PRAISE FOR RACHEL VAN DYKEN
“The Consequence of Loving Colton is a must-read friends-to-lovers story that’s as passionate and sexy as it is hilarious!”
—Melissa Foster, New York Times bestselling author
“Just when you think Van Dyken can’t possibly get any better, she goes and delivers The Consequence of Loving Colton. Full of longing and breathless moments, this is what romance is about.”
—Lauren Layne, USA Today bestselling author
“The tension between Milo and Colton made this story impossible to put down. Quick, sexy, witty—easily one of my favorite books from Rachel Van Dyken.”
—R. S. Grey, USA Today bestselling author
“Hot, funny . . . will leave you wishing you could get marked by one of the immortals!”
—Molly McAdams, New York Times bestselling author, on The Dark Ones
“Laugh-out-loud fun! Rachel Van Dyken is on my auto-buy list.”
—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author, on The Wager
“The Dare is a laugh-out-loud read that I could not put down. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
—Cathryn Fox, New York Times bestselling author
ALSO BY #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING
AUTHOR
RACHEL VAN DYKEN
Red Card
Risky Play
Liars, Inc.
Dirty Exes
Dangerous Exes
The Players Game Series
Fraternize
Infraction
The Consequence Series
The Consequence of Loving Colton
The Consequence of Revenge
The Consequence of Seduction
The Consequence of Rejection
The Wingmen Inc. Series
The Matchmaker’s Playbook
The Matchmaker’s Replacement
Curious Liaisons Series
Cheater
Cheater’s Regret
The Bet Series
The Bet
The Wager
The Dare
The Ruin Series
Ruin
Toxic
Fearless
Shame
The Eagle Elite Series
Elite
Elect
Enamor
Entice
Elicit
Bang Bang
Enforce
Ember
Elude
Empire
Enrage
Eulogy
Envy
The Seaside Series
Tear
Pull
Shatter
Forever
Fall
Eternal
Strung
Capture
The Renwick House Series
The Ugly Duckling Debutante
The Seduction of Sebastian St. James
An Unlikely Alliance
The Redemption of Lord Rawlings
The Devil Duke Takes a Bride
The London Fairy Tales Series
Upon a Midnight Dream
Whispered Music
The Wolf’s Pursuit
When Ash Falls
The Seasons of Paleo Series
Savage Winter
Feral Spring
The Wallflower Series (with Leah Sanders)
Waltzing with the Wallflower
Beguiling Bridget
Taming Wilde
The Dark Ones Saga
The Dark Ones
Untouchable Darkness
Dark Surrender
Darkest Temptation
Stand-Alones
Hurt: A Collection (with Kristin Vayden and Elyse Faber)
Rip
Compromising Kessen
Every Girl Does It
The Parting Gift (with Leah Sanders)
Divine Uprising
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 by Rachel Van Dyken
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Skyscape, New York
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542006606
ISBN-10: 1542006600
Cover design by Letitia Hasser
Cover photography by Wander Aguiar Photography
To my husband, who spent countless hours ordering takeout so I could finish this book. Love you, babe!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
MATT
“No,” I said firmly as my sister, Willow, tried to speak over me.
“But Matt, I—”
“No.” I yawned and stared out across the pier. Paradise. I lived in paradise. All the hard work, all the blood, sweat, tears, all the whiny athletes I represented and insane hours, it had all paid off, hadn’t it? I was living in a mansion overlooking the Puget Sound with my own infinity pool and hot tub just footsteps away from my master bedroom. I was happy.
I had everything.
A twinge of something hit me in the chest. I ignored it. The cool ocean breeze stung my face as my sister sighed on the other end of the phone like I was the one being unreasonable.
I loved the little pain in the ass.
She was smart.
Manipulative.
And almost impossible to say no to. Which was why I tried to keep her argument to a minimum; hell, I’d just say no until my voice went hoarse.
It was my fault. I’d been too protective of her when we were kids, and after our parents’ death I’d taken raising her almost too seriously. Making sure she knew right from wrong. I didn’t realize I was making a carbon copy of myself until she started showing interest in every single thing I did. I could at least be thankful it was the positive things like holding down a job and not doping to get ahead in the league.
I shuddered as guilt settled on my shoulders. Guilt that staying in the league had been so important I’d completely forgotten my morals.
My breath hitched as disappointment swiftly replaced that guilt, because on days like this, I did miss it. I rubbed my chest as an ache started to form dead center; I missed the crowd yelling my name. I’d been a good player, but I was a better agent.
