The Way We Play (Bradford Boys #2)

Chapter 15

15

Zane

T he sky is gray, and the metallic taste of rain touches my tongue as I drive to the station. The curve of Rachel’s breasts is on my mind, the scent of her honeysuckle hair, the feel of her hot pussy grinding against my cock.

All night I tossed and turned, fighting the urge to go to her, break through her door and claim her. It was torture knowing she was right across the hall from me, wanting me as much as I wanted her.

My fingertips hummed with the memory of her soft flesh. My lips pulsed from dragging them all over her sweet skin. The noises, the little whimpers and moans she made when I kissed her almost ripped my control to shreds.

Almost .

I fisted my hard cock, pumping it as I dreamed of her naked body. Her soft, full tits, her round ass. Rocking my hips, I closed my eyes and surrounded myself in the memory of her, thinking of all the things I want to do with her.

It would’ve been so easy to leave my room and go to her.

She’s two steps away every night.

What the fuck held me back?

I care about Rachel Wells—but I don’t only care about her. I care about the things she cares about. I care about the things that could cause her pain. I care about her brother, but most of all, I care about the memories she’ll have of her first time.

She has plans. She told me she’s fought and worked for a better life. I want her time here to be something she remembers with a smile, not something she pushes away with regret.

Sure, it would be easy to get it over with, break the seal, but I want more. From kicking in the bathroom door to make sure she was safe, to sitting on that massage table as she bared her body to me…

Her heated eyes fixed on mine, her parted lips begging for me. My mouth on her breasts, sucking and biting. Orgasm surged through my belly, and I rolled into the pillow, groaning as I finished in the washcloth.

Now, driving to the station, I try to figure out how I’m going to make it happen. I think about stretching her for the first time, feeling her heat and her desire.

She said I taught her to kiss, and I guess that’s partly true. She took it to the next level in a way I couldn’t teach. It has my mind drifting ahead to how she’ll respond to sex.

When Rachel Wells comes on my cock for the first time, it’s going to be amazing—for both of us. She’s so eager now, and fuck me, she’s not the only one. I shift in my seat at the thought, anticipation burning in my stomach.

Garrett

Did you get a do-over or are you still the worst kisser ever?

Logan

Something happened. They’re carpooling again.

Jack

I heard massage was involved.

How the fuck did you hear that?

Jack

Dylan.

Hendrix

Massage? Did you pop a boner?

Garrett

Did you bone her?

Bye.

Garrett

I can still draw you a diagram if you need it.

“What’s tonight’s Dare Dish?” Oliver Duck sits behind the control board with a headset on watching Logan with what can only be described as disappointment.

My future brother-in-law doesn’t seem to notice at all. “Ah, she’s making something called Fatalii?”

“Hmph.” Oliver flips switches and adjusts the lighting. “Fatalii is pretty tame. It’s several steps below the ghost pepper on the Scoville scale.”

“Still too hot for me.” Logan grins, glancing to where I’m putting my notifications on mute.

I don’t need my younger brother diagramming anything. I know very well what I’m doing with Rachel. The only part that’s puzzling me is where.

If I’m going to make her first time unforgettable, we’re going to need time. We’re going to need privacy, and at this point, we don’t have either of those things.

As much as I like her brother, he’s not very conducive to my plans. Glancing over at Logan, I wonder if I could take him up on that offer to go for a long drive. Taking Jack up on his offer to keep him overnight would be better.

“She’s made hot peppers her life’s work.” My eyes and attention cut back to the teenager currently lecturing us on my little sister’s pepper obsession. “She’s elevated it to an art form.”

Poor Oliver. He’s had a massive crush on my little sister for a while now. Too bad he’s only sixteen and she’s very, very taken.

“And you don’t even like them.” His voice drips with disdain, and all Logan does is laugh.

“It’s true.” Logan shakes his head, totally oblivious. “But I’ll tell you what, Ollie, if it hadn’t been for those dang ghost peppers, I’m not sure how I’d have climbed off my high horse and fallen at her feet the way I did.”

I swallow a laugh. It’s true. Logan’s a good guy. I hadn’t pictured him being with Dylan when he showed up here with Garrett two summers ago, but now I can’t picture it any other way.

“It’s Oliver. Not Ollie.” The boy gripes.

I grin, taking my seat and pulling on my headphones. “Are you ready to start the show?”

He gives us a point, and we begin.

“Zane Bradford.” Logan introduces me. “How’s it hanging, my man? What did you think of that Hail Mary save by Simmons against the Buccaneers?”

We launch into our weekly play by play of all the major games of the past week. Logan takes it from the spectator’s side, discussing the big hits and the big misses. I take it from more of a coaching side, discussing how teams might take what they’ve learned into the next weeks’ games.

