It's not that Sidney's jealous. Hattie idolizes my brother, and he knows it. It's that he knows Hattie hates being the center of attention. And the only thing Sidney hates more than losing is literally anything that upsets Hattie. It's disgustingly adorable how much he loves her.
I absolutely donotwant the same thing for myself.
I might also be a dirty liar.
But my fans are already losing their minds, hoping I fall next. Since both of my brothers have, it's like they smell blood in the water. I'm doing everything I can to not contribute to the lunacy. I have a career to focus on. Love isn't on the menu
"You know my name." Harlan's staring at me again, his denim eyes boring into me like he's trying to figure me out.
"Obviously." I tilt my head, smirking at him. "What? You think I didn't do my research on the family my brother is marrying into?"
He grunts, his expression tensing.
I immediately regret what I said—mostly because I know there's a whole world of complicated history with their mother lurking in his past. He probably doesn't want to talk about any of it…or think about it, for that matter. The woman is pretty much the worst mother on the planet.
"I'm just kidding." I lean closer, like I'm going to tell him a secret, just to lighten the mood. "Don't tell my brothers, but I'm secretly a hockey fan. It's far more interesting than football."
Harlan's laugh is rough and abrupt, like it caught him by surprise. I kind of love it. He's got this stoic, surly thing going on, and then when he laughs, it's like a little ray of sun blasts through.
"Football is for people who don't understand violent poetry," he says, deadpan. "Hockey is for the ones who do. But I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."
"Oh, so we're sharing secrets now, huh?"
"Might as well." He shrugs, making a show of glancing around. "What the fuck else are we going to do tonight since we can't run away?"
I can think of a few things…but I don't say that. Instead, I arch a brow at him, genuinely curious what secrets he has. "Fine. What's your shameful secret, Captain?"
His lips twist. It's not quite a smile, but close. "I only have a fantasy football league so I can draft my brother every season and then spend the whole thing fucking up all his stats."
I throw my head back, cackling. "Tye will be devastated."
"Oh, I know." Harlan's eyes glimmer with wicked satisfaction. "I've been doing it for years. He hasn't helped anyone win a damn thing since I started."
"That's diabolical. I like it." I eye him sideways, grinning like an idiot. "Please feel free to draft both of my brothers to your garbage team and absolutely demolish their stats." Their heads will explode. That's always a fun time for me.
"I'll consider it for a price."
"What's your price?"
His gaze flicks down my body again, his expression heating in a way that makes my core clench. "I'll tell you later."
"You do that," I murmur, my heart thudding against my ribcage.
He grins, a real smile this time. Jesus. He should really do that more. He's sexy as hell when he's smiling.
"You're a dancer, right?" he asks after a moment.
"No, I'm a ballerina."
His brows furrow. "There's a difference?"
I prop a hand on my hip, leveling him with a firm glare. "Is there a difference between football and hockey?"
"Touche," he murmurs, a tiny smile flickering at his lips.
"Anyone can dance. It takes dedication to learn ballet."
Harlan's gaze drifts down my body again, but he isn't looking at me like most people do, as if they think it's wild that I might actually be a ballerina at my size. He's looking like he thinks I'm exactly the right size for the job.
