Page 18 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

“We slept with Austin’s sister.” Duncan ran a hand through his red hair, standing it on end. He groaned and banged his forehead on the table. “We’re dead. He warned us off.”

“Morning.” Austin’s voice filled the kitchen. The door swung wide, and he stepped through, his arm around the same woman he’d disappeared with last night.

She wore one of his t-shirts over a pair of baggy shorts. Her pink hair stood up at odd angles, much like how Miranda’s had looked after I dug my fingers through it as my cock slid over her tongue and down her throat. Stop thinking about that.

Austin motioned at the woman beside him. “Guys, this is Samantha Harris. Samantha, that’s Charlie, Duncan, and Patrick.”

We each raised a hand in a short wave when he said our names. I clamped my mouth into a flat line, swallowing the words I’d been about to say.

Austin pulled Samantha in close and kissed her. I’d never seen him show affection to a woman before. It was kind of an ongoing joke with the team that Austin was married to the game. So much so that he’d never even hook up with a woman. He’d proved us wrong, and in a big way.

“So.” He made his way to the other end of the table and pulled out a chair for Samantha. “What happened after I went to bed?”

A single, shared look ran around the table. We understood each other perfectly.

“Nothing.” Patrick answered for all of us. He was the smoothest liar, the one most capable of getting Austin to believe we’d been on our best behavior.

Confessing we’d slept with Miranda risked ruining our friendship, and the team. Not happening. No way any of us wanted to risk winning the Stanley Cup by admitting what we’d done to Miranda.

If Miranda wanted to tell him, she could. Until we heard that straight from her mouth, my lips were sealed.

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