“So you do like it here then? In New York?”
He eyes me almost warily before he nods. “I do, yes.”
I hold my face up to the late afternoon sun and close my eyes. “Every time I say I’m sick of it, I travel for work and realize how much I can’t wait to get back home to it.”
“Hmm,” he says, and then he falls silent. I watch him for a few moments as he sprays water on the grill to calm the flame and then moves them to the other side of the grill.
I’m not sure exactly how I expected this to go so I have no stick to measure it against, but a part of me feels like it’s failing. The other part of me thinks the fact that we can do comfortable silence well is a good thing.
“Remember that time when—”
“The stingrays!” he says.
“Yes!” I shout as we both laugh. I certainly notice that he completed my thought for me.
“There was that crazy lady screaming every time one came near her even though we were there in—where were we?”
“Grand Cayman.”
“Yes. That’s right. It was Grand Cayman and we took that boat out to that shoal in the ocean where there are tons of them.”
“But that lady,” I say with a quick shake of my head. “Man, she screamed as if a great white shark was eating her any time a ray came within ten feet of her.”
“That was a great trip. So many fun memories. Before everything changed.”
I finish the sip of my beer, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, but not wanting to ruin the mood. But just when I start to speak, he changes the subject.
“Remember when we rented that place down in the Florida Keys?” he asks.
How could I not?
I was fifteen and when the Bowmans showed up at the house we’d all rented, something had shifted. I hadn’t seen Drew in almost a year but this time when he walked into the house with board shorts hung low on his hips, his skin tanned and chest bared, I realized he wasn’t a little kid anymore.
And I sure as hell wasn’t a clumsy little girl.
I’d spent those whole two weeks hoping he’d notice me. Every time he told his parents he was going to go off and explore, I prayed he’d ask me to come along. And the one time I caught him kissing the local girl he’d met on the beach, I was crushed it wasn’t me.
So those last few nights I maneuvered myself any way I could to be in his path, even if it meant stepping out of my comfort zone and into a situation that left me in tears.
Something had shifted between us that summer—hormones, puberty, life—but it was only one-sided.
Our families parted ways at the end of that trip. I was in love and he didn’t have a clue.
“I do. I seem to remember you having a different girl following you back to the house every night. You’d sit on the porch and do who knows what with them until your mom would make you come inside.”
“Oh, to be a teenager and carefree again.”
I stare at him, almost daring him to meet my eyes to see if he remembered that night or not.
Probably not.
“What was it called? Forced family fun?” I ask and smile.
“FFF.” He chuckles. “I’d forgotten that term.”
“Your sister made it up, didn’t she?” I ask, remembering the aloof roll of her eyes when we had to all play UNO together one night. But I’m so caught up in the memory that I almost miss the shadow that drifts through his expression.
“Maggie did. And for the record,” he says as he checks the meat, “forced or not, I have a hell of a lot of awesome memories from when our families vacationed together.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BREXTON
DREW’S LAUGHTER RINGS OUT, DROWNING out the sound of crickets and a motorcycle revving somewhere down the street. Evening has taken hold as we sit across from each other, empty plates now pushed to the side with several empty beer bottles beside them, and a whole host of laughter and memories shared between us.
He’s obviously more than easy on the eyes. I knew that when I knocked on his door. What I didn’t expect was to be charmed by his personality as well. What I never considered was that spending time with him would spark something more than that teenage crush.
Not in a million years.
But it has.
Sitting across from him, his easy smile, and his incredible sense of humor, has only made him more attractive to me.
But I’ve sworn off men. Too much heartbreak and not enough heart filling.
Keep telling yourself that, Brex.
“So after the Olympic trials, what happened?” he asks.
I shrug with a frustration I still feel all these years later. “I blew out my knee the first day at the Olympic Village. The turf had a tear in it that snagged my cleat, and down I went.”
“You must have been heartbroken.”
“To put it mildly. But I’m lucky. So many athletes spend their lives competing and don’t have anything to fall back on. I had my degree, and when doctors told me that if I played field hockey again, I had a chance of ruining my knee forever, I made the decision to have a real life.”
“Do you miss it?” he asks.
I angle my head and stare at him as I think it over. “I miss the competition and that anticipation in the air before a game. I miss the smell of a real grass field just after it’s been mowed, and knowing I was part of a team . . . but I have no complaints when it comes to my life now.”
He twists his lips and stares at me, eyes growing darker as they narrow in thought.
“What is it, Drew?”
“So you’re after Justin, then?” he asks.
“That’s who I’ve been tasked to acquire, yes.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Because it’s the name of the game in this business.” My answer is lame, but it’s a difficult thing to answer. Not to mention, I don’t want to have to explain anything about rival agent Finn Sanderson and our family pact to take back some of the clients he’s stolen from us over the past few years.
“Big-ticket players also come with big-ticket headaches.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” I take another sip of my beer.
“Just be careful with him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just be careful.” He shrugs with his hands and meets my eyes. “Obviously you’re working with Kincade,” he continues, speaking of Kincade Sports Management.
It’s the first time either of us has delved into this realm. We’ve spoken about past family vacations, about college years, about the mundane, but we’ve avoided—perhaps purposely—what happened and the current day.
But now he went there and I have no choice but to respond.
“Yes. We all work there.” I lean back in my chair.
He falls silent and takes a sip of his beer, but his eyes stay fixed on mine, almost as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Is that why you’re here, Brex? To recruit me? Because if it is, you can save your breath. I’m not going to switch agencies.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “And if that is the reason, it’s pretty shitty to come here under the guise of catching up only to know you want something from me.”