Page 11 of Holiday Power Play

Which is exactly what I plan to do.

"La-na," Vance drags out my name. "Come on. By midnight, we'll be in a giant cabin in the mountains and you won't have to see him if you don't want to."

Trevor looks over at Vance confused, then back at me. "Why do I have the feeling you have something against me?"

I groan as I drag my luggage back toward my waiting brother at the back of his car.

"Because I do. I have a lot of somethings against you, Trevor Sincaid."

Vance drops the handles down and tosses my luggage into the trunk, rearranging things to make space for the other boxes.

"Glad we can be civil," he says to me, before heading back up the steps to retrieve the rest of my failed wedding belongings.

Trevor comes up to me.

"Are you going to tell me what those somethings are?" he asks like a curious puppy. A very cute, curious puppy.Damn him.

"Do you have a week?" I say, all bite.

"No, but I have four days and a really great attention span."

"Great, because I'll need every minute of those four days if you want to know all the reasons why I find you to be obnoxious, entitled, and everything that's wrong in professional sports."

I turn on my heel and open the back door, tossing my purse in.

"Okay," he says thoughtfully. "Listen, I can take the back seat, if you want to sit next to your brother," he says, appearing at my side again.

I can already see he has a very keen, inability to take a hint.

"I'd rather not have to interact with either of you at the moment. Thanks."

He backs up with hands surrendered, just as Vance tosses the last of my belongings into the trunk.

He shuts it and slides into the drivers seat. Trevor takes his spot in the passenger seat and Vance looks back at me, excitedly. "Ready?"

I don't grace him with a smile, instead I just stare at him with a blank expression on my face.

“I am!" my older brother says, ignoring me. He turns his attention to the radio and puts it on a Holiday station. As he pulls out from the parking in front of my town home, his teammate looks back at me.

His hoodie is still up and it's dark except for the small glow of the dashboard. I refuse to look directly at him, as I cross my arms over my chest and stare out the window.

But my body is fully aware of the way he's studying me. From my peripheral I can see his eyes taking me in. They study my black curls, drag down the length of my athleisurewear down my legs then back up, before he quirks up a smile and turns his body to face the windshield.

It's fast, the way his eyes soaked me up. But somehow it felt like time slowed as he watched me.

And I want him to know I don't approve.

"You got a problem wit the way I look?" I say to him.

Vance glances at me through the rearview mirror, brows cinched together.

"You know, if I wanted to die by way of looks I could've just gone to work today," Trevor says, not turning to face me.

"We can still make that happen. Space City Arena is just down the road. Care to make a pit stop brother and dump some unwanted baggage?"

"Ouch," Trevor says, holding his chest in mock offense. "You know, I'm starting to think maybe I'm not welcome."

"Starting?" I scoff. "Took you long enough."

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