Page 3 of Tempting

When I drag my eyes back to Nix, he taps his bottle of beer to my glass with a wicked grin on his handsome face. “To you being home, Mac.”

“Thanks, Nix.” I try unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, then cover my mouth, mortified.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he teases.

“Stop.” My cheeks burn red. “I’m on call in a few hours, and it’s a full moon. I should probably go try to catch a little sleep while I still can.” I look around, hoping no one is paying me any attention so I can make my escape without any guilt trips stopping me.

Nixon crosses well-defined arms over his chest, blocking me from everyone’s view, and I wonder when exactly they got so thick too.

I’ve known him since we were twelve, and Nixon Sinclair never used to be... well... hot.

He was always a good-looking guy. Tall, dark, and handsome, just like his dad. But kind of quiet, a little awkward, and always obsessed with hockey. You never really saw Nix with a girlfriend. He was always surrounded by the Kroydon Hills Prep’s hockey team in high school. He didn’t party much. If you needed him, you could usually find him on the ice somewhere.

But somewhere between then and now, Nixon grew into a seventh circle of Hell hot man.

When exactly did that happen, and how exactly did I miss it?

My eyes trail over his chest and down his arms, stopping on the muscles there long enough to decide the temptation is too good to resist. I squeeze one of the biceps currently testing the strength of the dark gray cotton t-shirt covering his tanned, obviously toned chest and bite down on my bottom lip, hiding my smile. “You know steroids cause erectile disfunction, right, Nix?”

“Jesus Christ, Mackenzie,” he chuckles. “I’m not taking steroids.”

When I quietly cock my head to the side, he laughs harder. “I’d get kicked out of the league.”

I drag my eyes over him one more time and shrug. “Just saying... it would be a shame to destroy a perfectly good body.”

“Perfect body, huh?” he counters with a sexy smile, and I force myself to ignore the way his lips tip up at one corner.

You do not flirt with your best friends’ brother.

Girl code . . . or something like that.

At least that’s the excuse I’m sticking with.

“That’s the only part you heard?” I chew my lip with a shake of my head and remind myself that he not only is my best friends’ brother but a professional hockey player too. This man is most likely a player in every possible aspect, not to mention so far beyond the tiny bit of lackluster experience I’ve got, he should be in a whole other stratosphere.

“Whatever...” I shake away that train of thought before it turns into an entire runaway locomotive. “If anyone asks, can you let them know I’m heading home?”

“You walking?” he asks as he pulls out his wallet and drops a handful of bills on the bar.

“We live four streets away from here, Nix. It’s not like I was going to drive.” It’s also not like Kroydon Hills is known for its high crime rate. Walking was a no-brainer.

When my residency ended, I had no intention of moving back into the building the girls and I all lived in after college. Not because it wasn’t a great place to live. The condos are beautiful with big open floor plans, nice bathrooms, and state of the art kitchens. One I’ll probably never use, but that’s beside the point. Of course, my family owns the damn building. Half my cousins live there. And the few tenants I’m not related to are related to the twins, like Callen, Nixon, and Leo. And every single one of them is nosey as hell. This town makes Gossip Girl look like Sesame Street in comparison. Gossip might as well be its main export after professional athletes.

I guess I’ve gotten used to having my own space, and a little bit of privacy goes a long way. Especially since I work insane hours. It’s not like babies are born on schedules, and I’m padding my resume with as much experience as possible. I’ve been toying with the idea of applying for a fellowship, and the hours look great on an application.

When I come home, I don’t want to worry about who I run into and what they’ll say. And my friends are everywhere. I’ve already come home twice to Callen raiding my fridge and woke up once to Maddox having a cup of coffee in my kitchen. Lucky for him, he brought me one too, so I let him live instead of practicing my scalpel skills on him like a fresh cadaver.

And... it’s barely been two weeks since I moved back in.

I’ve already reached out to a realtor to see if I can find a little house to rent for now until I’m ready to buy something more permanent.

Nixon follows me through the bar, then tugs on my elbow to stop near his brother. The Sinclair genes are strong, and Leo and Nixon are both so similar. But where Nix is tall, dark, and handsome, Leo looks more like the twins with surfer-boy good looks, even if they’re on the body of one of the fastest guys in professional hockey. “Hey, man, I’m walking Mac home. Catch up later.”

Leo nods and goes back to the women he was talking to.

“I can walk four blocks alone, Nixon,” I protest as he opens the door of West End and waits for me to walk through.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” he argues, and I resist the eye roll that’s coming. “I don’t remember you being this stubborn, Mac.”

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