Page 3 of Force Play

Squaring up for battle, Indie turns towards me. “Nope, it’s the way you strut around like a puffed-up peacock all the time. Being humble goes a long way.”

“Humble, you think this guy is humble?” I point to the rearview mirror where a bored look settles over Dean’s face. “Don’t let him fool you, he does it too. He’s just a modest strutter.” I lower my voice. “Actually, we don’t talk about it; his mediocre puffing makes him sad.”

“Right here,” he reminds us.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man? We can drop you off at home if this is too much for you,” I quip at my friend, half hoping he takes me up on the offer.

When he doesn’t answer, I turn back to Indie, brushing a wayward curl back so I can see those almond-shaped eyes. When I find them, they suck me in, making me feel like I’m tumbling into the abyss with little control over my landing. “I’m going to show you I’m not the guy you think I am. Except the pretty part—that is spot on.” I wink at her.

“Not doing yourself any favors.” The words are mumbled as she leans forward and talks to Dean over the front seat, blocking me out of the conversation.

My friend glances back over his shoulder, shaking his head at me. “Cocky is his default setting, but it’s probably our fault for telling him how pretty he is too often.”

“The roles of team grump and team dad were already taken by you and Cruz. I had to blaze my own trail. Besides, it’s not cocky if you can back it up,” I tell them both, pulling out my phone and firing off a text to my friend Topher, the owner of Lark’s.

“You can pull around the back. We’ll go in that way,” I tell the driver, pocketing my phone.

“Frequent flier?” Even in the dark car, I can see the glimmer of hope in her raised eyebrow—like she’s delighted that she just caught me.

“Something like that.” From what I’ve gathered, Indie isn’t going to take me at my word. She needs to see that I’m not just some cocky playboy.

Topher is waiting at the back door a minute later when I hold the door for Indie to join me. Predictably, she ignores the hand I offer to help her out of the car. When Dean joins us, they follow me to the VIP entrance, where my friend greets me with a handshake and then pulls me in for a hug. “Nice game tonight.”

“Thanks, man. How’s Lark?” I ask, stepping back so that I’m at Indie’s side.

“Good, I saw her earlier. She told me she’s looking for another shot at you on Wednesday.”

The woman beside me scoffs under her breath, “Playboy.” It’s a whispered insult, one I don’t think she means for me to hear.

“My bingo game is on a hot streak. Tell your grandma not to get her hopes up. It would kill me to break her heart,” I say, placing my hand on Indie’s back and leading her inside. She shakes it off, stopping and turning to face me in the narrow hallway, making Dean almost barrel into us from behind.

“I’m going to go get us a booth. Want anything to drink?” he asks, stepping around us, which gives me the perfect excuse to step into Indie’s space.

“Tequila,” Indie answers, her eyes not leaving mine. “His grandma?” she questions when we’re alone.

“Not what you were expecting?”

“No . . . not exactly,” she says, leaning against the wall, her eyes scanning me like she’s looking for the lie.

“Good, there’s a lot about me you don’t know, but that’s only because you’re too busy flirting with my friend to distract yourself from what you really want.” I move in closer, my forearm flattening against the wall next to her head.

She sucks on her cheek, but it doesn’t cover the way the corner of her lip twitches. “And you think you know what I want?”

“Me,” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Awfully arrogant. What makes you think that?” She presses her shoulder blades into the wall, tilting her chin up and pushing her chest out—fortifying herself.

“The way you’re trying so hard to pretend you don’t; flirting with my teammate, but only when you’re sure I’m watching. Like last night at his penthouse, and again tonight at Draft. Not to mention the heat in your eyes when you’re throwing your snarky comebacks at me.” Her pupils flare as I step in closer. On every sharp inhale, I can feel her hard nipples graze my chest, but I won’t point that out just yet. “Don’t worry, I like it when you’re mean to me, and I’m not afraid of a challenge.”

“I’m not some conquest.” Her posture goes rigid.

“No, you’re not. You’re so much more than that,” I tell her, stepping back and sweeping my hand out. She pushes off the wall and glances over her shoulder before she leads me out of the hallway and into the dark club.

Prologue

Indie

One Year Earlier

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