Page 3 of The Players Next Door

"Hey, fellas," Sawyer's voice booms through the phone, his tone easygoing and familiar. “I guess that’s one way to meet my little sister.” He snorts.

“Hey, Sawyer,” Broody smiles mischievously.

“Deacon! Don’t scare her off, okay? And don’t worry about her. Her bark is much worse than her bite.”

“Yeah, yeah. We know, Sawyer. You gave us all the ‘watch out for my baby sister or you’ll never play hockey again’ speech before you left. And every day since.”

I can feel my face heat up even more, my embarrassment reaching new levels. These men aren’t just random neighbors—they're players from the team, and Sawyer knows them. How could I have missed this?

I want to disappear into the floor.

It’s not too late to find a different, equally amazing job and a mostly free apartment, right?

“Jaxon,” the tattooed guy says with that panty-melting smirk.

“Cameron,” the gentle giant offers with a soft smile.

“Deacon. And you must be Holly.”

"Uh, hi," I manage to squeak out, feeling utterly exposed under their amused gazes.

I can feel my cheeks burning hotter than ever. Of all the ways to meet Sawyer's old teammates—men I would now be working with. Dropping my unmentionables in front of them was not on my list of ways that I wanted to be introduced to them. How do I recover from this?

Sawyer's voice crackles through the phone again, clearly enjoying the events unfolding at his old apartment. "You're doing great, Hol. Just remember to breathe."

"Thanks, Sawyer," I mutter into the phone, trying to keep my composure. "Really appreciate the moral support."

"No problem," he replies cheerfully. "You got this. And don’t forget to take your antibiotics!"

“Thanks, Mom," I snark, cringing at what they must think I need the antibiotics for. With what I just spread out on the floor, I’m sure they’re thinking the worst. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure thing, squirt. Don't let these guys scare you off," he teases. “They’re just a bunch of knuckleheads.”

Meanwhile, the three men in front of me exchange amused glances as if they're sharing some private joke that I'm not privy to. Great, now they're probably going to nickname me 'Panties' or something equally embarrassing.

"So, Holly," Jaxon starts, leaning casually against the wall, "welcome to the building."

"Yeah, welcome," Cameron adds with a friendly nod.

"Nice to meet you," Deacon says, his tone a curious mix of amusement and something I can't quite place.

"You too," I manage, hoping my voice doesn't betray the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me—embarrassment, attraction, and the nagging feeling that something big has just happened.

I reach behind me, fumbling for the doorknob. Escape is the only thing on my mind. I’m pretty sure my mortified blush has spread from my cheeks to my chest and I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon. I’ve already given them a little peek at my unmentionables. There’s no need to give them my best impression of a tomato on top of it.

"Thank you for the help," I say, because Mama Hawthorne raised me to be polite, even if I want to crawl into a hole right now.

"Anytime, neighbor." Jaxon nods, and I swear there's a hint of mischief in those brown eyes.

"We’ll be seeing you around," I hear someone say just before the door cuts off the world outside. Great, Holly. Just great.

"First impression," I mutter to myself, sliding down the door. "Nailed it."

The pressure to make a good impression on the players who are also my neighbors just skyrocketed. How am I going to face them again after this?

With a sigh, I shake my head, reminding myself that everyone has embarrassing moments. This is one of mine, but hopefully it won't define my relationship with my new neighbors—or my new job.

But as I glance around my half-unpacked apartment, I can't help but wonder if things are about to get a lot more interesting than I ever bargained for.

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