Page 3 of The Sweet Spot

“Your penthouse, Brynn. Lindy and Everly are both married. Gracie’s going back to London once she’s done rehabbing her foot, and Kenzie’s residency has her in DC for the next few years. You don’t need all that space to yourself. And anyway... if you’re so sure I’m wrong, what’s it gonna hurt?” He’s also done this before. Played some form of chicken with me. He knows I hate backing down. I hate being challenged almost as much as losing.

“Fine. If you win, we swap condos. But if I win, I want the ‘Stang.”

He recoils like he just took a punch to the gut from my brother, who fights in a cage for a living. Madman’s 1966 cherry-red Mustang convertible is in mint condition with a white soft-top and shiny white rims. The engine purrs prettier than anything I’ve ever heard, and I have a thing for cars. It’s a classic, and I’ve loved it since the very first time he drove to my house to pick me up in it.

“Done.” He offers me his hand, and a chill runs down my spine.

I should probably be scared of how easily he just agreed. Maddox loves that car more than anything. He must be sure he can win this one. But there’s no way I’m losing. My mom knows how much I love my job. She knows how hard I worked for it. And after these past few months, she knows exactly what it means to me. She wouldn’t just force me to switch teams in a way she’d never force another physical therapist to do. She just wouldn’t.

“I’m going to look so good driving your baby, Madman.” I take another small sip of my drink and smile before Callen waves Maddox down to his end of the bar.

The fucker turns to me and smirks. “Enjoy your delusions, Brynnie.”

He slides out of his spot, and I turn back to the bar and wave down Lou. “Could I get a Coke?”

“Rum and Coke?” Lou checks, and I shake my head.

“Just Coke, please.”

“She won’t say no to a few cherries in it though.”

I whip my head around to see who the hell just slipped into Maddox’s space and nearly swallow my tongue.

“Deacon?” I gasp, shocked to see the boy Lindy and I used to drool over as teenagers. I haven’t seen him since the last time my family visited Block Island and stayed at the inn his family owns on the coast. Only the man sitting next to me is twice the size and at least ten years older than the boy I last saw.

Lou places my soda in front of me, and Deacon reaches across the bar and swipes two cherries to drop in my glass. “How are you doing, red?”

Deacon

Little Brynlee St. James isn’t so little anymore, but she blushes the same way she used to when we were kids.

With her entire face.

And fuck me.

She’s got a beautiful face.

Tiny freckles dot the bridge of her nose, tinged pink from too much sun. Strawberry-blonde hair hangs down over bare shoulders, dancing against porcelain skin. And those green eyes... Emerald green. Greener than the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Eyes that used to watch me every single summer are staring at me now, making my dick harder than it’s been in a damn decade. Brynlee fucking St. James.

Guess I knew I’d be running into her sooner or later.

But I didn’t expect it to be tonight.

“Cat got your tongue?” I tease when she sits silently, stunned. “You never used to stop talking. You and your cousin, and that little sister. Lilly?” I ask.

“Livvy,” she smiles. “Lindy is technically my aunt, not my cousin, and Livvy is my sister. But she started college and wants to be called Olivia now.” She tilts her head and just looks at me for a moment, her eyes scanning my face, then down my chest before coming back up. I don’t miss the way her flush deepens and her lips part. “What are you doing here, Deacon?”

“I promised my daughter I’d spend the day on the beach with her. Her mom and stepdad have a place down here for the week. My friend, Ripley, rents a house down here in the offseason. He was supposed to meet me here tonight. I was looking for him when I found you.”

Now I’m thinking I might just blow off Rip.

Hell . . . he’ll understand.

She nods her head slowly while she plays with one of the cherries I dropped in her soda. “Right. I heard you had a little girl.”

“Yeah. Kennedy. She’s a spitfire. Her mom always brings her down here for her birthday.” My kid’s got us all wrapped around her little finger. All of us.

She pops the cherry in her mouth, then pulls the stem out—tied in a knot—a few seconds later, then drops it on the damp napkin sitting under her drink. Everything about the move is sexy, but Brynlee looks like she’s completely oblivious to her sex appeal as she smiles almost shyly up at me. “We’re actually down for my best friends’ birthdays too. Guess they’re in good company.”

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