It’s a good mix, and our audience is growing fast. We do call-ins, and the phone lines almost can’t handle the flood. Logan’s dad even made a comment last week on a zoom call that he saw a new celebrity duo in the making.

I’ve learned from all my years in the business, the best thing to do when people start talking about how awesome you are is to keep your head down and keep working. As soon as you think you’ve made it, you break.

“How about that new duo of Bradford and Berke for the Pirates?” Logan asks about his old team, Garrett, and his former rival taking his place.

“Ricky Berke is working hard to beat the records you set last year, but I don’t see him doing it—at least not yet. He doesn’t have your raw talent, and he’s too young to have your instincts.”

I’m speaking honestly. Blowing smoke up Logan’s ass wouldn’t win us any points with the fans. It’s true, Logan was possibly the greatest wide receiver of our generation.

“Yeah, but he’s got my drive.” Logan is impressively generous. “He’ll get there. Just give him time.”

“Take the compliment.” I deadpan, and he laughs, rocking back in his chair.

Did I mention instincts? Logan’s got them in spades. We make good sound, but with his looks and charisma, this is good-assed video.

Two hours pass before Logan starts to wrap it. The only drawback is having to sit in this chair so long. My back is tired, and I need to walk around.

Rachel gave me a great massage, and I’m not in anywhere near the pain I was before. Still, a follow-up session would be nice. It leads my mind elsewhere, to something soft and pretty with pixie eyes and an optimistic smile.

How did it go today with the tree?

Rachel

It’s really beautiful. You should see it.

A grin relaxes my face, and I can’t remember the last time reading a woman’s words warmed me from my chest to my stomach.

I’ll see it tomorrow. What’s the word on Claws?

Rachel

If you’re referring to Claudette… good one! She is very claws-out all the time.

Is she finding anything unusual?

Rachel

Not yet, although MG convinced her to attend dare night, so…

All bets are off.

I hesitate, studying the screen before I send my next text.

I’m glad you’re okay, no falls.

Rachel

I’ll fall for you.

I’ll catch you.

Rachel

It might have already happened.

I exhale a laugh, sliding the device into my pocket again. Looking up, my eyes land on Logan’s watching me, and I shift my stance, lowering my brow and doing my best to restore my usual, stoic expression.

Clearing my throat, I act casual. “Just checking my messages.”

He chuckles. “The offer still stands. Dylan and I’ll be glad to babysit whenever you need it.”

I pick up my keys and slide them into the pocket of my denim jacket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Allie dropped Edward by the house after school, and he’s really changing. I can see it in his posture, his expression. He’s relaxing. He smiles more and quicker. He’s making a life here, and it gives me hope.

Rachel texted that she would catch a ride back with Claws and Miss Gina to save me the trip. I almost replied, saying I didn’t mind, I’d pick her up, but I didn’t. Anticipation is good. Hell, I can’t think of anything worse than smothering in a relationship.

Relationship? I slide my hand behind my neck.

Dylan is running around tossing mango cubes and yellow peppers into two large, industrial-sized blenders. She finally broke down and bought a second one as the dare crowd has grown.

“So we’re just going to give them citrus salsa, nothing else?” Craig’s brow furrows. “That’s different. ”

“It’s not really something you eat on a chip,” she explains. “It’s more something you’d eat with shrimp or chicken… or a hardy vegetable if you don’t eat meat.”

Dylan’s long hair is twisted in a bun, and Logan sits on a stool by Thomas, watching her with an adoring smile from a safe distance. Every now and then she dances over to kiss his lips. He tries to grab her, but she shakes her head.

“Not til I’ve washed up,” she warns. “You know what can happen.”

The way he responds to those words makes me believe he knows very well what can happen if pepper oil gets where it shouldn’t—we all do.

Looking around, I wonder when Rachel’s getting here.

“Two more orders of the special grilled shrimp and one chicken tender special.” Salina Duck breezes into the kitchen in her shorts and logo shirt carrying a tray. She stops short when she sees me. “Hi, Zane.”

She smiles, approaching me in that flirty manner again.

“Hey, Salina. You doing okay?” I shift, looking over at Edward and deciding it’s time for his pool lesson.

“Oh, you know. The same.” She shrugs, blinking her dark brown eyes up at me. “I’m doing a lot better now that Craig has stopped messing with the portion sizes.”

She cuts her eyes at him briefly, and he immediately protests. “I was helping our customers be healthy. It was a good thing.”

“It was messing with my tips.” She jerks her chin, adding under her breath. “Egg.”

Craig doesn’t miss a beat. “Did you just call me Egg ?”

