Taking the Handoff, page 6
But most importantly, if I did do something, how am I going to fix it?
Ten
On the drive home from the airport, I get stuck in traffic and decide to call Drew. My conversation with Will has been on a non-stop loop in my head, and I need to talk to my best friend or I’m going to go crazy. I have to feel him out first before I spend more time with Emma. The last thing I need is to fall deeper into whatever the hell is going on with me only to have Drew shut it down.
He picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, man.”
“Dude, you sound wiped.”
“Yeah, this case…it’s kicking my ass,” he says with a heavy sigh.
“Maybe you should hook up with that hot paralegal who’s got a wicked crush on you and blow off some steam.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, no. I don’t fuck where I eat—or work, in this case. It’s that whole don’t shit where you eat thing.”
My gut clenches a little because I’m pretty sure he’d think me wanting to hook up with his sister is the exact definition of shitting where you eat. I need to approach this very carefully.
Before I have a chance to talk, he speaks first. “I talked to Emma last night. She said you’ve hardly been home.” His tone changes, and I pick up on a slight hesitation. “Are you avoiding her?”
How do I answer that? I mean, yes, I’m avoiding her, but if he’s picked up on that after talking to her, does that mean she knows I’m avoiding her? Fuck, I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to stay away from her, even if it’s the truth. She’ll probably think I’m staying away because I don’t want to be around her when it’s the exact opposite reason.
I must pause for too long because he lets out a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I was worried about this. She did something awkward, didn’t she? You know I love my sister, but I won’t take it personally if you tell me she’s too much.”
“She’s not too much.”
He hesitates. “Then why haven’t you been home? And don’t give me any bullshit excuse because you and I both know you’re a homebody when you’re not working or away for games.”
How much do I tell him? I’ve never been in this position before. I’ve never held back the complete truth from him, and I don’t like doing it now, but I feel like I’m in a very precarious situation.
“Emma’s fine. She’s just…not what I was expecting.”
There’s a pause before he says, “What do you mean?” There’s caution in his voice, almost like he’s dreading my answer.
“She doesn’t look like I remember, and I just wasn’t expecting her to look so…well, to be honest, man, your sister got fucking hot.”
There’s a moment of silence before he says, “No.” His voice is hard, brooking no argument. But I push back anyway.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“You cannot have the hots for my sister. Absolutely not. It’s bro code.” He sighs heavily, but when he speaks, there’s a vulnerability in his voice that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him before. “Please tell me you’re just fucking with me right now.”
I know Drew, probably better than anyone else—even himself sometimes—and I know the only answer he’ll accept.
“Uh, yeah.” I’m not that convincing, but it’s what he wants to hear, so he doesn’t question it.
“Thank God, because it would seriously fuck with our friendship if you hooked up with my sister. Especially if things went south with you two. I can’t deal with that. I don’t want to be put in the position where I have to choose sides.”
My gut clenches. I hadn’t thought about things not working out. I mean, who goes into a relationship with the end already in mind? But he’s right. If I did act on how I’ve been feeling and things didn’t work out, it would be hard for all of us. My life is so intertwined with Drew’s. I’d have to see Emma at family events over the years, and if Drew ever settles down, I’d see her at his wedding.
He’s right to say no. It’s for the best that I don’t follow through on these feelings.
“Hey, hold on a sec,” he says. I can hear him murmuring to someone else before he comes back on the line. “Hey, I gotta get back to work, but we’re all good, right?” There’s that hint of vulnerability again.
“Yeah, man, we’re good.” The words leave a bad taste in my mouth because I’m dying a little inside knowing he’s so adamantly opposed to the idea of me liking Emma.
We hang up so he can go back to work, and I spend the rest of the drive to my house lost in my thoughts. Clearly, Emma’s on to my evasive routine, so I’m going to have to spend more time in my house with her. But Drew’s comments made it clear that he would not be okay with me dating his sister. I need to find a way to be around Emma, keep her in the friend zone, and keep my dick from responding to her.
Should be a piece of cake.
Yeah, right.
* * *
My steps falter the second I near the kitchen and see Emma dancing around, her head bopping to a beat only she can hear coming from her headphones. She wasn’t home when I got back last night, so I didn’t have a chance to talk to her after my conversation with Drew. I step back around the corner, so I can watch her like the ginormous creep I’m turning into.
I don’t understand what she’s doing to me, but my concern over what her brother would think if he saw me right now evaporates as I watch her ass shake in her short cotton shorts that hug her in a way I didn’t know cotton shorts could. The swooping neck of her oversized T-shirt slides off her left shoulder as she continues to shimmy around the room, humming a tune I recognize as “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey.
A soft smile breaks free as I continue to watch her in fascination. The gentle, rhythmic motions of her body are seductive, even if she doesn’t intend for them to be. Well, they’re seducing me at least.
