Page 4 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Dex

In the course of my life, I’ve done stupid things. Who hasn’t? But kissing Fiona Mackenzie comes close to the top of the list.

Ironically, it is definitely one of the best things I’ve done in my life as well. Painfully good.

would notice. Not much gets by her.

Then again, she’s making a valiant effort to ignore me now, her gaze set on the window at her side as we drive Gray’s old

pickup back to his house.

I love Grayson. The man is worth over sixty-five million dollars, and he still drives his high school truck. But now I’m thinking

about the fact that I had my tongue in his baby sister-in-law’s mouth, and I resist the urge to wince.

I shouldn’t have done it. But my brain took a vacation. I know how good I am at manipulating a situation, and I saw the curiosity in Fi’s bright green eyes. So I cajoled, enticed, all but dared her to get up close and personal with my face. Had I expected her to kiss me? Hell no.

But I’d taken one look at her in that club and wanted her to touch me, to fucking see me, more than my next breath. I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on her two years ago at her sister’s Christmas

party.

Even then I knew Fiona wasn’t for me. I’m quiet, like to keep to myself. Fiona is life—bouncy, bubbly, snarky life. All wrapped

up in a tiny, perfect package.

I’ve often heard Ivy compare Fi to Tinker Bell. I suppose that’s accurate. Only I’ve always found the little cartoon fairy

annoying, and I could watch Fi all day. Just the lilting sound of her voice entrances me. And when her nose wrinkles and she

glares?

Hard as a fucking pike.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad. Which is not good. I know full well she doesn’t want anything to do with professional athletes. I’d

heard her say that much outright at the wedding. A girl I was interested in during college ditched me for the same reason,

and I’ve no interest in getting my heart stomped on again.

Which is why I shouldn’t have touched, much less kissed, Fi. Because I can’t stop replaying it in my mind. I know what she

tastes like now. She tastes like addiction.

Gripping the wheel, I turn us into Gray and Ivy’s driveway. They bought a massive town house in Pacific Heights. I have to

admit, I’m envious. It’s the kind of place I’d love to call home. My place is a nice but far too empty town house in New Orleans.

I love its high ceilings, old wood floors, and natural light. But it doesn’t feel like a home. Then again, maybe it’s because

I’m the only one ever in it.

We’re silent as we pull into the garage and climb the back steps to the main floor.

I’m only vaguely surprised when Gray comes shuffling out of the kitchen holding a bottle in one hand and a pot in the other. He’s a mess, his blond hair flattened on the side, his sweats inside out and backward. Deep circles shadow his eyes.

“Hey,” he mutters. “Have fun?”

He doesn’t look as though he cares much about anything other than sleep at the moment.

“What’s the pot for, man-mountain?” Fi asks him before gently taking it from his hand.

He blinks down at it. “Right. I was going to put that in the sink.” From a flight above comes the irate squall of a baby.

“The tiny overlord demands his due,” Gray says. But he stops to kiss Fi on the cheek. His expression lightens a bit as he

pulls back. “You smell like cologne, Fi-Fi.”

Hot pink washes over Fiona’s cheeks. “I smell like a nightclub.”

“Cologne,” Gray counters as he trudges toward the stairs. His gaze lands on me. “Dex’s cologne. And don’t bother denying it.

I roomed with the guy for years.”

So much for keeping things from Gray. The guy might love to joke, but he’s an outright genius, so I’m not really surprised

he caught me.

He doesn’t say anything more about it, though. His shoulders slump as he starts up the stairs. “I swear to God, I’d give someone

five—no ten—million dollars right now if Ivy and I could just get one solid night’s sleep.”

Fi and I exchange a sympathetic look. It might be awkward between us, but at least we can escape to our beds and sleep.

“I’m going to go earn ten million dollars,” I say to her and head for the stairs.

She follows behind. “This I have to see.”

We find Gray in a nursery that would fit right into a design catalog. I know Fi decorated it, and she’s clearly talented.

Gray’s slumped in a glider trying to give his agitated son a bottle. But the little guy is screaming, his tiny fists beating

against Gray’s arm.

“It’s my turn to feed him,” Gray says without looking up. “So bottled breast milk it is. He hates it. I know, little dude,” he says to the baby. “I love Mommy’s boobs too, but she needs to sleep.”

