Matched (16 page)

Emma’s hand slips from mine. I jerk, ready to grab her until I notice the towel she’s collecting for Jasmine, who’s already walking toward us.

“I’m starving. Thanks, babe.” Oakley blows me a kiss, then serves the ball.

“Emma McCall.”

His keen scolding crawls up our backs. I shiver, blindly searching for and finally grabbing her hand with a squeeze.

I turn us to him, blaring my friendliest smile. “Cruz, hey! You hungry? We were just letting Oakley know I’d be making everyone dinner.” I walk toward him, pulling Emma along. “You wanna help us? Jasmine and Emma are in too. Let’s cook!”

Don’t stop, no eye contact
. We walk in a perfectly innocent breeze all the way to the kitchen.

“There’s no food in there—nothing for a real meal, anyway,” Cruz grumbles, having followed us.

“Hmpf,” Jasmine pouts. “I missed breakfast. I need something in my belly.” She wraps an arm around her middle. “Especially if I’m gonna drink.”

Adam’s stealthy unveiling from the shadows, where he tends to linger, catches our attention. “Adam, what are we supposed to eat?” Jasmine asks him, her smile more casual than I personally can manage when he’s near.

“If you ladies want to go to the market, right up the road—”

“Yes!” Emma shrieks.

“I’ll get dressed!” Jasmine matches her pitch, her eyes on Adam the entire time. His stoic expression doesn’t waver, but its normally hard edges are absent. “Thanks,” she whispers before running off to our room.

“I’ll have a car waiting out front,” Adam continues. I swear to God I actually see the corner of his lip twitch, a possible smile wanting to escape but instead buried instantly. “Cruz, I assume you’ll accompany them?”

“Good guess. Em, grab your shoes. Harlow?” I return his gaze. “Better let the warden know you’re leaving.” His brows arch with a mocking smirk, and I narrow my eyes to slits. He was so close to doing something nice, and then…that mouth.

“Thank you, Adam. Emma, I’ll be right back.” I ignore Cruz completely as I spin on my heel.

Standing in the doorway, I have to yell Oakley’s name several times before he calls time in the game and grants me his attention.

“Food ready?”

“Um…” I consult my non-existent watch. “Gonna need more than five minutes, sweetie
.
I’m gonna run to town with a group and pick up some things. You wanna come?”

“I, uh…” He averts his eyes. “I’m kinda playing here, baby. And I’m all wet.”

“Anybody need anything special?” I ask the group, blatantly dismissing his excuses.

“Hold up.” Court climbs out and jogs over to me. “Will you grab some non-alcoholic wine coolers?” he whispers.

“Um, sure, if I see any.”
Cutting back, is he?
“You want a particular flavor?”

He ponders, coming up empty. “Nope. Whatever looks good to you. Thanks, Harlow.” He smiles, gives me a pat on the shoulder, and jumps back in the pool.

“All right, I’m going,” I announce, slightly annoyed.

“Be safe, baby. Love you.” Oakley turns to look at me, and the ball smacks him square in the chest in the process. “Shit.”

There’s no stifling my laugh.

“You ready?” Jasmine asks from my side.

“Yep.” We head inside together. “We need money.”

“Adam gave me some.” She holds up a wad of foreign cash. “Let’s go. Cruz and Emma are in the car.”

The market is everything my usual grocery store is not. There are no shopping carts, only baskets, and it’s more a roadside shack than a developed building. Still, the produce is gorgeous, and the selection vast.

“
What
is he saying?” Jasmine, as befuddled as me, whispers from the side of her mouth.

I cover my mouth with my hand before answering. “I don’t know. Just smile and nod.”

“It’s Creole—sort of a take on French. Emma?” Cruz draws her away from her exploration of…well, everything. “Can you use some of your French vocabulary on the butcher and get us some meat?”

“Of course.” She bounces up on her toes, then jumps right into a long, laughter-filled conversation with the native man while I watch in fascination. The little pixie soon has fourteen small filets wrapped in white paper, which I place in the basket hanging on the crook of Cruz’s arm. The butcher places a kiss to her hand as we—well, she—says goodbye. I wave with a smile.

“That was amazing, Emma. Do you speak any other languages?” Jasmine asks her while we navigate our way to the vegetable section.

“I’m pretty good with Spanish and Italian, but French is my favorite. Such a romantic language.” Her face brightens with her giggle.

“I thought Italian was the romantic one,” I say.

“Maybe to some, but I wanna French.” She snickers. Cruz grimaces from two steps behind us.

With our spokeswoman up front, we soon have the makings for salads and baked potatoes. And in no time, we’re checking out and climbing back into the car.

“God, that was fun. So nice to get away from that house.” I sigh, resting my head back against the seat.

“Hey, you’ve all won a challenge and gotten out at least once. That was it for me!” Emma exclaims, and I can’t disagree or even begin to imagine how suffocated she feels—especially since her time in the house is spent dodging a cranky bodyguard.

Here goes.

“You’re right, Em. You need to get out.” I sit up and look her way. “That house will drive you insane. I’m thinking among all of us—Oakley and Callie make six—we can see to it that you win a challenge and have some fun.” I dig my fingers into the leather, bracing for his retort.

“Really?” she gasps. “You guys would do that? For me?”

Oh, yeah.
She’s got him with that breathy, hopeful plea. I can see his set jaw and menacing expression dissolve as he watches her.

“Of course we would,” Jasmine tells her.

“Definitely,” I agree, my eyes set on her brother. “Right, Cruz?”

Take that, warden.

