Page 40 of Game Changer

“I love it.” She bounces in place, sending the ends of her curly brown hair flying over her shoulders. The black leather jacket she’s wearing was a birthday gift from our parents almost a decade ago. The red jeans she has on are a favorite of hers. She tripped on a sidewalk grate one morning when she was in high school. The fall ripped the denim over both of her knees. She cried about them for a day and a half until I had a brand new pair of the discontinued jeans waiting for her at our parents’ home when she got home from school. It secured my place as her favorite brother until Bauer gave her a charcoal drawing of her in her graduation cap and gown. That gift brought tears to her eyes.

“We should meet up for dinner soon,” I say. “You pick the place.”

“You’re going to drag yourself away from whatever it is you do all day and most nights to eat a meal with me?”

“I help men become the best they can be,” I repeat the line I almost always use around her and Bauer.

She purses her lips together. “A few in here desperately need your help because they are the worst they can be.”

I’ve always been overly protective of my sister, so I glance behind her. “If someone is being an asshole to you, point them out.”

“So you can do what?” She half-smiles.

Drive my first into their nose is the answer I’m contemplating, but violence rarely solves anything.

“I know,” she readies to answer her own question. “You’d explain why being a jerk is not the way to get into a woman’s pants.”

To add to that, she tugs on the waistband of her jeans.

I close my eyes. “Don’t mention getting into pants and men in the same breath around me.”

“I’m twenty-four,” she reminds me. “I’m not a virgin, William.”

I lean forward to kiss the center of her forehead. “This discussion ends now, but I want you to know that I trust you can take care of yourself, but if you ever need me, I’m a call away.”

Her arms are wrapped around me before I can get another breath out. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I tell her as I squeeze her.

She steps back to study my face. Her gaze wanders over my features. “You seem a little torn up about something. Is it work or a woman?”

“Both,” I answer honestly.

She briefly glances over her shoulder toward her co-workers again. “I can ditch them, and we can go somewhere and talk. I know you can’t, or won’t, tell me a thing about work, but what about the woman? I’d love to hear about her.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I say because I know my sister, and she’s always willing to listen to anyone’s problems.

“But, you’ll figure it all out on your own the way you always do.”

I smile. “I will.”

She pats my cheek. “Can I offer at least one piece of advice, and then I’ll head back to my table?”

“Offer away.”

“If it’s a choice between work and a woman, and if she’sthewoman, William, or could be the one, choose the woman.”

“If she’s the woman?” I repeat the words she put extra emphasis on. “What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” She slaps my hand lightly. “If you can’t stop thinking about her, and if the world is a little moody and murky unless she’s right in front of you, she’s the woman.”

I pinch her chin. “When did you get so smart?”

She leans closer to whisper in my ear, “The first time I fell in love and had my heart broken.”

I close my eyes at the assault of emotions I feel. Knowing that a guy caused her pain doesn’t sit right with me. “Tell me his name, and I’ll hunt him down.”

She laughs. “I was seventeen when it happened. I’m so over him. I don’t even remember his name.”

---