Game Saver - BJ Harvey Page 0,17
not too happy, alright?” I tease, grinning like a loon for some reason.
“You’re terrible. Talk tomorrow. Don’t do anything I would do.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Exactly. Gotta go.”
“Wait. What’s your last name?”
“Cook. Bye, Cade. Call me,” she says before hanging off.
It’s not surprising that when I pull into the driveway of my house five minutes later, I’m still wearing a shit-eating grin—and still half hard.
My house is my pride and joy. I may have used some of my trust fund for the down payment—only because it was from my grandparents, not my father—but the mortgage is all mine. The house is all mine, and other than my medical degree and attending position, this house and everything it represents are my biggest accomplishments.
The house is big but not the grandiose spectacle my parents wanted me to have. They tried to sway my decision when it came to entering the property market. Even though I was only twenty-five, I was determined to live my life the way I wanted without the pressure of being the eldest—by five minutes—Carsen son.
I went against everything they wanted and bought a place in a middle-class family neighborhood, just three blocks away from Mac and Daniel’s townhouse.
I live with Thomas, one of my best friends who I’ve known since college and who is like a brother to me. He’s originally from Michigan but looked for jobs in Chicago after we graduated and is now an executive at my dad’s company.
Walking through the front door and making my way into the living room, I find him sprawled out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand, suit jacket folded over the back, and his discarded tie lying on the coffee table in front of him.
“Hard day?” I ask.
“Long day,” he replies. “How about you? You’re home early.”
“I escaped before the nighttime rush.” I make my way through the dining room to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge.
“You want another beer?” I call out, grabbing myself a bottle.
“Not gonna say no.” Grabbing another, I move back to the lounge, hand Thomas his drink, and collapse down in my black leather recliner next to the couch.
“Mom called me on the way home.”
“And how is Annabel today?”
“In fine form,” I reply with a wry smile. “Rang to tell me she’d organized Emily to be my date for the fundraiser. I took pleasure in telling her I was taking Abi.”
That gets his attention. He sits up straight and spins his torso towards me. “I thought it was just a no-strings-sex thing?”
“We went out for dinner last night. “
“So no-strings sex and you occasionally feed her?” he says with a smirk. Thomas knows me well.
“To be honest, I don’t know. She’s going to be my date to any of Dad’s mayoral engagements, and we’ll go from there. She’s different. Refreshing.”
“She’s definitely hot.”
“You have no fucking idea. Seriously, I’ve more than met my match when it comes to her and sexual appetites.”
He flops back in the couch and lets out a long, slow breath. “Trust you to pick up the hottest chick in the bar and land a wildcat in the sack.”
“I’m definitely wondering why I waited so long,” I murmur, taking a much-needed swig of my beer.
“Does she know what she’s agreed to?”
I shrug. “Maybe not yet, but I’ve explained a bit about my family dynamics and what’s expected of me.”
“And she’s up for it?”
“Guess we’ll see what happens when she’s exposed to the Carsen family in the flesh.”
He watches me for a beat before nodding. “I’ll have your back.” He lifts his bottle my way, and I clink mine against it.
“You always do.”
“Cam coming back?”
“Got an email from him a few days ago. His deployment ends in a couple of months.”
“So he’ll be home in time to be useful to Carsen Senior.”
“Yep. I wouldn’t put it past my father to have orchestrated that, too.”
Thomas snorts and shakes his head, knowing that anything’s possible when it comes to my father and his thirst for power. “So tell me about the delectable Abi.”
I can’t help it; I grin at the thought of her. “What do you want to know?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“What’s not to like? She’s confident, sassy, independent, hot as fuck, and meets me blow for blow—literally. She’s not after fame and fortune, and she’s pulled herself out of shit and risen above and beyond it. How many women do you know like that?”
His eyes turn contemplative. “Honestly? None. She sounds fucking perfect.”
“I know . . .” I reply, and that’s