Exploring the Rules: An Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance Standalone Read online

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see the master?” he asks.

  “This is beyond perfect,” she tells him.

  Tyler nods. “I have to make a couple of calls before dinner,” he says, excusing himself.

  We collectively watch him leave the room before turning to each other, eyes wide with the shock. “Is this the kind of room we’ll be staying in the entire time?” Nessie asks, looking at Cooper.

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea. I mean, I knew he was loaded, but I didn’t know he was this loaded. I’ve only seen his place in Seattle.”

  “This is crazy,” I echo, staring across the room and at the ornate details that are so subtle and yet each scream of wealth.

  “I’m going to gain twenty pounds on this trip if the restaurants are as fancy as the room,” Nessie says.

  I shake my head. “Fancy restaurants always serve tiny portions.”

  She laughs. “Just remember to use the silverware on the outside and work your way in.”

  5

  Tyler

  I need a drink, a gym, and some really loud music.

  Instead, I’m leading the Robinson twins and Cooper into Taste, our renowned two-Michelin-star restaurant within the hotel.

  “Good evening, Mr. Banks, Mr. Sutton, Ms. Robinson, and Ms. Robinson,” Gregory greets us. He’s the reason this restaurant has become what it has and also why the restaurant hasn’t managed to earn a third Michelin Star. He’s talented, driven, and so stuck in his ways he refuses to go in new directions.

  Chloe takes a subtle step sideways as we begin to move, allowing Cooper to walk beside Vanessa. Cooper told me he’s never admitted to Chloe how he feels about Vanessa—their one secret—yet, I can’t help but wonder if she has an inclination considering how long Cooper’s liked Vanessa.

  Gregory stops at a table that overlooks a wide window. It’s a seat my dad would request, one that is prominent and will make those waiting on us more apparent to garner attention and intrigue from fellow guests.

  Chloe’s gaze skates across the room as she grips the back of a chair, ready to pull it out. I place a hand on her lower back, my thumb following the curve of her hip. She startles, her shoulders snapping straight as her attention jumps to me. I grab the chair, and she releases it, mumbling an apology as her cheeks flush. She takes a seat and grips the bottom of the chair to pull herself closer to the table, and we do an awkward shuffle as I try to help scoot her closer. Across from us, Cooper’s brows are lowered, watching me and wondering what in the hell I’m doing as he takes his seat. Arse.

  “Chef Babineaux will be right out to tell you about today’s specials,” Gregory says as the other two members of the wait staff spread napkins across our laps.

  “We’re really underdressed,” Vanessa says, fidgeting in her seat across from Chloe.

  “No one cares what we’re wearing,” Chloe tells her. “They’re all wondering if one of is famous because we have an entire entourage.”

  I glance out at the other patrons, noticing many are indeed looking our way.

  “Is this normal?” Vanessa asks, looking at me.

  I shake my head and then stop, shrugging because while it’s not necessarily normal, it’s not far from it. “It’s worse in London. Here, few have any idea who I am.”

  “All of Brighton knows who you are,” Chloe says, turning to look at me. Her green eyes make a quick descent when I meet her gaze. She reaches for her filled water glass and takes a long drink before fixing her attention on Vanessa. I swear the two have an entire conversation without a single word being shared, and at the end of it, Vanessa grins widely.

  “Good evening. Welcome to Taste,” Chef Babineaux appears, drawing more attention from the other guests. She begins explaining the menu and her suggestions for us based upon our preferences and tells us where everything has been harvested and raised.

  In her seat beside me, Chloe leans as far from me as possible while Vanessa straightens her silverware and tells Cooper about classes for this upcoming year. The girls are exactly the type that most guys dream of bringing home to their mother: accomplished, sweet, polite, well mannered, and the win-win for both the guy and their mother is how blatantly innocent they both are. Not in the virginal sense necessarily, though I could easily be convinced to bet my left bollock that at least one of them is a virgin. No, it’s in the way the hotel left their jaws hanging and how they are unsuspecting of the uglier sides life often presents.

