Take a Chance on Me

By Jaqueline Snowe

Kate Zell and Brody Carlson have been best friends since elementary school. Their relationship had always been easy. Both of them loyal to a fault, they had been there for each other through everything: heartbreaks, hangovers, and tragedy. So when Kate needs a place to stay for three months, Brody doesn’t think twice about agreeing. After all, they had known each other forever. What could go wrong living with his closest and oldest friend?

Apparently, everything. Three months in a small apartment becomes more than complicated. Brody shouldn’t be attracted to his dorky best friend…he most definitely shouldn’t. That would be absurd. She’s a relationship girl and he’s more a one-night-sans-clothes kind of guy.

One drunken dare of strip poker changes everything. Suddenly, two people with too much to lose play a dangerous game. The unapologetic playboy and the girl-next-door have a choice to make, if only their pasts didn’t keep getting in the way of their future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094436289

Jaqueline Snowe

Jaqueline Snowe lives in Arizona where the ‘dry heat’ really isn’t that bad. She enjoys making lists with colorful Post-it notes and sipping coffee all day. She has been a custodian, a waitress, a landscaper, a coach and a teacher. Her life revolves around binge-watching Netflix, her two dogs who don’t realize they aren’t humans and her wonderful baseball-loving husband.

Book preview

Chapter One

Kate

If I miss my flight, I’m gonna punch a wall. No; a vending machine. Big, smug fuckers. Yeah, smash my fist right through to all those stupid chips and candies and— Get the hell out of my way!

I hurtled through the terminal, beyond desperate to get to the counter. Five minutes since they’d announced my final boarding call, and I’d been praying something fierce every second since. I could not miss this flight, not when my dream job started the next day. "A three-month trial run that could end up a permanent gig with a major-league baseball team—I have a chance in a million, here, people!" If I could’ve gotten to the PA, I’d have yelled it.

But first, I had to make this damn flight, something that was looking more impossible by the second. Sweat dripped down my back, my gray cotton shirt no-doubt boasting unsightly stains. Then the counter shone at me in the distance—and the door was still open. Yes!

Wait! Please!

A group of strangers gave me odd looks as I sprinted, hair flying everywhere, suitcase wobbling dangerously and squeaking loudly behind me. I would never see these people again in my life, so I shoved shame away. My mission, and yeah, I’d chosen to accept it—get on the fucking plane.

Excuse me. I’m on this flight! I panted, doubled over and clutching my side. "I’m so sorry I’m late. Terrible accident. We had to take a longer route. I’m normally early, I promise."

Boarding pass, miss. The middle-aged flight attendant narrowed her eyes at me. I knew I came off as a crazy person, but I was no threat to the plane. I scoffed at my thought, which didn’t help my case, not when her eyes almost flatlined in response. You arrived with seconds to spare.

Thank you! I about hugged her, but I didn’t want to frighten her any more. Thank you so much!

I scuttled past her with my carry-on and lurched down the ramp to search out my seat, my chest heaving as I tried to take in more oxygen. Questioning gazes followed me as I peered around. Oh great, middle seat next to a senior citizen. One who gave my wrecked appearance a stiff nod. I shoved my suitcase into the overhead bin, more hair shaking loose from my ruined ponytail and more sweat dripping into my eyes with the heave and strain. Just great. I buckled in with my laptop and phone ready to go, the thudding in my chest subsiding and the burning heat in my cheeks cooling a little. If I wanted to earn a position with the Phoenix Diablos, I needed to get started. No time to waste, not after last week’s graduation celebrations. I cringed, rubbing my temples. Epic parties, but I’d wasted time. Shame on me.

I sighed, stretched, powered on, and paid the ridiculously high fee to use the internet for the four-hour flight. I pulled up my email, needing to find the job description so I could hammer out a plan for each bullet point. I so need to wow and impress. Social media and communication jobs were hard to come by, let alone with the baseball team of my hometown. The familiar ping went off, and I forced myself not to gasp.

Because James had emailed me.

The devil reincarnated, lying-sack-of-shit, asshole-ex-boyfriend James. Not to be confused with my kind, over-the-top, hot-mess cousin James. He was still on my good side.

James Flynn needed a punch to the little balls between his legs. Delete the mail? Read it? Hire a witch to send him a voodoo curse? All of the above?

Curiosity won, damn it. Tenser than the stiff, plastic seat I sat in, palms sweating and fingers twitching, I opened the email.

Kate,

I heard you’re moving back to Phoenix. Congrats. I think we both knew you’d always end up back there. Could you send me your new address? I found a box of your stuff—medals from your little runs you did. I’ll ship them to you.

