Page 17 of Playing for Keeps

I frown at her dig at my sanity. Screaming might have been a bit much, but I had no idea what else to do. I still don’t know how I could have handled it better. Running away seemed stupid. Tackling him and dry-humping in public also felt wrong.

“I haven’t been myself since I met Val.”

“He could be your guy.”

“Don’t mock the family curse. You’ll anger it.”

“Val’s family is bigger and full of couples. I saw Val’s brother and that redheaded girl at the movies a few weeks ago. They were really into each other. Maybe Val’s family can cancel out our curse.”

Cuddling with my black-and-white cat, I admit, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Why?”

“Is that a real question?”

“When we do shot-glass roulette, we know we’ll end up hungover in a hotel room the next day. There might be vomit involved. We don’t feel good for days afterward. But we still do it because the actual roulette part is fun. Why can’t you think of this thing with Val and the wedding in the same way? Yes, it might end badly, and you’ll feel sick for a while when it goes wrong. But there’ll still be a lot of fun before the hangover hits.”

“How are you so smart?”

“I read a lot during my downtime at work.”

Smiling at her sheepish grin, I rest back on the bed and think about Val. As soon as I knew I wanted him, I started treating the poor guy like the enemy. If I could rip my gaze away from ourbleak future and instead focus on the sexy present, I could have a lot of fun with the beefcake.

I roll over on the mattress and look around my room. The shabby chic thing works for me. My apartment is only one bedroom with a cute country kitchen. I’ve furnished this place with goofy crap I’ve bought from farmers markets, thrift shops, and garage sales. I like my space, but it doesn’t suit a man of Val’s size or sensibilities. He’ll barely fit on my queen-sized bed.

“Do you want my apartment if I move to Tumbling Rock?” I ask Clover who pets Moo.

“I like living at home. Grandma is always over. Dad said I can get as many pets as I can safely fit in my room. Why move?”

“I’m not sure I want to live in Tumbling Rock.”

“You’ll be fine. That redheaded girl is around your age. Tuesday is, too. Val’s other cousins are in their twenties. You might have actual girlfriends instead of bugging me all the time.”

“I refuse to give you up,” I reply in an ominous tone and reach for her. “You will always be my free therapist.”

Offering me a smirk so similar to our dad’s, Clover exits my bedroom. “I’m going home to change before the party.”

“Want me to come along and help you choose an outfit?”

“No. I want to be left alone since I’ll soon be at the party with a bunch of strangers and the meatheads.”

My sister is a loner for the most part. I’m the only reason Clover ever goes out to do anything fun.

I meet my family at the clubhouse where Duke has the meatheads lined up in the parking lot. He’s lecturing them about what they can’t do at the party. A lot of obvious stuff is mentioned—aka, no pissing against trees, no grabbing anyone’s ass, no stealing food from people’s plates, and absolutely no starting fights.

The meatheads stand very upright like they’re at boot camp with a mean drill sergeant. I look over the club guys and try to view them with fresh eyes.Nope, can’t do it.

They look like the same meatheads I’ve known for most of my life. I assume they’re intimidating to people. I see how old women cradle their purses when a member of the Blood-Red Suns shows up. However, I can’t imagine anyone at the Tumbling Rock homestead will be intimidated or impressed by these men.

Duke stops lowkey threatening them. Rather than riding with the meatheads, he leaves his motorcycle behind and claims the driver’s seat in Erin’s SUV. My grandma slides into the passenger seat. Clover and I end up in the back like kids. My sister is dressed stylishly in a messy way. Up front, Duke wears a black T-shirt and jeans while Erin is in a flattering pink tank-style top and a denim skirt.

“Have you heard from Mercer?” Duke asks as he leads our convoy toward Tumbling Rock.

“He sends a text every morning to remind me of our upcoming wedding.”

Duke grunts at this information. He’s barely mentioned Val this week. I’ve kept mum, too. It’s almost like the entire thing was a fevered dream.

Pulling out my phone, I look at the images Val sent to me over the last few days. The first picture reveals his morning woody hidden under his red boxers.

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