He doesn’t stray from my antagonistic stare as he rubs his chin deliberately before speaking. “Depends on the prize, and who she wins it with. There’s not gonna be any climbing or jumping off anything, and she’s damn sure not doing it with Jensen or Wyatt.”

“Why not Jensen?” Jasmine dares ask. I take this one, giving her the friendliest “Really?” look I can. She concedes with a frown of understanding.

“It’s settled, then,” I say, filling the air cheerfully. “When the prize is right, we throw the challenge for Emma.” I pin Cruz again. “And a suitable guy winner.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” he goads me.

“Uh, yeah, but good cheating. It’s a thing.”

He smiles, hesitantly and I’m sure painfully, but follows it up with a wink. “Just gimme the bat signal when we’re doing it, and I’m in.”

Well, I’ll be. Look who just won another challenge.

But Emma’s out of her seat and slathering us all in hugs and kisses before the victory has time to fully set in.

Put enough delicious food in front of people who’ve been drinking all day, and it’s amazing how amicable they get. Rachel and Nadia grace us with clothing while they eat, and if I’m not hallucinating, each slur a “Thank you.”

“Hey, lady, you guys rock.” Callie, having returned, sits beside me. “What’d I miss?”

I swallow my bite. “Not a lot.”

“You sure? Oakley said something about pissing you off,” she whispers. “He seemed worried.”

My eyes search out Oakley, making his own plate at the stove and pretending his left eye isn’t scoping out our conversation. There’s more than just the “usual” at the table around me, so I backburner Callie’s question and shoot for something healthier—and less angering.

“Did anyone besides me
not
know Emma can speak three languages? Well, four, including English. How cool is that?”

Utensils and jaws drop as though I credited her with curing cancer.
Yes! Just the reaction I was hoping for.
Oakley squeezes a chair between Jasmine and me, rubbing my thigh under the table and kissing my temple. “Sorry I didn’t go, babe. Looks great. Thank you.”

“Thank the other three, too. They helped.”

He does. Jasmine and Emma acknowledge him with a “You’re welcome,” while Cruz points to his full mouth as an excuse for not replying. But the second Oakley’s looking at his plate, Cruz opens his empty mouth at me and winks.

I snicker and look away quickly, reengaging in the conversation all about Emma. She’s now talking about how she wants to be a writer and has even started a few stories. Under hooded eyes, I watch Cruz, ready to pounce like a mama puma if he steals this from her. But he’s most entranced of all. His usually dark-blue eyes are lighter, shining brightly with pride.

“I wanna do…something different.” Jasmine blushes, earning a few supportive laughs. “Maybe, I don’t know…help people somehow.”

“You can help me.” Jensen grabs her tit, but Callie’s ready, and a whole handful of salad smacks him right in the face.

“Wait.” Wyatt drops to his knees beside her, sporting a pathetically fake pouty bottom lip. “You’re not gonna do porn anymore?
Why?
What’d I ever do to you, sweet Jasmine?”

“All I said was I wanna do something different.” She taps Wyatt’s nose playfully but jerks her head to me, her eyes bulging and pleading. “Harlow, what about you? Any big dreams?”

“Well, I’m still finishing my degree for business. I planned my cousin’s wedding a couple years ago and was hooked. All the organizing and creating picture boards, watching her face light up when I showed her the design ideas…it’s kind of my addiction.” I laugh, feeling uncomfortable at my confession. “Anyway, I’m hoping to do it as a career eventually.” I look down at my lap, dreading the coming commentary.

“You can plan our wedding, baby.” Oakley kisses my cheek. “Then parties as big and fancy as you want for Ravens home wins!”

“That’ll be fun.” I smile at him. “Give me practice. I want to start my own company. Train the planners I hire. Create magical events every week. A big over—”

“Whoa, what about away games?” Oakley interrupts, looking completely lost, as though he never considered I had plans in life too. “Thought you were gonna travel with me.”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it yet, but I have to at least finish my classes first.”

“Right, but after…” He must sense my apprehension, because his voice softens. “Just want you by my side, Har, that’s all. I want you happy there, but I already got my mom excited to travel with you.”

The asparagus in my mouth suddenly lodges in my throat, cutting off my much-needed air supply. Panic runs rampant inside me, and the room erupts as everyone jumps to their feet. But someone’s already behind me, yanking me out of my chair, hands crossing my front and squeezing. After two big tries, the offending vegetable flies out of my mouth, across the table.

Holy crap.
Bent forward and clutching the table, I struggle to catch my breath amongst the terrorized “Are you okay?”s and “Oh my God!”s.

Slowly, I open my eyes and glance behind me just in time to see Adam stepping back into the shadows. I owe him a huge thank you.

“Shit. You okay, baby?” Oakley pulls me into his arms. I see Cruz has somehow managed to cross the table and is standing directly behind my man, looking nothing short of relieved.

“What the hell happened?” Oakley continues, his hands stroking down my spine.

I manage to find my voice. “Sorry. Too much in my mouth, I guess.”

He leans back, his hands on my shoulders as he looks me over. But my eyes are still on Cruz, who’s making his way back to his seat along with the rest of the room.

Oakley nods gradually, his cautious eyes squinting. “Right. Glad you’re okay.”

“You seriously okay?” Callie asks, and I offer the tiniest of smiles.

“Babe, if this is about my mom going to games with you…” His hand wipes down his face, which looks torn as we notice the cameraman creeping closer.

“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know, all right?”

Callie proves friends really do have your back when she pops back up and nearly shouts, “If you didn’t cook, you clean! And if you’re still eating, take it to the Great Room. Let’s go!” She commandeers the army of groaners out of the room, and Oakley drops his gaze.