Page 11 of Off Balance

A jolt runs up my arm to my elbow, like I've jarred my funny bone. If I'm not mistaken, Cameron sucks in a tiny gasp. I pull my hand back before I'm tempted to hold on to it for too long again.

Okay, so, the feeling I got when I held his hand the first time wasn't a hallucination.

I don't understand it. He's a good-looking kid, obviously. He favors Cora. He has the same high cheekbones and thick, wavy hair that she does. His flops over one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, framing his soft, lightly tanned skin and delicate features that are almost feminine. Startling eyes that look like a clear, green sea glass in the waning sunlight are framed by eyelashes so longand dark that I’m tempted to lean in closer to see if he's wearing makeup. His pouty lips are glossy.

I pull back. I can't tell if he's wearing anything, and I'm going to make him uncomfortable again if I keep staring. It's not like it matters. I live in Las Vegas. I've seen plenty of men in various forms of makeup.

Not that I've ever been drawn to one. Or to a man at all.

Hell, I'm not sure I've ever felt this drawn to anyone in my life. I don't know what to make of it.

Dwayne comes over to pat Cameron on the shoulder and asks him about his day. It helps break the tension, and I watch as my brother tries too hard to find a connection with his stepson.

My brother always wanted to be a family man, but never had much luck with women until he met Cora. Dwayne is shrewd when it comes to running his business and could have easily made a lucrative career of managing pro fighters after I retired, but he's soft-hearted when it comes to dating and relationships. While I quickly grew to expect that the women who pursued me were often more attracted by the fame and fortune of professional sports, Dwayne was taken advantage of on more than one occasion. It's one reason why I think moving back home was good for him. Places like Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and New York are too fast for the life he wants, and the celebrity lifestyle definitely wasn't for him. I was fine with short, meaningless relationships with gorgeous women who wanted a taste of the high life. It was a fair exchange, and both parties understood what they were in it for.

Trista was the exception that proved the rule, because although it was the longest relationship I'd ever had, she ran right intothe bed of my very public rival at the most opportune moment. I'd thought better of her. I was wrong. Which is why it's been nothing but quick hookups and one-night stands since the moment I woke to the salacious photos of her and Bo Hoyt plastered all over the internet.

The problem is, I haven't been able to get off in weeks. And it started the night I met him.Cameron.

I've given up chasing skirts because none of them are doing it for me. Hell, even my hand isn't doing it for me, not unless I succumb to the very inappropriate thoughts that have been tormenting me.

Nephew.

Man.

Nephew.

Say it again, Dom.NEPHEW.

Jesus.

"Want a beer, honey?" Cora asks Cameron. He shakes his head and holds up an aluminum bottle that I'm assuming is water. He's dressed like he's been working out, although his hair seems slightly damp and he smells like… Vanilla? Or amber?

Well, fuck. The smell goes right to my crotch. I need to sit down before this gets more awkward than it is.

"Tired, old man?" Dwayne jokes.

"What do you think?" I snark back.

"We're working on his stamina," Dwayne says to Cameron, who watches me pensively.

"Hey now, my stamina is just fine."

Cameron chokes on a sip of water. Dwayne snort-laughs. I groan internally.

"It could be better," Dwayne pokes. "But balance and footwork are our real challenges."

I scowl, not wanting to talk about my failings as an athlete right now. Especially not in front of present company.

"What kind of exercises are you doing?" Cameron asks, and Dwayne jumps at the chance to turn a normal conversation into a discussion about work.

"Ah, you know, the usual. Jumping rope, shadow boxing, carioca drills. All the basics. The trick to this match is going to be agility and balance. Dom's got size and strength in spades, but he's a plodder. To win this, he's gotta be first, get under the asshole’s guard, and hit him hard. Hoyt is quick and knows how to use it to his best advantage. He'll dance around Dom until he gets too dizzy to punch straight."

Cameron scrunches his forehead in thought. "You might try yoga. It could help with flexibility and balance. Or turnout exercises would be effective for alignment to improve weight distribution.

"The fuck is a turnout?" I grumble, not loving being talked about like I'm not here.

"It's a floor exercise," Cameron answers, as Cora drops a stack of plates and utensils in the middle of the table. My brother moves over to the grill to load up a tray with the food.

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