Scoring Chance Read online

  She embraced him. Her body shivered with delight as she felt him pressed against her. He comforted her like an old lover and promised to take care of her – and them – without saying too much. “How do you deal with my immature ass?”

  “PS4 and beer,” he laughed before he kissed her temple, “you’re a drama queen but you’re my only queen and I want to be with you forever, Syd.”

  She fisted his soft cotton shirt in her hands as he pressed his muscular body against hers. God, he felt so amazing. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, protecting her from all harm.

  She felt his warm breath on her neck as his thumbs circled her waist. She was a fool thinking he could be replaced with anyone and no one could compare. His deep voice vibrated against her earlobe and all Sydney could do was think about how much she’d missed him moaning in her ear. “Dean…” His name came out like a breathless whisper.

  “Shhh…” He softly kissed her cheek, nuzzling his beard against her skin. He’d missed nuzzling against her from behind and looked forward to doing it again. “We’ll go slow this time and at your pace. I jumped the gun and moved you in, proposed to you too soon, and I just want us to have fun with each other with no hangups. I want you to fully concentrate on your art and once things slow down, we’ll go back to planning for the wedding. I don’t want to be a distraction in your life ever again.”

  It was a miracle from God that Sydney maintained her composure before Dean. As she felt his lips skim across her jawline, Sydney became hungry for him. She looked up and swept her lips across his as Dean returned the favor. He gently moved his tongue inside, letting him drink from her; exploring the sweetness of her mouth.

  She softly moaned as they slowly continued. His lips were soft and perfect like she’d remembered. His tongue was eager yet gentle. Dean showed powerful restraint while Sydney felt like she barely hung on. Breathless moans escaped her mouth and her body wound up like a clock.

  Every emotion she’d ever felt for the man standing in front of her, slammed into her like a Mack truck. Joy, relief, arousal, and happiness. The most important one, however, made a strong debut:

  Love.

  It comforted her like a worn blanket on a cold winter’s night. His hands and lips protected her from harm. The tension once held between her shoulders had evaporated and replaced with sudden and permanent euphoria.

  She hated how much she loved him, as if she would never find a love like that again. She hated how much she needed him, like if he was her air.

  She needed his touch. His love. His…everything.

  Sydney also knew they needed to wait. No more rushing into bed. No more immature arguments about little things. They needed to work on themselves and for each other.

  She finally pulled back from him as he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re my greatest distraction.” She whispered.

  Two

  Sydney and Dean arrived in Vegas around three-thirty and headed to their room at the Wynn hotel. Though they had requested separate sleeping arrangements, Sarah and Jameson insisted they stay in a suite together. It’s big enough for the two of you! Sarah exclaimed. You won’t get in each other’s hair!

  “Despite the trickery of our friends,” Dean began as they entered the suite, “this is very nice.”

  Sydney looked around the executive suite and was blown away by the extravagance. Plush, white sofas. Floor-to-ceiling windows, wet bar, and a large kitchen graced her upon entry. The king-sized bed was just mere feet from the living room where she could watch TV in bed if she wanted.

  “This is amazing!” She dropped her bags and ran to the window. She could see all of Las Vegas and beyond. “This view is just so incredible!”

  Dean walked up to Sydney and snaked an arm around her waist. He softly kissed her neck and inhaled her scent. She smelled like vanilla, sandalwood, and grapefruit. Suddenly, Dean became hungry for both food and Sydney. “It’s more incredible with you in front of it.”

  Sydney fell back into her boyfriend’s arms. That was where she belonged. It was where she needed to be. Just as she became comfortable, she stiffened and Dean noticed the change. “Is everything okay?” He asked.

  It occurred to Sydney it was just a single hotel room suite. There was no other bedroom. “So, we’ll share the bed?” She pointed.

  “Oh. Hmm…” Dean looked around. “I’ll get the sofa and you take the bed.” He smiled at her. “Cool?”

