Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Read online

  Play You

  Rebel Ink #4

  Tracy Lorraine

  Copyright © 2020 by Tracy Lorraine

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  Editing by Pinpoint Editing

  Proofreading by Sisters Get Lit.erary

  Photographer Wander Aguair

  Model Jonny James

  Contents

  Note

  Prologue

  1. Dawson

  2. Piper

  3. Dawson

  4. Piper

  5. Dawson

  6. Piper

  7. Dawson

  8. Piper

  9. Dawson

  10. Piper

  11. Dawson

  12. Piper

  13. Dawson

  14. Piper

  15. Dawson

  16. Piper

  17. Dawson

  18. Piper

  19. Dawson

  20. Piper

  21. Dawson

  22. Piper

  23. Dawson

  24. Piper

  25. Dawson

  26. Piper

  27. Dawson

  28. Piper

  29. Dawson

  30. Piper

  31. Dawson

  32. Piper

  33. Dawson

  34. Piper

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Tracy Lorraine

  About the Author

  INKED Sneak Peek

  INKED

  INKED

  Note

  Play You is written in British English and contains British spelling and grammar. This may appear incorrect to some readers when compared to US English books.

  Tracy xo

  Andy and Amelia x

  Prologue

  Dawson

  Five years ago...

  "Stop that, you've already done enough today," Gran says, coming to a stop beside me and resting her cool hand on my forearm, halting me from clearing up any more of the abandoned glasses scattered around her living area.

  "It's okay. I don't want to leave you with all this."

  She lets out a sad sigh. Today has been hard enough on her as it is; the last thing she needs is to be alone to clear up the mess left by all the people who came back here for my grandad's wake.

  "Please, just go and sit down. I'll make you a cup of tea."

  "Dawson, you don't—" I pin her with a look that cuts off what she was about to say. "Okay, I'll be in the summer room."

  With her shoulders slumped in defeat, she heads toward her favourite room in the house.

  My heart aches for her. She's lost her best friend, and although she had many people here with her today to celebrate his life, I was the only member of our family.

  I wish I could do more, but I think we’ve been broken for too long now to try to fix it.

  I put the kettle on and fish out her favourite teapot and cup we'd kept hidden in the cupboard, as well as some shortbread biscuits. I place everything on a tray with a bowl of sugar cubes and carry it through to her.

  I find her staring out at my grandad's beloved roses with her eyes full of unshed tears.

  "He'd have liked today," I say softly as I place the tray down on the table in front of her.

  "He would," she agrees. "Thank you, Dawson. You're a good boy."

  I smile at her. Only my gran could call me, a twenty-nine-year-old man who's covered in ink and rocking a beard, a good boy.

  "I just wish—"

  "Please, don't. I can't think about that right now."

  I nod, giving her what she needs. But it doesn't stop me wishing that she had at least tried to reach out to my mum. I know it's been over thirty years, but it wasn't just Gran who lost someone she loved. My mum lost her dad. It might have been the perfect time to reconnect—or at least attempt to bridge the gap.

  "I need... I need to talk to you about something," she says after pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot and adding one sugar cube and the perfect splash of milk.

  "Okay, I'm listening," I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, sensing she's about to tell me something important.

  "Your grandad's will."

  "Gran, you don't need to do this. Not now. It's not important."

  "It is," she says firmly, the tears and sadness of the day giving way to the strong and independent woman I'm more used to. Gran might have spent her life as a housewife, but you'd be a fool to think that's all there is to her. She's a force to be reckoned with. Hence, why my mother never fought all those years ago.

  I nod, letting her say what she needs to.

  "He's left everything to you."

  My chin drops. "I-I'm sorry. What was that?"

  She sighs, probably trying to refrain from correcting my English.

  "After... everything, we'd both written your mother out of our wills. Your brother too. You're our family, Dawson. You're the only one who understood our decision but fought your way through anyway. It belongs to you."

  "N-no. It belongs to you. You're his wife, it should be yours."

  "Oh, my boy," she says, taking a sip. "I have more than enough for my last few years. You don't need to worry about me."

  I'm not surprised by her words. It's no secret that my grandparents are very wealthy. The size of the house we're currently in is evidence enough. But their money was never the reason I reached out to them all those years ago.

  The reason was Emmie. My daughter.

  Thanks to the feud between my mother and grandparents, I'd grown up without them. I wasn't allowing them to miss out on anything with Emmie. I knew the second I turned up and saw the wide smile on my gran's face that I'd done the right thing. She's doted on Emmie ever since.

  "There's one stipulation."

  "Oh?" I ask, my brows lifting in curiosity. My grandad was... quirky. She could be about to say anything.

