Game On: The Friend Zone Part 9

"Mmm?" he asks absently, his gaze somnolent.

And then I feel it, the length of his c.o.c.k growing heavy and hard against my thigh. A shudder works through me.

"What...?" I take a short breath, and our lips almost brush.

Gray makes a sound deep in his throat. He's gone so tight, tension vibrates along his frame.

"What is the most cla.s.sic blunder?" I ask in a haze.

His long lashes sweep down on a slow, dazed blink. "I don't know," he whispers. "I forgot where I was going with it."

Our eyes meet, his such a deep, true blue that I can't think straight. I should stop this, lighten the mood, f.u.c.king get my head together. But he feels so good, the wall of his chest against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s making them sweetly ache.

He trembles, his eyes closing, as if he can't concentrate either. As if he might dip his head and brush those gorgeous lips of his over mine.

"What in the h.e.l.l are you doing, Grayson?" snaps the distinct voice of my father.

It has the effect of a gunshot. Gray leaps up with such speed that it takes my breath in a sharp whoosh. The next instant, he's got my wrist and pulls me up so quickly that I practically fly. Jesus, but his strength is impressive.

"Ow." I glare at him, rubbing my wrist.

Gray blushes. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." But I'm not looking at my wrist.

My father is standing in the doorway, his dark brows forming a line over narrowed eyes. He's in a suit, though it's rumpled around the edges like he's come here straight from the airport. I'd forgotten he was coming home today. "Hey, Dad." s.h.i.t. What he walked in on couldn't have looked good.

"Ivy." His tone is p.i.s.sed. p.i.s.sed-Off Dad takes things slow and steady. Right before he blows.

Gray tucks his hands in his pockets, as if this will somehow convey innocence. I want to roll my eyes. We are innocent. But he's not looking at me. "Mackenzie. Hi."

Dad raises one brow. "Want to tell me why you were on top of my daughter, Grayson?"

"Uh..."

Smooth, Gray. Really smooth. "Dad, stop with the overprotective-father act."

"It's not an act. I am an overprotective father, Ivy."

I shove past both of them and head to the kitchen. "Do you want a beer?"

Dad grunts. "I could take a beer."

Gray finally finds his voice. "So you just get back in town?"

"Yes. And not a moment too soon, it seems." Dad's glaring a hole into Gray's forehead. "We have things to talk about, Grayson."

"Yeah, sure." Gray doesn't recognize Dad's I'm-going-to-give-you-a-lecture-from-h.e.l.l tone, but I do.

"For now, I need to discuss some things with Ivy."

Great. Cue the needless lecture to me, as well.

"Right." Gray nods. "I'm headed out anyway."

I'm about to protest, but Gray edges toward his coat, keeping his gaze on my dad as if he'll attack when his back is turned. I almost roll my eyes again, only I'm not so sure my dad won't attack. "See you tomorrow, Mac." Gray gives me a look that I read well. Don't argue with him. Just get it over with.

I'll be good, I answer with my own look. At least until Gray is well and gone.

Eight.

Ivy

I'm waiting for the first strike. But Dad goes for my underbelly instead.

"You look good, kid." My dad gives me a ghost of a smile. He's p.i.s.sed but trying to play nice. "Glad you're here."

He doesn't say glad you're home. He never does. And I've never really noticed until now. It hits me; I have places to stay, but not a home. Our family is too transient for that.

Forcing a smile of my own, I give him my standard reply. "Glad to be here."

Dad tugs on his ear. "Listen, I'm sorry I missed your arrival-"

"It's okay," I cut in. I don't want to hear him make excuses. And because I've missed him, I don't want to fight. Quickly I go to my toes and kiss his cheek. "And you look good too."

Dad pats my shoulder and gives the top of my head a peck. There are few people who make me feel small in size. Dad is one of them. At nearly seven feet, with a wing span of eighty-six inches, he was a formidable opponent on the court. His size makes him look a bit like an overgrown scarecrow, all long limbs and boney joints.

I step back from him. "Besides, Gray picked me up, and I was happy to see him."

Maybe I do want to fight because Dad scowls. "Gray Grayson has the potential to be a superstar." His voice is so low, I need to strain to hear it. Which is exactly what he intends-force your opponent to focus on you and you're in control.

Like that, our fragile bubble of keeping the peace bursts.

"He's a superstar now, Dad." I pop the top on a beer and hand it to him with a little more force than necessary.

Dad simply stares down at me from his great height. He's more silver-haired than brown now. But his brows are still dark, and this makes his glare more penetrating. I wonder briefly if he's coloring those d.a.m.n brows just for that effect.

"You know what I mean, Ivy." Dad doesn't drink his beer. He frowns. "I'm this close to signing him."

"He is my friend."

"That little show just now didn't look like friendship to me."

Chest tight, I flop into a chair. "We were goofing around, and I'm twenty-two years old. I really don't need a lecture."

Dad sits as well, only with much more decorum. Setting his untouched beer on the table, he steeples his hands together as he leans back. "No, sweetheart, I think you do. You're right. That young man is a superstar. With a reputation."

Heat p.r.i.c.kles over my chest, and it's all I can do not to huff like a child. "I know all about his reputation. It doesn't matter to me."

"It ought to if you're going to fall for him." Before I can protest, he leans forward and pins me with a look. "Guys like that... h.e.l.l, Ivy, my career as an agent is built on them. You know what their live are like. Women at every turn, offering to do anything-anything-they want. These guys will screw their way from game to game and enjoy themselves without a care for who they hurt."

