The Wildcat (Playing to Win, #2)

by Bella Matthews

This book is dedicated to my father, who gave me my love of reading, football, and hockey. The world shines a little less brightly without him in it. Not sure he would have appreciated the sex, though.

Like I somehow could miraculously miss the fact that I’m alone.

He’s an ass, but he makes a damn good margarita.

Pretty sure I’m getting on my own nerves now. Not that I’ll admit any of that to him. Hell, I barely want to admit it to myself.

He’s more like a brother to me than a real guy, and possibly an even bigger pain in my ass than my actual brothers, which is really saying something, considering the three of them are shitheads.

“Not to worry, evil twin. Not a single inch of me is soft, and there’s a whole lotta inches.”

“Might want to slow it down. I’m not carrying your tiny ass home.” “That happened one time, and you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

I turn my head enough to look at the person behind the deep, rumbly sound, then drag my eyes up . . . And up. And—oh wow—up some more, until I’m looking at a face.

Men suck. They’re a distraction, and I don’t need any of those.

“No. Sorry to disappoint, but I wasn’t apologizing to you. I was apologizing for you. You see, I was taught eavesdropping on private conversations is rude. Obviously, you skipped the day manners were handed out growing up.”

“Fair warning, though. If a man’s got to brag, he’s usually full of shit.”

“Who are you?” “According to you, I’m a piece of chocolate cake,”

She looks like she belongs in a shampoo commercial. Or bent over my bed with that hair wrapped around my fist.

Why are you so dramatic? There’s leftover Chinese food in the fridge if you’re that hungry. Or you could try eating a piece of fruit. Or God forbid, a vegetable.

Her moans were almost as fake as her tits, Ares. Ares Those moans were real. Take it back.

Ares Fuck off. I’m hungry. Bellamy You’re always hungry.

“You say your momma taught you manners, yet you still ask a lady how old she is.” She tsks. “Shame. I bet she’d yell at you for that.”

“Listen, I know you don’t know me, but I swear I’m not crazy,” she whispers quickly. “Not sure I buy that, but okay. You’re not crazy.”

A throat clears to our right as a bag of food is dropped on the bar to my left, and a growl works it’s way up my throat. I don’t do audiences.

But when she places her delicate hand in mine and smiles, I don’t have a clue or a care because what I’ve got is the girl.

Maddox may never forgive me, but I couldn’t possibly care less.

“Like what you see?” I tilt my head to the side and lick my lips as his dark eyes devour me. “I should have known you’d be cocky.”

“Cocky men have to brag, sweetheart.” His warm breath fans my cool skin and goosebumps break out everywhere as he licks into my mouth, then teasingly bites down on my bottom lip. “Arrogant men know what they’re capable of and don’t worry about proving it. We just do it.”

Months from now, I’ll probably look back and think this is where I should have ended the night. Should have gone home and kissed my kids and forgotten all about the golden-haired, sun-kissed goddess. But hindsight’s twenty-twenty. And right now, I want to fuck this woman more than I want my next breath.

“Evil twin. You’d better not be fucking in my office,”

“I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I’m not complaining. Just thinking.” “Who’s the girl?”

“Well damn, Cross. Nobody wants young and pretty and fun. That sounds like a miserable woman to date.”

“I don’t like games, Dad.” “Games can be fun with the right person.”

Damn . . . Her twenties haven’t even kicked her ass yet at twenty-three.

Cinderella I didn’t have you pegged as slow, Cross. Cross Some things are better slow, Cinderella. Cinderella Agree to disagree. Cross Maybe I’ll have to show you just how fun slow can be.

with me. Cinderella Was that supposed to be a question? Cross Not really.

“Ooh . . . that candle smells like Fireball,”

“Hey, evil twin . . . Us non-alcoholics like to call that smell cinnamon,”

We’re basically a mess. An annoying mess, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I thought the pregnancy cravings were supposed to stop after the baby was born.” “And I thought you were smart enough not to question a hormonal woman. Looks like we’re all wrong,”

“Hey.” Lindy snatches the pepperoni and points at Callen. “No throwing meat near the baby.”

Everyone always joked that Mom and Dad would end up with their very own football team. Instead, all three boys play hockey. Poor Dad.

A few bobby pins jammed into my bun or more accurately, my skull, later—because if it doesn’t hurt, that sucker isn’t staying put—and I’m ready to go.

A lesser man would step away. Less sure of himself. Less sure of what he wants. Less willing to put in the work. But I’m no lesser man.

I know what I want, and it’s on the other side of that window.

Girls don’t talk to their moms about guys they meet in bars, do they?

Kerrigan cups her hands around my ear. “Can she come wif us, please?” Everly flushes because for one of the first times ever, Kerrigan fails at being quiet.

When the sugar rush comes crashing down later, there’ll be hell to pay, but I’ll deal with that when it happens because her smile is everything in this moment.

The world is in front of her. And here I am, almost a decade older, with two kids and enough baggage to fill her closet full of designer bags.

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.

“Everly Amelia Sinclair. Do not finger fuck the cake.”

“Uh-oh. She cursed and middle-named you.”

“Sorry. I just—” I cut myself off. Damn it. “I avoid athletes.” At least I try—when I’m not being given the best orgasm of my life by one in a bar.

“Let her avoid athletes if she wants to, Belles,” Dad snaps at Mom. “Declan Sinclair,” Mom gives it right back to him with a sharp tone. “Your daughters are grown women. They’re intelligent. They’re beautiful. And thanks to you, they’ve been raised around overbearing, arrogant, alpha males their whole lives. They’re going to date at some point. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up with overbearing, arrogant, alpha males, also thanks to you. And they’re going to demand to be treated well because that’s all they’ve ever seen. Again, thanks to you. You’ve done your job. Now shut up and let them live their lives the same way you let the boys live theirs.”

“No one will ever be good enough for the girls.” Then he looks around the table at the boys. “It’s their brothers’ jobs to scare the assholes off.”