Not My Match (The Game Changers 2)

Danika snorts, and he shoots a glare at her. “Women adore me, tattoo girl. I’m every girl’s dream.”

I stuff my face into the table and try not to laugh. “Ah, Aiden. You’re like a playful puppy I love to cuddle.”

Danika picks up her tattoo machine. “All bark, no bite.”

Aiden huffs and glares at both of us. “You two aren’t taking me seriously. I can prove how addictive I am. Give me an hour, Danika. You busy after this?”

I look over my shoulder at her. She rakes her eyes over him, lingering on his shoulders. Shrugs. “Meh. If I throw a ball, will you fetch?”

He glowers at her. “You’re gonna eat every word.”

“Okay, I’ll see what you got, quarterback,” she chirps.

“Devon, your boy is hitting on your artist,” I call out, giggling.

“Not a boy,” Aiden says around a breadstick. “Danika’s gonna get the full awesome Aiden treatment.”

“In an hour?” I laugh.

He points his food at me. “You make a terrible wingman, and after all the things I did for you with Greg.”

“That was you, huh? Putting the jersey chasers on him.”

“True colors, Giselle. How a man reacts around other women is a big clue—even if it is a first date. Devon never looks at anyone but you,” he says. “Been that way for a while; guess it just took me a while to realize it.” He grins. “I saw you in your underwear. I’m never letting Devon forget it.”

I make a moue with my lips. “Ah, little puppy, you need a pat on the head?”

He bares his teeth, and I smirk.

Devon comes back to the den and sits next to me, picking my hand up and threading our fingers together. He gives Aiden a look that says, Mine.

It makes me feel warm all over. If another woman gets near him—my brain explodes at the image, a scowl forming on my forehead. My hand tightens in his, and as if he reads me, he leans down and gives me a slow kiss. “Yours,” he whispers in my ear.

A few minutes later, Devon and Aiden help Danika pack while I check out the artwork in the hall mirror, a gorgeous blue butterfly with black edging around the wings and swirls of curvy black ink fanning out on the sides. She dabs Vaseline over it and puts a bandage on, filling me in on the aftercare instructions to remove the bandage after twenty-four hours, then clean it with antimicrobial soap, pat dry, and apply ointment, but leave off the bandages.

Aiden and she leave, and Devon walks them to the door while I go through the food left in the kitchen.

“Hey, who called earlier?” I ask when he returns.

He leans against the counter. “My dad.”

My eyes flare. “What did he say?”

He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Not much. Just that he’s okay.” He pauses. “He sounded sober.” There’s a hopeful look on his face that makes my heart snag.

“Did he say where he was?”

He shakes his head. “No, just that he’s with friends and wanted to make sure I got his note and that he didn’t want me to worry about him. I told him I paid off the debts.”

“Do you want to call him back?” It might have been hard to talk with company here.

“Nah, he said he had to go. I told him I’m here if he . . . wants to go to rehab.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “He said he’d think about it. He’s never been, you know, and I feel like if he could get therapy and a quiet place to figure things out, it might make a real difference. It’s his move now,” he says, weary acceptance in his voice. “He’ll always be my dad, but I can’t keep giving him money.”

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

He stares at me, searching my face. “I believe you.”

“You hungry?” I indicate the food on the counter. “I can warm up the pasta? Aiden ate the bread.”

His eyes drift over me. “Not hungry for food.”

“Me neither,” I murmur and step closer and toy with edges of his hair, running it through my fingers. “I couldn’t sleep last night, hence the hiding in your closet, and I barely ate a thing today. Studies show that when we’re feeling this . . .” Intense early stages of romantic love . . . “Euphoria, our bodies forget about basic needs and beg for more elevated dopamine, almost like cocaine—not that I know, but—”

He kisses me long and slow, until I’m breathless. “We can talk later.” He pulls my shirt over my head and undoes the snap on my shorts, mindful of my back as he eases them down my legs. His eyes burn as he stands and takes in the lingerie. I do a little twirl, and he chuckles.

“You looked like a dream when I walked in; you know that? It was all I could do to keep my hands off you with them here.”