Also, I think we’re adult enough to keep in touch re. professional opportunities; anything you might hear of in your new role, for instance... If you want to call, I’m free the next week.

Best,

James

Asshole, I hissed, earning a slight glare from me neighbor.

The goddamn nerve of that guy. Fuck him. And fuck the medals—I’d just run more 5Ks. I hated how my stomach tightened at the harsh memories that flooded my mind. I had been such a fool.

Too strung up to work, I clicked on the hidden folder I’d renamed REGRETS. Two years’ worth of pictures. James and me at the beginning of the relationship, all smiling, happy faces. Fuck. I’m an idiot. I’d thought I had been happy. But had I really been? Did I refuse to see the fact he cheated? Did I prefer ignorance until it slapped me in the face?

God. I had been a fool.

Exhibit A—the two of us at a Halloween party: he refused to dress up because it wasn’t cool.

Exhibit B—the two of us at a formal dance for his frat: he ditched me the entire night to hang out with the bros.

Exhibit C—the night he forgot about our date yet smelled like perfume when I went to his apartment.

Exhibit who the fuck’s counting: All the unanswered texts...the comments he constantly left on other girls’ photos...the anxiety he caused me with the half truths. God. Why did I not see how much of an asshole he was? Everyone else did. And I’m not stupid. So...if I did see it...why did I stay? Why did I allow myself to continue to get hurt? Did I have dad issues? God. I make myself sick sometimes.

Wait. What was that one doing there? It belonged in my SAVE FOREVER folder.

I snorted at the older, grainy picture of my childhood best friend, Brody, and me in matching Dalmatian outfits. Halloween parade, fifth grade. Brody, pure method acting, crawling on his hands and knees across four blocks and leaving smears of blood in his wake. I chuckled into my fist, imagining his face when I gave a printed-out pic to him. Nice thank-you-for-letting-me-crash-with-you-for-the-next-three-months present. He lived a mere two blocks away from the baseball stadium, and to me, fresh out of college with my student loans? Yeah, I would save where I could, and his spare bedroom would be just fine.

Happy thoughts of Brody clashed with my self-loathing ones of James, and my mood lifted enough to snap myself out of it.

Fuck James and his lying, cheating, selfish ways.

Fuck him always hiding his phone and avoiding real conversations.

I had a job to do. Pushing aside all thoughts of the past, I pulled up the document I’d begun weeks ago. All the details about the Diablos’ organization, the marketing tactics the team had used in the past, and the current issues in baseball—I dived in.

Minutes later, it seemed, they announced our arrival, and my eyes stung from tiredness, their pale blue probably making me look like a stoner. It always happened when I spent hours looking at a computer screen. Damn it.

I rubbed them, remembering too late I wore mascara and now must have raccoon eyes. As if to mock me, the guy next to me flicked through a magazine with pictures of celebrities in airports. They always appeared fabulous. What bullshit. One photo caught my eye. That lazy, perfect smile matched with the tanned face would stand out anywhere. Brody Carlson, Football Prodigy.

My neighbor set the magazine back into the pocket in front of him. This was my chance. I snatched it out and flipped through the pages, finally landing on a small article about the hometown hero.

Biting my lip to prevent a grin, I skimmed through the paragraphs and studied his picture. I knew almost everything about him—the details from a flight magazine didn’t shock me. The picture had been taken the past month, right after he was drafted to Phoenix’s home football team. He had changed so damn much since he was a kid. Same smile though: the dimples told it all. I ripped the picture out, the guy besides me giving me a side glance. Maybe he thought I was an obsessed fan. Fine by me. Brody despised unwanted attention, and I couldn’t pass on an opportunity to poke fun at him.

No one looks good after a flight. Or so I told myself a half hour later as I walked toward the pick-up area. It was just Brody, and I didn’t need to impress him. He had seen me at my best, worst, and most awkward and cringe-worthy moments. A little raccoon eyes and sweat stains wouldn’t phase him. Not after the horror of our fourth-grade Valentine’s Day party...where I’d thrown up inside his candy box. While I winced at the memory, it had been payback for shit he’d pulled on me.

He’d put mud and insects down my shorts in elementary school, thrown me into lakes, and left a bag of dog shit on my porch: he could deal with me looking like a cracked-out hobo. But still... I darted into a bathroom and applied more deodorant. It was the decent thing to do. Phoenix heat in the summer made me smell like a decomposing animal. I wiped under my eyes, but it didn’t do much. I texted my mom and sister, letting them know I’d landed safely, and went to find my oldest friend. It didn’t take long—he always drew a crowd.

