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I swallow my food and reply, “Thanks.”
When I glance up, both of them are watching me. My brother clears his throat and says, “You’ll tell me later what’s going on.”
And I will. I tell him everything. I’d just rather not share my humiliation in front of his hot friend.
I nod and am grateful when they change the subject. The guys start talking about practice, about who’s stepping up in a big way and who’s not carrying their weight. They discuss their first regular season game against the Miami Sharks, and how their defense is going to have to work hard to close the gaps created by Miami’s strong O-line.
Once dinner’s complete, Brock jumps up and starts collecting the dirty dishes. “I’ll take care of these, since you cooked,” he offers.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I don’t mind, really. You probably have something to do.”
He just grins, perfectly straight, white teeth on full display. Damn, this man is really handsome. “Not really. We’re just planning to relax tonight. We’ve got a team workout first thing in the morning before double practices.”
I nod, jumping in and helping. I rinse, while Brock places the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. At least twice, our fingers touch as I hand over the item. Eighteen-year-old me would get all flustered and excited, while twenty-five-year-old me is just rolling her eyes.
No way will I ever act on any attraction with an athlete, especially not a football player. Did you know the divorce rate for a professional athlete is sixty-to-eighty percent? I googled that when I was ten and overheard things like alimony and infidelity thrown around like candy when my dad’s second marriage failed. I watched women come in and out of his life in a revolving-door manner for years, and that was just his side of the genetics coin. My mom was worse, always looking for her next payout.
Yeah, there’s no way I’d ever let myself get caught up in the hype.
Public relationships rarely work out.
Especially with football players.
CHAPTER
THREE
Brock
I can sense that she wants to talk to Caleb, and she doesn’t want me to witness it. I get it. He’s her brother, and she trusts him. There is something in her eyes… a sadness, maybe? I can’t really describe it, but I know she’s not my Sunshine. Well, she’s not mine, but you know that. I mean, she’s not her usual happy-go-lucky self. Even when younger and blushing in the elevator, there was still this light about her.
Standing here, helping her wash dishes, is torture. Torture because Josephine Henderson is a fucking knockout. Her long dark hair, eyes that remind me of chocolate, and a body made to bring a man like me to his knees. If I had to guess, she’s about a foot shorter than my six-foot-four, and maybe a buck twenty? She’s tiny compared to me, and I have this urge to scoop her up in my arms just because I can. She’d give me hell for it, I’m sure. She’s not the only one who would give me hell. I’m sure if Caleb knew the thoughts racing through my mind about his little sister, he’d kick my ass. Not that I blame him.
“Thank you again for your help. You really didn’t have to.”
“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious. Dishes is the least I can do for a home-cooked meal.” I’m not just being nice. The food was incredible. A vision of coming home to her and her cooking every night flashes through my mind. I shake out of my thoughts. I don’t know what the hell that’s about, but I’m not going there. Not with her.
“Yeah, unlike my brother,” she says just as Caleb enters the kitchen. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, and his hair is still wet from his shower.
“Hey, I was being productive.” He points at his sister. “You and I need to chat, and I thought you’d appreciate me not smelling like a locker room.”
“Ew, Caleb. Did you not shower after practice?” Joey wrinkles her nose, and it’s cute as hell.
“Always do, but it’s never the same as showering at home.”
I nod. “He’s got a point. In fact, I think I’ll do that myself. Joey, thanks again for dinner.” I wait for her to look at me, just to get one more glimpse at those big brown eyes before I retreat to my room, giving the siblings some time. “I’ll see your ugly mug bright and early,” I tell Caleb as I walk past him for the stairs.
After a quick shower, I’m sliding under the covers and staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. Life has been a tornado of events the past several weeks, and I can’t help but feel as though there are more changes to come. Something in my gut tells me that me being traded wasn’t the only way my world is going to be shaken. I can’t explain why I feel this way, only that I do.
After twenty minutes of staring at nothing, I grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll through the local real estate listings. I’m not in a huge rush to find a place, but at the same time, I wonder if I will ever feel settled if I don’t. I know buying ahome during the season isn’t the ideal situation, but if I find my dream home here in Kansas City, then I can’t pass it up.
Nothing stands out at me after an hour of searching, and I know if I don’t get my ass to sleep, I’m going to be dragging at practice in the morning. Placing my phone back on the charger, I close my eyes and eventually drift off to sleep.
I’m up and dressed for practice before Caleb, so I decide to make us some breakfast. Pulling the ingredients for ham and cheese omelets out of the fridge, I get to work. Luckily, we have two hours of watching film before we ever touch the field, so our breakfast will have plenty of time to settle. There is nothing worse than sitting through film starving to death. Okay, maybe not starving, but you get the picture.
“I knew it was a good idea for you to live here,” Caleb says, walking into the kitchen.
“Well, someone needs to feed your lazy ass.” I chuckle. I slide our omelets onto our plates and start another.
