Page 18 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“Lance, she’s fine. Other than seeing her in the morning for a cup of coffee, and occasionally for dinner, I don’t really notice that she’s there.”

“You’re drinking coffee?”

When Lance and I started college, we thought we’d do as grown-ups do and drink coffee. In hindsight, I realize we probably shouldn’t have been drinking it as much as we were or in the afternoon because my sleep schedule was thrown off, my heart was constantly racing, which wasn’t good on the practice field, and I would have to go to the bathroom at the most random times. Things vastly improved for me when I stopped drinking it. Although this time around hasn’t been so bad.

“She makes it for me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

He chuckles. “Hurt her feelings? Since when do you care about something like that?”

“What are you talking about? I’m a nice guy, you dick. Especially to your little sister who you handed off to me.”

I have had to remind myself that she’s Lance’s little sister more than once this week. Even though there’s nothing little about her. She’s killing me with the clothes she wears. I get it, she’s at home and they’re probably comfortable, but every morning, I walk into the kitchen and find her in the tightest, shortest shorts ever, and her ass looks damn good in them. Add in the hair, which was down and all over the place today and her blue eyes when they land on me, and I have to chant our team stats to keep myself under control. It’s just not fair how beautiful she is first thing in the morning.

Which again has me thinking of Dean. He had her every day and let her walk out the door. What a dumbass.

“Yeah, and I really do appreciate it. Eight years to be with someone is a long time. Casey and I have been together for nine years. I can’t imagine what life would be like without her.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I tell him as I start the ascent over the bridge that leads to the islands. The view here is one of my favorites in the city. On one side, you can see downtown, the Gasparilla pirate ship they keep docked just a few feet away, the convention center, and Harbour Island, and then on the other side is Bayshore Boulevard. Bayshore is lined with large historic homes, and the sidewalk is America's second-longest continuous sidewalk. It wraps around Tampa Bay, and the water never fails to give me a sense of relief if I need it or peace.

“Don’t you think it’s time you find out. You’ve been single long enough, and you’re not getting any younger.”

“Thanks for that.” I chuckle.

“But not with my sister,” he says.

“Bro,” I all but growl at him.

“I know. I know. I don’t even know why I said that. It just feels like something a big brother would say.” In the background, I can hear his oldest son yelling about something. Do I sometimes feel envious of what he has? Of course. But not enough to go out and do anything about it.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I tell him, but my mind drifts back to the beautiful woman in my house. She used to 100 percent feel like his sister, but now, for some reason, she doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s because she was younger, or that she’s always been with Dean and off-limits, or if, in general, I just never looked at her in any way other than someone in Lance’s family, but somehow, over the past ten days or so, something feels different, and I can’t put my finger on it.

Speaking of finger. When she asked if we should shake on the house rules, there was no way I was slipping her hand into mine. There needs to be no touching at all. Maybe that should have been rule number one. But then she switched to a pinky, and I didn’t want to be rude or hurt her feelings, so I caved. Of course, there was a shock of static. I could have laughed at the audacity of the universe, but instead, I marveled at how small and soft her finger was. Something I definitely don’t need to be doing.

“I know. Not that it matters anyway. Don’t mention this to Lily, she’s always done what she wants—I mean, look at how long she was with that fucktard—but just to spite me, she might try to sway you.”

Try to sway me? I ponder this for a second and wonder if I could be swayed. And then decide no. Crossing any line with her would complicate things in a way I don’t need right now or ever. Plus, I’m not a rebound for anyone.

“Something tells me that nothing she does is because of you.”

“You don’t have any siblings, so you don’t understand. It’s like the sheer goal in life for the younger sibling is to piss off the older as much as possible.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Just wait, you’ll see.”

See what? That he thinks she’s actually going to make a pass at me is ridiculous. We’re grown adults. Adults who have no problem with self-control.

At least I don’t.

Chapter 7

Lily

If I’ve learned one thing since becoming an author, it’s that there is no one way or right day to do this job. I don’t know why, but until I actually became one, I always thought that writers sat down at their computers and just started writing. Their fingers would fly over the keyboard as ideas flowed, and page one eventually turned into page three hundred. Now I’m sure plenty of authors have this magical ability to write this way, but I am not one of them.

I’ve tried software programs, I’ve tried to follow a beat sheet, I’ve tried plotting from beginning to end, and I even tried something called the snowflake method, only to realize my brain works in scenes and has to be color-coded. Hence, the large assortment of different colored Post-it Notes on my bed.

The idea of this came to me before my last series. I had been using my phone to jot down ideas, but the more I added to the list, the more jumbled and out of sequence it became. I needed a way to organize my thoughts in a way that made sense to me. Randomly, I picked up a pack of colored Post-its, and my world changed. I use a color for my hero’s arc growth, my heroine’s arc growth, and another for scene ideas. I use the sticky strip on the back to attach pictures, postcards, or whatever I find relevant, and as the pieces come together, the wall I use in my office at Dean’s became a vision board.