Page 32 of Hart Breaker

I bite back a laugh at Jillian, but mostly at Mom’s face as she walks into the kitchen, with her man and Nour right behind him.

“Jillian Hart,” Mom gasps.

Jill’s face turns beet-red as she stands up, but embarrassment doesn’t detour her; it eggs her on. “Me? How about the fact that I would have died with an unpunched V-card if these two had their way and never experienced?—”

“Jillian.” Nour shakes his head. “Fate.”

She grins.

“Okay, why don’t we all try to be a little bit more aware of our surroundings and respectful of?—”

I look up from my recipe, glance around to see what I’m missing, and quickly realize they’re all staring at me.

I point to myself. “Me?”

They don’t answer.

“My team just tied for number one in the division, fam. I made two touchdowns and ran more yards today than in any game I’ve ever played. I’m good. Better than good. I’m?—”

“Riley Brooks,” Roman says. Just that. Her name. Her. Name.

“Not ever gonna happen.” I force a laugh.

“Because he?—”

“Jillian, the fuck?” I cut my grown-ass sister off. “No. Just no.”

“This family doesn’t get a just no.” She turns and looks at them all, and I know what’s coming—she’s gonna word vomit.

“His words a few months ago: I adore her. He said he’d like to put her on a shelf high enough that she won’t get broken.”

“Stand by that,” I call over her. “Felt that way about you too until about ten seconds ago.”

Little shit waves me off and continues, “I told him he should go for it. He says, no, she’s related to the owners.”

I interrupt. “Update: her parents are part of the owners co-op.”

“They built the house you kids surprised me with?” Mom asks.

“Yep.”

“Hard workers,” Mom says appreciatively. “If you like her, I think they’d?—”

Jillian cuts her off with a delight-filled, “Hold up, I’m not finished.”

“Rome, when’s the wedding? I’m gonna need a new favorite sister.”

“And speaking of sisters …” Jillian waves her hands like, come here and leaves it up to their imaginations.

“You like her sister, too?” Mom asks.

“He liked her like these players like all their women—for a night.”

“You fucked Lauren Brooks?” Roman says in such a judgmental way that I don’t bother looking up.

“Yep.”

“In his defense, he didn’t know who she was.” Jillian snickers.

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