THE HOTSHOT

  PIPER RAYNE

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  Also by Piper Rayne

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About Piper & Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2026 by Piper Rayne®

  Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Design: Buerosued

  1st Line Editor: Joy Editing

  2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreader: Olivia Winston

  ABOUT THE HOTSHOT

  Raising my cousin’s three kids wasn’t in my five-year plan.

  Actually, it wasn’t in any plan.

  One minute I’m a single labor and delivery nurse living a quiet life and the next, I’m navigating guardianship hearings, meltdowns, and homework I’m pretty sure requires a math degree.

  Enter Hayes Carlisle.

  My best friend’s older brother.

  Chicago Colts newest catcher.

  And the man I once kissed and immediately pretended I didn’t.

  So, when the custody battle I’ve been dreading becomes a reality, I shouldn’t be surprised that Hayes swoops in with a wild idea—a fake relationship. According to him, pretending we’re together will polish his image and prove to the court I’m not taking on an instant family alone.

  But pretending to be Hayes’ girlfriend is a terrible idea.

  Because he remembers how to make me laugh.

  Because he looks at me like our kiss wasn’t a one-time mistake.

  Because the kids start asking him to read bedtime stories.

  Because my heart starts wanting things my life doesn’t have room for.

  I can manage the chaos. I can fight for these kids.

  But pretending not to fall for Hayes Carlisle?

  That might be the one thing I can’t do.

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  Leighton

  I tiptoe up the stairs, skipping the third from the bottom, craving distance from all the guests huddled in hushed conversations as they balance small plates of finger foods and repeat words like tragic and unfair.

  Between Julianna’s incessant nitpicking about what needs to be done and the guests exchanging glances and whispers at me, I need some air. My hand tightens on the banister, pretending I don’t hear their judgmental comments.

  “She’s the one.”

  “Single.”

  “Not even a boyfriend.”

  “A labor and delivery nurse.”

  “You know the hours they work.”

  “How will she raise three kids with that schedule?”

  I slip into the master bedroom and shut the door with the quietest of clicks. I should stay out of here—the doors to their room have been shut this past week as though it’s a Smithsonian exhibit—but I’m desperate to feel Skylar, with hopes she somehow guides me from the grave.

  My back hits the door, and I close my eyes, finally releasing the unsteady breath I’ve been holding since I watched a set of double caskets lowered into the ground this afternoon.

  But when I open my eyes, the nightmare remains, and the peace I was hoping to find isn’t here.

  To an outside observer, there’s nothing terrifying about this scene. The perfectly made bed. The picture frame of a happy couple on one nightstand, a stack of books on the other. A half full laundry hamper with clothes waiting to be washed. But the space is empty, somehow devoid of life. And worse, the entire room smells like her. Skylar’s perfume would cling to my clothes from her tight hugs, and I’d smell it my entire ride home.

  I push off the door and walk over to the dresser. Five smiling faces encased in picture frames grin up at me, posed for the professional photographer she’d book for every major holiday from Easter to Halloween to Christmas. The only candid photo is the two of us from when we were younger—me missing my two front teeth, looking at her as if she was the coolest person to ever exist.

  The framed photo of us trembles in my hand, and I run my finger over our faces, her laugh ringing like an echo in my head. This wasn’t our dream. Her dying at thirty-four, along with her husband, leaving behind three kids, wasn’t part of the fairytale.

  A soft knock lands on the door, and before I can say come in, Callie sticks her head in the room. “Sorry, but your mom is on the hunt.”

  I wave her in, and she shuts the door, flicking the lock. I put the picture down and blow out a breath, looking at my best friend.

  “How am I supposed—” I ask for the millionth time between in my head and out loud to her.

  “Have you eaten anything?” She doesn’t entertain my question since we both know there is no answer.

  I shake my head and walk across the room to the stack of historical non-fiction books on the nightstand. A smile curves my lips, remembering Skylar taunting Patrick before their trip that he was wasting good packing space and should invest in an e-reader like hers.

  “Come down and eat.”

  “And listen to everyone question my ability to do this? No thanks.” I walk around the bed, peeking into the bathroom.

  Skylar always meticulously organizes—organized—everything, each item having a designated spot. I don’t even put my clothes away from the laundry basket into the dresser. How am I supposed to replace her?