Easy to do when a person had a body and face like he did and had gotten drafted into the NFL weeks ago. To top it off, he’d signed with the Phoenix Bobcats. Everyone knew his face, even leaning against a wall in the back of Arrivals. While I’d gained a couple of pounds and earned more lines on my forehead, he’d gotten better looking with age.

His biceps must’ve outweighed mine three to one—did he double in size? His shorts displayed strong, ripped legs that would seem too big if they belonged to anyone else. And what’s with that hair style? Buzzed on the sides with a wavy, longer part on top? Anyone else, it would look stupid. But on him, cool. I shook my head, my mood already better. Shit, I’d missed the guy. He saw me, and his face lit up.

"KZ! Get in here!"

He squeezed me tight, the air leaving my body for a quick second. I laughed into his chest, inhaling a subtle, masculine scent, and winced, hoping the lavender deodorant didn’t fail me. Brody, you’re going to break me.

Deal with it. I missed you, punk. It’s good to see you. His tall frame made me feel about two feet tall. I thought about pinching his side to have him stop, but he set me down.

I pushed him away, my grin taking up half my face. Hey, stand there for a second and look pretty.

What?

Ah, a look I had seen many, many times. Whenever I confused him or had an asinine idea, those brows joined as one and looked like a caterpillar.

Just do it. I pulled out the picture I’d ripped from the magazine. I’m comparing before I get your autograph and sell it with the description of true to life. Hey, don’t judge me. I have student debt. I need the moolah.

He glanced at the picture I held up. God, you’re a dick.

"I’m going to really capitalize on living with you for three months. Sell your hair online, keep your toenail clippings for the crazy fans, and create a shrine of you in my closet."

He snatched the thin paper from my hand. You’re a pain in my ass. But it won’t be boring living with you. That’s for sure.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You missed me. And life’s too short to be boring."

He ignored my comment, but I knew his body language enough to understand he thought it funny. He just would never admit it to me. He’d claimed in the past that a compliment went to my head. A wave of tiredness hit me.

Did you park close?

Not too far. He took my suitcase from my hand and motioned toward the revolving door. "Is this all you brought? You are staying for three months?"

I sent some boxes to my mom’s house. I don’t need a lot. Plus, I figured new job, new clothes. Shopping spree, here I come!

Fair enough. Outside, he clicked the key fob, and the answering sound came from a dark-blue Jeep, without the cover on. He caught my eye roll. "What? What?"

It’s June...in Phoenix. Why the hell do you have your Jeep without air-con? Are you certifiable?

It’s not too bad. He threw my suitcase into the back. It’s nice. I enjoy the fresh air.

It’s not fresh. It’s hot. I feel like I’m breathing straight from a furnace. I clutched at my throat.

Chicago had to get hot when you lived there. Don’t be so dramatic, KZ.

I pursed my lips as I got into the passenger side. Damn it, he was right. Anyway...is the bachelor pad girled out at all?

Girled out? Um, no.

Once he started driving, the air did feel good, especially after being stuck in a metal tube for four hours. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment. Memories flooded back. Brody had always had a Jeep. As soon as he’d reached sixteen, he’d bought an obnoxious yellow one. I laughed.

Do you remember the time our senior year of high school when I stole your Jeep?

His jaw tightened, his chipper voice dropping. Yes. Of course I do.

This moment reminds me of then. I thought I was the shit. I stole the quarterback’s Jeep from a party and went for a night ride. I clapped my hands, fighting a grin.

Yeeeah, that’s not my favorite memory. I figured someone from our rival team had stolen it to get in my head. I believe I punched two people in the face.

Oh, you definitely did. Without a doubt. But then, when I came back to drop it off, you saw it was me. I threw my head back with a loud cackle. I thought you were going to kill me.

I almost did. He laughed and shook his head. But then, the rest of the night is one of my favorite memories from high school.

Agreed. That’s what I was thinking about now. Those lists of goals we made that night. Do you think we still have them?

I don’t know. I don’t remember throwing them away, but I have no idea where I would’ve put them. His brow furrowed. Do you remember your list?

Parts of it. Graduate high school. Move away for college. Get a job I love.

You’ve almost done all of those. You nervous about tomorrow?

Yes and no. I thought about the research I’d done on the plane. Hell, what I’d done since finding out I’d gotten the trial, period. I’m prepared. I’ve done my homework. But...it’s high risk. I might not get the position at the end of the three months. That’s terrifying.

Nothing in life is certain. Plus, the higher the risk, the higher the reward.

