Isn’t that the truth.
I’m walking out of my office when Barbara hands me a handwritten note.
“Have a great night, Barbara. Are you coming to the game?”
“No, I have to get home. Have fun.”
I’m kind of getting used to Barbara’s notes, except for the fact that I read them, stuff them in a pocket or in my purse, and forget them entirely. I read the one in my hand.
Kane Burrows called and said his brother, Lee, is going to attend the game. FYI since he’s the quarterback for the San Francisco Kingsmen.
Kane’s brother is a professional football player? How did I not know this?
I dial up Kane on my way to the elevator, hoping that he’s not too busy with his pregame routine.
“I take it Barbara just gave you my message?” he says by way of answering. There’s the humor in his tone that I’ve missed during the last few months of us being at odds.
“How did I not know your brother is the quarterback for the Kingsmen? Your parents must be over the moon at having two sons who are professional athletes. I didn’t even know you had a brother.”
“I guess. My dad’s dead.”
Foot, meet mouth.
I cringe. “I’m sorry.” The elevator arrives, but I wait so my phone won’t drop the call.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. But you’re right, he would be proud. Two Canadians playing down in the US. You haven’t made it until you’ve made it in America.” I can hear the humor in his voice.
I giggle at his way of throwing that in there. “How about I bring him up to the suite? We’re retiring Brock Allen’s number in a ceremony before the game tonight so I’ll be down at the ice for that, but then I’ll be bringing him, his wife Kelsey and their kids up to join me in the box.”
“No. He’s fine on the floor. I just figured you might want to tell the cameras to be on the lookout or something. It’s good publicity.”
“Thinking of all the angles, huh?”
“Anything to get the heat off of my coaching. The chat rooms are horrible.”
I haven’t had the guts to read what the chat groups say about me. Hearing those fans the other week was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole.
“Let’s bring him up to the suite. Dad would probably insist on it,” I say.
“I’m not sure. He’s different than me.”
My brow furrows. “How so?”
There’s a long beat of silence. “I’m not sure… maybe more charismatic?”
“You mean he’s not a grumpy, brooding man with an ego the size of China?”
He chuckles lightly. “Oh, he’s got the ego. That’s what happens when you don’t have any responsibilities growing up. You get the ego, but you don’t get jaded.”
“Are you giving me a sliver of insight into how you grew up?”
“Believe me, if my brother has his way, you’ll know everything about how we grew up by the end of the third period.” He groans.
“All the more reason to invite him to the suite.” I laugh and press the button for the elevator again. “Good luck tonight. I’ll see you after for the press conference. Your brother’s ticket will be at will call.”
“We’re playing Oregon,” Kane says. “Tell me you have some lucky charm or superstition that will help us win tonight.”
“Sure, I wear a special pair of panties every game. Come on. You know me better than that.”
“If we win tonight, will you wear those panties every game after?”
“Um… no. You play back-to-back games.”
“It’s not like I said you couldn’t wash them.”
“My panties—” One of the women who works here waves to me on her way to the restroom, so I lower my voice. “My panties have nothing to do with winning games.”
“I know.” He laughs. “I was just hoping you’d tell me what panties you’re wearing. Lacy or sheer? My favorite pair was those sheer dark-purple ones with the small bow in the middle.”
My body heats with the memory of him using his teeth to drag them off me. How his eyes blazed with desire the first time I wore them for him.
“I’m wearing white cotton granny panties.” I try to keep my voice even, so he won’t know how much he still affects me.
“Damn, you just dumped a bucket of cold water over me. Although at this point, I’d take you in those without complaint.”
“Kane, we don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.” There’s zero censure in my voice. In fact, I think I probably sound more disappointed than anything.
A long silence follows. “A man can dream. See you at the press conference, lady boss.”
He ends the call and I step into the elevator, still overheated from his words.
Lee Burrows is as tall as his brother, with the same dark hair although his is shorter, and he has no beard. Even though he’s close to my age—thanks, Google—he doesn’t seem as manly as Kane. Not in a bad way. The guy is a panty dropper for sure. But comparing the two of them in my mind makes me realize how much I prefer Kane’s big, burly presence. The chin-length hair and full beard, the small crow’s-feet at the corner of his eyes and his gruff demeanor, rather than his brother’s charismatic charm.
“How did you get into football when your brother was playing hockey?” I ask Lee while we watch the game from the suite.
Currently, we’re winning 2–0, and my dad won’t stop bragging. I keep reminding him we have one more period before it’s final. Anything can happen.
“I’m not sure. Kane’s always played hockey. It was our dad’s sport too. I never took to it. I was like a baby deer on the ice when Kane would try to play pond hockey with me as a kid. But the first time I got a football in my hand, something clicked for me.”
I nod. “Maybe it’s better. That way you didn’t have to compete with each other.”
Lee chuckles. “Kane was playing professionally before I was a teenager, so we weren’t ever in the same stages of life at the same time. He got fortunate that he was able to play for the local WHL team and his career took off from there. If he’d had to be billeted somewhere and go play for another team, he probably wouldn’t be playing right now.”
“Why’s that?” I sip my wine and take a cheese and cracker from one of the catering plates because I’ve barely eaten all day.
“To take care of us.”
A small frown mars my face. “Us? Do you have more siblings?”
He chuckles and it sounds just like Kane’s. “You ask a lot of questions. Let me squeeze one in?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Are you dating my brother?”
I glance at the ice where Kane is standing behind the team, wearing a suit. He’s barking an order to one of the players while pointing at something on a clipboard to Bill, the assistant coach. He’s so intense, but it’s that alpha inside that’s always drawn me to him. Kane never apologizes for his rough exterior, but wears it with pride.
“No,” I answer truthfully. “Just curious.”