  Not really. Sydney hoped the impromptu makeout session at Stateline meant a new beginning. Dean said he wanted to take things slow but she didn’t realize it was a tortoise versus the hare pace. “Sure,” she forced a grin, “why don’t you go shower first and then I’ll take one once you’re done.”

  Dean wanted to ask if she wanted to join him but held onto the thought. They were taking things slow and they both agreed it was best. He wished he acted on his first impulse and fucked her on the Stateline by the side of the road.

  No. She was not a floozy he’d have some fun with. She was his future wife and mother of his to-be-conceived children. They would go slow as they agreed, even if it mean his forearms were going to work overtime. “Sure,” he gathered his toiletries and headed to the bathroom.

  Once Sydney heard the shower turn on, she placed an important phone call. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “My Sydney Rose,” Ian Ferguson’s baritone boomed over the phone, “how are you today?”

  “I’m doing wonderful. Just real quick, I can’t be on the phone very long but I wanted to say thank you for Dean. We’re together right now in Vegas.”

  “Vegas?” Ian asked. “What’s in Vegas?”

  “Long story short, our best friends are getting married to each other. We had no idea they were even dating.” Sydney chuckled. “So yeah, impromptu wedding time.”

  “Well, give my congratulations to the happy couple,” Ian replied.

  “I will. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about…” Sydney looked around to make sure Dean couldn’t hear her. “I want Dean to be let back on the Ferguson property for my shows.”

  “Not a problem,” Ian wrote it down, “anything else?”

  “Yeah, there is.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate everything you’ve done and you’ve helped me out in more ways than one, but I think it’s time I handle my personal life on my own.”

  There was a small silence between the pair before Ian spoke again. “Consider it done.”

  “Great!” Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all really.”

  “Good. Let me know when you’re back in town so we can have lunch and talk about other things regarding your show. Have a great trip, Sydney. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up.

