Playing Pretend, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Eden Summers
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Dedication
Life is too short not to smile every day. Find your happy place and cling to it…even if it’s amongst fictional characters.
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Contents
1. Piper
2. Rome
3. Piper
4. Rome
5. Piper
6. Piper
7. Piper
8. Rome
9. Piper
10. Piper
11. Piper
12. Rome
13. Piper
14. Rome
15. Piper
16. Rome
17. Piper
18. Rome
19. Piper
Epilogue
Hunter Preview
1. Her
2. Her
3. Her
Also by Eden Summers
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Piper
“She only wanted to sleep with me because I whispered in her ear that I’d let her call me daddy.”
I take a gulp of wine, trying to calm the blush preparing to heat my cheeks as Rome shares the details of yet another explicit encounter. “You said that to her at a work function? Entirely out of the blue?”
“I’d had a bit to drink.”
Even without alcohol, it isn’t necessarily surprising. Rome has never been a vanilla kind of guy. He’s more like a bag of Skittles dipped in sprinkles, luxuriating in a pool of expensive chocolate.
“Really?” My brother, Everett, raises a brow and reclines in his cushioned outdoor chair, the slight breeze whispering through his hair. “I never took Gillian to be the daddy’s girl type. She’s always so…quiet.”
“She’s far from quiet when it counts.” Rome winks.
“And she’s far from a girl,” I mutter around another necessary sip of alcohol. “If you’re going to belittle women, can you at least address them accordingly?”
“I’m far from belittling. You know I respect the women I sleep with.” His eyes narrow in mock scrutiny. “But you’ve started getting your panties in a twist when we talk about sex lately.”
“No, I haven’t,” I lie.
This is why our weekly Friday night drink sessions on my brother’s balcony are a minefield. Everett and Rome are my closest friends. My best friends. And when both of them are six years older than me, and one of them just happens to be my sibling, it doesn’t always make for comfortable conversation. Especially when racy topics have started to become a default.
If it weren’t for me correcting them on the misguided way they reference women, I wouldn’t be able to participate in the conversation at all.
I’m one hundred percent lacking in relatability when it comes to sex. I’m practically a reclaimed virgin after my last failed relationship.
“Why don’t you share one of your stories then?” Rome asks. “How is that sex life of yours holding up?”
“As much as I’m sure Rett would love the latest sordid details of what I do between the sheets, I’m going to take a hard pass on this one. I’d also like it noted that I’m not here for the riveting conversation.” I kick my feet onto my brother’s polished concrete coffee table. “I’m only here every week for the expensive liquor.”
“Bullshit.” Rett laughs. “You’re here to live vicariously through Rome. Hell, even I am on a bad week.”
I hold Rome’s stare, pretending to be undaunted. “I’m more than happy with my love life, thank you very much.”
Lies. Lies. All lies.
Rome remains quiet, letting the subtle tweak of his lips do all the talking. He can be an arrogant asshole when he wants to be.
Although I’m sure he’d never admit it, I’m positive he’s previously hired a stylist to nail his appearance. Looking that good twenty-four-seven isn’t natural. The perfectly tailored suits. All those dark-shaded ties that accentuate his predatory brown eyes. Even the way he finger combs his hair so it’s that easy, lazy style.
“How are things with that ex of yours?” Rett asks. “Has he stopped calling?”
“No.” I take another sip of wine, needing the additional alcohol before delving into yet another unwanted topic. “At least he hadn’t prior to me blocking his number.”
“You’re still having problems with him?” Rome frowns over the lip of his scotch glass. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Because the relationship was a disaster. One where my ex seemed more interested in Rome and his success than me. “It’s not a big deal. Julian kept calling, so I blocked his number. End of story.”
“That’s harassment.”
“Not anymore it isn’t. I haven’t heard from him since.” That’s the only saving grace to come out of the mistake of dating someone in the same realtor company as me. I’m just glad he works in the office across the other side of L.A. so now we rarely see each other. “He hasn’t stopped me from moving on. I even went on a date last week.” I quickly take another sip. “Is anyone else getting hungry? We should order pizza.”
My brother scoffs.
Rome sits forward, his attention zoning in on little ol’ me as he rests his forearms on his knees. “You’re just going to slip that dating detail into the conversation and hope we ignore it?”
That was exactly what I’d hoped. “Don’t make this a thing. I haven’t told anyone about it.”
“Your first date in five months is definitely a thing. Did you take him home?” Rome asks.