  I’m definitely not most guys, though.

  I prefer a girl with a past who wants to work her aggression out between the sheets and leave me like a bad habit.

  Attachments make me uneasy, which is why I had no problem choosing dare every time while playing the game on our drive here. I don’t want anyone in my life. The only reason Cooper is as close to me as he is, is because he doesn’t want or expect anything—at least, not yet. That’s the sad part of our relationship. Our brotherhood, while strong, sometimes leaves me leery and waiting for the other shoe to drop because what I’ve learned in life is that money is power and power is absolute. Everyone wants to wield it, and few are capable.

  And I have no desire to entertain even a fling with Chloe, knowing that it would be like putting myself between a bullet and a target—guaranteed to end badly. She knows it as well, which is likely why she pretends she never kissed me and has been avoiding me like the plague since.

  “Okay, so, what do you guys think about going to Bourbon Street after dinner?” Cooper asks.

  “Um, yes!” Vanessa nods enthusiastically. “Definitely.”

  Chloe traces a pattern in the condensation on her glass of water, a resigned smile on her face as she watches them.

  “We need to go out and get drunk tonight,” Vanessa continues. “Celebrate that Chloe is staying at Brighton.”

  “Staying?” my thought slips out as a question.

  She takes a fleeting glance in my direction then quickly resumes staring at her glass. “I applied to a program that would have had me moving to Virginia for much of the year,” she says, her attention still on her glass that she’s wiping the condensation clean from for a second time. “But I wasn’t chosen.” She glances up at me and takes a deep breath that hollows her cheeks and much of her exposed collarbone. I notice her eyes are several shades lighter than Vanessa’s.

  “Forget them. We and Brighton know how amazingly awesome you are. And tonight, we’re going to celebrate you,” Vanessa says.

  Chloe’s fingers slide down the glass, leaving three lines before she moves her hand to the apex where her shoulder and neck meet and digs her fingers into the flesh there.

  Sympathy, or maybe it’s compassion, has me staring at Chloe for longer than I should. Unlike her, I’m working to change my future and the many signs telling me I can’t, whereas she’s resigned to let one of her dreams slip away.

  I raise a hand when one of the servers looks our way. She hustles to our table. “Yes, sir?”

  “Could we get a round of drinks, please?”

  She hesitates for a second, likely wondering if she should be asking for our IDs or if that would be insubordination.

  “Four Sazeracs,” I tell her.

  She nods and disappears into the kitchen.

  “What in the hell’s a Sazerac?” Cooper asks.

  “You’ll like it,” I tell him. “New Orleans is famous for them.”

  “I thought they were known for hurricanes?” Vanessa asks.

  I nod. “Those too.”

  “We should make a boozy bingo card,” she says.

  Chloe shakes her head. “We only have a couple of days, and I don’t want to spend one of them in bed with a hangover.”

  “I didn’t say we had to complete the card tonight,” Vanessa replies.

  Before Chloe can respond, the waitress returns with a tray of drinks, curled pieces of lemon peel around the top of each glass, and passes them out. “Is there anything else I can get for y’all?”

  “Could we get
two sweet teas?” Cooper asks.

  She nods and looks at Chloe and then me. “What about for you guys?”

  “Um, actually, one of the sweet teas is for me,” Chloe says.

  The waitress raises her eyebrows but does a quick job of hiding her confusion and looks at Vanessa. “Would you like anything?”

  Vanessa smiles, shaking her head. “This is perfect, thanks.”

  When the waitress turns her attention back to me, I simply point at my Sazerac.

  Cooper’s the first to raise his glass. “Tonight, we celebrate friendship and our final weeks of summer.”

  “Cheers,” we echo, clinking our glasses.

  Chloe takes a small whiff of her drink and blinks quickly. “That smells strong.”

  Vanessa laughs. “Whenever it comes out in such a small pour, it’s pretty much guaranteed to be straight alcohol.”

