Page 2 of The Bet (The Players 1)

Tilting his head, Drew frowned. “I didn’t think we were. I’m his great nephew. And yet, I inherited his fortune.”

“Whoa.” I whistled. “Is this the uncle who helped start the record label?”

“Yeah. I always admired him. He had the biggest mansion, the nicest cars, the most beautiful women hanging around.” He sighed. “And yet he died sad and alone.”

“What makes you think so?” My brow furrowed. “Some guys love that life. We…love that life.” I glanced at Harry who nodded in commiseration.

“Yes, well at the end of his days, he didn’t love the life so much. In fact, he seemed filled with regret, as evidenced by the note he left me to go along with the inheritance.” Drew pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and pushed it across the table to me. “Read it. My eyes are already getting blurry.”

“How many of those have you had?” I reached over and picked up his keys, then stuffed them in my pocket. He started to object, but I shook my head. “I’ll get you home. You didn’t answer the question.”

“How many? I don’t know.” He had started slurring his words. “Two, maybe three…”

I glanced past him to the bartender who held up an open hand. “Could it be five?”

“What are you, my mother?” He grumbled.

“Nah. She has more facial hair.” I chuckled. Your mama jokes never grew old.

“You’re not funny.” He glared at me. “I’m worried about dying sad and alone and all you can do is crack jokes about my mother.”

“That’s not all I can do. I plan to read this letter too.” I winked at him.

“Now be sure to read it so everyone can hear, Ty,” Harry urged.

“Fine.” I cleared my throat dramatically as I opened the letter. “To my nephew, Andy.” I made a face. “How close could you be? He didn’t even know your nickname.” I shook my head in disappointment. “Anyway…he goes on to say, ‘If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to get married. I used to joke that marriage was an antiquated institution designed to make women happy and men miserable. In my later years, I’ve discovered nothing could be farther from the truth.’” I glanced at them to see if they were paying attention and raised my brows. “Marriage and having a family mean not dying a sad and lonely old man like me. It means having heirs, instead of finding some relative you sorta like to give all your shit when you pass.” I chuckled. “So, this is how you inherited everything?”

“Well, he hated my father. The man was too straight-laced and hated music. So, this left me, since I was an only child.” Drew shrugged.

“You nearly killed your mother. She had to have an emergency hysterectomy.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ty, they could have adopted. They could afford it.” He shook his head. “I don’t even have siblings. I’m doomed.”

“Why don’t you take his advice and get married?” Harry grinned.

I grimaced. “I don’t know anyone who wants to get married.”

“Yeah, I swear our parents did it because it was expected. Have you ever seen three colder marriages? They were more like mergers.” Harry shivered.

“I might.” Drew piped in.

“You might what?” I stared at him, confused.

“I might want to get married, if it meant not dying sad and alone.” He sank low in his seat. “But who would want to marry me?”

I rolled my eyes. “This is the part where we’re supposed to offer reassurance, right?” I sighed. “I’ll play.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Honestly, Drew, if you don’t care about love you’ll have no trouble finding a wife. Women will line up to marry you.”

He brightened. “You think so?”

“I know so. You’re rich as fuck. Just drop some financials into the conversation and watch women fall at your feet.” I gripped his shoulder enthusiastically. Then I waved down our server. She was a perky young brunette.

“Can I get you another drink?” She smiled and batted her eyes at me. Since I already had a live-in girlfriend, I was pretty impervious to outside charms.

“Actually, it’s for my sloppy drunken friend here.” I chuckled. Her smile faded several degrees.

“Oh? I think he has had enough.” She glanced at the bartender who nodded.

“He doesn’t need a drink. He needs a date, a wife even.” I lifted his head up off his chest. “Picture him sober. He’s a good-looking guy.”

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