The Safe Bet (The Game Changers #3) Read online

  Laughter rang through the house, and the sounds of both male voices were so familiar that all my hair stood at attention. My spine automatically straightened, and my stomach clenched, making me reconsider the cheese puffs from earlier. My body was clearly aware of what was to come before my mind had time to catch up. By the time my mind decided to do its job and function, the flight instinct was present in all its glory, but for some reason my body wouldn’t move. Sometimes in stressful situations my brain and body refused to work in tandem.

  He was in the room. I could feel him, but I couldn’t turn around to let my eyes confirm what my body felt from the second that laugh rang through the house. Zoe jumped off her stool to meet her boyfriend’s new friend like the good, uninformed girlfriend that she was. Completely unaware of my turmoil, she smiled and greeted him warmly, and I was grateful for her distraction. She was giving me a moment to compose myself. I needed ten more years to actually accomplish the task, but that wasn’t in the cards for me right then.

  “Reagan!” Jordan shouted. He was always doing that.

  “What?” I snapped, turning quickly but still managing to avoid eye contact with the stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all. No, instead the other man in the fool-me-thrice brigade stood in front of me. Nausea consumed me, but aside from the whole shaking like a leaf thing, I still remained frozen while my mind fought my body. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. I should be able to stand in the same room with him after all this time, but should was a funny concept.

  I should be able to see him and speak to him, but my mind went haywire every time he was near. I should be over what happened in the past. Time should heal all wounds, but it only made me fear this moment more considering I never stopped feeling so strongly for him. I had hoped it was the memory of him that had me feeling so much, but judging from the way my body responded to his presence, I knew it wasn’t. He was the only man in the world who could affect me like this after a ten-year absence, and for that I hated myself a little.

  “Did you hear me, Reagan?” Hear you? Can’t you see I’m freaking out over here? “This is Brock Anderson, but I think you already knew that.” Jordan’s grin told me he was well aware who this guy was to me. A flick of my eyes to Brock told me he had made the connection as well. My guess was that the only one who was unaware that Jordan and Brock had just set me up was Zoe, but she was quickly figuring it out while we all stood there letting the tension build.

  Brock grinned wickedly as he crossed the kitchen to where I stood. I feared if he came closer, I would shatter, but that didn’t stop him. Nor did it finally set my body in motion. “Nice to see you again, Rea,” he drawled in that gravelly bedroom voice just before he gently pressed his lips to my cheek. Before pulling away, he whispered, “I missed you.”

  “You two know each other?” Zoe asked, completely confused by Brock’s behavior. We had been calling him New Guy all month. I would have never even considered he could have been Brock. Sure, Jordan mentioned New Guy surfs, but a lot of people surf around here. Yeah, he may have said he was from Seattle, but we were from a suburb of Seattle. It wasn’t technically in the city. I didn’t pay attention to what college Jordan said New Guy attended, but—ugh! Why hadn’t I paid better attention?

  Brock answered for me. “We go way back, don’t we, Rea?”

  I was still unresponsive, but no one except Zoe was concerned. Jordan’s grin finally started to subside when he saw that my reaction hadn’t changed. “Reagan and Brock went to school together,” he explained on an awkward cough as if that was enough. It wasn’t. Our story ran far deeper than two people simply attending the same school. It was the kind of story that didn’t have a happy ending, so why the hell would Jordan bring this kind of trouble into our home?

  I turned a nasty glare on my brother that he understood, judging by the way he threw his hands up in surrender. Jordan had just become the newest addition to the men who had fooled me thrice.

  Chapter Three

  June 2001

  We weren’t friends from the start. We were enemies first. He strolled into our class as the new kid without a care in the world, and my daddy had just left us. I hated him for his easygoing attitude. I hated him even more when the teacher made him sit next to me. I didn’t feel different when he smiled at me, and I punched him in the nose the first time he offered me the chocolate cupcake his mom packed him for lunch. I took the cupcake and left him and his watering eyes at the lunch table. I kind of wanted to punch myself for turning back to have one last look at him, but it made me even angrier when he caught me looking and offered me a kind smile. All of it was so wrong.