  Chloe turns her attention to me, pushing her hair back and exposing her collarbone again. “We sip it?”

  I nod. “It’s not a straight shot. Made well, a Sazerac deserves a little time.”

  She raises the glass to her mouth and rolls her tongue over her lips.

  I take a sip of my drink in an attempt to swallow the desire her lips evoke. I lean back in my seat, watching the long wave of her lashes fall against her cheek as she tips the glass back to get a taste.

  She turns to face me again, surprise evident in her wide eyes. “That’s so different. It’s sweet and spicy and almost herbal.”

  “All I taste is whiskey,” Vanessa says as she tosses her drink back like it’s a shot.

  Chloe chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re going to make me play tourist alone tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  “Cooper will go with you,” Vanessa tells her.

  Cooper gives a sideways look. “I don’t know. D.C. kind of scarred me for life. I saw one too many hats and shoes from people in history at the Smithsonian Museum.”

  “That was three years ago,” Chloe protests.

  “And I’m still recovering,” he says.

  Vanessa laughs as she nods.

  “You guys are going to miss out. I’ve heard the beignets are out of this world. Supposedly, powdered sugar trails for blocks because that many people order them every day.”

  Before we can discuss it further, our food arrives. Platters with neatly arranged hors d’oeuvres fill the table, and we dig into the unique flavors of New Orleans that express so much history and culture.

  “Should we change?” Vanessa asks as we pass the elevators. “Do we need to dress up?”

  “Only if you want to see Coop and me get into a fight,” I tell her, already wondering if I should be asking for someone with security to go with us because the Robinson twins attract attention even in jeans and sweatshirts, much less the short shorts and form-fitting tops they’re in tonight.

  “Is it rowdy?” she asks.

  “It’s packed. People are going to be wasted and stupid. Just stick with us, and you’ll be fine.” I make a silent oath for this to be my first and only night of babysitting.

  Cooper exchanges a questioning glance with me. Uncertainty is clear in his gaze.

  “It’ll be fine,” I assure him.

  “Mr. Banks.” A man at the valet desk raises his hand to catch my attention. “The car is ready, sir.”

  “We’re driving?” Chloe asks, sounding disappointed.

  I nod. “It would take us an hour to walk it.”

  Before she can respond, Vanessa takes her hand, tugging her in the direction of the black Mercedes used to drive VIP guests around the city. The three of them squish into the back, and I sit in the passenger seat, next to our driver.

  “Chloe, truth or dare?” Vanessa asks.

  Chloe laughs. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Vanessa doesn’t reply. “Dare.”

  “I dare you to collect five strands of beads tonight.”

  Cooper groans.

  The girls laugh.

  “Be careful. They’ll arrest you for indecent exposure,” our driver warns them.

  “She knows I won’t flash anyone. She’s trying to make me fail,” Chloe explains.

  “And you can’t buy them,” Vanessa tacks on.

  “So many rules,” Chloe objects.

  Vanessa laughs. “You love rules.”

  The driver pulls over a few minutes later, and I tip him as the others climb out of the back seat.

  Music flows through the air along with the chatter of voices. Buildings line both sides of the narrow street, decorated with neon lights.

  Vanessa coughs. “It stinks,” she says.

  I nod. “The only time this place doesn’t smell is in the morning after they’ve hosed it all down.”

  Chloe’s nose crinkles, but only slightly, her curiosity stronger than the putrid scents of urine, alcohol, and sweat. Her gaze crosses the street and roves over the crowds before she looks back at us, her lips tipped with a smile. “It’s loud.”

  I struggle not to laugh, knowing that Chloe Robinson is one of the most observant people and certainly took in far more than the most obvious fact she just shared.

  “Let’s go.” Vanessa leads the way, her grip on Chloe tight, pulling her toward the traffic light that allows us to cross onto Bourbon Street.