  “They’re assholes.” I side-eye Callie, and she shrugs. “I’m not lying.”

  She’s not. I lean my shoulder against the wall, and we stare at one another for what feels like an eternity. Everyone’s questions about how I’ll manage are unspoken between us. Her eyes are saying fuck them as mine say I can’t deny there’s truth there.

  Her shoulders sink, and she steps closer. “Listen, this is a lot. Like, holy shit, a pivotal moment, a fork in the road, nothing will ever be the same.” I quirk an eyebrow. “So English wasn’t my best subject. What I’m trying to say is there are a lot of decisions to be made, but they’ll still be there tomorrow. You need to allow yourself time to mourn them too.”

  “I think I’m still in shock.”

  I not only have to grieve my cousin, who was practically a sister to me, and her husband, but my mind won’t stop replaying the lawyer’s words, “They want you to be the children’s guardian.”

  What was Sky thinking?

  “Who wouldn’t be? Which is why you have me. Come on.” She holds out her hand. “Let’s sneak into the kitchen and devour Sky’s candy drawer.”

  Just another example of how opposite Skylar and I are. She’d never have a candy drawer.

  “There’s no way she has one.”

  “Everyone has one,” Callie insists, continuing to hold out her hand toward me. “Hers just might be extra hard to find, but lucky for you, I’m like a bloodhound.”

  I accept her hand and take one more look around their space. It feels like a torture chamber. “You’re going to come up empty.”

  She tucks my arm through hers and unlocks and opens the door. “I guess we’ll have to see. And don’t worry about everyone down there. The perfect distraction is on the way.”

  “Callie, I don’t think a clown is appropriate for a day like today.”

  She laughs as we step into the hallway, but it dies a quick death when we see Monroe standing outside of her bedroom with her doll clutched in her arms. How careless of us to try to find any kind of levity today when there are three confused children grieving their parents.

  “Cookie is hungry,” she says.

  I hold out my hand. “We’re headed to raid the kitchen. Want to join?”

  Monroe walks to us, her small hand slipping into mine.

  The three of us walk down the stairs, and right when we get to the fourth step from the bottom, Monroe jumps and lands on the th
ird stair, spurring a loud creak. My stomach drops as all eyes in the vicinity turn toward us.

  My mom rushes over. “Monroe, honey, we were looking for you.” She gives me a look—one that suggests I told you this is going to be harder than you think.

  Nothing new about her underestimating me.

  “Cookie is hungry.” Monroe buries herself into my side.

  I place my hand on Monroe’s back. “I’ve got her.”

  My mom sighs and purses her lips. I know she’s worried, and it’s in her nature to step in, take control. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. But I told myself I wouldn’t fret over all the logistics today. However, it’s easier said than done.

  “We’re going in search of food,” Callie interjects—as she has many times between my mother and me—turning to walk toward the back of the house.

  “There’s food right here.” My mom points toward the buffet table under the giant television anchored to the wall.

  “Yeah, different food.” Callie places her hand on my mom’s arm. “We’ll be right back, Lil.”

  My mom nods, and I feel her gaze on our backs.

  As the three of us walk toward the kitchen, I give everyone polite smiles and nods to assure them that we’re all going to be okay, including the six-year-old clinging to me and her doll, even if I’m as doubtful as they are.

  Freedom from the prying eyes is just steps away when the front door opens. Something has me turning to see who’s coming through the door. Light floods into what feels like darkness, even though the drapes are wide open, and a figure stands haloed by the glow outside.

  “Finally! It only took him forever,” Callie grumbles.

  My head snaps toward her. She didn’t. Even only being able to make out that it’s a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a suit, I know who it is.

  “Hayes Carlisle?” Lincoln ditches the yo-yo that Patrick’s father brought him and bolts off the couch, running over to him.

  My heart plummets to my stomach. “You called your brother?”

  Conversations pause mid-sentence, all of the attention transferred to the Chicago Colts’ newest catcher.

  Callie smiles and nods. “Like I said—a distraction.” She puts her arm around my shoulders, guiding me into the kitchen. She looks so proud of herself, but it’s only because she doesn’t know.