My smile widens when she stops in the middle of the kitchen and sings into a spatula like she’s putting on a performance at the Hollywood Bowl. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact this is the same girl I grew up around. She starts spinning around and doing an adorable shimmy that makes her ass jiggle deliciously, when she suddenly stops and throws her arms up in a flourish like she’s Molly Shannon in Superstar.
Yep, the old Emma’s still in there, I think with an intrigued smile still on my face.
I clap gently and step around the corner, causing her to immediately stand up straight and a gorgeous pink blush to spread across her face.
She bites her lip nervously and then gives me a wary expression. “How long were you standing there?”
I smile wide. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve stopped smiling since I first saw her in the kitchen, but I’m not going to fight it since I’ve decided I’m going to try to be friends with her. “Long enough to see you still remember the famous Superstar move.”
A laugh breaks free from her chest as she covers her face, shaking her head at the same time. Then she looks at me unapologetically. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. I’m still weird.”
I walk by her, letting our arms brush in the process. “I always liked your brand of weird.”
I don’t miss her sharp inhale as her smile drops slightly and doubt fills her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
She leans against the counter next to me. “You always ignored me.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t see you.”
And fuck if that’s not the truth. There was always something about Emma that demanded attention. It wasn’t exactly attraction like it is now, but it was…something.
She just stares at me, her bottom lip captured between her teeth. I fight the urge to lean forward and see what it tastes like for myself.
My pants get tighter, and I turn my body away from her under the pretense of getting coffee, while discreetly adjusting myself.
No. Friend zone, asshole. She’s off-limits.
She walks closer to the stove and focuses on cooking the eggs that I just now noticed in a pan.
I glance up at her, and she must feel the weight of my stare because she looks up, and her eyes instantly connect with mine. “I saw you too.”
I know.
Her childhood crush on me wasn’t a secret, just something I pretended not to notice. But I always noticed. I never felt anything for her romantically when we were growing up. We were too different. She was too young.
But she doesn’t feel too young now.
I shake the thought from my head. I need to get out of here before I say—or worse, do—something I can’t take back.
Ignoring the cup of coffee I just poured, I say, “I gotta head to practice. I’ll see ya later.” I rush out of the kitchen, grab my keys, and flee to the safety of my car. Maybe practice can knock some sense into me.
* * *
The sun beats on my back at our practice field as I jog over to the sidelines. Grabbing my water bottle, I take a hearty drink before dumping some on my head and face to help me cool off. Matt runs over and stands next to me drinking his own water. For what feels like the millionth time, I wonder what it’ll take for him to open up to me about whatever’s going on with him. I’m really starting to worry about him.
“How’s the campaign going?” I ask, knowing he’s had to work with Coach Denton’s daughter on the latest Wolves campaign. It’s a big honor, but he can’t stand Nikki Denton, and she’s the one running the whole thing. I believe “pampered ice princess” was what he called her. He’s not wrong. She definitely comes off as cold and controlled.
He shrugs and looks off. “It’s fine.”
Annoyed with his brush-off, I lean down and ask, “You ever gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”
He gets a look in his eye I’m not sure I’ve seen before, but then shakes his head. “I’ve told you I’m fine.”
I burn a hole in the side of his head with my eyes before he finally turns to me. “What?”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” He turns back to the field, but I catch his expression, and it’s one I recognize well from seeing it staring back at me in my mirror lately—guilt.
What the hell could he be guilty about?
I decide not to push it, knowing he won’t tell me if he doesn’t want to.
“How’s the new roommate?” he asks, changing the subject.
My back stiffens and my gut clenches. How do I even answer that?
She’s driving me crazy?
She’s hotter than sin?
She’s totally, completely, one hundred percent off-limits?
All of the fucking above?
Borrowing his line, I reply, “It’s fine.”
Matt turns to me with a small smirk tipping up the corner of his lips. He nods his head knowingly and then drops his water bottle and hustles back to the field.
I take one more swig of water and run after him, hoping I can finally push away all the thoughts of Emma that seem to infiltrate every spare moment of my time these days. I can still picture her in those damn leather pants looking like a vintage pinup wet dream come to life.
Not to mention our interaction this morning. I swear my arm is still tingling from where we touched. Maybe I should see if the team doctor could take a look at that.
Despite her tempting attire, she’s definitely already a better roommate than Drew ever was. That fucker only ever left dirty dishes in the sink and empty pizza boxes everywhere. She cleans up after herself and always leaves me leftovers for after practice.
Practice flies by, and my body aches in the best way by the time I get cleaned up and head home. I walk in the front door eager to relax and watch some game tape to prep for our next game.
Music hits my ears as I near the stairwell, the song soft and slow. The sound of her guitar reaches my ears, and I smile to myself. I had it fixed for her but haven’t been around to hear her play.
I walk up the stairs, the lyrics becoming clearer the closer I get, about belonging to someone.
Tapping the door softly, I enter right as she finishes. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she responds, tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear.
