The Other Game (The Perfect Game 4)

I couldn’t help it, but this girl was messing up everything. It seemed easy to blame her, at least in my mind, for every single thing that had gone wrong now that I was face-to-face with her. Maybe if she was the villain in this scenario, Jack wouldn’t have to be.

“I made up the guest room for you. Jack stocked the fridge with beer, so help yourself.” She smiled, her teeth overly white. “Oh, and your tux is hanging in the closet. Jack picked it up earlier.”

“Cool,” was all I could manage to say in response to that topic.

“I’d offer to take your bag, but,” she patted at her flat stomach, “I can’t. You know, because of the baby.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to carry my bag anyway,” I said with a huff. What kind of guy did she think I was?

She let out a giggle. “Of course not. How silly of me. If you want to follow me upstairs, I’ll show you to your room.” She started up the stairs, acting like a damn tour guide. “Isn’t this place great? Your brother spoils me rotten,” she cooed, and I knew she was lying. “It’s just a rental because Jack says we could move at any time with his team.”

“It’s nice,” I said, trying to be agreeable, but I didn’t care about their stupid house.

Chrystle stopped in the hallway

and said, “This is your room. You have your own bathroom too.” She indicated an open doorway and I walked in, tossing my bag on top of the bed. “The TV is hooked up to cable, so you can watch whatever you want.”

“Nice.” I looked around at the huge room. “I think I’ll take a shower. I feel kinda gross after that flight,” I said, hoping for some peace and quiet.

She smiled again, her head tilting to the side. “Of course, sweetie. You do whatever you want. If you need anything, just holler.” She stepped out and closed the door behind her.

Relieved that the dreaded introduction was over, I quickly unpacked, wishing my brother was here already.

After my shower, I planned to hide out in my room until Jack got home, but my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten in hours and was starving, but to eat I’d have to go back out there and socialize. Remembering the beer she’d mentioned, I comforted myself with the fact that at least there was alcohol.

Chrystle refused to let me do anything myself. She served me, bringing me beer after beer and making way too much food for me. It would have been nice if I thought for one second it was genuine. It all felt like a show, and the truth was, I could get my own damn beer and make my own damn food.

She tried to be a good hostess and make small talk with me, but I kept pointing at my full mouth, pretending that I couldn’t talk while I was eating.

A thought hit me, and I broke my self-imposed silence to ask, “Are you staying here tonight or are you sleeping somewhere else? You know, the night before the wedding and all.” It was a strange question that surprised even me. I had no idea where that thought even came from.

“I’m staying here. Jack and I think that tradition is silly, and we want to wake up together on our wedding day.”

Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality, and I wondered how much fantasy filled her damn head. There was no way Jack would say anything like that to her.

When she finally excused herself to go to the restroom—thank God—I bolted from the kitchen and locked myself in my room. A few minutes later, she knocked on my door.

“Dean, are you okay? Did you want to come out and watch a movie or something?” she called through the door.

“No thanks. I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m beat,” I called back. There was no way in hell I was moving from the bed.

“Oh, okay. Well . . .” She seemed to be at a loss, making me wonder if this girl wasn’t used to hearing the word no, or not getting her way.

“Thanks again for the food,” I called out to her, praying she would leave. “It was really good.”

“Oh, don’t think anything of it,” she said through the door. “We’re going to be family soon. You’re going to be my brother too.”

Chrystle’s words had crossed an invisible line, making me angry. I wanted to smash through that door like the Incredible Hulk. The only girl I’d ever consider a sister was Cassie. I didn’t want this chick as my sister. In fact, I didn’t want any of this.

After she walked away, I actually did consider napping since there was nothing else to do, but my phone alerted me to a text.

Melissa: How’s Alabama?

I smiled.

Dean: Hot. Sticky. Did I mention hot?

Melissa: How’s your dumb brother and that stupid girl?