Page 2 of Against The Rules

My throat constricts, and tears spring into my eyes.

“Uh-uh,” Andy says, squeezing my thigh. “Do not cry. She is watching you. Smile, honey.” The command is tight and no-nonsense.

I suck in a breath, clamping down the shame and disappointment in myself. Why can’t I be what they want?

“We’ll work with you,” Eva says, her super straight hair spilling over her face as she stretches over her legs. “Or even better, you know what? Let’s go out tonight. We leave early tomorrow morning, but let’s go cut loose. We can figure out what’s keeping you from loosening up and have a sexy time in Vegas.” She shimmies a little, tossing her hair for emphasis. “You know sexy is my thing.”

I can’t help but laugh. Cheering for the Beavers—so far, at least, during practice—hasn’t been what I imagined. As soon as I’m on the field though, I know that will change. This is what I wanted. This is what I’ve been killing myself for for years.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Tiffany and Ashley, two redheads with improbably deep tans, stop marking through the routine and applaud at that announcement.

“We’re going out tonight,” Ash sings, fist pumping and making us all dissolve into giggles. “Finally.”

“We’re gonna have a good tiiiime,” Tiffany says through a body roll, flipping her head and hair back with a sexy smile.

They’re all good at being sexy.

I put the protein bar down.

If anyone can teach me how to be sexy, it’s these women. Right?

CHAPTER 2

TYLER

Fucking Vegas. I love Vegas. The energy of the Strip, the people-watching, the gambling, the drinks, all the gorgeous barely dressed women glittering in every room.

Anything can happen here, and the whole city knows it. The whole city fucking thrives on it, and I do too. It’s the perfect getaway before training camp goes into full swing and the realities of pro football and living with my uptight brother sink in.

I swig from my glass, the huge sphere of ice clinking against the walls as the bourbon coats my tongue and I savor every last drop.

That’s how I live, after all. Savor it all. Can’t take it with you.

I grin at my friends, and Ben flags the bartender down for another beer while Luke props his elbows up on the bartop, scanning the room.

“Last night here, gents,” Luke says, sipping from his ridiculous Mai Tai, a skewer of fruit nearly jabbing him in the eye.

“You’re supposed to take that out first,” Ben tells him, shooting me an amused look.

“Nah, I like to live dangerously.”

I snort.

“Kind of like our boy here. Different girl every weekend, getting roughed up on the field for a living… Sounds badass, but it’s not exactly brain surgery, is it?” Luke asks smugly, and I laugh for real this time.

“Wait,” Ben puts a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “Luke. Are you… did you? You got the brain surgery residency? Why didn’t you tell us, bro?”

“Big news to keep to yourself,” I say through a laugh.

Luke, who hasn’t shut up to any woman in a ten-mile radius about how he’s a brain surgeon, drains his Mai Tai and gives us a rueful smile. That’s why we’re here, though, to celebrate his success before he moves out to Seattle. Well, and to drink, gamble, and pick up women, but that’s all part of the fun.

“Damn,” Ben says, stilling next to me. “Will you look at that?”

I swivel, and it takes no time at all to know exactly what, or rather, who, he’s talking about.

Luke whistles low, and it’s pure appreciation.

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