Page 27 of Playing for Keeps

Vinny’s lips twitched up and he extended his hand toward me. Slim fingers grazed my bare shoulder and my eyes slid shut as his familiar scent enveloped me. Leather and vanilla, the latter something so common I couldn’t help but think of him whenever I smelled it, the former so different I’d found myself getting lost in fantasy in the middle of a clothing store while shopping for winter coats.

His fingers trailed along the delicate skin near my collarbone, across the thin chain on my favorite necklace, and I had to force myself not to turn into him as he squeezed by me.

“It’s... good to see you again,” he said, his voice quiet and chilling, making my body quiver beneath his touch.

Then it was gone, the door swinging open, blasting me with that leather and vanilla scent before the door fell shut and he was gone.

He was gone.

All my hopes of reconciliation disappeared faster than his scent, and I had to stifle a sob before it broke loose from my chest. I took a deep breath, breathing in that lingering essence of my gorgeous ex, then expelled it like all my hopes and dreams.

He was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Keeping him was never an option, not after I fucked up like I did. Not after I let the best thing that ever happened to me slip through my grasp.

Pain pulsed, hard and lingering, as that breath left my lungs. As all those hopes of seeing Vinny, of holding Vinny, drifted away. The sob worked its way up my throat, but I pushed it down, determined to mourn my loss when I was alone.

Plastering on my happy face, I forced a spring in my step as I joined the party in the living room.

Fake. Fake. Fake.

Frankie was sitting on the floor at the coffee table with dozens of massive books spread out before her, pictures of bridesmaid dresses and groomsmen tuxes in a rainbow of bright colors. Her golden blonde hair was pulled up into an intricate chignon at the back of her head. Her hazel eyes lit up as she saw me and a smile broke out across her beautiful face.

“Jen! You made it!” Frankie scrambled off the floor and rushed over to me. She grabbed my shoulders and stood on her tippy-toes to give me a kiss on each cheek.

“Hey, Frankie.” I smiled at her and we took a seat on the floor.

I could see why my brother fell for her. She was gorgeous, a softness to her that masked every ounce of hardness, her power subtle yet overwhelming. She was short and curvy and could easily be a pin-up model if she ever wanted to dress the part. She scared the living daylights out of me sometimes, but at the same time I couldn’t help but want to be her friend.

On the other side of the table, also on the floor, sat one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever laid eyes on. Vinny's twin, Vivian, was a darker version of him. Her light brown hair, though usually highlighted to perfection, hung loose and highlight-free around her slim shoulders. Her olive complexion had always been darker than Vinny’s, but her bone structure was just as striking as his.

Another similarity? The bags under her eyes.

Vivian smiled up at me, but her ice blue eyes regarded me with a certain amount of distrust. Her smile didn’t look genuine, and the tension surrounding her was palpable. In fact, it wasn’t until Mitch leaned forward on the couch behind her and pulled her back into him that she seemed to relax. It was like a switch being flipped. Like his touch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and his hands on her body, magically turned her into a different person. A less haunted, less tortured person.

Frankie showed me pictures of the dresses she was considering for the wedding. Vivian was a fashion designer and planned on making them, as well as the tuxes, for the bridal party. When Frankie showed me Vivian's sketch of her wedding dress, Vivian's eyes finally lit up the way they used to. Mitch excused himself as we gushed over the picture. He came back in the room minutes later holding two bottles of beer and two glasses of red wine.

The wine went to Vivian and Frankie. Mitch held out one bottle of beer toward me, but it almost slipped out of my grip as I started at a noise outside.

The sound of a motorcycle revving before it sped off down the street.

I clutched my beer bottle to my chest to hide my shaky hands. That motorcycle and rider had been outside my building every night when I got home from work, regardless of the time. I convinced myself that it was harmless and wasn’t something to be worried about. That he must be there for someone else on the street, that he couldn't possibly be there for me.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching me, whoever he was. That somehow, in some way, that man would factor into my future.

Mitch kept a steady eye on me as he settled on the couch behind Vivian. He reached out for her and I could see the tension leave her shoulders the minute they touched. It felt so intimate, like I was a voyeur watching something not meant for my eyes.

I glanced down to my beer, unable to stand the ache in my chest at the sight of them. My conversation with Kelly flitted through my mind. Vinny didn’t stick around to talk to me, and like a fool, I couldn’t force myself to make him. I knew I needed to let him go. I released him from any obligation he had to me a year ago, and no amount of pining would bring him running back.

“You okay, darlin’?”

I looked up at Mitch and forced a smile. I tipped my beer bottle toward him. “How’d you know I liked this brand?”

He winked at me, his concern flickering off and on like a light with faulty wiring. He dipped his head toward Vivian—to the glass of red she had clutched in her hand. “I always know what you ladies like,” he teased, his smile too sexy for his own good.