True. But still scares the shit out of me. Do you get like that?

He sighed. Well, yeah. Being drafted is the first step of many. There’s a million things that could go wrong.

I scoffed. You work harder than anyone I know. I have no doubt you’ll do what you need to make it.

I feel the same about you, Kate. His smile reached his eyes, the beautiful gray twinkling at me. Now, enough being melodramatic.

He used his quarterback voice on me, the asshole. It left no room for argument. Fine, then. What were your goals back then? Apart from wanting to enjoy being single in college.

He snorted. Mission accomplished, there. He remained quiet for a minute before adding, Getting a scholarship for football was the biggest. Making sure my mom is taken care of...which she is. Oh, and there is the issue of a tattoo I always wanted.

That’s right! The Snoopy tattoo. You and your brother, you made a dare. I can’t believe I forgot about it!

I still need to get it. His voice changed. The mood changed. Suddenly the open-air Jeep felt tight. Too tight. My heart picked up, an uncomfortable sweat beading on my forehead as guilt swirled through me. His entire body stiffened, and he blinked a couple of times, gripping hard on the steering wheel as the silence built.

Brody. I’m sorry. I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. I’m sorry I brought it up. I shouldn’t have.

No, don’t apologize. We shouldn’t have to skirt around the fact that my brother killed himself.

Chapter Two

Brody

Ahhhh! Whack. Punch. Kick. Slam. Yeah, the punching bag deserved all my aggression. Fuck suicide. Fuck feelings. Sex or punching helped, and sex was not a fucking option.

So there I was, ignoring my best friend and kicking the shit out of the old leather bag, hiding like a little bitch. I disgusted myself and kicked harder. Kate did nothing wrong, fucker. She stated the truth.

I blasted the music to the highest it would go. I hadn’t received a complaint from any neighbors yet, but I was itching for a fight. A distraction... Anything to not think about my goddamn brother. I continued until my muscles strained. I might be a dick, but I wasn’t a fool—I was not about to fuck up my throwing arm. I’d snatched a towel to wipe the sweat pouring off my face when my phone pinged.

Natalie: Are we still on for tonight?

Thank you, Jesus. Relief coursed through me. Meaningless sex was the only answer. The escape I needed. I didn’t want to hear her talk though. Her voice annoyed the hell out of me. All high and nasally.

Brody: Sure thang, baby. When you want me to come over?

Natalie: Nine? I am sooo looking forward to being yours for the night.

Brody: I’ll be there.

She sent a picture. Goddamn. Thank you, world, for technology. Why she sent me dirty pictures all the time, I didn’t know. But I sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

I knew what a therapist would tell me—that I used sex and exercise as a way to cope with something I would never get over. I already knew that. I didn’t need to waste time going to talk to somebody about my issues. Not when the women were willing and more into it than I was. I wasn’t a goddamn idiot. I knew why women slept with me, and I didn’t care. If they wanted to say they’d slept with me before I made it big, then sign me up. It was easier than thinking... No. I preferred not to think about the past. Honestly, I preferred not having feelings. And most days, I didn’t.

My life had two purposes: protecting my mom and Kate, and football. Everything else was just details.

I showered and felt an inkling of regret when I found Kate setting up her room without her normal energy. She’d always been one of those annoyingly happy people. She smiled too big, too often. And she was a ray of sunshine. And that sunshine was dimmed. Because of my issues.

I was more of a storm cloud, and I owed her an apology. I knocked on the door frame, getting her attention. Hey, can I come in?

Would you like a tour? She pointed to the closet with her middle finger. Subtle, Kate. Real subtle. This is the closet. I hung up my five outfits. This is my bed.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. Looks nice.

Shut up, Grody. She blasted the music louder, some pop band I’d heard on the radio. She went about emptying her suitcase and eyed me. Can I help you...or you just going to stand there like a creeper?

I came to apologize. I squeezed the back of my neck. Finding it hard to say sorry was in my blood. I didn’t think I had ever heard my mom use those words in my life. Kate didn’t help the situation. Her mouth fell open, and her pale-blue eyes widened as she dropped everything in her hand.

Color me shocked. You have my full attention. She perched on the edge of the bed, the trace of a smile on her lips. The little shit’s enjoying this.

I shouldn’t have been a dick about Brenden. I still can’t talk about it. I joined her on the bed, and she put a hand on my shoulder. Her tiny hand barely registered when she squeezed me, but the thought was nice. Would be real shitty of me to have our first night as roomies fighting.

We aren’t fighting. I don’t think it’s healthy you can’t talk about somebody we both loved. But I won’t push it.

