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I doubt that. Bryan covered his dark thought with a smile. “Oh, I understand. That’s the same reason I return home. To keep myself humble after spending so much time on TV and in magazines. It can be exhausting.” He glanced at Jill, who appeared caught between confusion and suspicion. “Darlin’, did you forget to introduce me to your good buddy?”
“I thought you had it all covered, since you swooped right in.” She gave him a thin smile. “Pete, this is Bryan. Bryan, Peter. Bryan is my…best friend’s brother.”
Not that again. “Oh, don’t be modest, sweetness. I’m a bit more than that.” He squeezed her hip and hoped that the genial glance he aimed at the good doctor didn’t resemble a glower. Though a little glower was never bad.
“Modest, is it? As if you’re some prize? No worries there.” She laughed gaily and handed her clipboard to Pete. “Now, about that sick Persian, she’s exhibiting symptoms of—”
“What exactly do you do to be on TV and magazines?” the doctor asked. “I’ve never seen or heard of you.”
“Why, now, you don’t even know my last name,” Bryan said, pleased to see the other man’s smile turning into an exercise in jaw clenching. “How can you be sure?”
“I don’t know of a single semi-famous person named Bryan.”
“He’s in porn,” Jill said before snatching back her clipboard. “I’ll be in examining room B if either of you find time to stop circling and peeing on each other.” Then she sailed down a short hallway.
Bryan picked his chin up off the floor. A glance at Dr. Pete confirmed he’d been affected similarly.
“She’s a bit of a wildcat, isn’t she?” Pete asked, staring after her with obvious fondness.
“Not to me.” Bryan smiled. “Apparently I’m in porn, remember?”
To his surprise, Pete laughed and held out a hand. “I take it that’s not true?”
“No, unfortunately not. I play football.”
Pete’s stance relaxed. “No kidding? For who?”
“Maryland Mariners. I’m a quarterback.” For now. But he didn’t say that aloud.
“No fucking kidding.” Pete snapped his fingers. “Now I recognize you! You rushed for fifty yards in that game last year against the Hawks. You’re a beast, man.”
“Only forty-nine,” Bryan amended. See, he wasn’t always a prick. Just when some slick dude with an alligator shirt and a whole bunch of qualifications that probably made him perfect boyfriend material made lovey-dovey eyes at Jill.
“Still. That’s incredible.” Pete offered him a fist-bump. “I have a cat patient waiting, but maybe we can talk later?”
“Sure thing. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine.” With another grin, the vet headed down the hall, leaving Bryan alone in the reception area with the young assistant behind the counter and a metric ton of remorse.
He’d behaved like a dick, and not for the first time. Worse, he’d gotten peeved by Jill not admitting he was more than her best friend’s brother when he was the one who’d insisted they stay behind closed doors—well, minus low-key wedding meet-ups and encounters of the fried chicken kind.
He wasn’t sure what his problem was. He was used to hiding and keeping secrets. Having a mother with mental issues had sent him into denial mode early. Guarding his privacy was second nature, and for that matter, he was an interloper in this town. Pete was part of Jill’s daily world. He’d be around long after Bryan went back to where he belonged—a field of AstroTurf with the stands full of fans. That was the life he wanted.
But while he was there, he wanted to see more of Jill. Hell, he had to. Already the need for her hummed in his blood. So that would require a bit of damage control. And maybe an apology.
On the way down the hall, he got a text from Dillon.
Yo, man. Got some free time over the next few days?
Yeah, why?
I’m down a crew member at one of the Helping Hands houses. Wanna help? You’ll get paid in free beer and all the wings you can eat.
Bryan grinned. He’d take the wings if not the beer. Besides, he enjoyed the hard physical labor on the houses. Dillon had called on him to help out a couple other times before when he’d been home, but this would be the first time he’d have more than a few hours to assist.
Sure. When do you need me?
Bright and early tomorrow. I’ll text you the address. Seven a.m. Thanks, man.
