. “I see you eyeing Monica.”

  Gabe matched his tone and continued to dribble. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude.”

  He passed the ball back to Michael who tried to drive it in, but Bryson screened him hard, and he passed the ball back to Gabe.

  Chip was on him, angling his foot to try and trip him while he looked for a way to drive to the hoop.

  “Back off,” Gabe said, giving Chip his shoulder.

  “No, man. You’re the one who needs to back off.”

  Gabe went to post, but he couldn’t line up the shot. He passed the ball to Michael.

  Gabe ran toward the basket, ready to make the shot as soon as Michael could get him the ball.

  Chip grabbed his shirt again, this time twisting the fabric around his index fingers. He pulled Gabe in. “If you look at Monica one more time, I’m going to break your fucking face.”

  Gabe broke free of Chip and ran toward the midcourt line. Michael made a quick pass, Gabe picked it up, and swept the ball behind his back to his cousin.

  “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t look at,” Gabe said, slicing side to side in an attempt to shake Chip.

  Chip smirked. “You don’t get it. Monica Brandt is the porn star version of Snow White.
No guy has had her. She is unchartered pussy. I plan on changing all that tonight, and then, by tomorrow, I’ll be balls deep into some French chick. Don’t even think you’re going to get in my way, man. I fucking get what I want.”

  “Gabe,” Michael called and passed the ball.

  Gabe caught the ball. He had the shot. He looked down at Chip. A shit eating grin stretched across the asshole’s face.

  “Take the shot!” Michael urged.

  Gabe shifted his gaze to Monica. She watched him, lips parted, as if she was about to say something. He turned back to Chip, and his vision went red with fury. He chucked the ball into Chip’s chest. The kid took two unsteady steps back, but Gabe was on him before he regained his balance.

  “She’s not a piece of meat,” Gabe hissed into Chip’s ear.

  They were in the grass on the opposite side of the court from the girls. Chip tried to get up, but Gabe slammed him down. He raised his fist.

  “Gabe, stop!” Michael yelled.

  His cousin was behind him and hoisted him off of Chip.

  Chip jumped to his feet and threw a sucker punch into Gabe’s abdomen. Michael still had his arms, and he couldn’t block the punch. Adrenaline and rage were calling the shots, and he barely felt the sting of the blow. A second later, Bryson was there, pulling Chip back.

  The guys broke apart.

  “Jesus Christ, Gabe!” Michael said. “What happened?”

  Gabe looked around wildly and found Monica. The girls had risen to their feet, but they were frozen on the other side of the court, shock written all over their faces. From where they were sitting, there was no way they could have heard what Chip said. From their point of view, it must have looked like he had instigated the fight.

  Gabe tried to meet Monica’s gaze, but her eyes were trained to the ground.

  “Get your cousin the fuck out of here!” Chip yelled. Bryson still had him by the shoulders.

  Michael gripped Gabe’s forearm. “Come on. If we don’t go now, this is only going to get worse.”

  “I don’t want to leave Monica with that motherfucker.”

  Michael leaned in. “Cuz, this kid could cause major fucking problems—not just for you but for our whole family.”

  Gabe swallowed hard and broke free of Michael’s hold. “Fine, let’s go.”

  3

  Chip tapped her thigh with his leg. “Give me your cup.”

  Monica eyed the glass bottle of vodka Chip held under the table.

  After the blowout on the basketball court, Courtney was able to calm her brother down. Chip was ready to rain bloody fury down on Gabe, but his sister reminded him that this was their last night in town before they left for France.

  They had spent the last couple of hours at a pizza joint across from the Langley Park library in the town center. The botanic gardens were just a five-minute walk from there. Bryson suggested they pre-party over slices of deep dish before sneaking into the gardens after hours, and Chip’s mood improved. They left their cars parked on the street next to the basketball courts and made the short walk into the town center.

  “I don’t think I need any more alcohol,” Monica said. Her tongue was starting to tingle.

  Andrea ordered pitchers of some clear lemon-lime soda because it mixed well with vodka, and the waitstaff wouldn’t be able to tell that their drinks were spiked.

  Chip had been mixing drinks for her all night. At first, the harsh taste of the vodka made her gag. This was only the second time she’d tried alcohol. During their sophomore year of high school, she and Courtney had nicked a bottle of Cabernet from the Wilkes’ wine cellar after school. They forced themselves to drink it down and spent the rest of the afternoon vomiting.

  “I don’t want to get sick,” Monica added.

  Chip gave her a smooth smile. “You’ve barely had any. I only drink the good stuff. It won’t make you sick.”

  She leaned against his arm. Chip liked her. She could tell. Except, while most guys fell all over themselves in front of her, Chip teased her. He didn’t fawn over her. He wasn’t intimidated by her beauty. This sent a shiver of excitement up her spine. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her of Gabe.

  Gabe Sinclair.

  Her paperboy had a name.

