Page 40 of Only Between Us

I’m vaguely aware of Josh prattling on, but I’m fixated on the screen as three gray dots flicker at the bottom.

SIENA:Let me consult with my manager.

BROOKS:So, yourself?

SIENA:Smart AND pretty. You’re one hell of a catch, Attwood.

BROOKS:Aren’t you a lucky girl.

BROOKS:Is that a yes?

SIENA:Separate rooms?

BROOKS:Separate floors.

SIENA:Deal.

I stare at my phone, waiting to see if she’ll add anything else. Feeling that familiar prickle of irritation when she doesn’t.

“Brooksy,” Josh shouts, startling my gaze off my screen. I swipe away from our messages as though I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “Am I talking to myself?”

“Yes,” I admit. “Text me the details. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Chapter13Brooks

“Door’s unlocked.”

Siena’s voice is clear in the hallway outside her apartment, which is quiet except for the bizarre scene I just walked past—a man with his door propped wide open, vacuuming his place dressed in nothing but a pair of briefs.

“You keep your door unlocked for anyone to walk in?” I call when I’m inside, door firmly shut behind me.

Siena pops her head into the hallway. “The latch on the lock has been stuck for months. Haven’t had the chance to look at it, and my landlord doesn’t seem to care.”

“Would that be the charming man cleaning in his underwear two doors down?”

“Oh, he’s wearing underwear today? Good for him.”What the fuck?My heart rate skyrockets the way it does around her. “Come in. I’m running behind.”

We’re making the three-hour drive to the city for the Tigers’ minicamp and gala. The scrimmage today is straightforward enough. They’ll put me through my paces. Make sure I’m fit to return after two seasons off.

It’s tomorrow’s gala that’s the problem.

Specifically, it’s the single hotel room the Tigers are putting us up in, and the apparent lack of spare rooms given the hotel is booked out for the party. I’ve called them to check.

Multiple times.

And I’ve been too much of a coward to inform Siena, in case sharing a room turns her off enough to back out of the entire trip. Like it or not, I need to be seen with her.

I join Siena in her kitchen. Her apartment is modest—I can take it all in from the spot where I’m standing. The open kitchen and living room, the short hall down to what I assume is a bedroom. I can hear a washing machine going off inside the bathroom. Somehow, though, the place feels oddly expansive.

Like the roomy inside of a Mary Poppins bag.

The kitchen cabinets are painted a blue that’s somehow both bright and dark, the living room curtains thrown open to an outdoor patio covered in greenery. It’s bright, lights on everywhere, and it feels alive in here. Hits of color all over the place, every shade you could imagine, and it somehow all works together.

Siena hovers next to me, watching me take in her space. My gaze flicks over her body, the silky blue robe she’s wearing, and she shamelessly does the same with me. Taking in my athletic shorts and T-shirt, the socks on my feet. Eyes lingering on my tattoos.

Add it to the list of things about her that drive me insane. I hate how much I like it when she looks at me. It’s shameless, with a greedy edge. Makes me feel wanted in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

I like looking at her, too.

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