Page 3 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

1

MIRANDA

Six months later

Austin was coming home. I paced the living room, stopping at the windows to look out over the New York skyline, and crossed my arms. Most people missed the beauty of New York. They looked around and saw gray buildings and chaos. I looked out and saw the busyness of people rushing, the heart-pounding thrill of hope as people poured from subway tunnels on their way to grab their dreams by the tail and ride the train of glory all the way to the end. I’d found my way through the streets and up the corporate ladder as a PR guru and publicist thanks to my knack for understanding what people wanted to see in their favorite public figures.

A key turned in the lock, sending me whirling to face the door. I dove for the baseball bat I kept hidden behind the curtains and wrapped one hand around it, squeezing tight. The distance between me and the door offered plenty of options. I stilled my racing pulse as the sounds registered. Only one person besides me owned a key. Luther had left his on the counter months ago.

The door swung open. Austin swaggered in, his duffel bag swinging from one hand and a giant bouquet of flowers in the other. “I knew better than to bring food.” He sniffed. “Figured you’d been cooking since the minute I said I wanted to visit.”

He was right. The kitchen overflowed with food, even though I knew good and well I’d end up eating most of it myself. I’d resisted the binge eating, refusing to gain an ounce because of that bastard ex Luther. “I made your favorites.” I released my hold on the bat and rushed Austin.

He dropped the duffel and flung the flowers on the bench seat to scoop me up into a tight hug. “Good to see you, sis.”

“Damned right.” I hugged his neck tight as I could, my toes almost leaving the floor when Austin squeezed my waist. He smelled like Austin, which over the years had become a unique mix of hockey equipment, musk, and cinnamon from the gum he always chewed. I released him and shoved his shoulders. “You’ve put on more muscle.”

Austin set me back down and flexed both arms. “Coach asked me to work out a little more with the new guys, help them get acquainted with everyone. Turned into a competition with Duncan. Pretty sure I won the better end of the deal.” His gray eyes mirrored mine, down to the crinkle in the corner when he laughed.

I ruffled his blond hair like I used to when we were kids. “Bet the girls are loving that.”

He flushed and dropped onto the nearest bar stool, grabbed a pan of brownies, and proceeded to one-bite-challenge his way through the entire stack. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he muttered around a mouthful of goo.

I smacked the back of his head. “Stop acting like such a dude. Tell me about hockey? Did you get the contract?”

He’d had me on pins and needles all week since the season ended and his contract went back up for renewal.

A smile crawled out, showing his brownie-caked teeth.

I pretended to retch and shoved a glass of water in his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“That’s a hell freaking yes, Miranda. I’m heading back to Washington.” He jumped to his feet, grabbed me around the waist, and whirled me around.

I laughed along with him and watched the room spin around me in dizzying spirals.

Austin stopped and snarled his nose. “I can’t believe you’re still living here?”

“Why?” I snatched the last brownie from the pan and popped it into my mouth. I’d work it off later when Austin and I hit the pool and exercise room. He had an obsession with keeping trim and fit for hockey. I didn’t blame him, and working out with my brother was always hilarious. I eyed the condo from the bright red front door, to my white leather couch, to the open door leading to my bedroom.

Austin snorted. “Because you lived here with the sleazeball.”

He saved me the sucker punch of hearing Luther’s name. I barely managed to think it without wanting to drive my fist through the wall. Violence was not naturally in my nature, but years of watching hockey alongside Austin encouraged me now and then.

“Come on, sis. Really? You can afford another place.” Austin paced to the counter where I’d stacked a charcuterie board full of meats and cheeses. The man was like a vacuum when it came to protein and sweets. “That creep of an ex has been all over this place, probably in your bed with some other girl.”

“Don’t remind me.” I shuddered. “I threw out all my sheets and covers. Almost trashed the whole bed.” I would’ve too, except I loved my bed. The vintage wood was one of a kind and so not getting thrown out. The rawness of heartbreak lingered despite knowing I’d done nothing to deserve it. “It’s tough sometimes. I thought about moving, but there wasn’t any time.” I stole a piece of cheese and sat on the arm of the couch. My socked feet slid back and forth over the gray hardwood. “Maybe I will now that I’ve finished my contract.”

“That NFL dude?” Austin asked.

“Yep.” I ate another slice of cheese. “Guy seriously had no idea what to do with himself. He spent more time trying to act like nothing was wrong and telling me it would all blow over.”

“I saw the news this morning. You pulled one out of your ass on that douche.” Austin held out his fist for a bump.

I obliged, tapping our knuckles together. “Not the way I’d phrase it, but yeah, I kicked ass.”

“Speaking of.” Austin carried the tray to the window and looked out. “What if you had a place with a better view?”

Confusion swept through me, narrowing my eyes. “What are you getting at?”

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