  "The inheritance will only be released once you're engaged."

  "Engaged?" I ask, frown lines forming on my brow. "Why?"

  My gran and grandad's traditional views aren't news to me. I guess I should have seen something like this coming. They didn't agree with my mother's choices, and although they love Emmie with all their hearts, they're not happy that her mum and I aren't together and that we had her out of wedlock. I guess this is their weird attempt to get me to do it right the next time around.

  They're missing something, though. I'm not money-orientated, and this isn't going to make me move any faster in terms of settling down. I've only been in love once, and after the way that ended and the pain it caused, I'm not sure I'm really willing to give all of that another shot. Being single with a few regular hook-ups when I'm feeling lonely is much simpler.

  No promises, no commitment, and most importantly, no broken hearts when it all comes crashing down around our feet.

  "We just want to see you happy, Dawson."

  "I can be happy, single, you know."

  She sighs, sadness washing over her. "Your grandad was my best friend. Meeting him, creating a life with him, it was…" She stifles a sob. "It was everything. I want that for you. I want you to find your soulmate and create a life together."

  "And you think the offer of money will make that happen quicker?"

  "Consider it encouragement."

  I laugh at her. I want to tell her their actions are misguided, but I can't. Hope
fills her teary eyes and all I can do is thank her.

  "Can I just ask one thing?"

  "Sure, Gran."

  "Try to make it happen while I'm still around. I'd love to see you get married."

  Reaching over, I take her hand in mine. "I'll see what I can do."

  1

  Dawson

  "Emmie," I call up the stairs, "we need to leave. Now."

  Reaching up, I run my hand through my hair as my frustration at my defiant teen begins to get the better of me.

  One of the clauses of her coming to live with me was that she enrolled in sixth form. I wasn't having her move in here and dossing around. She had to finish her education, and that was the end of the discussion.

  She needs it. Her results two weeks ago didn't exactly fill me with joy. It’s time to sort her out and ensure she has some prospects for the future—a few more than her mum was providing her with, at least.

  "Emmie," I bark once more before her bedroom door finally opens and her footsteps head my way.

  Her legs appear at the top of the stairs, and my teeth start to grind as her ripped jeans and biker boots come into view.

  She might be her father’s daughter as far as her dress sense goes, but it’s not exactly appropriate for where we're going.

  "Whoa, you going to a funeral or something, old man?"

  "No, I'm taking you for an interview. I suggest you get back up those stairs and get changed. I can see your bra, Em."

  "It's just sixth form. No one cares."

  My fists curl in frustration. "Where we’re going, they will care."

  "And where are we going exactly? You've been a little too secretive about this for my liking."

  "For a very good reason. Now go and find a pair of trousers that don't have more rips than fabric and a top that doesn't show what you've grown beneath."

  "Jesus, you're such a prude."

  "I am not—" She cuts me a look that has my words faltering. "You're my baby girl. I'm sorry if I want you to dress appropriately. Now, will you please go change?"

  "Ugh," she sasses, moving toward the stairs again. "But only because you asked so nicely."

  She stomps back up, huffing as she goes just to nail home how unhappy she is about this.

  "Be quick. We're already late."

  Fifteen minutes later than I wanted, Emmie finally climbs onto the back of my bike and we set off.

  I fly us through the city in record time. I had to pull some serious strings in order for her to even be considered, so the last thing we need is to be late.

  As we approach the entrance to the school, Emmie's grip around my stomach tightens. I can imagine how her face looks right now, and I can't help but smile.

  I kill the engine and lower the stand to allow her off.

  "What the actual hell, Dad?" she seethes the second her helmet is off her head. "I can’t go to school here." She waves her arm to the huge, elaborate building behind.

  "You can and you will." I lock our helmets in the bike before taking a step toward the entrance. "You coming?"

  "No." She stomps her foot to the ground like a toddler about to have a tantrum.

  "Okay, I'll just guess what classes you want to do then."

  I take off, leaving her sulking behind me.

  I start counting in my head and can't help smiling to myself when I hear her feet against the gravel after only three.

  "I'm not happy about this," she mutters once she's caught up with me.

  "I know."

  "I don't belong in a place like this," she murmurs to herself as I pull open the huge door that leads us into the reception.

  "That's all in your head, Em. You're as worthy as anyone else here."

  "Sure, you keep telling yourself that, old man. Just one question..."

  "Shoot."

  "How exactly are you planning on paying for this? You do know you have to pay, like, thousands a term for a place like this, right?"

  "Yes, smart arse. I'm aware."

  "I wasn't aware that you're a secret millionaire."

  "Let me worry about that. You just need to get in and come out the other side with some decent grades and a bright future ahead of you."

