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Walking toward him, I smile. “I’m good. Thanks for moving me in.” Throwing my arms around his frame, I hug him. “I love you, you little asshole.”
Kye is two years younger than me and made the trip up from Florida East to help me unpack. When Dad died, he really did step into theman of the houserole. Even if we didn’t technically still live with our mother.
Giving me a short hug, he steps back. “Love you too. Even if you are a pain in my ass.” Walking toward the door, he tips his chin up. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.” His eyes narrow. “And be careful of these damn Brooks boys. Cole Storms, Knox Carter, and the rest of ’em—they’re nothing but trouble.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay. Drive safe.”
Boys are the last thing I’m thinking about right now. Since slowly getting myself together not long ago, I’ve solely been focused on myself and trying to feel…normal again.
A white picket fence has never been the goal for me. And when my dad died, it became even less of what I wanted. Most of my life, I’ve watched my mother put herself and her kids second to the love of her life. My father. She was so insanely blinded by love that she couldn’t see anything else. She wanted to fix my dad like he was some sort of house that would be fine with a lot of love and a bit of work. No matter how bad things got, she wouldn’t walk away.
To love someone even a fraction ofthatmuch terrifies me. Love is stupid. And that’s why I don’t want to find it—ever.
Brody
“When are you going to tell the guys that you’re selling pictures of yourself for money?” Link grins, holding back a laugh. “They’re going to eat that shit up, you know. Victoria’s Secret, Brody O’Brien edition.”
“First off, I’ll tell them when I fucking feel like it.” Holding my middle finger up, I stuff a fry in my mouth. “Second, you won’t be laughing when I’m rolling in the cash, wiping my ass with hundred-dollar bills, will you? Hell, I’d sell feet pics if it made money. You think I give a flying fuck?”
“Your feet ain’t all that pretty.” He cringes. “Nobody wants to see that.”
“To some nasty dude, they’d be sexy as hell.” I raise my eyebrows. “There’re some weird motherfuckers in this world.”
Sitting back in the booth, he jerks his chin upward. “So, when do you start? You know, being a Playboy Bunny—only the dude version.”
“In a few weeks.” I sigh. “And for now, just keep it to yourself, would you?”
“You aren’t exactly on my good side right now—you know that, don’t you?” His eyes narrow. “You let my enemy move in with us last week. So, tell me, why shouldn’t I put your ass on blast for being the next Gisele Bündchen?”
Cam moved in with his girlfriend, leaving his old room vacant. And when a hot chick showed up, looking for a place to live, I figured what the hell would it hurt to have her around? Well, fast-forward to an hour later, and I found out Link and she had some bad history, and even though it’s clear he wants to bang her, he pretends he hates her guts.
“First off, you know I feel bad about that. When Tate showed up, looking for a place to live, I had no idea you even knew her,” I tell him truthfully. “Second, Gisele’s a fucking fox. So, if you think getting compared to her upsets me, think again. And I can tell you something right now—if she asked me to retire, you’re damn right I’d be retiring. Brady is a moron.”
“Uh, nope. More like he knows women never stay and the game is all we really have. Hockey, football…whatever it is, I’ll always choose it over a woman.”
“Same.” I pick up my last fry and point it at him. “Unlessit’s Gisele. Then, fuck the game.”
“Idiot,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Let’s go. I’ve got shit to do.”
“Yeah, like be a dick to your ex.” I nod, sliding out of the booth. “And make me wish I lived somewhere else.”
“She’s not my ex,” he growls as I follow him out the door. “And you’re the one who told her she could live there. You can’t move out. You’re our buffer.”
“Well, you two are sort of like a crappy Lifetime movie. Awful, annoying, and radiating with sexual tension, making it hard to look away.”
“Whatever.” Walking outside, he heads to his truck. “See you at home, Cindy Crawford.”
“I don’t have a mole, but she’s hot too. I’d do her.” I shrug. “Peace out, asshole.”
Getting in my own truck, I shake my head when I realize how many more jokes will be coming my way once the guys know I’m modeling underwear.
It wasn’t something I had planned to do, but some dude who was a rep for an underwear clothing line called Rugged & Co. approached me and offered me an endorsement to model their briefs. I suppose if I didn’t want to get made fun of, it wouldn’t be an ideal job. But I’ve never really given a fuck what anyone says.
The only reason why I want Link to keep his mouth shut about it for now is because practice is going to be annoying as hell once the other guys find out. And I’d much rather them stay focused on the game than on my endorsement deal. I’m busy enough with school and hockey, but they offered me good money. Besides, once the women see me in ads and shit, they are going to drop their panties when I walk by. Not like some don’t already do that. And, hell yes, I appreciate it.
Maybe some of my teammates would have turned down the offer. A lot of them were also born with a silver spoon in their mouth and their nose raised high in the air. I don’t have old family money to fall back on. I have my gram. Truthfully, she’s another reason why I took the deal. She’s always struggled to make ends meet, and I want to help her as much as I can.
I modeled a little bit my senior year of high school and the summer after. I did well enough at it to be able to afford the truck I have, help my grandmother out a little, and pay rent. But then I got out of it. I’ve been on some book covers—among other things. I have no idea how my teammates haven’t found out. All I know is, this endorsement deal won’t be kept quiet. So, it’s only a matter of time before they’re hounding my ass about it. But honestly, it won’t make me regret my decision.
