Conceal

It appears the only person from my family who has called me is my mother. As much as I’m not in the mood to speak, I think it’s safe to call her back as I’m sure Grayson didn’t mention the altercation at the office.

I press her contact info and wait for her to answer.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mom coos through the phone. “How’s my baby boy?”

“Wow, Mom. You do realize I’m like a few years away from being thirty? That hardly makes me a baby.”

“You will always be my baby boy, Jaxson Price.”

“Sure. You do you.” I chuckle. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Of course. I wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” I respond.

“Always such a pain.”

“Have you been talking to Gray?”

“No. Why?” she asks, her voice rising with concern.

“Nothing,” I answer too fast, sending off a red flag for my mom to ask more questions.

“What’s going on?”

I sigh, giving in. “The usual. Gray giving me a hard time. Gray knowing everything, Gray not taking me seriously.”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but he means well.”

“Yeah, not exactly what I wanted to hear,” I agree. “I don’t care if he means well. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“The thing about Grayson. I love my son, but he thinks he has to take care of all of us since your father died.”

“Well, he doesn’t. News flash. I’m twenty-eight.”

“I know this, honey, but it’s hard for him to turn it off.”

I let out a long-drawn-out sigh. As much as I love my mother, I’m not really in the mood for this conversation.

“Mom, I have to go.” I try my best to sound like I mean it, but she chuckles on the line.

“No, you don’t. You just don’t want to hear it.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Remember I love you. I love all my kids.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye.” I shake my head as I hang up, but at least a smile lines my face now. She means well.

I spend the rest of the afternoon doing nothing. It’s kind of amazing. Without my brother calling or emailing me to dig up dirt, I have nothing to do. Addison is too busy to contact me either.

So instead I watch TV.

Something I haven’t done in ages.

When it’s time to pick up Trent, I’m happy to be leaving my apartment. Well-rested and ready to have some fun.

“So . . .” Trent starts from beside me.

“Yes?” I say, turning my head in his direction, still keeping one eye on the road.

“What’s the deal with you and Willow?”

“Are we girls?”

“Well, no. But—”

“We’re just friends,” I answer. Even though I want to fuck her. Hell, who am I kidding? I want to date her, which is crazy. Because I never want to date anyone.

“Really?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

“It’s just I have never known you to be friends with a girl.”

I shrug. “People change.”

“Not that much. So, what is it? She won’t fuck you?”

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, making my knuckles turn white. “Shut up.”

“Ahh. I hit the nail on the head.”

“Seriously, say another word, and I’ll pull over and dump your ass right on the corner.”

Instead of speaking, Trent breaks out into a full belly laugh.

“Great. I’m comic relief.”

“It’s just funny.”

“How so?”

“Every girl wants to ride your dick . . . but you fall for the one who doesn’t.”

“One, not every girl . . . just the ones in the tri-state area,” I retort. “And two, shut the fuck up.”

More laughter.

“I can’t take you anywhere.” I reach my hand out and raise the volume of the song on the radio, shutting him up.

It takes us no time to arrive, and as soon as we step inside, my eyes scan the room where we play cards.

I don’t see her at first.

But when I do, my breath hitches.

She’s fucking gorgeous. Her side profile is facing me, her skin like porcelain with red-stained lips I want on mine. She sees me watching her, and while in the past, she might have tensed, now she doesn’t. No, now she rewards my stare with a heart-stopping smile.

Fuck.

What is wrong with me?

I have it bad for this woman.

She makes me act like a lovesick schoolboy.

I give her a nod, trying to pretend I’m not affected by her presence, and she nods in return, holding back her laughter.

Needing to break the haze she casts over me, I head over to the table and pick my regular chair.

I’m here for her, but I need to keep up the pretense I’m not.

Before long, cards are dealt, and the game starts. Luckily for me, poker is a game of skill, and I have more skill than these fools in spades.

Because I’m barely paying attention. And even with my attention divided, I’m still better than all of them, which is apparent in the stack of chips I’ve collected. From the corner of my eye, I can see her walking. Watching as her hips sway, I stare at her ass.