Page 24 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

12

PATRICK

I’d never known weeks to pass by so fast. It seemed like yesterday I was here at Austin’s house with Miranda, and we were all hiding away in the pergola. I sipped my cocktail and tapped my hand along my thigh in time with the jazzy music Austin preferred to play when he hosted these pool parties. Muted light faded across the yard, the dim glow glancing off the partygoers and creating a soft ambiance.

“Did you read the article?” Murphy flipped his phone around to show me the screen. “They called me a triple threat, and they meant it in a good way.” Black hair swung side to side as he shook his head. “I’ve never been the bad guy like Duncan, but the media usually chews me up and spits me out.”

“It’s all Miranda.” Scott toasted her by raising his glass.

She stood several feet away with her back to me, her voice rising clear and strong throughout the conversation. The pale blue sheath dress outlined her curves. She wore a bathing suit beneath the slinky material but hadn’t stepped close to the pool since my arrival with Duncan. Instead, she’d worked her way through the crowd, stopping to talk to every single player on the team, except for Duncan, Charlie, and me. Her influence on us as a team and our individual images was nothing short of miraculous. Especially when I considered the latest piece written up about Duncan. Three whole weeks without a single fight.

I drained my drink. A man in a tailored white shirt and apron held out a tray as he passed, inviting me to set my glass down to free my hands. I almost kept hold of it for something to do, but then I’d look weird standing around holding an empty glass. The threat of a headache pulsed in my temples after a wicked elbow to the head earlier in practice. I rubbed the tender spot.

“Sorry about that.” Duncan winced and rubbed his elbow. “If it’s any consolation, your head bruised my elbow.”

“It’s not.” I started toward the bar for another drink but stopped. Why put myself through the pain of a hangover? Miranda hadn’t taken me up on my offer, but that was no excuse to drink myself into oblivion. Especially with the practice season coming to a close. We rode the cusp of the approaching season in fine style, and I found no reason to dull my senses because Miranda kept her distance.

Three women in string bikinis walked past. A tall blonde led the way around me, pausing long enough to look me over and raise her drink in open invitation.

I looked away, dragging my attention from the sight and back to Duncan. “How’s the interview training?”

He’d been sequestered away with Miranda more than the rest of us since she’d demanded he practice his interview skills under her tutelage. A hammering blow of jealousy rocked my onto my heels. I compensated with a forward motion that carried me toward a string of chairs lining the edge of the concrete between the pool and the yard.

Duncan sank into the chair beside me and adjusted his swim trunks. He’d been hitting the weights harder than ever, and it showed in the new gains on his arms and chest. “Not my favorite.” He shot a look toward Miranda. “Company is good, but I’d rather floss with aluminum foil than talk to reporters.”

A volleyball game started up on the other side of the pool, a mix of men and women stripping down to the bare minimum of clothing and stepping onto the custom court Austin had built years ago. People filled the yard thanks to Austin’s proclivity toward making friends with incredible ease. Laughter and music kept the momentum going, the free drinks and food coming off the grill helping ensure the crowd stuck around.

Miranda turned enough to flash us a grin. My fucking heart stopped in my chest with nothing more than the hope threatening to burst out. My feelings for her grew every damned day, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop them.

“What’s up with you?” Murphy joined them at the edge of the party, a full drink in his meaty fist. “That blow to the head really did you in, huh?”

“What?” I shook hair from my eyes and tried to stop the pining expression I felt pulling my face into a weird look.

Murphy saluted a passing convoy of women who passed us. “You’re not making your usual moves.” He drained half the glass. “In fact, I’ve not seen you even talk to a woman all night.”

“The night’s not over yet.” I spoke on autopilot, knowing I had zero intentions toward any other women here aside from Miranda.

Miranda walked our way, her long hair swinging freely around her shoulders and down her back. She picked up a bottle of water from one of the drink tables and cracked it open. “How’s everything over here?” A flick of her head sent her hair drifting in the breeze, and she stopped beside Duncan’s chair. Her free hand rested on the back, her attention sweeping our small group. Charlie had shown up at some point while I’d been focused on Miranda. He still watched her with that hopelessly in love look I’d worked hard to remove from my own face.

“Good.” Murphy grinned at me. “Just trying to find out what’s wrong with our Romeo here.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Either he’s sick, or that blow to the head knocked something loose.”

“Nah.” I relaxed in my chair and kicked my feet out in front of me. “I’ve decided it’s time to get serious. Miranda’s shown me the light.” I dared to look at her then, curious to see if she’d understand my meaning.

Her assessing gaze warmed slightly, but not enough.

I barged ahead. “I need a good woman. That’s what is going to make my life complete. Not any more of these free rides between the sheets.” I’d never held back my crudeness before, and I refused to start now. “What’s that you say, Charlie? Quality over quantity?” I jerked my chin toward the groups of women all around. “Just because I can have any–or all–of them doesn’t mean it’ll be right. I’m prepared to become a one-woman man.”

Miranda stiffened, the move so slight I’d have missed it if I wasn’t watching her so closely. Her grip on Duncan’s chair tightened, her body swaying before she released the wooden chair and took a step back.

She’d picked up on the double meaning loud and clear. Good. I’d meant for her to recognize the secret I hid between the words. I was interested in her and only her. A heated flush raced into her cheeks, deepening the color to rose gold.

Duncan cleared his throat, while Charlie shifted like he had to hold himself back from rushing to Miranda’s side.

“That’s what she’s supposed to do.” I turned my attention back to Murphy. “That’s what makes her a great publicist. Can you imagine anyone else convincing me to give up my playboy lifestyle.”

“I never said you had to do that.” Miranda’s voice was low and careful. “Everyone expects you to be a playboy. It’s going to cause a lot of questions if you suddenly stop. Anyone who follows your story will want to know about the woman who finally managed to make you go exclusive.”

“I’ll tell them it was you.” I dragged the sentence out, letting the words fall with every ounce of the emotions I’d hidden away tucked in the syllables. “You showed me the error of my ways. No more bed hopping for me. I’m a reformed playboy.” My body relaxed deeper into the chair as the truth of it wrapped around me. “You should all listen to her.” I continued the conversation because it felt good to fluster Miranda as I complimented her. “She’s proven invaluable to the team. If she can reform my image, she can make all of you look like fucking superstars.”

“No shit.” Murphy finished his drink and stood. “Between you and Duncan, I was beginning to think I’d signed on to some kind of soap opera. All the papers wanted to talk about was your sexual exploits and Duncan’s fighting. It’s nice to see things come around to our actual games and skills on the ice.”

A loud cheer rose from the volleyball court. Heads turned that way, interest pulling away from me and Miranda. She locked those gorgeous eyes on me, and I winked, confirming I’d meant every word. The real meaning hung between us as ephemeral as fog. I’d give anything to stand and pull her into my arms.

Austin whooped and ran past, cannonballing into the water. Droplets sprayed across the concrete, peppering me and several others.

Samantha called out to Austin, but her voice slipped into the chaos as others followed Austin’s example. A series of splashes drove me to my feet.

Miranda walked backward until she left the splash zone, retreating toward the far side of the yard without looking back. She’d understood the true meaning behind my words. It was enough. For now.

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