Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“After eight.” Additional chuckles shake his frame. “That’s how time works.”
His snarky nature is immediately met by a sharp glare. “Why are you like this?”
“Because that’s how big brothers work.”
Irritation and amusement fight for reign of my expression. “And why is mine up at four a.m. on his so-called vacation instead of balls deep in his wife?”
“Gotta stay in shape for the boys,” he smoothly informs. “Lead by example.”
The very mention of his team instills guilt.
Large.
Mountain sized.
Guilt.
He’s over there sweating for all of them while I’m over here coming for one of them.
Pretty sure this is not the team player mentality he wants to hear about.
“And I’ll have you know,” cockiness clearly cuts into his tone, “I was balls deep in my wife last night, thank you very much.”
“Dry spellski over,” I warmly chortle. “Congrats.”
His dramatic hand wave and bow gets us both laughing.
Most people can’t talk to their siblings like this.
Especially not their brother.
But we’ve never been most people.
And I wouldn’t want us to be.
“Puck’s passed back to you, Gilly,” M announces, sounds of the ocean waves crashing in the background behind him. “What gives? Why are you still in bed? Sick?”
Choosing my words wisely occurs on a small wince. “Late start.”
“Because of a late night?”
Hesitation to answer remains prevalent. “You could say that.”
“And is that late start still there?” My mouth lowers to reply yet before I can even consider a clever answer a hiccup escapes prompting him to point a stern finger at me. “Don’t try to lie to me.”
Ohforcryingoutloud, why oh why of all the tells a person could have did mine have to be hiccups?!
Anytime and every time a lie could come out or is about to come out, I hiccup instead.
It’s fucking weird and unfortunate and a built-in lie detector I did not need.
It’s also the reason no one tells me about super-secret surprises anymore.
Or asks me about spoilers for shows.
Or invites me to play poker.
Not that I’m a huge fan of the latter.
I’d rather play trivia games.
Post a hard swallow, I slowly announce, “I am…currently…alone…in my bedroom.”
“Very specific, sis.”
“Very nosey, bro.”
He lightly laughs and teasingly waves his finger at me. “Did you wait ‘til I went on vacay to get some?”
“Not,” a hiccup displays itself, “exactly.”
“Clearly not the whole truth.”
“Yet,” another hiccup, “not a whole,” a third, “lie.”
“You sound so sussy.”
Words aren’t given a chance to form.
Just more hiccups.
“Given that you’ve never been into wheeling just to wheel, I’m going to assume the broskie hiding in your bathroom actually means something to you, so tell him I look forward to getting to know him over a brewskie when I get back.”
Another pang of guilt slams into my chest, knocking away the hiccups for something worse.
So.
Much.
Worse.
“I need to go get ready,” meekly escapes on a small adjustment of my phone.
“We both definitely need to hose off,” he playfully pokes with a wink.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“I love you too,” M laughs once more prior to ending the call.
The instant his face disappears from the screen; I slam my head backwards and shut my eyes.
What the hell am I doing?
I can’t actually date Thayne.
Not while he plays for my brother.
Not while it’s clearly a conflict of interest.
And it is.
Like the cliffhanger on every episode of La Hermana Amorosa it’s a guaranteed setup for disaster.
My bathroom door squeaking slightly precedes a cautiously muttered, “’Light of a Clear Blue Morning’?”
Fairly certain that’s a song reference I don’t know, I open my eyes and prepare to inquire about it only to be diverted by something too disgusting to ignore. “Is that my toothbrush?!”
Thayne continues to brush on a casual nod.
“You’re using my toothbrush?!”
A second unbothered nod.
“That’s so fucking gross!” I squeak in outrage at the top of my lungs.
He holds up a finger, backtracks into the bathroom to spit in the sink, and then steps back into the entry way. “I had my tongue in your ass for hours last night but me usin’ your toothbrush is gross?”
“Extremely.”
“Extremely gross?”
“That’s the grossest fucking thing I’ve ever personally encountered.”
Amusement and confusion clamor in his expression as he leans against the edge of the frame. “That’s a new one.”
“And that’s your new toothbrush.” Laughter begins in us both. “Make sure you take it with you.”
“Or,” he bashfully bounces his head around, “I could leave it here.” His music note bearing arms innocently fold across his bare chest. “For the next time we spend the night together.”
The paradoxical yearning at the pit of my stomach and panging in the center of my chest pushes me to sink further beneath the cover.
Crumple over the clashing notions.
How can I continue anything with him knowing M would lose his shit about it?
How can I basically betray my brother by dating one of his players, which I’m pretty sure is infinitely worse than dating one of his teammates.