Page 11 of The Bet (The Players 1)

“Well, now we are. So, what if we say, first to get married before the end of the year wins…a new car!” I grinned. Their lips didn’t even twitch. “You know, because on all the game shows, the big prize is a new car? I was trying to be funny.” I shrugged. “You two are killing me.”

“Too long. Too far out,” Drew complained.

“Six months?” Harry shrugged. “I mean, we have to meet and fall in love.”

“Does it have to be love?” Drew glanced back and forth between us. “I don’t think my parents are in love, but they aren’t alone and they are still together after all these years.”

“Well, it can’t just be anyone we meet. Hell, if that was allowed, I could probably get hitched tonight.” I scanned the room. “There are tons of hot, single chicks in this town who wouldn’t mind marrying a billionaire bachelor.” I turned to our dealer and gave Talia a smooth grin while waggling my eyebrows. “What do you say, Talia? You in the market for a husband?”

Her cheeks turned crimson. “Place your bets, sir.”

Her words hit a nerve. Drew straightened. “Three months. First one to marry gets the car of his choice, paid for by the other two. Oh, and the prize isn’t paid out unless the marriage lasts at least one year.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Anyone cangetmarried. I plan tostaymarried.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Harry held out his hand to shake on it.

I raked a hand through my hair. Losing this bet wouldn’t break me financially, it wouldn’t even slightly wound my reputation, and it might help Drew recover from whatever was eating at him. I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take that bet.” Then I reached out and shook their hands.

6

Kate

Sundays are quite possiblymy favorite day of the week. They end up being just as busy as any other day, mind you, but they are still the one day I get to do for myself. I leisurely rolled out of bed without setting an alarm. Damn, it was glorious. I strolled into the bathroom to pull my hair up into a messy bun. Then I slipped on my bathing suit, threw a robe on, grabbed my Kindle, a towel, and wandered out to the patio so I could soak in the hot tub while waiting for my muscles to loosen up. Apparently, working with my father six days a week made me tense. Since it was only a little after nine in the morning, I had at least an hour before I could expect the golfers to begin passing by the backyard. The joys of living on the 18thfairway.

Dropping my robe onto a nearby lounger, I made my way to the hot tub. After I set my ereader on the patio beside the tub with my towel, I stepped in carefully, and sighed in delight as I slid in up to my hairline. Once I could feel my muscles relaxing, I rolled over onto my stomach, reached out, dried my hands, and began scanning my device. Devouring one romance novel a week had become my guilty pleasure.

For a while I read in silence, soaking away the sting of my life, until the occasional ‘fore’ broke my concentration. With a sigh, I turned off my device and climbed out of the water. I toweled off and slid my robe on, carefully cinching it. Then I wandered into the house to shower and dress.

By the time I returned, the golfers were out in force, determined to complete their eighteen holes before the scorching sun made it more miserable than fun. As was my habit, I turned on the grill, then went inside to pull out the chicken breasts I’d been marinating in multiple dressings and prep some veggie pouches. I’d learned to spend the day cooking so I could eat healthy all week instead of hitting a drive thru every night on the way home.

I strolled out to the grill with the chicken in hand when a golf ball came sailing my direction. “Fuck!” I glanced around angrily. These assholes knew they were supposed to warn people.

Then I spotted him. Doug Brenner rushed to the edge of my yard. “Oh, so sorry, Kate. The ball just seemed to get away from me.” The man was in his early sixties, lived in my gated community, and this seemed to be part of his weekly routine.

“I understand, Doug. Just shout next time, okay?” I frowned as he opened the gate to my yard.

I saw another man following behind him. He smiled up at me from the ground. “Hello, Kate.”

With a smirk, I greeted him. “Mr. George.”

“We’re not at the hotel. You should call me Ty.” He laughed, as if he knew I wouldn’t.

“I’m well aware. And you should still call me Ms. Summers.” I shook my head.

“How come he gets to call you Kate?” Ty crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to pout.

He seemed fun and I wanted to play with him, but something stopped me. I’m guessing it was the same something that always stopped me. My father had ruined men for me. “He has known me since I was a child,” I explained.

“That’s right, Doug remarked proudly. “I’ve known Kate for years. Her father and I have been friends forever.” He clapped Ty on the shoulders. “Much like the relationship I hope to build with you, young man.”

Ty looked at me and mouthed, ‘Young man?’ Then he smiled at Doug. “I like the sound of that.” He turned his attention to me. “We’re talking about renovations to the hotel.”

I could feel my cheeks turn pink. “You don’t own the hotel,” I reminded him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Although, I’m hoping if I put together the right offer, Mr. Nash might show some interest and decide to retire.”

“Oh, her father isn’t the retiring type. That guy is a legend in these parts. He’ll go out with his boots on.” Doug nodded knowingly.

The confusion was evident in Ty’s face and I knew why. My shoulders sank some as I pictured what would happen once he knew Mr. Nash and my father were one and the same. The pan with chicken shifted in my hand. I could feel the color drain from my face. My knees started to wobble. Ty immediately sprang into action, sprinting up the three steps and catching it before I collapsed or could spill the chicken onto the cement.

---