Page 17 of Played
I wince. “This would be Prospect Number Twelve. And I’ve been on four terrible first dates. And Kyle ...” I ball up my face. “Well, first of all, his arms were too short to take a selfie with you. Turnoff.”
He snorts.
“Yeah, yeah, I know how shallow that sounds,” I say. “But still. And second of all, he allowed my mother to coerce him into coming here. Nope. He’s either trying to curry favor, or he’s soft as fuck for letting my mother pressure him into coming here to meet me. Both of those are turnoffs too. Third, I love my mother dearly, but she can’t pick men out for me for shit. She’s oh and twelve.”
“Eleven, actually. You didn’t even give twelve a chance.”
“You got that. But this is why I need you. At least for tonight, I cannot have her shoving mashed potatoesanddesperate man at me. My appetite only has room for one of those.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in an almost smile.
“Yeah, well, you owe me, li’l mama. And since I’m going to be lying on your behalf for the next couple of hours, not to mention probably looking at a grilling for not just being your new man but a hockey player, too, you owe me big.”
“Fine,” I mutter, tugging on his arm and guiding him forward.
“You might wanna get that attitude out your voice. I don’t put up with that shit.”
“You know what?” I snap. Then, at his arched eyebrow, I swallow myKiss my assdown. Because I need him, and he knows it. Solomon Young has me by the proverbial short hairs, and he knows it.
Bastard.
Swallowing a sigh, I plaster a fake smile on my face. I need to start practicing now.
“You’re right,babe. And thank you,sweetheart, for bailing me out. If you’re ever on fire and you need me to put you out, I’m your woman. Bet.”
“Okay, I see what type of time you on,” he murmurs, climbing the front steps. “Don’t worry. I can play games too.”
With that ominous warning bouncing off my skull, I reach the front door, pull it open, and lead him into the house.
“So, Solomon,” Dad says, cutting into his thick slice of roast with his steady gaze fixed on my “boyfriend.” I silently groan. Other than greeting Solomon and giving me a squinty side-eye, Dad hasn’t said anything to him. My reprieve is over. “It’s not oftenmy daughterbrings afriendhome.” He forks the meat into his mouth and eyes Solomon, who, to his credit, doesn’t stiffen or shrink under my father’s stare. I’ve witnessed that narrowed gaze make two-hundred-plus-pound firemen shiver in their turnout gear. “That must make you special.”
“Dad, really?” I shake my head. He’s acting like I’m twelve instead of twenty-six. And he wouldn’t pull this with Malcolm or Malik if they brought home significant others—not that they have. I love my brothers, but they put thewhoreinmanwhore. “A day may come when your daughter’s pride fails, but it is not this day.”
“Aw, shit. She’s hauling out theLord of the Ringslines.” Malik snickers, stuffing a piece of corn bread in his mouth. “She must be nervous as hell.”
I shoot him a mind-the-business-that-pays-you glare, then glance at Solomon, who peers down at me, an expression I can’t read on his face. He studies me for another long moment before shifting his regard to my father.
“I don’t know aboutspecial, sir,” Solomon says, and his dark, rich rumble of a voice doesnotroll over my skin like a silken caress. “Ifanything, I’d give that compliment to your daughter. It’s one of the first things I thought about her when we first met. She was real ... special.”
Son of a ... I kick his foot underneath the table and try to hide my wince. Goddamn! Screw him and his Barney Rubble feet.
“Oh, that’s sweet.” Ma smiles at Solomon as she raises her glass of wine. Despite her initial skepticism and hesitation, she has fallen under his dark, broody spell. She’s damn near forgotten about Kyle, and I’ve been trying not to stare too deeply into her eyes. The vision of bouquets and cream-cheese-icing red-velvet wedding cake dancing there is unnerving. “Speaking of, how did you two meet?”
“At the arena.”
“After a call.”
A heavy silence falls over the table.
“Well, which is it?” Dad asks, propping his elbows on the table and staring at me, then Solomon.
“Both,” I answer quickly. “We met after that call at the hockey training facility. Solomon invited me down to the arena the next day for our first date.”
“Youwent to the hockey arena? Whoareyou?” Malik asks, mock disgust dripping from his voice.
Okay, maybe not somock.
“Oh, I’ve been down there. It’s great,” Kyle chimes in from across the table. “And the games are amazing. I have season tickets, and I’m all ready for Thursday’s home game. The Pirates are going to kill the Ravens. Especially since we now have Mont Hannah as goalie. Sure, we’re going to miss Morgan at that position, but Mont is showing real promise with a save percentage of .915. And he’s only been in the league for two years. Imagine how much greater he’s going to get.”
