The Wildcat (Playing to Win, #2)

by Bella Matthews

“Sometimes running away from love is the only way to find it.”

I don’t care how sexy it sounds. Nobody likes to be laughed at. Especially a woman indulging in a pity party on her birthday.

No is all any woman should ever have to say to get a man to back the fuck off.

“Arrogant men know what they’re capable of and don’t worry about proving it. We just do it.”

“Stop . . . It was a lapse in judgment. I’d basically been off . . . sugar . . . for weeks. And he was like . . . Well, he was a big piece of triple chocolate fudge cake from Sweet Temptations bakery.”

I suck in an audible breath as if an invisible fist just sucker punched me, while my daughter walks through the door to an open dance studio, holding Everly Sinclair’s hand. Everly Sinclair. My Cinderella. Holding Kerrigan’s hand. Kerrigan, who doesn’t like strangers. Who hates new people and places. Who I had to bribe to take ballet lessons with promises of a pink leotard and a stop at the bakery next door for cookies and whipped-cream-covered hot cocoa.

Sometimes, self-care is reading a book by candlelight in a warm bubble bath. Other times, it’s telling someone to fuck all the way off. Depends on the day.

I slide my finger back to the cake. “Everly Amelia Sinclair. Do not finger fuck the cake.” Grace and I giggle at Mom’s use of the F bomb.

“No, Cinderella. We rushed this once. Now, we’re going to take it slow. You’re going to let me take you out again. You’re going to let me pick you up at your door, without arguing, and walk you back at the end of the night. Because that’s what you deserve, and that’s what a man does. We’re going to slow this down, so maybe the next time you’re acting skittish, you’ll stay still instead of pulling away . . . until you’re ready to push forward. I’m a patient man, Everly, and something tells me you’re worth every second of the wait.”

“You’re going to destroy me, Cross Wilder.” “I’m pretty sure you’re going to save me, baby.”

You don’t have to marry the prettiest girl at the game. Marry the girl screaming the loudest because her team is losing. That girl is going to raise winners, and you want your kids to be winners.

My daughter, who doesn’t talk to strangers. “It’s okay. Daddy says Uncle Ares gets hit in the head too many times, and ice is hard. We have to be nice to him.”

“I need you so fucking much, Everly. You’re mine, baby. Mine to take care of. To protect. And I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”

“You’re fucking right, I’m yours. And I don’t share, Everly. Not with anyone. Not even a past that haunts you. You’re gonna let me in one day, so I can destroy those demons for you.”

“Giving my heart to your daddy scares me. But you . . . You just took it without my permission.”

She’s wearing my name. “Holy shit, brother. I think you just got claimed.” Ares fucking laughs next to me.

He unbuttons his starched dress shirt slowly as I watch, my mouth going dry with each new inch of exposed skin. “Cat got your tongue, baby?” “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned, and I’m about to do it again. Hopefully over and over and over.”

“One day, you’re going to tell me who hurt you, baby. You’re going to let me shoulder that fucking burden for you. Because nothing should have as much control over you as you give this.”

“No means no, Everly. And if you weren’t able to say no, then it shouldn’t have even been an option. No. It’s an entire sentence. It’s all you ever should have had to say, and if you couldn’t fucking say it, then it should have been automatic, baby.”

“Doesn’t matter how old they get, Cross. They’re always your girl. Enjoy them when they’re little and still think you hung the damn moon.”

Never say you can’t do something. Say you haven’t done it yet. That yet is important.