So, we’re good? I gave her a hopeful smile.

Yes, Brody. I’m not going to throw away sixteen years of friendship over a small, albeit real, case of you being an asshole. She patted my shoulder one more time and stood. Now, get out. I need to shower the plane off me.

Yes, ma’am. I headed toward the living room. It had a small desk where I spent zero time. Maybe Kate would use it. Itching to head to Natalie’s, I busied myself with work-out plans.

Four hours a day. Stretching and yoga. Core and muscle building. I loved the hell out of working out, but it worried me. Could I handle it? The fear of not making the fifty-three-man roster in August terrified me. I didn’t know what happened after. I never thought about it. My agent gave me two things to work on this summer before training.

Work out as much as you can to build stamina. The training camp broke some of the strongest men.

Befriend the players when working out. It’d shocked me when he’d said it was like any other job. That who I knew and got along with played a role. It was easier to cut a draft pick if they were a party of one. It was a hell of a lot more difficult when they had a team around them, a bond.

I had gone to the gym almost every day since being drafted in late April, but I had yet to meet any of the veterans. I had to try harder. It was already June. Lost as I was in thoughts of how to be more goddamn friendly, Kate’s voice broke my focus.

Grody, sorry to be a pain. But do you have food here, or should I go pick up something?

I lifted my head from my half-assed notes and pointed at her Cubs shirt. Wrong team, blondie. How you going to convince your new place of work you’re a fan?

I am a fan of baseball. I appreciate the beauty and romance of the sport. I also realized I have zero Diablos shirts. It’s on my list to buy some tomorrow.

Good call. I stretched. I think I have some food. I can cook us some dinner?

Yes! She did a weird-ass victory dance. I totally forgot you could cook. I just got a hell of a lot more excited about living here.

Yeah...we all know what happens when you get in front of a stove. I’m surprised you’re not the size of a balloon. All you eat is takeout. I tugged the end of her hair when I walked by her. She smacked my hand away.

Rude. And true. She followed me and perched at the high-top table I’d recently purchased. I didn’t give two shits about furniture, but it did tie the kitchen together. I run a lot.

Be careful if you go in the heat. Bring water and let me know before you leave. I raised my voice. I’m not being overbearing. People underestimate the heat—

Brody, I grew up here.

And you’ve lived away for a while.

She sighed, but her blue eyes crinkled at the sides.

I cooked us a simple protein-filled dinner and fought a laugh the entire time we ate. She shoveled food into her mouth, groaning into the seasoned chicken breast. She’d been known as the disposal growing up, with how she devoured food, and it fit. She caught me staring at her and raised an eyebrow. You eat with so much enthusiasm.

That was the nicest way to say I don’t eat like a lady. She smiled, a little food on her mouth. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. Forgive me for forgoing manners. Oh, and I’ve seen you lick someone else’s toothbrush as a prank.

Shit. I let out a ragged laugh. Eddy, right?

Yup. He deserved it, but you can’t make fun of me for ‘eating with enthusiasm’ when you’ve done weirder things. She took another bite, crossing her eyes.

Fair enough. I slid the key I had for her across the table. She nodded at me but otherwise gave it no attention, food her only priority. I ate in record time. Family dinners growing up had been on the go between sporting events—I’d learned to eat a full meal in ten minutes. You’re on clean-up duty.

I figured as much. She leaned back and patted her stomach. Best part about this is you only eat healthy shit. My body and I thank you.

I shrugged one shoulder. Glad to help. I have some work to do before I head out later. You need anything?

Nope. I have a ton of shit to do too. Thanks for dinner. She smiled, the warmth in her eyes coming from years of comfort between us.

I spent the rest of the night emailing my agent and learning the names of the other guys on the team. It was the first step. At twenty minutes to nine, I couldn’t wait to release the tension that had built up all day. Kate remained at the desk, notes and pens and papers all around her.

I’m heading out. You good here?

"Oh, I’m good. You go enjoy yourself." She shuffled

Reviews for Take a Chance on Me

[Sharlene · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Such a genuine feel-good childhood friends to lovers book. I loved the heartbreak and trauma side to the book and gave a tear jerking element to it.
It was as steamy as her other but it was a genuine book about vulnerability that was refreshing for me to read in this genre of books.

[judy griffin · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Ah…. No

[Mary Makler · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I stuck with this book and I was disappointed. It didn't have many spicy sexual situations. The guy seemed to change and become a puppy dog about half way through and that got old. Fast. The personalities didn't seem to mesh and it was really drug out.