Page 8 of Haunted Games

Abby

My night in the haunted house had definitely reset my batteries.

I was refreshed and energetic. Michael hadn’t texted or called, and his arbitration settled, so I assumed he’d made his merry way back to Houston.

Our clients closed their deal on Monday afternoon.

Bob’s assistant bought us all cupcakes, and Bob himself stuck his head inside my office to give me a “Good job” and a thumbs-up.

My body clearly hadn’t returned completely to factory settings, though, because as we all stood around the break room devouring our cupcakes, the way Galen was slowly licking the frosting off the top of his was doing weird things to that spot in low my belly.

The masked man had revved my hormones to max RPMs, so I was powerless against things like Galen’s oddly dexterous tongue and big veiny hands.

“Shit, I have a conference call in two minutes,” Ryan Peters said, his half-eaten cupcake in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked at Emily, the first year. “Come on. They want a simple LLC formation, so I’ll give this one to you.”

“Ooh, okay, yay,” she said brightly. She tossed her wrapper in the trash and flounced out of the room.

I watched her go. “I miss the days when I had that much enthusiasm for the little things.”

“Don’t worry,” Galen said, smirking at me. “You’re rubbing off on her. Won’t take her long to become a cynical, jaded little snapping turtle.”

I’d have shoved my cupcake in his face if it hadn’t been so delicious. “Stop calling me little, Costas.”

He barked a laugh. “That’s the part that that statement you take issue with?”

I took an angry bite of my cupcake, chewed it, then lifted my chin. “I am tall and formidable, like a mighty oak.”

He gave his cupcake another slow lick, his dark eyes alight. My insatiable vagina fluttered. “I’d say prickly and dangerous like a medium-sized porcupine.”

“How dare—”

He grinned wickedly. “And very cute.”

My cheeks heated. Galen and I traded barbs all the time, but this thing where he called me cute and adorable was a new development. Today, for some reason, it made me feel… embarrassed. “You’re making fun of me,” I said quietly.

His face lost all mirth, and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees when he speared me with the most intense look I’d ever seen from him. “Never about that.”

I frowned. “What—”

“Ah, Galen.” Another of the senior partners, Fred Bishop, wandered into the break room, empty coffee mug in hand.

He clapped Galen good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“Bob was just telling me how well you handled his most recent deal. I’ve got another huge one coming in the door, and I need a lead associate. ”

I sighed, crumbled up my wrapper, and then tossed it in the trashcan as I made for the door.

“Actually, Fred,” Galen said, “I just got staffed on a rush project for one of Casey Cantwell’s clients.

He beat you by about half an hour. But, in case Bob failed to mention it, Abby and I were co-lead on his deal.

Maybe she has capacity to take on your new one?

” He motioned over Fred’s shoulder to where I was attempting to make a stealthy exit.

“Oh, uh.” Fred turned to look at me. “Is that right, Abby? You got the bandwidth for this one?”

I whipped out my approachable, professional smile. “I sure do, Fred.”

His perfunctory nod told me he found that acceptable. “Great. I’ll swing by your office in a few then.”

He refilled his coffee from the stale pot, and then he moseyed past me and disappeared down the hall.

I could only stand there, blinking dumbly, trying to process what just happened.

Galen sauntered up to me, now mercifully cupcake-less. “You’re welcome, Crossbar.”

A frown tugged at my mouth. What was happening here? “Why’d you do that? Casey’s project is small and simple. I know because Emily’s on it with you, and she told me.”

His teasing smirk softened. He reached up, caressing my cheek for a tantalizing second, just long enough to swipe his thumb over the corner of my mouth. Oh God, did I have frosting on my face this whole time?

“Think about it, Abigail,” he murmured.

And then he, too, disappeared down the hall.

Something was wrong with me.

The week wore on, and I worked a lot. Fred really did put me on his new deal.

Galen throwing it into my lap with his lies hadn’t been a buttercream-induced fever dream.

Things were moving fast, and keeping on top of the barrage of documents and emails should’ve left me without space to be distracted by anything else.

But my body felt like a live wire. Flashes of my last encounter with the masked man invaded my brain at all hours, night and day.

His mouth on mine. His possessive hand around my throat.

The way his abs flexed as I stared up at him from my knees with my mouth full of his thick cock.