From the far room, a muffled groan rings out.

“Mother guilt has killed my sleep,” says Ivy’s disembodied voice. “And don’t discuss my boobs with my son, Cupcake.”

I glance through a connecting door and see her long legs sprawled over a massive bed. Fi is short, but Ivy is a good six feet

tall. At the moment, she’s totally wiped.

“Hand him over, Grayson,” I say.

Gray looks at me as if I’m nuts, then shakes his head and offers me his son. His trust is something I will never take for

granted. And guilt hits me anew for touching Fi. But now I have a wiggling, screaming two-month-old in my hands.

Walking over to the changing table, I pull out one of the many swaddling blankets they have stacked—unused—on the shelves.

Leo turns a nice shade of angry red as I wrap him up tight, tucking his arms against his body. The result is a securely swaddled

baby with only his head sticking out.

Gray and Fi come to watch, clearly curious. But when I pick Little G up and loudly shush him, they both flinch.

“Dex, dude, what—”

I give Gray a quelling look and shush the crying baby again, right in his ear. Finally, he hears me and abruptly quiets as

I gently jiggle his little body, all the while shushing.

Ivy’s head pops around the doorway. Her dark eyes are wide with shock. “What—”

Gray waves a frantic hand to quiet her, but I shake my head and walk back to the glider. “Don’t be afraid of noise,” I tell

them. “Little man has been hearing it his entire existence. Well, until he was born and you guys started going silent on him.”

I give the baby his bottle, and he begins to drink as I rock.

Fi comes to stand next to me. “And how do you know so much about babies?”

“My little brother was a surprise. My parents had him when I was seventeen. I know about babies.”

I glance at Ivy and Gray, who are both gaping at me. “If you have a white-noise machine, I suggest you turn it on now and

keep it on high.”

Gray scrambles to get it, and Ivy comes closer. “Dex, I’m this close to crying at your feet right now. Don’t ever leave me.”

“Can we share him?” Gray asks as he turns on the machine.

I get up and hand Gray the baby. “Keep him swaddled. Do the shushing and jiggling thing if he wakes. I’m going to send you

some video links in the meantime.”

Ivy flings herself at me. “I love you, Dex.”

“He’s half mine,” Gray reminds her. His bleary eyes blink rapidly. “I’ll send you a check when I can see straight, man.”

“I took your Xbox into my room. That’s payment enough.”

Gray waves a hand as he tucks his son close to his chest. “You can have the damn thing. I still might kiss you.”

“Promises, promises.” I do give the top of Ivy’s head a kiss. She smells of breast milk and baby. But deep beneath that, there’s

a strange similarity to Fi. Nothing as potent, but enough to make me aware that she’s Fi’s sister.

I am aware of Fi as well, following me out of the room. We’re quiet as we walk up the next flight of stairs to the guest level.

Together. Alone.

Every touch, every slow glide of lips, tongue, fingertips. Every breathy sigh. All of what she did to me plays through my

head like a footage reel.

Her cheeks are flushed now, her nipples pointing through the thin, silky ivory top she’s wearing. I want to push my thumb

against one of those buds. Pull her shirt over her head and...

I clear my throat as we reach our doors, one on each side of the small landing. She hesitates, obviously searching for something to say.

I know what I’d like to say. Kiss me again. Let me in. Just... let me . I keep my mouth shut. Fiona Mackenzie isn’t for me. Hell, I can’t even tell her that what we did tonight was the single

most erotic experience of my life. While I’m sure it was merely a strange encounter with a guy and a beard on her part.

I run a hand over my mouth, my fingers digging into my scruff. I suddenly resent my beard. It’s as if she wanted it more than

she wanted me, and I can’t stand that. “Well,” I say before she can speak. “Good night.”

“Dex,” she says as I open my door.

I pause, my heart thudding against my ribs. But I don’t turn. I don’t want her to see my expression. “Yep.”

“Thanks.” She takes an audible breath. “For helping my sister and Gray. It means so much to them.”

Disappointment punches through my chest with the force of a lineman. I manage a nod. “It was nothing.”

Which I guess sums up my entire night.