  Sydney smiled before she tossed the phone aside. “That wasn’t so bad after all!” She crawled onto the bed and laid on it. She was in town for her best friend’s wedding and she was in the process of reconciling with her ex without anyone’s influence. “This is turning out great! Nothing could go wrong now!”

  ~~~~~

  Ian stared out into an empty space once he hung up the phone. He knew once he sent Dean to visit Sydney at the park, a reconciliation would inevitably happen. He was sincerely happy for the pair. Sydney seemed happier and in turn, her artwork would better and more reflective of her current state.

  Now, it became a task of keeping her that way.

  Sydney had a rare talent Ian hadn’t seen in a long time. She could work with paint, markers, and aerosol sprays. She was a master with oils and even some watercolors, though she preferred not to work with them often.

  She often drew wearing a bikini or naked, wanting to feel as free as her art, and found clothing too restricting when she was trying to concentrate. Her art was inspired by Black Lives Matter, pop culture, her love of music, and being a hopeless romantic.

  Ian saw big things for Sydney. She was this generation’s Warhol, Haring, and Basquiat. She was going to travel the world, become a millionaire in her own right, and her name
would be attached to her art, and not to Dean.

  Ian felt his temper rise again thinking of the younger man.

  Dean was already considered a hockey legend, though he’d often downplayed that role. Every season, sports commentators wondered what new records and goals he was going to break. He recently agreed to a hefty endorsement deal with Nike – a staggering $300 million – that would guarantee him to be set for life once his hockey days were over.

  His gorgeous model looks filled the SportsCenter arena with many fangirls as well as small children who were eager to show off their favorite player in a similar jersey. Male fans loved how down-to-earth he was and was just of one of the guys. As part owner of the Kings Dean played for, Ian couldn’t be happier with that news.

  It was the other news that made Ian very upset.

  He didn’t know if Dean revealed everything to Sydney but judging by her happy demeanor over the phone, it seemed she was still in the dark. Ian felt a small rage bubbling inside him and blew a small breath to quiet it.

  Dean slept someone else during the break with Sydney; that wasn’t the issue, nor was it a surprise. It was who he slept with and how often that became problematic.

  As Ian glanced at the pristine black and white photos that showed Dean and his ex-girlfriend, reality star Rebecca MacDonald, in a plethora of sexual positions over the course of an entire week, Ian had another issue on his hands:

  How much was it going to cost to make sure Rebecca didn’t go public?

  Three

  “I can’t believe Sydney and Dean are done,” Sarah began as she snuggled against her boyfriend. “Maybe it’s best they’re apart.”

  “I think so. They’re really young mentally so they have a lot to work out,” Jameson agreed, “but you’re right. Sydney chose Ian instead of Dean and he can’t compete with that.”

  “Sydney chose Ian?” Sarah turned to him. “Well, if it wasn’t for your best friend, they would still be together.”

  “Ian got into Sydney’s head before Dean had a chance,” Jameson defended. “She’s easily manipulated.”

  “Excuse you?” Sarah challenged. “If it wasn’t for your best friend and his damn insecurities, they would still be together.”

  “Well, maybe if your best friend listened to my best friend about his feelings, then maybe, they would still be together.” Jameson shot back.

  “Oh, so it’s the girl’s fault?” Sarah scoffed. “You men slay me with your bullshit. A woman can be completely innocent but when a man messes up, it’s immediately her fault!”

  “Sydney’s completely innocent?” Jameson chuckled. “She did everything but sleep with Ian, but don’t you worry, I’m sure she’s doing that right now.”

  “Hey, there’s no evidence of her doing anything wrong,” Sarah defended her best friend, “I can’t say the same for the simp you call a best friend.”

  “My best friend is a simp, all right.” Jameson nodded. “And maybe he was simp for the wrong woman.”

  “Maybe my best friend fell in love with the wrong piece of dick,” Sarah sharply retorted.

  “Maybe my best friend wouldn’t have been a dick if his fiancée wasn’t too busy looking at another!”

  Sarah harrumphed. “You are such a damn spoon.”

  “And another thing…” Jameson stopped once he realized the insult Sarah gave him. “…spoon?”

  “My great-grandmother was a Scot. If she called you a spoon, it meant you were too simple and stupid to be trusted with a fork or knife. You might hurt yourself.” Sarah grinned. “Bless your heart.”

  Jameson’s fists curled up into tight balls and his heart pounded through his chest. “That’s it!” He rushed over to Sarah and crushed his lips upon hers after he slammed her against the wall.

  His lips went everywhere on her body – her neck, her chest and he softly kissed her décolletage. His hands explored her thick waist, reaching back to her behind where he firmly grabbed it.

  “I hate that fighting with you is such a turn-on,” Jameson barely pulled his mouth away before he spoke.

  “We need to fight more often,” Sarah breathed.

  Jameson stepped back and tried in vain to catch his breath. “We need to get married.”

  “Well, we are,” Sarah breathed, “soon.”

  “This weekend,” Jameson nodded.

  Sarah quieted her breathing and looked dead into her boyfriend’s eyes. “What?”

  “Sarah, I want to make love to you but I refuse unless we’re married,” Jameson walked back to her and cupped her face, “I don’t want to piss God off.”

  “I’m pretty sure if you got in between my legs and give me your third one, God wouldn’t mind that at all,” she replied, “in fact, I think he’ll give you a thumbs up and maybe a hi-five for such a good job.”

  “Sarah, I’m serious.” He led her back to the sofa and sat. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want us to date forever and then decide to get married. I want to do it the right way. We can have the big wedding later. I want to make you my wife now.”

  Sarah swallowed. She loved that man. She loved everything about him. And now he wanted to make her his – forever. “What about your fortune?”

  “Our fortune,” he corrected, “what’s mine is yours.”

  “What about my life in San Francisco?”

  “You want to stay there?” He asked. “We’ll have a home there and a home here in L.A.”

  Sarah thought about all of her options. “I have a cat and so do you. They probably won’t get along.”

  “They’ll have separate bedrooms.” Jameson smiled. “What do you say?” He got down on one knee. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Sarah felt her eyes water. “Hell, yeah!”

  Jameson smiled as the memory faded. “And that’s how we’re here.”

  Dean blinked as he soaked up all of the information. “Wow.”

  “Yo, pour my man a glass of Moet and don’t be stingy with the Moet,” Jameson ordered to a younger, scrawny-built man, “you do that and I’ll give you a fat tip, and not a fat lip. Get!”

  Dean glanced around as he watched many workers scrambling to get Jameson’s day ready. They were in the executive suite of the Wynn hotel and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. A wedding planner was on the phone, barking orders. A manicurist set up her table nearby. A private chef laid a gorgeous display of cheeses and wines for everyone.

  “What is all this?” Dean asked. “I get a call you’re getting married and I need to rush to Vegas? What’s up with that?”

  “I didn’t want to date for years and years, wondering when the right time was. She’s the air I breathe, the light to my fire.” Marcello “Jameson” De Luca fixed his bowtie but decided to not wear it after all. He decided an open collar look was best. His nickname was Jameson because it was his favorite drink. “So, why wait?”

  “But it’s so soon?” Dean asked. “I mean, you’ve only known each other three months.”

  “So?” Jameson asked. “You asked Sydney to move in with you after three.”

  Dean wanted to retort but couldn’t. He moved equally fast. “You caught me.”

  “Dude, why wait?” Jameson snapped his fingers and pointed over to Dean. The assistants immediately began to work on Dean’s suit. “If it’s right, it’s right.”

  “Okay, but your wealth, though?” Dean asked. Jameson’s family fortune was in the billions.

  “Whatever my queen wants, she can have.” Jameson replied. “Money comes and goes. A love like this only comes once.”

  Dean listened to what his teammate had to say. Jameson was always wise beyond his years so it didn’t surprise Dean he had such an approach to relationships. “That’s awesome, man.”

  “But I know you didn’t come here alone,” Jameson sat back into his chair while a barber worked on his beard, “how’s Syd?”

  “Sydney is great, man. We’re in the process of reconciling now.” Dean paused. “There’s an issue, though
.”

  “What issue is there?” Jameson shrugged. “You love her, she loves you, you two are young and immature enough to grow with each other. What issue do you have?”

  “She knows I was with someone else on our break,” Dean began, “she doesn’t know it was with Rebecca.”

  Jameson tightened his lips. “That could be an issue, yes.”