  “Yeah, so you've said. You're starting to sound like a broken record."

  "Don't care. I'm not allowing you to have a life without options. And this place will give you the most, so suck it up and plaster a smile on your face."

  She rolls her eyes at me but continues forward beside me as I walk up to the immaculately dressed lady sitting at reception.

  "Good morning, sir." Her eyes linger on my face for a second too long before she looks at Emmie. I have no idea what she sees on my daughter’s face—probably a scowl—but her eyes widen slightly. "How may I help you?"

  "We've got an appointment this morning for Emmie Ramsey about her enrolling."

  "Okay, great. Mr. Davenport is actually in an urgent meeting right now, so Miss Hill will be meeting with you. If you can both take a seat, I'll let her know you're here."

  "I can't believe you actually think this is a good idea,” Emmie sulks the second we sit down.

  "I warned you that living with me came with conditions."

  "Yeah, I thought you meant a curfew or something, not that I'd have to attend a posh school. You know everyone will hate me here, right?"

  "You won't be here to be liked, Em. You're here for your future."

  "Jeez, could you sound any more like a father?" She rolls her eyes at me so hard I can't help but wonder if it hurt.

  "Just doing my job, baby."

  "Really?" she snaps, narrowing her eyes at me.

  "Just trust me, yeah?"

  "We'll see."

  My phone pings in my pocket and I quickly pull it out to silence it before we go into this meeting. Unfortunately, the woman we're about to meet walks toward us as I'm distracted.

  "Emmie Ramsey?" she asks, her soft voice ringing in my ears and sending shivers down my spine.

  That voice.

  Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I look at the woman standing before us. Her body is encased in a red wrap dress, the top half covered in a fitted black blazer. Her blonde hair is hanging straight around her shoulders and her face...

  Holy

  Fucking

  Shit

  "Piper," I breathe. It's so quiet that I don't think either of them hear me as Emmie stands to greet her.

  "Hi, I'm Miss Hill, I'm the Student Welfare Director here at Knight's Ridge College. Would you like to follow me, and we can discuss your enrolment here?"

  Emmie stands while my eyes are still locked on Piper.

  Why is she here?

  How is she here?

  And why is she called Miss Hill?

  Her name is Piper Collins, and I thought she was… fuck.

  "Mr. Ramsey," she says, turning her violet eyes on me. The second I look into them, it's like someone takes a baseball bat to my chest.

  As our connection holds, it's like the years just fall away again. Suddenly, I'm eighteen years old, staring into the eyes of the girl who's been the only one to ever hold my heart in her hands.

  My chest constricts as I fight to drag in the air I need. My head spins as memories hit me.

  I remember standing on the street and watching the house burn. I remember my father telling me to look closely because that's what happens when someone crosses us. I remember him telling me that he'd had it confirmed that all three of them were already taken care of before the fire started. It didn't matter on that day that she'd betrayed me; the girl I loved more than anything had burned in that house, and I'd never get to hear her beg me for forgiveness after using me the way she did.

  No one messes with the Royal Reapers and gets away with it. I hear my father's voice as if it were only yesterday.

  That was the day I decided that the lifestyle I'd been brought up in wasn't for me. It was that day I watched my father's hope of me following in his footsteps die when I handed him my cut and walked away
. If he wanted one of his sons to take over one day, then he was going to need to look to Cruz, my younger brother.

  "We're just down here." She points down the hallway and takes a step in that direction.

  "Dad, are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

  Yeah, because I have.

  "I'm good. Let's go and get you in here, yeah?"

  I stand and follow my daughter down the hallway, but my eyes don’t leave her back.

  Miss Hill...

  I think Miss Hill and I have plenty to discuss.

  2

  Piper

  "Hey, your appointment is here," Lisa says, poking her head into my office.

  "Okay, great."

  "I'd sound a little more enthusiastic if I were about to sit opposite this guy. He is fine with a capital F."

  "Oh yeah?" I ask, knowing that Lisa isn't exactly choosy when it comes to men.

  "Yeah, and there's no woman. I'm thinking... rich, hot single dad who's looking for a good time."

  "You're insufferable, you know that, right?" I ask with a laugh.

  "It's been two weeks, Piper. Two freaking weeks. I'm dying over here."

  I shake my head at her as I reach for my lip gloss.

  "I don't know how you survive," I mutter. I might have had it more recently, but I can't say it was anything to write home about. In fact, I'd say it wasn't worth wasting my time with, but it's all I've got right now and I refuse to play the Tinder game as Lisa does. I'd much rather have a bad experience than meet a serial killer who'll off me in my sleep. I’ve already dodged that bullet once in my life. I don’t need a repeat.