“That was pretty. Did you write it?”
“No. It’s “Yours” by Ella Henderson. She’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ve never heard the original, but your version sounded really good.”
She ducks her head, but I still catch her blush. “Thanks,” she says.
I stand there awkwardly for a moment, not sure if I should stay and try to talk to her or leave. Leaving would definitely be the safe option, but I can’t seem to force myself to walk away.
She looks up, and her bright green eyes land on mine. “Thank you for fixing my guitar. I’ve been meaning to thank you for a while, but you’ve been really busy. I can pay you back when I get my next paycheck.”
Ignoring her comment about me being busy, I respond, “Keep your money. It’s a gift. You got a shit start to life in LA. It’s the least I could do to turn things around for you.”
“I think letting me live with you is already fulfilling that obligation,” she says with a smirk, but her words make me frown.
“Helping you isn’t an obligation.” I hate that she thinks it is.
Her small smile falls, and she looks down at her guitar. “I know you’re only doing it for Drew.”
That might be how it started, but it’s not the reason she’s still here. Hell, if I was still doing this for Drew, I would’ve found her an apartment already or paid for her to stay in a nice hotel the second the first dirty thought about her filtered through my head.
No, letting her stay here is now for very selfish reasons.
I like her. More than I’ve liked any woman I can remember dating since Anna.
Fuuuck.
I take a breath. I need to turn this around. I can never pursue her, but we can be friends. I’ve never been friends with a woman before, but I’m sure I can figure it out.
I focus back on her. “You want to eat dinner and watch some bad TV?”
Her whole face lights up with her smile, and my heart stops in my chest as she looks at me with such joy. I wonder what it would take for me to always have her look at me like that.
Shit, I’m fucked.
Eleven
I walk into the house from my long shift at work and immediately head upstairs to my room to change into more comfy clothes. I opt for a pair of my short cotton booty shorts that make my legs look like they go on for days. I’ve always loved my legs. I may be on the curvier side, but my legs are toned and long and one of my favorite assets. I throw on a large scoop-neck sweater that hangs loosely off one of my shoulders. This style is one of my favorites for when I’m just relaxing at home. It’s comfy but cute. According to Bernie, it’s even a little seductive. She’s been pressuring me more and more lately to seduce Luke, especially since he doesn’t seem to be avoiding me anymore. It’s only been a few days since he first invited me to eat dinner and watch TV with him, but he’s been home more, and I’m taking that as a positive sign that maybe I didn’t do something to drive him away after all.
But I’m on the fence about whether I should follow Bernie’s advice or not. A small part of me—okay, a giant part—wants me to go through with her suggestion, because when will I ever get this chance again? This is the first time Luke and I have spent any amount of time together without Drew. I feel like if I don’t take a chance now, then I have to let him go for good. The other, more sensible part of me is terrified of getting rejected and then having to deal with an angry Drew.
No, thanks.
But then I think about the advice my grandma used to give me about pursuing my music career. If you want something, you have to go after it. You’ll always wonder “what if” if you don’t, and a life with regrets isn’t worth it.
Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, hearing her words float through my mind, I make a decision. Pulling off my sweater, I change into a tight tank top that makes my breasts look amazing and fluff my hair so it has that just-had-sex messy look. I touch up my signature red matte lipstick and then head downstairs. I stop by the kitchen and make a bowl of popcorn before walking into the living room and sitting next to Luke on the couch while game tape plays on the TV.
I can practically feel his gaze as it slides up my exposed legs, over my stomach, across my cleavage and finally on to my face. Victory thrums through my veins at the spark of desire in his eyes.
I hold the bowl of popcorn out to him, a silent offering that he takes while clearing his throat.
“Did you want to watch something?” he asks.
“With you?” I ask, my gaze focused on his while I put a piece of popcorn in my mouth. He follows the movement and swallows audibly before replying.
“Sure. I can watch this tomorrow.” I get a little giddy at how throaty his voice is right now.
Pretending to be completely unaffected by our proximity, I say, “Okay, what do you want to watch?”
He hands me the remote. “Lady’s choice.”
I smirk and immediately start scrolling through Netflix looking at my options.
“I heard you playing your guitar this morning. Was that another Ella Henderson song?” he asks, passing the bowl of popcorn back to me.
Without taking my eyes off the TV, I take the bowl and reply, “No, that’s an original. I met a producer when Bernie and I were out at that club last week, and he wants to meet with me and hear my stuff. He had to fly to New York for an album he’s working on, but he will get in touch when he gets back.”
Luke’s body stiffens, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at me. I turn toward him, confused as to why he’s frowning.
“What?” I ask.
“This guy approached you at a nightclub when you were dressed like hot Sandy?”
My body warms, my heart beats excitedly, and I blush as I realize he just implied he thought I looked hot. I mean, I figured, based on his reaction, but this is the first time he’s acknowledged it.