Salina shrugs, poking out her lips and looking up at me with a smile. “Maybe.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult? Like Egghead ?”

I have no idea what’s going on right now, but I’m fighting a laugh.

“Kids used to call me Egghead at my old school.” Edward walks up holding Smokey under his chin, a serious expression on his face.

“That’s because you’re a genius, Eddie” Salina turns fiercely protective on a dime. “Don’t ever let those stupid kids make you feel bad for being smart. Okay?”

Edward nods, startled. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You have a gift.” Her voice softens, and she lightly taps her finger on his shoulder.

“Oh, so for him it’s a gift, but for me, it’s an insult?” Craig waves a hand at her.

“I don’t know, Egg .” Salina picks up the tray of food, turning her body, but never breaking eye-contact with Craig. “Is it?”

His eyes narrow in confused defiance as she disappears through the double doors. “She’s one of our best servers, and she just gets weirder.”

“She’s hilarious!” Allie’s loud voice cuts through the noise in the kitchen. “She’s totally messing with you, Cray.”

Austin follows a few paces behind her. I recognize that saunter from being a teenage boy myself.

“Allie! I’m so glad you’re here.” Dylan calls from where she’s pouring bright orange salsa into a large bowl.

“Don’t tell me. You need help serving.” She grabs an apron off the rack and wraps it around her waist.

A bowl crashes in the sink, and Edward flinches, still petting the small cat.

I touch his arm. “Let’s hit the pool tables. Get away from all this noise.”

He nods, and Kimmie is right at our waists, not missing a thing. “I want to learn to play pool! Will you teach me, too, Uncle Zee?”

“I’ll teach you, but tonight, I need you to watch.” Her shoulders drop, but I lift my chin at Austin. “Come with us. You can help me teach Eddie. ”

“Sure.” He continues past his mom to where we’re standing by the double doors leading to the dining room.

“Get me, Aussie!” Kimmie hops up and down, holding her hands over her head.

Austin bends down so she can hop onto his back, and she cheers, swinging her stuffed red turtle over her head.

“Have you seen my cooter, Aussie?” She leans forward, holding his shoulders.

“No.” Austin’s tone is flat, and he cuts his eyes at Allie.

She and Dylan stand in front of the table with their lips bit between their teeth and their eyes glassy from holding back laughter.

“Look at my cooter!” Kimmie says it louder, waving the stuffed animal at his face.

Allie shrieks, and Dylan’s knees bend as she laughs.

Austin exhales a frustrated growl. “Make her stop.”

I step over to take my niece off his back. “Come on, troublemaker.”

My niece squeals, and Edward walks over to take her hand. “Pool is a serious game, Kim. If you’re going to play with us, you have to take it seriously. No goofing off and no talking about cooters. Or you’ll have to stay here.”

He gives her hand a little shake, and she nods, looking up at him with round eyes. “Okay, Ed.”

Edward leads her through the double doors into the dining area, and I glance back at the ladies. Dylan’s eyes are wide.

“This should be interesting.” Allie has managed to recover enough to hold back her laughter.

Austin waits impatiently beside me, until I hold the door for him, following Edward and his little soldier to the pool area.

The regular Dare night crowd grows as the restaurant quickly fills with customers. When Dylan is ready, the wait staff will march out with whatever new pepper recipe she concocted followed by all the pomp and flare. Allie or Craig will call out the heat warning, then the lights will change and loud music will erupt. The girls will hop on the bar and start dancing Coyote-Ugly style, and the whole place will turn into a heat-themed disco.

I’m not sure when the dance-party exploded, but I’ve learned to go with it. Edward, however, is more sensitive to light shows and loud noises. Being away from the chaos, out on the side patio where the pool tables are, provides a buffer from the noise. At the same time, the screen walls will let me see when Rachel finally arrives.

“Inexperienced players do better with a medium to soft tip.” Edward takes one of the shorter pool sticks off the special, children’s rack and hands it to Kimmie. “Have you ever played pool before?”

“Daddy taught me how to hold the stick, and he picked me up so I could hit the ball.” Kimmie holds the pool cue looking up at him.

She’s a little hurricane, but she is very serious about hanging with the big boys and learning pool. It’s helpful that someone other than Jack can be firm with her.

“That sounds like the most ineffective way to put a ball in a pocket,” he responds.

“It worked!” she argues.

“Let’s get started.” I nod to the triangle of fifteen balls Austin has racked.

Edward’s brow furrows, and he glances down at his stance before surveying the table again. “Feet should be a little wider than shoulder-width apart and at a forty-five degree angle.”

He recites the instructions as if reading a manual. Austin and I exchange a glance, and I think we’re both curious to see if he’s going to be a pool-playing prodigy on his first attempt.