The way he rode me like a bucking bronco until my soul left my body.

But sometimes my brain inserted Galen’s face into my daydreams. The masked man cradling my face like I was a precious treasure was replaced by Galen, his big hand cupping my cheek just as gently.

The masked man leaning over me with his hand on my throat became Galen staring down at me with the shocking intensity he’d shown when he threatened Michael or when I’d had that vulnerable moment in the break room.

Was this my beast brain grasping at a real man I saw every day because my time with the masked man would end this Saturday, on Halloween Night?

Or was it… something else?

I dumped all of this on Julia as she drank chardonnay from a plastic cup and watched me warm up for the Young Lawyers Association Pickleball Tournament on Friday night.

She gaped at me like I’d sprouted tentacles and then danced a jazz number. “I’m sorry. Galen Costas? Hades? That Galen Costas? The one who stole your Law Review board position, your dream internship, and, less than three weeks ago, your bazillion-dollar deal?”

“He sort of fixed that last one,” I muttered, eyes on the ground as I reached for my toes.

She tapped a pink fingernail against her chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, he is hot. Like, even hotter than he was back in school.”

“You thought he was hot?”

She gave me a droll look. “Everyone thought that, babe. You just didn’t notice because you had Michael, and Galen was specifically programmed so that you’d want to destroy him. And not in a sexy way.”

Huh. Destroying Galen in a sexy way suddenly has a certain appeal.

I shook my head, banishing that thought. “I’m sure it’s just that I’m all keyed up from the, uh, haunted house stuff. It’s been just… a dream, Julia. I never thought sex could be that good.”

She squealed in delight. “I am going to get two margaritas down you soon enough, and you’re going to give me all the details. Every single one.”

I coughed out a “Maybe” and then went for the redirect. “Oh look, there’s Maria and Nathan.”

Partners in mock trial and on the court, our friends arrived to the food-truck-slash-pickleball venue wearing matching maroon compression tops and leggings.

The weather was chilly tonight, so I wore a green sweatshirt from my alma mater over track shorts.

Julia, a spectator, wore trendy jeans and a fluffy pink sweater.

We circulated, greeting friends and colleagues and watching as the first matches began. I’d signed up for singles play, and that wouldn’t start for another hour.

Julia and I were engrossed in the show that was Anthony and his new lady from the DA’s office hopping from group to group, fastidiously avoiding a seething Madison and her two girlfriends from the public defender’s office who looked like they could bare-knuckle box a wild boar, when Galen materialized in front of us.

“Ladies,” Galen said, a paddle clutched in his hand. He wore a dark thermal shirt that clung to his broad chest and the world’s tiniest gray shorts. Had his thighs looked that good when we played soccer against each other in school? “Having a fun night?”

Julia batted her lashes at him. “My, my, if it isn’t Hades himself. Still giving my favorite girl grief?”

He hit her with his winningest smile. “Always. In fact….” He turned to me, his smile growing impossibly wider. “I’m in need of a new partner, Abigail. Mine has managed to get drunk already.”

“Peters?” I asked. He nodded, and I snorted. “Of course he did. That’s your fault for bringing him within fifty feet of a bar.”

He shrugged. “I’m new here. Take pity on me.”

“Never.”

“Come on, Crossbar. Mixed doubles. You and me. Or are you worried you won’t be able to keep up?”

Julia choked on a laugh and then pasted a serious look on her face. “You gonna let him talk to you like that, Abs?”

I scowled. “I am last spring’s Young Lawyers Association Pickleball Tournament champion in the women ages 25-29 bracket.”

He smirked. “Of course you are. I’m thrilled you’re so predictable.”

“Galen,” I growled.

He grabbed my hand and began to pull me toward the courts. “Let’s go, hot shot. I’m commandeering these championship skills for myself.”

My competitive drive got the better of me, and I let him drag me across the gravel lot to where the organizers were setting the matchups for mixed doubles.

At some point along the journey, I realized that he’d threaded his fingers through mine, and I’d just gone along with it, transported back to the comforting feel of the masked man’s strong but intimate hold every time he led me from the house.

Ten minutes later, I had a paddle in my hand and was standing on the court. Galen bounced excitedly on his toes next to me, and we both stared down our opponents.

Who happened to be Maria and Nathan.