  And without thought, I’m traipsing after them, crossing the busy street as cars honk and men yell their awareness of the sisters.

  “I’m going to hate this city, aren’t I?” Cooper grumbles.

  Ahead of us, Chloe bestows a smile on an unsuspecting bloke who looks like he walked around with binoculars and a wide-brimmed hat all day. He’s startled by her, caught off guard by her quick approach and even more so by her beauty. She’s too far away for us to hear what she says, but we watch as he takes a strand of beads from around his neck and gives them to her.

  She turns back toward Vanessa, victory shining in her bright eyes as she hurries back over to her.

  “Yup,” I answer Cooper.

  “Let’s get something to drink,” Vanessa says. “I read that there are bars down here that have specialty drinks. I want to try a hurricane.”

  Chloe shakes her head. “I think I still feel a buzz from that drink at dinner.”

  Vanessa laughs. “It was one drink.”

  Chloe shrugs, her attention bouncing between the buildings and balconies and the busy street. “Although, a bar might be a good spot to get…”

  I lean closer, missing the last of her words as we pass open doors where the music pours onto the street, competing with the music from other nearby bars and restaurants and the buzz of conversation

  Vanessa turns to me, wearing a smile I recognize because while I haven’t seen it on her, it’s the same look a girl gets when she’s about to ask me for something. “Which bar should we go to?”

  I shrug. “Depends on what you’re wanting.”

  “Fun,” she says. “I want to have fun.” She glances at Chloe, and I understand her intention—she wants her sister to have a good time. I think of our brief conversation at dinner about Chloe being declined admittance to the program she’d applied for and their plans to get drunk, and though there’s a warning in my head saying this could go very badly, I jerk my chin forward.

  “There’s a place up here with live jazz music and the best hurricane you’ll find on Bourbon Street.”

  Her smile radiates with appreciation.

  Then some fucker with too much liquid courage stops in front of Chloe, his gaze lewd and purposefully slow as he takes her in. His glassy stare settles on her face. “You’re so hot, my zipper’s falling for you.”

  I wait for her to ask us for help or to make a retort to him—anything except for what she does—which is asking him for some of the beads around his neck.

  I slap a hand to Cooper’s shoulder. “You’re going to have your hands full.”

  He pulls his chin back. “What are you going to be doing?”

  I grin. “The question is who will I be doing? And we’re
going to find out soon.”

  The bar is crowded when we step inside, and it takes approximately three seconds before news of twins starts circulating through the bar and another two for guys to start flocking their way toward them.

  The band is loud, the bass pulsing through my body. The energy in here is enough to give anyone a strong hit of dopamine, leading me to gaze across the sea of people, waiting for the high to take me over and lead me to the nearest hot girl. But my thoughts are tangled with my meetings tomorrow as I consider what the management team is going to tell me and if I’ll be able to offer any suggestions or even ask the right questions to find the root of the issues.

  The bombardment of thoughts ruins my mood and leads me to the bar, where I take a seat and nurse a drink. I try to plan for my first meeting and avoid the pull to watch the three of them having fun and dancing.

  6

  Chloe

  Normally, I would have said no to last night.

  But in an effort to be more fun—whatever that means—I went out and matched Nessie drink for drink, dance for dance, until we hit our third round. Then I accepted her whining about how we are only twenty-one once, how our time in NOLA is going to pass in the blink of an eye, and every other attempt to get me to continue partying with her. I switched to water, gathered the last of my beads from guys who undressed me with their eyes, and started to make a list of all the places I wanted to go today.

  With Bourbon Street checked off the list, I planned to spend most of the day back in the French District:

  Jackson Square

  St. Louis Cathedral

  Frenchmen Street

  Shrimp po’boys and jambalaya

  Find some beignets on the way back to the hotel

  We traveled all thirteen blocks of Bourbon Street last night and learned why it smells so awful after witnessing several people vomit and even more relieving themselves in a shallow corner, not to mention the vast amount of trash strewn across the narrow street.