Page 1 of The Players Next Door

Chapter 1

Holly

"Yeah, Sawyer, I'm at the apartment now," I huff into the phone, balancing one of my last moving boxes against my hip as I slam my car door closed. “Thank you for this, seriously.”

“Well, I’m not going to toot my own horn, but I think this earns me the ‘best brother ever’ trophy, don’t you?” Sawyer's voice crackles with static, but his teasing tone is clear as day.

"Right, I—" The box shifts and I scramble to get a better hold on it. “I’ll get right on that.”

I do my best not to roll my eyes…and fail. My fingers are numb from the endless parade of boxes and totes, and I almost drop my phone but I finally manage to hook it between my ear and shoulder.

"Seriously, Sawyer." I push through the lobby doors with my hip. The box in my arms teeters precariously as I edge toward the elevator. "I can’t believe your place is like ten minutes from the arena. It's perfect."

"See? Told you, squirt. You'll do great things there.” His confidence in me gives me a huge boost.

“I really hope so.”

I press the call button with my elbow and listen as Sawyer chatters on about his new apartment out west. I hate that he got traded from the Grizzlies right as I’m getting started with the franchise, but this is a good move for him. And I got a great apartment out of it, so it can’t be all that bad.

“Shit!” The box wobbles, but I manage to get a hand on it without dropping my phone.

"Everything okay?" Sawyer asks right as the elevator dings open.

"Uh, yeah. Just trying to juggle a few too many things.”

"Hey, Hol, remember to check the—" Sawyer's voice cuts out, and I smack the phone against my cheek, trying to hear him more clearly.

"Check the what?" I grumble, shifting the box again. My heart races. This is my chance to step into the big leagues of sports broadcasting, and it's all thanks to my big brother. But man, this city feels so much bigger than back home.

Parking was an impossibility. And the cost of movers? Way out of my price range. Sawyer said some of his hockey buddies lived in the building, but I didn’t want to bother a bunch of strangers to help me move in.

"Water pressure," he finishes as I step out onto my floor. "Shower can be kind of wonky."

"Got it, water pressure," I repeat, just as the box gives a sudden lurch. Fuck. A cascade of bras, lacy panties, and—crap, is that the vibrator my bestie got me for my birthday?—spills across the hallway floor.

"Damn it!" I hiss, squatting down to grab everything. The elevator dings.

As the elevator doors slide open, I freeze, my hand still clutching a pair of lacy panties. My eyes dart from one man to the next, each stepping out with a presence that commands attention, but in very different ways.

Of fucking course.

Sweet cheese and crackers, these men are gorgeous. And I meandrool-worthy. What perfect timing. I was just thinking I needed to meet the world’s hottest men when I was at my sweatiest and most embarrassing.

The first one to step out rubs his chiseled jawline with one hand. His curly light brown hair, which is cropped short, catches the overhead lights, and his piercing brown eyes flicker with a knowing smirk. A delicious dimple appears in his cheek as he surveys the scene.

Broad shoulders and tattoos hint at a rough exterior, but the lazy arrogance in his stride makes him impossibly magnetic. I can almost feel the electricity from his smirk, and I have to force myself to look away.

A towering figure stalks out after the first guy and the contrast is striking. Where the first is all swagger and sharp edges, this guy is a calm mountain by comparison.

He has shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes, which give him a look of quiet intensity. His reserved demeanor makes him seem almost aloof, but there’s something undeniably endearing about the way his high cheekbones and thoughtful gaze soften his stern exterior.

The last man to step out would render me speechless if I wasn’t already biting my tongue. Dark, wavy hair falls casually over his intense gray eyes, and a five-day beard surrounds his lush lips. He has a brooding presence, but the moment his lips curl into a smile, it’s like the room is bathed in sunlight.

They freeze as they all catch sight of me and my predicament.

"Everything okay here?" a deep voice asks. Broody and Bright, as I’ve mentally dubbed them, start toward me before I can unswallow my tongue.

"Fine, fine." My face burns hotter than a sauna. "Just...moving in."

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