“Abby, what the hell?” Maria asked, gaping, her gaze bouncing between Galen and me. “Have you been body snatched?”

I sighed. “He challenged me, Maria.”

Nathan snickered. “Some things never change. I’m glad you’re back in town, Costas. I’ve been feeling nostalgic for old times.”

Galen slanted a sly smile my way. “Me, too, man. Me too.”

“Game face, Costas,” I snapped.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

The referee blew the whistle, and Maria and Nathan ceased to be my friends and became only opponents to be crushed.

And crush them we did. Galen was a beast, and for what was probably the fiftieth time since I’d met him, I found myself both begrudgingly impressed and exceedingly annoyed by his natural athleticism.

The man had the wingspan of a small aircraft.

And, as it turned out, was the world’s most enthusiastic and encouraging teammate when I was playing on the same side as him for once.

“Nice shot, Crossbar.”

“Hell yeah, that was awesome, Abigail.”

“Too fucking slow, Nathan. You have to be quicker than that when Abby’s around.”

“Don’t look, Abigail, but everyone in the crowd is seething with jealousy at how easy you just made that look.”

“Fuck yeah, babe, that’s what I’m talking about. Eat shit, Nathan.”

When the game ended, I received a congratulatory hug from Maria and a knowing smirk from Nathan that I wasn’t sure how to interpret.

And then we won another game.

And then another.

And then it was the championship.

After I returned our opponent’s serve and smacked a final shot to the corner, we won that too.

“Yes!” Galen shouted, jumping four feet into the air and punching the sky with his paddle.

“We did it!” I shouted back.

And then I jumped into his arms.

He caught me easily and hoisted me until my legs were wrapped around his waist. His shirt was damp with sweat, the heat from his firm torso burning between my thighs.

“You’re fucking fantastic, Abigail,” he said, his lips pressed to my sweaty hair as he carted me off the court, the claps and cheers of the crowd dissipating as everyone wandered back to the bar.

“Woah, um.” I’d suddenly realized where I was. “Shit, sorry. I got a little excited. You can put me down now, Galen.”

He tightened his grip on my thighs. “Not a chance.”

“Galen!”

He marched us past the line for the bar and over to an empty picnic table. A portable heater stood nearby, and strands of Edison bulbs had been draped in the tree branches overhead.

He set me gingerly on the bench, and then he took a seat next to me, straddling the bench with those thick thighs so that he was facing me.

“Galen, what in the world—”

He leaned in, those dark eyes ensnaring me. “Hey. Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously.

He smiled. Shit, Julia was right. Galen was hot. “Me too. We’re kind of a good team when we want to be, don’t you think?”

“I, uh….” That low place in my belly was fluttering again. “Yeah. I mean…. That was a lot of fun. I’d do it again.”

“And we rocked Bob’s deal together too,” he added. “Got it closed in less than three weeks, and you didn’t try to kill me even once.”

I snorted a laugh. “There was just no time to plan your murder.”

“Abby, I….” His smiled faded, and there was that serious look that made me feel things for him that were… unsettling, to say the least. “Would you ever be open to…. Do you think there could ever be more between us?”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Like, more, more?”

His smile was self-depreciating, yet another thing I’d never seen from Galen Costas. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

“I….”

Wasn’t this validation of exactly what I’d been feeling?

This new attraction to Galen. Seeing him as something other than a guy who took perverse pleasure in beating me at every turn.

The dawning awareness that maybe we were just two sides of the same coin.

The realization that he might also take pleasure in… taking care of me.

But there was a huge specter looming over us, over me, and he wore a dark hoodie and a skull mask.

And he would be expecting me tomorrow night—our last night together.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t say yes to Galen now and then go off to the haunted house tomorrow. That didn’t feel right at all.

Was I even ready to say goodbye to the masked man? I didn’t want to lose Galen, but the thought of never again seeing the man who’d given me three of the best nights of my life made my chest ache.

I reached for Galen’s hand. “I can’t say yes tonight. I need… I need some time. Is that okay?”

He squeezed my fingers. “If it’s not a no forever, then that’s all I can ask for.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Galen.”

“I’m not, Abigail. And no matter what, I think we’re pickleball partners for life now.”

That was an offer I was incapable of refusing. I sniffed and gave him a watery smile. “Deal.”