  ~~~~~

  “I never thought I would be getting married before you,” Sarah remained as seamstress snapped buttons on her wedding dress. She went for an A-line white cocktail dress and blue Christian Dior suede pumps. She opted not to have a veil and instead, a large white flower in her hair. “The universe is someone’s bitch.”

  “Well, hey, I’m happy for you!” Sydney kept still as another seamstress worked on her dress. She wore the same thing as Sarah, except in purple. “Marcello is a really sweet guy and I think you two will have a wonderful marriage!”

  “That’s nice and all, but I don’t care,” Sarah deadpanned and Sydney’s eyes widened, “no, not about that. I care about that. I want to know what’s going on in the Days of Sydney’s and Dean’s Lives. You two have more drama than Roman and Marlena.”

  “We came here together,” Sydney admitted, “and we’re committed to working things out. We had a nice long talk on the way here and Dean accepts Ian is my manager, though he’s not too thrilled about it. But he’s also no longer threatened by him.”

  “He shouldn’t have been, anyway,” Sarah shrugged, “Ian cares more about your art than your relationship.”

  “And he’s made that evidently clear,” Sydney replied, “but the show is in a few weeks so maybe I can convince Ian to let Dean back on the Ferguson property.”

  “He will. If he wants to keep his number one artist happy, he will. What about the loft? Are you going to stay there?”

  “For now, yes.” Sydney waited for the makeup artist to finish applying her lip color. “Dean’s going to buy it off Ian and give it to me so I can be on the deed.”