Page 12 of Playing for Keeps

Behind our backs, Basin Rock townsfolk call us “the Virgin and the Whore.” However, our father’s dangerous reputation keeps their fat mouths shut when we can hear.

“Wait, isn’t Val Mercer the man from the grocery store?” Erin asks as my father joins us and frowns at me.

“That was him? You said it was a confused pervert with a potato head.”

“I might have lied,” I reply without looking at Duke.

“Does this Val fellow have a potato head?” Erin asks no one in particular.

Yanking my phone from my pocket, I reveal a picture from the night I met Val. He was dancing around, trying to prove he could be a male stripper. I egged him on despite the question of his sexual appeal never being in doubt.

“Oh, I approve,” Erin announces. “Sex is so much better when their heads aren’t super starchy.”

My sister snickers while Duke loops from the front of the bar to the back where I sit.

“Why do you have a picture of Val Mercer?”

“It’s spank bank material.”

Duke’s eyes nearly roll right out of his head. My sister and grandma laugh at his reaction while I shrug.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m an adult now, so it’s no longer gross.”

“Uh-huh.”

Duke walks to the front door, surveys the road from the window, and shoots a grumpy glance back at us. “If you’re interested in seeing the pretty boy up close, he’s outside for some fucking reason.”

Erin hurries over and pats her son’s cheek. “You’re cussing too much. Go get one of those massages with the happy endings. It’ll relax you.”

Duke ignores her advice while I look out to where Val stands next to his slick red motorcycle. My beefcake fiancé acts confused like he isn’t sure why he’s here.

I admire his bare and buff arms before letting my gaze drift down to his toned tummy and thick-as-tree-trunk thighs. The man’s built like a Mac truck. If he weren’t so beautiful, he’d be more terrifying. With his good looks, I can’t picture him putting the Blood-Red Suns members in their place.

“Why is he here?” Duke asks after settling on a stool and trying to get his temper under control.

“I don’t know.”

“Someone go ask.”

“He’s your heir,” Erin points out. “Go make him do pushups or something.”

“Yes,” Clover says and steps away from the front window. “He looks amped up like an angry bull. Make him do a lot of calisthenics, so he’ll lose the attitude.”

Erin pours Duke a drink and murmurs, “Or Lola could give him a happy ending.”

Gasping, I cry, “Grandma!”

“Don’t play prude with me, young lady,” she replies, ignoring my father’s annoyed expression. “Not after the many times we’ve bragged about our scorecards.”

Duke exhales in the way he gets when he’s drowning in estrogen. As much as I want to soothe my agitated father, I can’t help opening the door and walking outside. Val Mercer might never love me. Our marriage could easily turn into a never-ending headache. I might very well end up miserable.

Yet, I’m drawn to his beauty like a moth to a flame.

VAL, AKA DOUBTING HIS DREAMS OF BALLOON ARCHES

Over the next few hours, the homestead gets crowded. My pa returns from the clubhouse where he learned the news. He shows up to ask if I’m nuts. I only shake my head and shrug. My mind’s not here with my people. It’s gone to Lola McGraw.

I was so sure about my feelings.She was my dream girl.But now I’m rethinking stuff. Not her as much as Basin Rock, the Blood-Red Suns, and Duke McGraw.

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