  At some point you spend enough time with someone you hate, and suddenly you don’t hate the person anymore. After the hate dissipated toward the end of middle school, we became friends. We probably should have always been friends considering we hung out with the same group and our moms worked together. It was like something changed that year, and it wasn’t only due to the hormones. We were different, and from that point on we were ingrained in each other’s lives. The next four years were a blur of happy memories that all included Brock.

  “You ready to take on the world, Rea?” Brock whispered from behind me as soon as we lined up to walk into the stupid ceremony. “You look really sexy in that gown.”

  “Shut your face, Brock. This is the best day of your miserable existence.” I heard him laugh, and I had to hide my smile so he couldn’t see it.

  “Nah. Yesterday afternoon was pretty great. Too bad we didn’t get to finish round two.”

  “Shh!”

  Brock moved to my school when we were in fifth grade. We were in the same class every year, but things were about to change. We were heading to college, and our bubble was about to get a whole lot bigger. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but for now he was right beside me like he had been for the previous eight years. When your last names are Anders and Anderson, sitting next to each other was unavoidable. There were no names in between ours, at least not where we were from. It didn’t help our birthdays were a day apart, we lived one street apart, both of our parents were divorced, and our moms worked together at our elementary school. We were stuck with each other, but somehow, over time, we learned to like it. Well, we more than liked it now.

  He was back in my ear a moment later. “You riding with me to Ivy’s party and finishing what we started? Your mom is letting you spend the night, right?”

  “You want to do that at a party?” I spoke over my shoulder as discreetly as I could. We were in line for our high school graduation ceremony. Who knew which gossip hound was listening in? People had been trying to figure us out since we walked into high school together. It was old news, but that didn’t mean they were any less interested in the latest Brock and Reagan saga. News flash! We weren’t together like that. Never had been. Probably never would be.

  “Why not? Everybody thinks we’re together anyway. Let’s give ‘em something to talk about before we ditch this place.”

  “Probably because you’re always whispering in my ear at inappropriate times. You know our moms will still be here, right? Do you want them to know everything?”

  “We’ve been sneaking around for two years, Rea. If your mom was going to send you to that convent you’re so afraid of, you’d already be gone. Now, tonight? It’s on.”

  Yes, we were talking about what you think we were talking about. Brock and I were going to “do it” that night. We were going to go all the way, dance naked, bump uglies, whatever you want to call it. I could go on and on with the euphemisms, but surely you get the point. We were planning to have sex. When you’re a teenager and live with your nosey mother, you have to plan it. Spontaneous passion doesn’t exist when your mom would lock you up for, gasp, behaving like a teenager.

  “Fine, but you’re my ride to the party, and I get to choose the music.”

  He snickered and stood back in his place before Mrs. Waverly saw he was messing up her perfect line. She had always hate
d the two of us. We had her for English every year. After the first time we disagreed over comparing the prejudices seen in Huck Finn to those in To Kill a Mockingbird, Brock and I decided tormenting the crazy woman was necessary. She gave me a B on my paper, but I showed her when the school’s literary journal published it with the support of the principal. Brock and I spent high school disagreeing with everything Mrs. Waverly said, and I honestly think I learned more from arguing with her than anyone did listening to any other teacher.

  “Deal,” Brock agreed, then stepped back in line.

