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We can keep it between us for now. Explore what might be happening, and then bring Caleb in. I just hope he doesn’t hate me after.
CHAPTER
SIX
Joey
New Ramblers Tight End Woos Model in Fiji
I stare at the headline posted fifteen minutes ago online, and instantly regret setting up that alert with Brock’s name. It was a stupid, juvenile mistake, but I did it in a moment of pure weakness around five this morning when my brain was reeling from lack of sleep and naughty fantasies with the man himself starring in the lead role.
I scan the article, trying to clear the image of Brock and Gisele Sorenson making out on the sandy tropical beach. A friend close to the “couple” is quoted as saying they really hit it off at the wedding of his former teammate and have maintained a long-distance relationship and plan to “meet up again soon.”
Well, fuck me running.
The article goes on to say how they met at the beachside nuptials and were inseparable the rest of the trip, spotted enjoying private candlelight dinners, and even sneaking out of each other’s seaside suites early in the morning with clothes wrinkled and askew.
Okay. Time to stop reading.
My deceitful eyes go right up to the accompanying photo. There’s only one, thankfully, but it’s a close-ranged shot, as if the photographer was standing not too far away on the beach. Perhaps from one of those fancy lounge chairs underneath an umbrella. He probably has one of those fruity drinks too with fruit slices and names that contain Caribbean or paradise.
I think back over the last few days, at the looks and the flirting, at the things he said and the way he responded. And by that, I mean getting hard.
All this time, he’s been seeing someone?
Sure, Gisele and Brock could have a relationship, even though I haven’t seen any signs that lead me to think he has someone he’s casually seeing. You know the kind. Hooking up whenever you’re in the same city, maybe a few late-night video sessions that end in orgasmic bliss. I’ve heard all the rumors about him, seen all the headlines. Brock Williams isn’t a “relationship” kind of man. He’s a “right here, right now, leave you smiling” kind.
This is exactly why I should keep my distance. No casual relationships for me. Even if the man in question is a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound solid piece of sex on a stick. Like a walking wet dream, only better. He looks positively edible in the photo, all tanned and toned in his black and green swim trunks.
Plus, if I hold my finger up just right, I can completely block Gisele out of the image.
I’m so lost in picking apart the photo I don’t even glance down at the screen when my phone starts ringing. “Hello?”
“Josephine.”
I close my eyes, chastising myself for the stupid error. Why didn’t I check the caller ID? Is it too late to pretend it was myvoice mail picking up? Or maybe I’m headed through a tunnel and my call drops?
“I hear you breathing, sweetheart,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts.
I sigh, realizing I’m stuck now. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“I’d be a lot better if I didn’t have to learn from my son that my daughter is in town for a visit.”
Caleb. That backstabbing weasel. “I haven’t been here long, I swear.”
“Well, I’m happy for that. I’d hate to think my only daughter was avoiding me,” he replies with a boisterous laugh, making me cringe.
Good thing he can’t see my reaction or he’d know I was doing just that. “How are things going?”
“Excellent. Listen, I’m heading into a meeting with the GM. Meet me at Sully’s tonight at seven. I’ve already made the reservation.”
And by that, he means he had his assistant do it.
“I’m not sure what our plans are,” I mutter, knowing it’s pointless. My dad doesn’t hear the word no too often, especially from one of his kids.
“I expect you to be there at seven, Josephine Grace. Tell your brother to come. And the new tight end. My understanding is he’s there too. I’ll have Marcy change the reservation to five. I’m sure Candi will be able to adjust her schedule.”
Great. That means my new stepmom, or as I like to refer to her as wife number four, is going too. I’ve only met her twice in the eight months she’s been married to my dad, but Candi—with an I, as she repeatedly said throughout our first meeting—is exactly half his age. Yep. Wife number four just so happens to be right smack dab in the middle of Caleb and me on the family age chart. Two years older than me, and two years younger than my brother.