“Matt.”
“Willow.”
“Tw
o chocolate cakes, one peanut-butter-fudge sundae, and Starbucks delivered to you every morning.”
My eye twitched. I’d officially created a monster. “Two weeks?”
“One.”
“I’m listening.” My mouth watered. Damn her for knowing every weakness I possessed and using it against me.
She took a deep breath. “I majored in business.”
I tried not to sound too annoyed at her obvious information dump. “I’m aware.”
“Stop interrupting me.”
“Sorry.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat on the edge of one of the wicker chairs as the breeze picked up around me. I had a million things I’d rather be doing than listening to my sister list all the reasons it was a good idea for her to join an agency and rep athletes.
“As I was saying,” she huffed, “I majored in business. I went to the school you chose for me because I trust you. I majored in something safe even though my heart wasn’t in it. I played soccer just like you, I graduated summa cum laude just like you—”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Yes!” She sounded like she wanted to reach through the phone and strangle me. “I’ve followed in your footsteps because I admire you—and I think if you look at it logically you’ll come to the same conclusion I have.”
“That I did everything better?” I wondered out loud.
“My ass,” she snorted. “You know I want to go into the family business—I want to manage athletes.”
“Ah, this again.”
“Yes, this again!”
I suppressed a sigh. I loved her, and I was so damn proud of the woman she’d turned into. My lack of enthusiasm had nothing to do with her abilities, and everything to do with the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Just the thought of her working around men who thought with their dicks at least 90 percent of the time had me ready to go to prison. Did I think she could handle it? Yes. Did imagining her working with any of the guys from the Bellevue Bucks still keep me up at night? Absolutely. She wasn’t just my family, she was my only family, and I wanted to protect her from guys who thought nothing about one-night stands and dropping millions on a boat just because they could afford to—not that boats were a bad thing, I just didn’t like guys who showed their worth with how much money they could spend.
Unable to hold it back any longer, I let out a frustrated sigh. “Willow.”
“Stop saying my name as if it’s going to calm me down. If anything, it just reminds me that you still treat me like a kid because the fact that I have boobs scares you!”
“I’m not scared of your boo—” I cut myself off because hadn’t I just been thinking along those lines? Why couldn’t I lock her in her room? Send her to Siberia? “Can we not talk about this now?”
“We’re talking about it now!” she said a little forcefully. “I want to do something I love, something competitive and exciting. It’s your fault I fell in love with sports in the first place. I want to learn from the person I love the most in this world.”
“Lay it on thicker and you’ll suffocate yourself, Will.”
She groaned. “My proposal is this: give me the summer to learn the ropes from your company. I swear I’ll be great! It’s impossible to get into this business without connections. You’re my connection! And once the summer ends, you either hire me, or I’ll look for something else.”
“Uh-huh.” I checked my watch and tried to ignore how sound her logic was, then checked my watch again. Damn, I was going to be late. “Look, you live in California, what are you going to do? Pack up all your shit, move here, and just . . . try it out? What if it doesn’t work? You realize this is a huge commitment. You’ll be around professional athletes who think their shit smells like roses. You have to be tough, you can’t be . . . you,” I coughed out. She was naturally flirtatious, and I could only imagine what some of my clients would think about that. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“I’ll prove myself,” she said in a small whisper. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, to be just like you.”
“Ah, she offers cake while a knife gets shoved into my back. Nice.” I let out a long sigh. I knew my reasons for saying no were purely out of fear, and maybe a little bit about her growing up too fast. “I’ll give you three months.”
“Yes!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. “One catch. I’m not letting you just . . . live in a crappy apartment with no security where any of the athletes can track you, or downtown near the party scene. If you commit to this and—”
She burst out laughing. “Matt, do you hear yourself? Why would a professional athlete follow me to my crappy apartment? They aren’t criminals! Or stalkers!”
I thought about some of my clients and winced. “Right . . .”
“Matt, be reasonable.”
“You’ll live here or the deal’s off.”
“Matt . . . I have a friend that’s moving up there too, we were going to live—”
“Look, I gotta go. I’m running really late, you got what you want, congratulations. Send me the details later. I’m not trying to be an ass. If you want the job bad enough, you’ll make it work.”
“But what about—”
“Your friend will be fine. I really need to go, Jagger’s waiting—”
“I mean I guess she could come with me.”