I wouldn’t be surprised.

The more he reads about horses, the better he’s gotten at the ranch. I half expect him to have Shiloh bowing and doing tricks before it’s all over.

“Focus on the spot beyond the object ball.” He leans down, wrapping his index finger over the pool cue and sliding it back and forth a few times. “Shoot straight and with force.”

He pulls back and hits the arrangement of balls, sending them flying to the edges of the table. Most of them bounce around, but a solid red and a stripe green each land in a pocket.

“Not bad.” I step back to the screened wall, where I have a pretty good view of the dining room. “Pick your pattern.”

“Pick the stripey ones, Eddie!” Kimmie Joy bounces on her toes. “Snappy likes the stripey ones best.”

“Stripes it is.” Edward leans down, sliding his pool cue with a little more confidence this time.

He hits the striped ball, but it doesn’t quite make it into the pocket. His brow furrows, and it’s like I can see his brain working as Austin steps up to take his turn.

“Go, Aussie!” Kimmie jumps up and down pumping her fists.

Austin has been playing pool here for a few years, and we watch as he expertly guides almost all his remaining solids into the various pockets around the table before faltering on the number six.

“Good work, Austin.” I clap his shoulder as he passes me.

Eddie studied his movements the entire time, from the position of his fingers, to his aim, to the variable use of force he used to strike the cue ball.

This time when he gets up to play, he sinks two more balls before missing the next.

“I thought I saw two of my favorite guys out here.” I recognize Gloria’s voice as she enters the side patio. She’s dressed in her usual shorteralls over a flannel shirt and boots. “Who are you hiding from?”

I glance to the dining room where the girls are on the bar dancing to the Buster Poindexter song “Hot Hot Hot,” which is kind of fitting for a Caribbean hot sauce. A group of customers has formed a train and are snaking through the hall .

“Not hiding.” I tilt my head at my young friend. “It’s a little less chaotic here.”

She holds up her hands. “Ah, right. I get it.” Stepping closer to the table, she watches a few moments as Austin almost sends the eight-ball into the corner pocket.

“So close!” she hisses.

Kimmie jumps up and down. “Your chance to steal it, Eddie!”

Edward’s lips are in a line, and he steps up, focused on the balls. Austin, by contrast, is watching the girls on the bar through the screen. He’s way less worried about winning than he is wrapping this up and getting out where the action is.

I can’t say I blame him. I’d have been more interested in pretty girls dancing on a bar at sixteen than playing pool, too.

My eyes drift to the hall, and when they land on hers, it’s a lightning strike. All the feelings swirling in my chest through the night and into the morning surge forward on a tidal wave.

Rachel stands beside a booth where a smiling Miss Gina and an obviously confused Claws sit. Her soft hair sways as she bends her knees, bouncing along to the music and swinging her arms. She’s wearing a short, flowered dress with a low-cut front that shows off her luscious breasts.

My stomach tightens with every bounce, and I need to get it together before I have a semi in my jeans. Cheering breaks out behind me, and just before I turn, Rachel’s eyes meet mine. She smiles shyly, and a flush of pink rises in her neck.

It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen all day, and I have to adjust myself covertly before turning around again.

“You did it!” Kimmie yells. “Eddie won!”

“I hope that wasn’t beginner’s luck, because I fully expect you to win our tournament.” Gloria lightly places her hand on his shoulder.

“Beginner’s luck is only a supposed phenomenon. It has no basis in fact. ”

“In that case, you’d better sign up first thing tomorrow morning.” Gloria nods, unfazed by his monotone.

“Good game, bro.” Austin slaps him on the shoulder as he passes, depositing his pool cue on the rack and heading into the party. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Will you teach me to play now, Eddie?” Kimmie looks up at him expectantly.

He studies her. “I’ll try, but the chances of you becoming proficient at your age are slim.”

“Okay!” I huff a laugh, knowing she didn’t understand a word of that. “You two have fun. I’m going to speak to Miss Gina.”

“Miss Gina’s here?” Edward puts his cue on the rack as well. “I haven’t seen her all week. Let’s have our first lesson tomorrow, Kim.”

Kimmie’s little lips pout, but I lift her onto my hip. “You know who loves red-bellied cooters?” Her blue eyes cut to mine, a hint of mischief in them. “Miss Gina. Run show her Snappy.”

I release her, watching as she runs across the room to where the ladies sit. She’s followed closely by Edward, but I hang back a second, sipping my beer by the small bar.

Rachel’s eyes find mine again, and she blinks a few times before turning away again. I wonder if I’m the only person who hears a different sort of music playing, when Sam Allen walks up to her table, and the record scratches.