I roll my eyes. “For starters, five months isn’t a long time, but thank you so much for keeping score. And second, why does everything have to revolve around sex?”
His chocolate eyes gain a teasing edge. “Because sex is important. And it’s been a while since you’ve—”
I clear my throat. Loudly. “There was no sex.”
“Why?”
I’m not having this talk. Not with him. He might be comfortable sharing the intimate details of his high-octane libido, but nope, that isn’t for me. Best friends or not, I draw a line.
“He made it clear that’s all he was after.” I turn my attention to the city skyline over the balcony railing, the lights glistening against the night. “And no-strings sex isn’t what I’m looking for. Some of us don’t sleep around indiscriminately, let alone bounce back to a toxic ex whenever the well runs dry.”
“I think she just swung a low blow at your relationship with Stacey,” Rett drawls.
“There is no relationship. Only casual sex.” Rome smirks. “But what’s got me fascinated is her dry well description. What a delightful visual, little Pip.”
I struggle not to laugh at how easily he backs my flustered ass into a corner. Bastard. “Please stop picturing me naked.”
“I can’t help it. You inserted that image right into my frontal lobe.”
“I think we may have diverted a little off track,” my brother mutters. “Let’s rewind.”
Rome continues to stare at me with a cocky tweak to his lips. “No problem. What’s the issue with casual hookups? No strings can be fun.”
“For some.” I keep my head high despite the discomfort. “It might be easy for you to get your rocks off with strangers, but it takes more than what the average man is willing to invest to get me over the line.”
There. I said it—casual sex isn’t for me because it seems that mercury needs to be in retrograde with all the planets aligned for me to orgasm.
“Does little Pip have a problem—”
“Do not go there,” I warn, snapping my gaze back to his. “I have no problems in the bedroom.”
More lies, lies, lies.
He pushes from his elbows to sit back in his chair. “That’s not where I was going. If you aren’t reaching climax, that’s your partner’s downfall. I was merely going to state that you’ve had an issue finding the right man.”
How does he do that? Simply say climax without blinking. I can’t even think the word while in the presence of others without a little arrhythmia.
“He’s right,” Rett adds. “If you’re not having fun, that’s a partner problem.”
I scowl at my brother. “Thanks for the insight. Now can we please talk about something else?”
He chuckles.
Rome returns to his wicked grin.
God, they’re infuriating.
I wish I didn’t love them so much. That these Friday night sessions after work on the balcony of Everett’s Pacific Palisades home weren’t th e highlight of my mundane existence. But despite the awkwardness, they are what I live for.
I’m grateful I have two highly successful men at my back. Who would do anything for me. Maybe even hide my ex’s dead body if asked.
They listen. They encourage. And they treat me like an equal even though they’re living the lives of wealthy property developers while I give myself a mental high-five if I have money left over after paying to stay in my brother’s exceptionally underpriced self-contained unit downstairs.
“Can we revert back a little further to the topic of your ex?” Rett asks. “If he’s still causing problems, what are you going to do about your upcoming work trip? Won’t he be there?”
I groan at the reminder. “Yes, he will.”
“Then how do you plan on handling being stuck at the same resort for four days? Doesn’t your boss make you do that fun-filled team bonding shit?”
I finish my drink and reach for the wine bottle in the ice bucket on the table. “I’m contemplating a phantom illness. I hear the stomach flu is lovely this time of year.”
“You’re not giving up your vacation. You earned this bonus.”
“Again,” I say, “it’s not a big deal. These so-called bonuses always make me feel awkward anyway. Rewarding employees with an all-expenses paid trip alongside their colleagues is counterintuitive. The last thing we want to do is spend more time together. And everyone else brings their partners, which means I’m stuck looking like a spare dick at all those nightmarish team building exercises. Not to mention every meal.”
“I agree. It sounds like a nightmare.” Rome loosens his tie and releases the top button of his shirt. “But you’re still going. You’re not staying home because of Julian.”
“Yes, Dad,” I drawl.
He snickers. “I didn’t know you wanted to call me daddy, too. You should’ve said something sooner.”
Rett chokes on a mouthful of beer as I fight the need to snarl. Rome is determined to get under my skin tonight and I won’t let him. At least not any further.
I refill my glass and return the bottle to the bucket with a hard shove of crunching ice. “If I ever call you daddy, please consider that a sign I’ve lost my mind and put me out of my misery asap.”
“Are you sure?” His voice lowers to a seductive purr. “I’d let you lean real close and whisper it right in my ear.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Rett chuckles. “Stop fucking with her.”
