“I know exactly how. She had zero job skills besides a jump-split and strategically placed uniform mishaps. She also had a rapidly dwindling bank account. But she had her looks.” Popping the lasagna back in the oven, I finished up and poured myself a glass of wine.
Olive’s huff was judgmental to say the least. “Still.”
“Yeah, I know.” I knew, in her own screwed-up way, Audrey was trying to take care of me. I knew she loved my dad. Fiercely. But I was the result of her jersey chasing. Dad put a ring on it, and Audrey thought she was set for life. Until the call came that her husband was dead and the bank accounts empty.
I was Daddy’s girl through and through. But he put my mom on a pedestal then drove his car off a bridge, and whether it was an accident or not, she and I were the ones to suffer. I was never blind. I knew, even as a little girl, that my dad wasn’t okay. But this sport... The very nature of the game—which the teams reinforced—convinced the players they were invincible. Gods among men. Then, at the first sign they weren’t, it showed them the door. It set them up for failure later on in life from the moment their names were announced on draft day.
Olive’s microwave beeped followed by a high-pitched bark from Cassie. “Y’all doing the agility trial in Anna this weekend?” Olive asked. The trial in Anna was practice for veterans like Jet and Cassie.
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of students who were interested in competing so I’m going to show them the ropes. You?”
“No. You know what Cassie’s like in that horse barn. She’d rather chase mice than run obstacles.” Clearing her throat, Olive deepened her voice. “So, Bulldogs are on my I’d rather stick my head in a bag of snakes list but at least tell me you’re going to climb that mountain tonight, my friend.”
“What? No! Brody’s bringing someone with him! We’re just talking about how to approach the pet stores, is all.”
“Hmphf. I’m trying to live vicariously through you here, Lil.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not going to lie, the man is gorgeous, but I’m not crossing up those wires.” I felt my stomach tense, because it didn’t seem to matter how many people Brody had screwed, my body wanted to get those wires all crossed the hell up. “Besides, after the whole fantasy suite thing? I don’t judge—as long as it’s all consensual and everyone is of age, go’on and do your thang. But orgies are not my thing.”
“Ha. Says the woman who has Brody ‘The Body’ Shaw bringing a friend to her house for...erm, dinner.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Seriously, are you even sure it’s Brody’s thing? He’s said publicly he didn’t participate on several occasions.”
“You’ve seen the pictures.” Brody was... Even if he wasn’t a participant, the man had new women on his arm all the time—case in point: the team owner’s granddaughter and the Doublemint twins.
“Sweets, I’ve been in this business a long time—he doesn’t sound coached. Far be it from me to defend a football player, but he’s either a very good actor, or he’s telling the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time the media sensationalized something like this. You ever heard of Photoshop? Maybe you should give it a chance. If you two have that much chemistry...”
“Mmhmm.” I swallowed a sip of wine. “Maybe you should throw away all of tomorrow’s to-do lists, call in sick, and drop in on a pole-stripping class.”
Olive cackled into the phone. “Like that would ever happen. Besides, I can’t call in sick. I own the place.”
“Workaholic,” I said with a smile in my voice.
“Cynic,” she threw back, and we both snorted as my doorbell rang.
After a quick goodbye to Olive, I went to answer the door. I’d made an unconscious, yet conscious, decision to dress down in sweats and a holey T-shirt. My feet were bare, my hair was pulled up in a knot, and I’d even worn granny panties on purpose.
When I opened the door, however, Brody looked like a snack in a thin black leather jacket, and a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone.
“Uhh, hey.” His voice was the tickle of feathers over my skin.
“Hey.” I took a moment to soak him in. God, he was yummy.
“I hope it’s okay, I brought CC to play with Mack.”
“Mmm, yep.”
A beat went by.
“Sure smells good.” He glanced into the house while my eyes scanned down his torso to a pair of faded jeans that fit like a glove. I was in a full-on Brody-induced coma—a Broma.
“Mmhmm. Sure does.”
“Lil?” Brody’s grin was slightly uncomfortable. “Are you going to invite me in?”
I wondered briefly if I had drool on my chin before I remembered to close my mouth and snapped out of my Broma.
Granny panties. Granny panties. Totally not sexy, Lil. That’s when I noticed Hayes standing back off the porch with a shit-eating grin. “Shit. Yes! Sorry. Y’all wanna take CC around back to let her run off some energy? Her and Mack will do a number wrestling in my house.”
“Sure.” His answer was almost shy, and that blush on his cheeks? The granny panties were officially damp.
“Ohaaaiii, Liiileee.” Hayes drew out my name in amusement. Then the asshole started thrusting his hips in the air like he was giving Brody the business, only Brody couldn’t see him, so it was just for my benefit.
Was it that obvious that I wanted to climb this man? I went full-on face-palm. “Hi, Hayes.” Apparently, it is.
Christ, I’d lost my damn mind.
“Uhh, I brought wine and chocolate cheesecake.” Brody handed me a bag and brushed a bright red ear with his fingers like he knew he was blushing.
I peeked inside. Ohmygod, this big, beautiful, blushing man had brought me alcohol and chocolate. If the granny panties hadn’t been damp before... “Ooooh, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you. I mean, it’s going to go straight to my ass, but...yeah.” I was babbling.
His grin was a little shy, a little sly. “Yeah, I did. First, my mama would slap me upside the head if she knew I went to a pretty girl’s house for dinner and didn’t take her dessert. And second, your ass is perfect.”
My mouth fell open the smallest bit. “I’ll just, um, meet you guys out back. Gate’s over there.” I don’t know what he said, but Hayes earned himself a shove from Brody as they turned the corner of the house.
After putting the cake in the fridge, I poured them both a glass of wine and refilled my own. Balancing all three, I nudged the back door with my butt while reminding myself that I was not allowed to lick Brody Shaw like an ice cream cone. No-sir-ee.