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“You wanted to live?” she said to herself. “Start driving.”
Heart pounding, she put the windows down to enjoy the unseasonably warm fall day, turned up her favorite Broadway musical, and tried to keep up with the fast rhymes as she drove.
By the time she arrived at the mansion that held her doom, her hair was crazy, her palms sweaty, and she was two seconds from driving in the other direction and taking up her brother’s offer to do it instead. But pride ran deep in the Thomas family, and she’d stupidly agreed to the bet, so she would pay the piper.
Groaning, she flipped the visor down and glanced at herself. Frowning, she tried to fix her hair, gave up, and pulled a tube of red lipstick out of her purse. Cleavage like this demanded sexy lips to match. After carefully applying the MAC shade, she glanced down at her feet. There was nothing she could do about the fact that she wore Chucks with her costume, but at least the rest of her fit the part.
She took her glasses off—if she had to make a fool of herself in front of some rich chick, at least it would be easier to do if she couldn’t see the woman laughing at her. After wrestling the balloons out of the back, she smoothed the shirt of the costume over her stomach.
As she made her way up the stone walkway lined with carefully planted roses, she squinted up at a house that would easily fit three of her homes inside of it…maybe four. It had white shutters, a stone-faced front, and was gorgeous. In the garden, there was an Atlanta Saviors flag waving underneath the American flag that hung off the railing of the porch.
Glaring at it, she muttered, “This is all your fault.”
After taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door sharply, three times. It was time to make a complete and utter fool out of herself.
Chapter Two
Wyatt Hamilton frowned as he listened to the woman in his headphones tell him how to say hello. He’d tried his best, but no matter what he did, he screwed it up horribly. Groaning, he ripped out the earbuds and reclined on the couch cushions. All his life, he’d dreamed of a foreign endorsement, and his agent had never delivered. But the second he fired the asshole earlier today, fed up with the guy for never really caring about Wyatt’s career more than he’d cared about his own, he’d been offered a deal by a company in China—and the dinner meeting was in a few hours.
There was no time to get a new agent.
No time to even search.
Since he didn’t speak a single word in Chinese, he’d come up with the bright idea to try and learn, but that had been a complete failure. He was agentless, unable to communicate with the people interested in endorsing him, and was barely able to put on a damn tie by himself.
He was a complete and utter mess.
What the hell was he doing with his life?
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, picking up his phone when it buzzed.
His sister, Anna, had texted him. So proud of you! Brett arranged a little surprise for you, by the way.
Is it someone who can speak Chinese? he shot back immediately.
You wish. Relax, you’ll be fine.
Wyatt sighed. Funny, I feel like I’m going to make a fool out of myself. Does Brett speak Chinese?
No.
Do you? He already knew the answer, but, hey, he was desperate.
NO.
Eric?
Eric is in Texas with his girlfriend. Maybe if you had a girlfriend, she would speak Chinese…
Wyatt rolled his eyes at the dig and set his phone down. His sister was constantly trying to set him up. She didn’t seem to understand that he had no interest in a relationship, love, marriage, or children. All his life, there’d been only one goal––to play ball.
He’d traveled the country, kicked some ass, and dedicated his life to the game.
Football was his one true love. His life. His wife. His only long-term commitment. He had no interest in sharing his heart with anything or anyone else. The Saviors held the whole thing, and he liked it that way. He wasn’t single by necessity. He was single by choice.
That was never going to change.
Just because his sister was engaged, one of his brothers was married, and his other brother was close to following in their footsteps, that didn’t mean he had to follow suit. He and Cole were the last men standing.