"Guys like you," I snap without thought. Instantly, I'm horrified that I've spoken so cra.s.sly to my own father.

Dad freezes, and his gaze doesn't waver. "Yeah, Ivy. Guys like me. I loved your mother with all my heart. And I cheated on her constantly. Didn't even consider it cheating, to tell you the truth. Thought of it as my due for being a star."

Cringing, I look away, not willing to face him when he's talking about hurting my mother.

Maybe he knows, because his tone goes soft. "I regret the man who I was. But it doesn't take away the reality of this life. Have you any idea how many wives and girlfriends I've had to handle because one of my guys has done something stupid with some young piece of a.s.s? Too many, Ivy. I see that bone-deep hurt in those women's eyes, and their resolve to just ignore these indiscretions, and-"

"Okay, Dad," I all but wail. "I get it. I know." My jaw locks as I turn to him, and it takes effort to speak. "I've lived this life too. But I refuse to judge Gray by what others have done."

Dad gives an expansive sigh. "For Christ's sake, he already fools around so much there are Tumblrs devoted to his castoffs. One search on him is a PR nightmare of party pictures and half-naked women."

Reason number one I have never Googled Gray. I ignore the thick sludge of jealousy pushing through my veins. "We're just friends," I insist, my tone rising. "How many times do I have to say this?"

His response is a level look full of skepticism. "For argument's sake, let's say this friendship grows into something more." Dad raises a hand when I open my mouth to protest. "Hypothetical here, Ivy. What happens when it all goes south? You think he'll want to work with me anymore?"

Like that, I go utterly cold, then flush white-hot. For a moment, I can't make my mouth work. "This is about you." In a fog, I stand, my fists clenching. "You don't give a s.h.i.t about me-"

"Watch your mouth."

"No. You sit here putting all sorts of unwarranted fears in my head, and it's all because you're afraid of losing Gray as a client!"

Dad stands as well, and the edges of his mouth go white. I brace myself for the explosion, knowing firsthand just how loud Dad can yell when he's p.i.s.sed. Bring it on. I'm p.i.s.sed too. But it doesn't happen. No, his reaction is worse because he deflates. His wide shoulders wilt on a sigh as he sets his hands low on his hips and looks down.

"I need Grayson." It's almost a whisper. "There are things... Business isn't what it used to be. Guys...they're going to big-name firms. Salary caps, scandals, bad PR. It's all taking a toll."

A painful lump fills my throat. Dad has never talked to me like this. In all honesty, I don't want to hear it. I used to think of him as Batman-questionable tactics, but on the whole, unbeatable, enduring. I cannot think of him as less.

"We're just friends," I whisper, as if saying it enough will somehow protect me from messing things up.

Absently, Dad nods. "Whatever you want to tell yourself, kid."

His flippancy has me grinding my teeth. I hate him just now for manipulating me. For putting Gray in the middle. And Dad sees it in my expression. He blanches, apparently shocked. "Ivy... It might not look like it, but I am always on your side. I don't want to see you hurt."

Gray

My nerves are a twitchy mess. I keep thinking of the look in Mac's eyes when, like an idiot, I sprawled on top of her. What would have happened if I had kissed her? She'd been...receptive. Hadn't she? I'd wanted to. I'd never wanted to do something so badly in my life.

G.o.d, her lips had been too close to mine, too pretty, too pink, looking so soft and inviting and just f.u.c.k. The temptation to simply touch them with my own, to lick a path across that cute little heart-shaped mouth of hers, had been so strong that I still ache deep in my bones.

But then I blink and I see Sean Mackenzie glaring at me as if he'd been contemplating good places to hide my body, and I feel cold. I get where he's coming from. Worse, I don't know what the h.e.l.l I'm doing in regards to Ivy anymore. She means so much to me it freaks me out, and I'm suddenly on some tightrope where the wrong step will send me plummeting.

On that happy note, I turn my truck around and drive away from my house.

I head to Palmers, hoping that someone will be there to shoot the s.h.i.t and get my mind off having to eventually talk to Mackenzie. That discussion should be fun. I shudder just thinking of it.

I find Dex in the booth at the back of the bar. It's a good spot, dark enough that the chances of being left alone on a busy night are pretty good, but positioned at the right angle to watch the TV hanging over the defunct jukebox. Dex is sprawled along one side of the booth, his back against the wall, his legs hanging over the edge. He's watching TV, and the place is quiet enough to hear Morgan Freeman's deep voice roll on about the universe.

I slide into the opposite side of the booth. "Whatcha watching?"

Dex keeps his eyes on the TV, blue and purple light coming off of it reflecting over his skin. "Entering a Black Hole."

"Dude, you want to learn about a.n.a.l, watch some p.o.r.n like the rest of us."

As hoped, his mouth twists and his nose wrinkles. "Hot sick has just surged up my throat."

"'Hot sick?'" I laugh. "That's a new one."

Rubbing his chest as if he really might be sick, he keeps his gaze on the program. "Don't you have someone else to pester with really bad s.e.x jokes?"

"Nah." I reach for his beer, taking a swig before he can grab it back. "It's your turn on the rotation."

A waitress ambles over, stopping beside me. "Hey there, gorgeous. You need anything?"

"Yep. Give me a Shiner Bock and put it on his tab." I grin at Dex who sends me a sidelong glare but nods and goes back to his show.

The waitress stands there, not moving, and I glance at her. She leans in until she's brushing against my shoulder. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Wait!"

She hasn't gone anywhere, so she grins. "Talk to me, handsome."