  We still had to be careful. For one thing, I didn’t want people to think we were together. Wait. No. That wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t want to start thinking we were together. By this point in my life I was sure I had fallen completely in love with Brock Anderson. Me, Reagan Anders, the girl who perfected playing it cool, fell for the boy who used to steal my lunch and threw up all over my math test in sixth grade. I wasn’t this kind of girl. High school love was lame and only led to broken hearts. It makes me sad to think about all the high school sweethearts that marry each other and never go anywhere or do anything exciting. They are each other’s excitement until suddenly one of them realizes how much they missed out on life and cheats with some trashy skank. Stupid.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t want to experiment like every other teenager. I had a lot of attention from boys. I knew I wasn’t ugly, but I was sure the morons at my school wanted to conquer the standoffish girl that hung out with all the popular kids. It wasn’t going to happen.

  I wasn’t looking for conversation or a husband. I was on the hunt for a good time without having to worry about the whole school knowing what color the drapes were. Or was it the curtains? I couldn’t ever remember.

  Here’s the real problem, though. If you experiment with a bunch of guys, you’re a slut. If you have a boyfriend, it was socially acceptable to do the deed, but then feelings get involved. If I knew anything about life, I knew, without a doubt, gossip was a currency and feelings were messy. So, what was the solution? Secretly hook up with your best friend. It sounded good at the time. It felt even better, but it was starting to get complicated thanks to those pesky emotions.

  Brock and I never acted like anything more was going on when anyone else was around. It was the only way to prevent rumors running rampant among our peers. We were only friends, best friends, as far as anyone else was concerned. That’s all I thought we were myself until the day my bestie, Ivy, asked me if I liked Brock as more than a fuck buddy. It was like the sky fell. Disappointment took over my brain. I hated that I had done what every other mindless cliché at my school did: I fell for the guy. What was even worse was that I had also been caught.

  I ignored Brock for the next week and a half, which was next to impossible when you sit next to each other in almost every class, but I needed to get my emotions in check. Finally he got the hint and left me alone. When I thought I could handle my newly discovered “feelings” for the rat bastard, I started talking to him again. His response? “Oh good, your period’s over. I thought this one would last forever.” I punched him in the stomach and walked away. It was another month before we spoke again, and I only started talking to him after he brought me a tray of chocolate cupcakes with white icing and watched Clueless and 10 Things I Hate about You with me. The cupcakes would have been enough, but he deserved some movie time for talking about my period, which I described in explicit detail in between movies. After that, he learned to leave Aunt Flo out of any and all future conversations.

  Tonight was going to be more exploration for us. I acted like he was the one who wanted it so badly, but the truth was that I could hardly sit still in anticipation. Of course this made the already long and mind-numbing graduation ceremony unending and miserable. After the third speech about paving our own path or something like that, Brock talked me into paper, rock, scissors, which he called rock, paper, scissors just to annoy me. We were subtle, but we were also in the front row. When I caught Mrs. Waverly eyeing us, I grinned and pointed her out to Brock. He gave Mrs. Waverly a double thumbs-up. I swear I saw smoke come out of her ears when her face turned bright red. You couldn’t have stopped my and Brock’s laughter if you tried.

  “How’s your tattoo holding up?” he asked during the valedictorian’s speech, making a point of not listening to the smug asshole standing at the podium. Topher Hayes asked me out once during junior year. I had looked at him like he was crazy. Before I could gently reject him, Brock was wrapping an arm around me and telling Topher to run along. Topher looked Brock up and down, then said, “She’s out of your league.” I simply rolled my eyes and walked away before they pulled out rulers to measure their dicks. Topher was cute but he wasn’t a core shaker or even remotely interesting. Brock outshined him every day of the week. Fortunately, Topher wasn’t too torn up when I finally rejected him. He started dating Elizabeth Short a week later, and they had been together ever since. She’s following him to college next year. High school sweethearts. Blech!

  I finally responded to the question as Topher started in on the “what’s next” part of his speech. “Fine. It doesn’t itch anymore. Yours?”

  “Awesome. Am I going to get to see yours tonight?” Our birthday presents to each other this year were tattoos. No, they didn’t match. He had a Celtic trinity symbol on the inside of his arm. I chose a simple watercolor feather. Our friend, Adam, once told us that feathers represented honor and respect. I liked the idea that something so delicate could mean something so powerful. I had the feather tattooed down where my bikini covered to keep it hidden from my mother, who was vehemently anti-ink.