  Her hand tingled at the memory of his touch. She shook her head and glanced over at Andrea, Bryson, and Courtney who were engaged in deep conversation over the best beaches in Fiji.

  She handed Chip her glass. “What happened on the basketball court?”

  Chip had been adamant about not wanting to discuss the fight. Monica told herself to let it go. Guys and their intensity while playing sports was something she would never understand. But something was off about the fight between Chip and Gabe. Gabe started it. That she knew for sure. But what had sparked the confrontation?

  Chip poured the clear liquid into her glass and handed it back. She tried to read him. A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, but the look was gone with a blink and replaced with something that bordered on earnest.

  He set his hand on her knee. His thumb rubbed tiny circles on her thigh. Her heart rate kicked up. Nobody had ever touched her like that. She looked across the table at Courtney. They were in a large booth. She and Chip on one side and Courtney, Andrea and Bryson on the other. As far as Monica could tell, no one could see Chip’s hand creeping up her leg.

  Chip slid his thumb underneath the hem of her skirt. “That Sinclair kid was talking shit about you.”

  “Me? What would he say about me?”

  Chip grimaced. “Ugly stuff. Sexual stuff. I don’t even want to repeat it.”

  She wasn’t expecting that. Then she remembered their encounter at the shop window. Gabe hadn’t said a word, only pointed to the cake batter on her face. Maybe he was a jerk? Maybe all those years of him watching her was because he was just like every other guy who saw her as a trophy. A thing. A pretty mannequin to cart around like a prop.

  Could that be true?

  Monica clenched her hands into fists. When Gabe shook her hand, her heart had skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. His palm was rough and calloused, and his touch had sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. She hadn’t seen cruelty in his eyes. Could her fascination with him have colored her judgment?

  “Monica,” Chip said, gifting her with a slow smile.

  She whipped her head up as Chip’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Finish your drink. We’re going to head over to the gardens soon.”

  She lifted the glass to her lips and held Chip’s gaze.

  Chip squeezed her thigh. “That’s my girl.”

  The spiked drink went down easy now. Monica swallowed the last sip and licked her lips. She set the glass onto the table with a crash.

  Andrea let out a high-pitched shriek. “I guess we all know who can’t hold her alcohol.”

  Everything felt blurry and disjointed. The candles burning on the pizza parlor’s table gave off a fuzzy, wobbly glow.

  Monica blinked. “Sorry about that.”

  “No worries,” Bryson said, gaze pointed at her chest. “We all know what it’s like when Chip’s mixing your drinks.”

  Monica glanced at Chip. In the time it had taken for her to drink the vodka concoction and slam the glass on the table, he had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The weight felt foreign.

  She turned to Courtney. Her friend had grown quiet. “What’s Courtney up?” she said, then shook her head. “What’s up, Court? That’s what I meant.”

  Andrea broke out into a bout of giggles. “You kill me, Monica!”

  Courtney glanced at Chip’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  “You can’t! It’s our last night together,” Andrea whined.

  Monica frowned. “Yeah, Court! Please, don’t go.”

  Courtney glanced at her brother.

  “You can’t drive,” Monica continued.

  “Y
ou’ve been a little busy to notice, Mon, but I haven’t had anything to drink besides soda.”

  Chip threw a few bills on the table. “That’s settled. Court’s out. Everybody else is in. Let’s go.”

  Courtney headed for the door. Monica slid out of the booth but had to stop. She grasped the corner of the table. She couldn’t tell which way was up. It was like she’d done ten cartwheels in a row. After a few seconds, the restaurant see-sawed back to normal.

  “Court, hold on,” Monica called out. She passed through the doors and caught up with her friend on the sidewalk. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

  Courtney gave her a hesitant smile. “I’m fine. It’s just right up the street.”

  A heavy silence stretched between them. The alcohol clouded her brain, and she couldn’t read her friend’s expression. Was Courtney mad? Was she upset?

  “I love you, Court,” Monica said. She wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders, but nothing felt real. Nothing felt permanent. Even the pavement beneath her feet felt perilously shaky.

  “Be smart, Monica, okay?”

  “Of course, she’s smart,” Chip said with a grin. “She’s with me.”

  Chip put a hand on Monica’s waist and coaxed her away from his sister.

  “She’s got a curfew, Chip. She’ll be in deep shit if she’s not home on time.”

  He tightened his grip. “I got it Court. Chill out.”

  “I’ll see you at home, brother.”

  Monica still couldn’t read her friend’s expression.

  “Don’t wait up,” he replied.

  “Chip!” Courtney shot.

  A beat passed, and the siblings stared each other down.

  Andrea released an exaggerated sigh. “Can we just go? I’m over slumming it at some random pizza place in Langley Park.”

  “Bye, Monica,” Courtney said. Her eyes shined in the light of the streetlamp.

  Monica parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out. Courtney gave her the hint of a smile then turned and disappeared down the street.