“Sure! Yup. Sounds good.” The clock was ticking in my head. There wasn’t enough time in the world to babysit another athlete hell-bent on ruining his own reputation. “Whatever.”
“Really?” she said.
What the hell was she talking about now? Was she still on the phone?
“Sure. Willow, I have to go. Love you, just put everything having to do with the move on the card, keep your receipts, and text me when you have details, yeah?”
“Matt, you’re the best, I can’t wait to tell—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, love you!”
I hung up and ran into my living room just in time to hear the doorbell. The door opened a few moments later.
“Yes, please, come in.” I waved my arm in the air. “Jagger, you need to learn about boundaries, personal space . . .” I eyed his orange joggers. “Fashion . . .”
He rolled his eyes. “This is from one of my sponsors. I have to wear this shit so they pay me so I can pay you.” He grinned.
“If I go blind from those pants I want a raise.”
He flipped me off in typical Jagger style. The guy was one of soccer’s highest-paid goalies and talked a lot of shit, but he did a good job taking it as well. He’d recently gotten into a verbal altercation with another player. As luck would have it, he was shoved into the ref and accidently gave him a black eye.
The video went viral.
It was his third viral video this year. He kept going viral for all the wrong reasons.
Keeping Jagger out of the news was an art.
Like swimming through shark-infested waters with a flesh wound . . . and surviving.
“So.” Jagger plopped down onto my couch, taking up double the space needed to sit like a normal person. “What’s the plan?”
I had opened my mouth to reply when the doorbell rang again.
The door opened before it stopped ringing.
Slade Rodriguez, best striker in the world, yawned and made his way toward Jagger.
“Why ring the doorbell if you never give me a chance to answer it?” I said louder than necessary.
Slade grinned. “Saw Jagger’s car, figured he already made sure you weren’t in your kitchen naked again.”
I glared. “One time. And when a man lives by himself—”
“He tends to dance naked to John Legend?” Slade said while Jagger choked out a laugh.
I greedily started searching for my painkillers. With my luck, these two were going to give me a stomach ulcer at age thirty.
“Think he’s already searching for ibuprofen?” Jagger whispered.
“It’s all a front. We don’t really bother him that mu
ch,” Slade offered in a hushed tone. “Besides, he’d be bored without us.”
“Actually . . .” I found a glass of water and threw back the pills in a big gulp. “The headache started when Willow called and wore me down to the point of complete exhaustion. She should have been a lawyer.”
At my sister’s name Jagger’s eyes lit up. “Is this the hot one?”
“He only has one sister, dumbass.” Slade laughed. “And she’s really pretty, don’t you think, Matt?”
I shook my head in dismay. Damn it, Slade had thrown me under the bus. I couldn’t not compliment my own sister, but commenting on her just drew more attention to the fact that the woman could be a supermodel if she wanted. She wasn’t even here and already I was breaking out in a cold sweat thinking about all the testosterone she’d be around on a daily basis. I had two female clients, the rest were men.
Slade I didn’t worry about, he was in love. He was married.
Jagger, however, was single.
And ever since Slade had cleaned up his act, Jagger had just gotten worse, fighting with other players, sleeping around with girls who had big mouths and dollar signs in their eyes. His actions were either a cry for help or this was just who he was.
“She’s . . . beautiful.” I settled on beautiful because pretty sounded too interesting, hot sounded weird, and sexy, well, no, just no. “And completely off-limits—Jagger.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s not my fault women come at me with their mouths open and shirts off—I call it the Jag effect.”
“Something’s wrong with you”—I narrowed my eyes at him—“besides the obvious character flaws the media seems to be gnawing on like a fucking bone.” I loved the guy. I did. I’d been friends with him for years, but putting out his fires was getting exhausting.
“Oh, that’s why I’m here.” Slade raised his hand. “I figured we could do another charity game or something and put Jagger back in the spotlight in a positive way that helps the community.” He grinned like he’d just gotten an A for awesome.
“Riiiight, let’s just put the Jag effect out there for all to see and record and upload to YouTube . . .” I scowled. Even though that plan had worked before, we needed a different angle this time, and nothing screamed “good guy” more than family, and I knew just the woman to keep him in line. “You’re taking your grandma to dinner.”
Jagger paled, and Slade almost fell off the couch laughing.
“Anything but that,” Jagger pleaded. “Look, I’ll go paint houses, I’ll build a fucking school!”