  Suddenly, my mind isn’t wrapped up in the unexpected deaths. My pulse races for an entirely different reason—the one secret I’ve kept from her during our friendship. It was so long ago that half the time, I don’t even believe it happened myself.

  I’m gonna need more than a candy drawer. I’m not sure a fully stocked vending machine would help me get through today.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Leighton

  Guess I worried for nothing. Hayes hasn’t searched me out once since he arrived, and he has no idea I’m watching him from the kitchen like a stalker, eating a stale store-bought cookie that doesn’t come close to fulfilling my sugar craving.

  There was no candy drawer to be found. Though I’m sure there’s a drawer Skylar used to organize all her charging cords that I can turn into a candy drawer. One point for me and zero for Callie.

  You’d think Hayes was running for mayor, shaking everyone’s hands with that damn charming smile of his in place. Lincoln excitedly weaves between him and everyone approaching, rambling questions about the other players on the team and if Hayes is happy to be a Colt now. Hayes ruffles Lincoln’s hair and nods, entertaining every question. It’s nice to see something other than confusion and sadness on the little guy’s face.

  Julianna breezes in, interrupting my tunnel vision. “This dip is going to go bad. We don’t want people associating the funeral with food poisoning.”

  Sky would hate that I gave Julianna so much control over today.

  I grit my teeth, swallowing down my comebacks. I’m not her biggest fan. She was always offering Sky unsolicited advice on everything from how to introduce new foods to the kids when they were babies to the importance of a Montessori education. Hell, I’m not even sure Arthur likes his wife very much. She clearly runs the roost in their household.

  “I think we should talk.” She scoops the dip out of the bowl, and it plops into the trash in one big solid mass.

  “After.” For someone who apparently has it all together, she sure can’t take a hint. I’ve already told her ten times today.

  She sets the bowl in the sink and grabs a new one. Did she already memorize what’s in every cabinet? Other than some holidays and birthdays, they never really saw one another. Patrick and Arthur would go on their brotherly fishing trips every year. Selfishly, I was happy not to have to share Skylar and Patrick with them very often, so I never really asked questions.

  “I have to go water the plants.” I step toward the back door, seeking solitude once again, unable to handle these people and their sad looks at me as if I was dumped into that grave with Skylar and Patrick. My life isn’t over because I have three kids to take care of. Although in just the week that I’ve been responsible for them, it’s been obvious where my single life needs adjusting.

  “Didn’t it just rain?” Julianna asks.

  “Yeah, you know how much Patrick loved his landscaping. We wouldn’t want it to suffer.” I don’t wait for her to argue with me, opening the back door to their deck and hoping like hell she doesn’t follow me.

  Once I’m out there, I pull out a patio chair, and my legs relax in relief the minute I sit.

  The sun warms my skin. How cruel of Mother Nature to give us the perfect Chicago spring day on a day like today. The sun shouldn’t shine so brightly. The birds should still be south and not chirping with life in the nearby trees. Flowers shouldn’t be budding, and green leaves shouldn’t be yawning open on the tree branches.

  I run my finger under my eyes to dry the tears bubbling up, wishing it were the middle of winter, when everything would be cold, dead, and empty.

  Skylar didn’t deserve to leave this world so young. She had an entire life to live, children to watch grow up into good humans because of her exceptional mothering skills.

  The back door opens, and I straighten, my feet hitting the deck floor, and I run my palms over my cheeks to dry the tears.

  A king-size Twix bar lands with a thud on the patio table in front of me, then the chair next to me slides out, a body falling into it. The scent of men’s cologne reaches my nostrils, giving me an idea of who it is before I even turn my head to look.

  Peeking, I catch his long, thick fingers wrapped around the arm of a patio chair. The button-down sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off forearms corded with muscles.

  I swallow back my rush of desire. This isn’t the time to be crushing on Hayes Carlisle.

  “I’ll take half as payment,” his deep voice says.

  I face him, and damn, he looks as good as he did when I saw him six months ago. He’s always been built, but more so since the last time I saw him. He was clearly hitting the gym in the offseason.

  “And here I thought this was your condolence gift.”

  He leans forward, swiping the candy bar off the table and tearing open the top of the packaging. “It was until I had to entertain all your guests. You’re welcome.” He pushes the top of the first two bars out of the packaging, holding it out to me.