Page 20 of The Sweet Spot

I walk by him with a roll of my eyes. “Not sure anyone would buy that picture, Kane. We’ve got a lot of athletes in Kroydon Hills, and they’ve been caught in less,”—I drag my eyes over his chest with a smile and tease—“and looking better.”

Deacon

This spitfire walks by me like she owns the hotel, and for all I know—or care—she might. Her bare arm brushes mine, and my hair stands on end. This woman... Damn, I’m glad she’s not looking at me because something about her less than impressed attitude and the insane fucking electricity thrashing between us like a live wire makes it hard to hide my cock jumping to attention behind my towel. My eyes stay locked on her as the streetlights filtering in through the curtains bathe her in a warm glow.

“Give me a minute,” I groan before grabbing sweats and making my way into the bathroom. I throw them on, then pick up the t-shirt I tossed on the floor earlier and sniff.

Yeah . . . that’s not gonna work.

When I step back into the bedroom, Brynlee’s thanking the room service guy. She turns to me with a sexy smile on her face and pizza and beer in each of her hands, having no idea that standing in front of me the way she is right now, she’s my fucking dream girl. No makeup. A tight tank top and a pair of jeans with holes in both knees. She radiates comfort and confidence, and fuck, that’s sexy. Add the pizza and beer, and I’d have to beat men off with a hockey stick if they were lucky enough to see what I’m seeing. And I’d do it willingly for this woman.

I don’t share.

“You better get a shirt on, Kane. Wouldn’t want to drip any grease on that pretty chest. You’ve got to look good for the front page of the tabloids, after all.” Her smile stretches across her beautiful face and lights up those green eyes, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I’m a goner.

Brynlee places the food on the table and pulls a beer bottle out of the six pack. She inspects it with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Good choice. This is my cousin’s beer.”

I grab an old Boston University tee from the edge of the bed before I take the beer she’s holding out for me. “Oh yeah? I figured I’d try the local IPA.”

She twists the cap off and steps back, watching me with careful eyes. “Go ahead. I want to know if you like it.”

“Awfully invested in your cousin’s beer, St. James. You guys must be close.”

Her face drops before she scowls. “The asshole took my condo today. So I’m not really sure how to answer that.” She searches through the brown bag on top of the pizza box and pulls out paper plates and napkins. Then she puts them on the table before placing the remainder of the six pack in the fridge, while she helps herself to a bottle of water before sitting down. She looks up at me with pursed lips and a sparkle in her eyes. “Are you going to sit to eat, or do you expect me to cut your pizza too?” she teases with a laugh, and fuck... I like her sass.

I drop down onto the chair and tear away a slice, then push the plate in front of her before serving myself. She might be feeling salty tonight, but I do have manners. Even if the eating I’d like to do right now doesn’t involve pizza or a plate. I watch her fold the pizza in half and wait for the grease to drip off before she takes a bite, and I’m pretty fucking sure I’ve never been jealous of a slice of pizza before right now.

We eat in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts for a minute until Brynlee cracks open her water bottle and catches me staring. “So... why was your day such a shit show?”

I shake my head no. “Uh-uh. My momma taught me manners. Ladies always come first.”

Her breath catches on a silent gasp, and I know she’s feeling this crazy connection too before she quickly recovers. Her shoulders rise with a deep inhale before she blows out a breath. “Let’s see... I made a stupid bet with my cousin because I trusted my mother. A mistake I had to learn the hard way. Because, thanks to her, I lost the bet and my job.”

“What the hell? Your job with the Revolution?”

What kind of fucked up family is the Kingstons?

“I didn’t lose my job so much as quit.” She takes another bite of the pizza, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

Could she possibly have any clue what she’s doing to me or the hold she already has on me? When I don’t say anything, she finally answers my silent question. “My mother wanted to move me over to work with the Philadelphia Kings football team. Which would mean working under her instead of Max.”

“And that would be bad?” I ask without thinking it through, and the look Brynlee gives me would cut a lesser man down. Good thing I’m not a lesser man.

“My mother and I...” she chews her lip. “We wouldn’t work well together. We’d probably kill each other in the process. But it’s not even that. I worked hard to get where I am, and I love this team. I never wanted to work with the football team. I always knew the only other place I’d love as much as the Revolution would be working for Crucible.”

“Your dad’s gym?” It’s a rhetorical question. Crucible is well-known to anyone who’s ever followed MMA.

The anger disappears from her face, and a gorgeous smile appears in its place as she nods. “I grew up in that place. The octagon was my playground. The fighters were my first babysitters. If it wasn’t hockey players, it was always going to be fighters. So I quit. I gave my mom thirty days’ notice, and tomorrow, I’ll tell my dad I’m finally ready to take him up on his offer.”

She shrugs, like quitting her job is no big deal, and I’m reminded of what different lives we’ve led. Quitting a job without having another lined up has never been an option in my life.

“And you’re sure your dad will hire you?” I ask, as interested in her answer as I am in the sound of her voice.

She nods and rips the crust from her pizza, then points it at me like she’s waving a wand.

“Hey, now, Hermione. Don’t point that thing at me.”

Her face softens, and her smile spreads, deviously. “Are you a Potterhead, Deacon?”

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