  “Are you asking if we can keep the lights on? You can come right out and say it, you know,” I joked while avoiding the question.

  “Maybe we should go with lights off. Then I can picture that blonde chick from that girly movie where they dance on the bar you made me watch last week.”

  “If you aren’t careful, you’ll be looking for another friend with benefits tonight.”

  He leaned closer to my ear. “Is that all we are?” I ignored him. Then he added, “I thought for sure you liked the benefits.”

  I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “It seems I forgot. Must not have been that good.”

  “Whatever, Rea. Keep your legs still, then.” I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but punching him would only give him more ammunition.

  “Shut up. You have no effect on me.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “You’re anything but a safe bet, Brock.”

  “Exactly.” He grinned proudly, while I spent the rest of graduation wondering if it was a compliment or an insult. I was leaning toward insult when I said it, but he obviously didn’t take it that way.

  Finally we threw our caps in the air, and Brock lifted me from the ground in a big hug celebrating our new freedom. It was a picture perfect moment, him holding me in the air with that smile on his face. He looked happy and free, and my heart leapt. If only I could have bottled that moment…

  Chapter Four

  Now

  I could smell the setup. It reeked of betrayal, and there was only one way I handled the men in my life disappointing me—with a splash of drama and a whole lot of shutting down. After realizing the whole “meet the new guy” was planned, it took a few moments to regain my faculties. Once I was fully present, it was time to make my exit. I took my glorious pie off the counter and looked at my brother with the harshest glare my eyes could muster. “Go. To. Hell,” I bit out quietly enough so only he could hear while Zoe and Brock continued to chat about how we knew each other. Then I took my awesome pie and headed out the door.

  It should be mentioned that I lived in my own little world. Here on cloud nine, I spent my days blissfully unaware of the chaos around me. It might make me sound like an irresponsible adult, but I didn’t watch the news. I paid no attention to global issues or politics. What was even better was that I let few people visit my cloud, and with three except
ions, no one was a permanent fixture there. No one new could gray my cloud. Never again would I let anyone stay past his welcome. My world was a happy place full of sunshine, rainbows, and pie…lots of pie. So, when someone came along and disrupted my lovely little existence, I did what any smart storm victim would do: I packed my shit and moved my cloud somewhere else.

  My dinner, ahem—apple pie, sat in the passenger seat as I drove down to the boardwalk. I had no problem sleeping in my store with a delicious meal to keep me company. At least there would be no one there who screwed me over. I could spend my days with my imaginary friends with fictional problems and conflicts that never made me feel like I could explode at any moment. Avoidance was the game, and I was the champion.

  Yes, I was well aware that storming out of my brother’s house made me a drama queen. I was also aware that running away would not solve anything, nor would it make Brock go away. Jordan had been trying to convince me to see Brock for years. He did the same thing with my father. He felt I needed closure. Ha! Closure. What BS. I shot a middle finger up at “closure” and kept driving.

  The store smelled of books like an old library. Since it was a used bookstore, some of the books were really old. I couldn’t pass up an original copy of anything and kept them in glass cases on display. I set up the requisite “Best Seller” section along with “Indie Favorites” and “Books Everyone Should Read At Least Once” in the front. There was a huge children’s books section with toys and pint size chairs. Then there was an even bigger romance section toward the back. It was my favorite, and the women around here had a lot to donate to the romance department…possibly because there was so little romance to actually keep us busy. My situation was by choice, but I was certain that wasn’t the case for all the women in town.

  I locked the door and quickly made my way past the bodice rippers to the loft, where there was a reading spot I made for Meyer and myself. Yeah, I was an awesome aunt, but even more than that—it was where I spent my free time away from home…the home I was about to lose. Right…