“We’re only messing around.” Rome takes a lazy mouthful of scotch, his eyes holding mine over the rim of the glass. “Aren’t we, little Pip?”
I ignore him because that ridiculously intense stare of his is doing stupid things to my pulse. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. Either way, this is a slippery slope.
I’m used to the banter and the teasing. Hell, witty repartee is the foundation of our relationship. But that look has never been part of our friendship before.
“Do you know what you should do?” Rett points at me with the mouth of his beer bottle. “Take Rome on the vacation with you. He could pretend to be your significant other and act as a buffer between you and Julian.”
Nope. No way. No thank you very much. “That’s another hard pass for me.”
“Why? He’d ensure there was never a dull moment.”
“Because she couldn’t handle me as a boyfriend,” Rome answers. “Not even if we were faking it.”
I raise a scolding brow. “I could handle you just fine.”
Rett scoffs.
“What?” I scowl. “I could. Rome lives for the ego boost he obtains from shocking women with his dirty little words and his over-exacerbated confidence. But I’ve already heard and seen it all before. I wouldn’t take the bait, so he wouldn’t get to play his games.”
“If I’m so easy to resist then maybe we should do this.” Rome’s eyes narrow as he places his glass on the coffee table, seeming fully invested. “What’s the harm?”
It’s not a question of resisting him. I spent a long time doing that when I was a teen.
It took two heartbreaking years to realize Rome wasn’t an option for me. That I couldn’t even remotely hold a candle to his wildfire appetite. And that I couldn’t risk losing him as a friend.
Rejecting this idea is about awkwardness. About how insanely weird it would be to have my best friend pretend to be my boyfriend.
“Thank you for the offer. But faking the flu is still a far more enjoyable option.” I swing my legs off the table and push to my feet. “I’m starving. Who else wants food?”
CHAPTER 2
Rome
I take another mouthful of scotch, holding the liquid against my tongue for the added burn as Piper escapes inside to the kitchen.
“That ex of hers is a piece of shit,” Rett mutters.
“I agree.” Not that I’ve liked any guy who’s had the slightest association with her.
“I want you to go with her on this weekend trip.”
I let the subtle demand sink in, my gaze intent on her through the floor-to-ceiling glass while she pulls open cupboards in search of food.
I should laugh him off. Release a snicker at the very least. If only the buzz of contemplation didn’t have me in a choke hold. “You’re not worried about the possible complications?” I meet his gaze, finding thinly veiled scrutiny staring back at me.
“What sort of complications?”
If she needs a boyfriend for the weekend, that’s exactly what I’d give her. “You know I don’t do things half-hearted.”
“Yeah…” he hedges. “But the whole boyfriend thing would be fake… Right?”
Would it?
I return my attention to the kitchen, too eager to eat up the sight of Piper’s tanned legs in that black pencil skirt. She’s long been a temptation to the eye. Her tight white blouse doesn’t help either. Or the hint of her lace bra beneath.
I’ve wanted her for a long time. Far too long for my pulse not to kick up a notch at the prospect of a weekend away as a happy couple. Fake or not.
“Rome?” Rett’s tone holds a hint of warning. “You’d be pretending, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then why are you suddenly looking at her like she’s a challenge?”
I’ve never not considered her that way. I’ve thought about making Piper mine for more years than I care to remember. “I’m merely pondering whether this idea could work.”
If this is the right time. If this opportunity is what I’ve been waiting for.
He falls quiet, the silence turning uncharacteristically awkward.
The three of us have been inseparable for as long as I can recall. And it needs to stay that way. But I’m not getting any younger. Thirty-one is too old to be pining over a woman who may or may not be ready for me.
“You know she had a thing for you in middle school.” Rett lowers his voice. “So acting like a boyfriend is one thing, but leading her on…”
“Jesus.” I throw back the remainder of my scotch. “I’d never do that. And middle school was a long fucking time ago.”
He leans forward, one elbow pressed against the arm rest of his chair. “So you’d go back to normal once you returned home?”
I could try. But it wouldn’t be easy after living through something that I’ve spent more than my fair share of nights thinking about.
“She’s not the no-strings type,” he adds.
I know. That’s where the issue lies. At least one of them.
She’s also as straitlaced as they come. No flings. No kinks. No perversions.
My polar opposite.
We’ve always been worlds apart yet side by side. I know what I want from a partner while she doesn’t have a clue what she can get from a man. Especially one like me.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something here?” Rett scoots his ass toward the edge of his seat, creeping closer. “What’s up with you?”
