Home > Fair Game (The Rules #1)(14)

Fair Game (The Rules #1)(14)
Author: Monica Murphy

Oh God, how embarrassing. “Jade Frost.” I shake his hand, momentarily dazzled by Gabriel’s good looks. Was there some sort of unspoken law that attractive men must hang out together? “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he drawls, earning a deathly glare from Shep.

“Quit flirting with her, Gabe,” Shep snaps. “You brought your own date.”

“I’m Meadow,” the brunette chirps. I shake her offered hand as well. Shep doesn’t even bother.

Asshole.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Gabe says, grabbing hold of Meadow’s hand and the two of them start backing toward the door. “We’ll find another room.”

“No need. I have to go find my friend,” I say, walking toward them, ready to move past them and make my much-needed escape. “She’s probably worried about me.” Kelli was probably outside dancing and didn’t even realize I’d left her but they don’t need to know that.

“You came with a friend?” Shep asks.

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t come to some crazy frat party all alone.” How dumb does he think I am? I flash a smile at Gabe and Meadow. “Nice meeting you two.”

“Great meeting you,” Gabe says, watching me carefully as I sidestep out of the room.

“This isn’t over,” Shep calls but I don’t look back at him. He’ll find me. I know he will. We’ll run into each other again and he’ll demand I owe him something and ask for his payment in the form of sexual favors, which should totally piss me off yet somehow…doesn’t.

I get what he wants from me. And for the teeniest, most fleeting moment, I wanted it too.

But as I walk away and head back outside in search of Kelli, I know I can’t give in. I can’t repay him on this stupid bet. The minute I allow myself to fall under Shep’s spell, I’m done for. He sure talks a confident game but could he really make me forget myself and fall into the moment? All that talk about making me come and me denying my feelings for him…

Fine. His words left me hot and bothered. More than once. Big deal. He’s all talk and no action. Lots of effort but zero return.

Just like all the rest.

“You need to buy your mother a gift.”

I make a face even though Dad can’t see me. I’m driving through town, bored. When all else fails I hop in my car and think. I absently answered my phone via the Bluetooth link in my car, regretting it the moment I heard my dad’s voice fill the interior. It’s like he’s the omnipresent great and powerful Oz. Sucks. “What do I get a woman who has everything?” And what she doesn’t have but wants, she runs out and buys. Immediately. Mom waits for no one.

“It’s her birthday.” Pierce Prescott is one of the richest men in the country. He came by his money the old fashioned way—an inheritance. Me? I’m the same way, since I benefit from the same inheritance and my parents are the old-fashioned types. They encourage my sisters to get married to equally wealthy men so they can leave me all of their wealth, which just bites my sisters’ asses. I will never have to work a day in my life if I don’t want to. My children probably won’t have to either.

The idea of that, of never having to work a day in my life, doesn’t always sit well, especially lately. No wonder I caused so much trouble during my younger years. I was bored out of my freaking mind.

“I’ll send her flowers,” I suggest. All women love flowers.

“That’ll be nice.” I can tell he thinks that’s a terrible idea. “But you need to do more, son. Send her something special. Thoughtful. Straight from the heart.”

Mom and I have a special relationship. As in, I’m her only son and she loves spoiling me. I’m her greatest heartache and her greatest joy. She said that to me once in the middle of a massive sobbing fest. Probably right after I got kicked out of school for that coke snorting incident in chem lab.

“I’m not sending her a Hermes bag. Isn’t there some special waiting list I need to get on before I can even buy one?” That I even know what a Hermes bag is probably takes the validity of my man card down a couple of notches. But when you’re a little kid surrounded by three older sisters and a shopaholic mother, you learn about Hermes bags. Chanel. Prada. Vuitton.

“She already bought herself a new Hermes bag for her birthday. Powder blue.” The irritated sigh Dad lets forth tells me what he thinks about that purchase. “She has way too many already.”

“Look, I’ll go to one of those quirky little stores downtown and buy her some coastal knickknack. Something you can’t find anywhere else but here,” I suggest. “How does that sound?”

Dad heaves out another, even more irritated sigh. I can’t win with this situation and he knows it. Hell, I can never win with him. The guy barely tolerates me most of the time. “Don’t forget to send her a card too.”

I end the call and head downtown, determined to get this chore done pronto. Hopefully wherever I end up finding Mom’s gift, they can ship it directly to her. Or if it’s not common store policy, I can convince the employee to do it for me. With enough charm and cash, you can convince just about anyone to do just about anything.

The weather’s nice, bright and sunny and in the mid-seventies, making me think I have the wrong idea and I need to be on a beach somewhere. Drinking a beer and catching some rays, scanning all the hot girls in string bikinis behind my shades as they walk by. I bet Gabe’s there. And maybe Tristan is with them. If they’re not, we should hang out by my pool later and invite every girl we know.

   
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