“Would it have changed how much of an asshole you’ve been?”
“Well, yeah, of course.” If I’d known who she was, I wouldn’t have been such a giant dick.
She props her fist on her curvy hip. “I shouldn’t have to announce that I’m related to my famous fucking brother for people to be nice to me.”
I drag a palm down my face. She’s missing the damn point. “That’s not—”
Her hand shoots out in front of my face, startling me. I almost fall off the slippery toilet seat. “As fun as this conversation has been, I have to get ready for work, so now is probably a good time for you to get your shit and head back to your asshole headquarters. You’re super welcome for taking care of your rude ass last night.” She spins around and stalks out of the bathroom.
“I thought you were a morally deficient stick chaser! And I’m always an asshole,” I yell after her.
A door slams from down the hall.
“Dammit.” I drop my head in my hands and mutter a string of curses. This is not awesome. I’ve been a total dick to Bowman’s sister. I mean, I’m a dick most of the time, but I was extra dicky with her. And I pissed all over her bathroom. Plus I’ve insulted her a bunch of times. If she tells him, it’s going to make my life even more miserable. Maybe she already has.
I use my crutches to pull myself up. I do a half-assed job of cleaning up the mess I made all over her toilet seat, and the side of the vanity, and the floor. I even managed to get the damn mirror. I might have to send my cleaner over to deal with this.
I debate whether I should leave but decide it would be better to try to smooth things over and lessen the chance of her ratting me out to her brother. I crutch down the hall, slowly. I need to take some painkillers and lie down again.
I reach what I’m assuming is her bedroom and knock on the door. “Hey, uh, Stevie?” It’s a weird name, but it seems to fit her.
“Are you still here?” The door swings open. “And still in your damn underwear. Where the hell are your pants?”
I follow the movement as she pulls a shirt over her head, covering her sports bra and her smooth, toned stomach. She has an incredible athletic body, one I no longer feel guilty about ogling now that I know she’s not screwing my married team captain.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot. If I’d known you were Rook’s sister—”
“You would’ve toned your asshole down.” She brushes by me and heads toward the living room.
I can’t keep up because moving too fast makes me feel like I’m going to vomit. “Look, I’m sorry,” I call after her.
“You’re only sorry because my brother is a big deal.”
I crutch after her, grunting through the pain. “That has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to make waves with my team.”
She spins around angrily. “Oh, now I get it. You want to make sure I won’t tell my brother about this. Well, don’t worry. I’m not really dying to share the whole boner-killer comment with anyone, let alone RJ.”
Shit. I forgot about that less-than-flattering insult. “You were a hot mess.”
She glares at me, then forcefully gathers my clothes and shoes from the floor and stalks to the door. I must have gotten hot in the middle of the night and taken everything off, although I don’t remember that. She unlocks it with a jerky movement and tosses them into the hallway. “Leave. Now.”
I blow out a breath; clearly I’m not making things better with my apology. I hobble past her and turn with the intention of telling her I don’t think she’s a boner-killer at all, but she slams the door in my face.
“That went well.” I bend and snag my jogging pants. As I drape them around my neck, I feel around for my phone and slip it out of my pocket so I can check my messages. My brother has finally gotten back to me. Apparently the door is unlocked now, so I can let myself in. I pick up my discarded shirt and fumble with my shoes but manage to keep ahold of everything until I reach my door.
I’m a whole lot stunned as I shoulder my way inside. My brother’s most recent lady friend comes sauntering through my living room wearing last night’s dress, a pair of heels that are way too high for this early in the morning, and what’s left of yesterday’s makeup.
She gives me a slow once-over, her smile widening. “Oh! Hi!”
I point in the direction I just came from. “The door’s that way.”
My brother appears at the end of the hall, wearing blue pants and a white golf shirt and staring at his phone, possibly setting up tonight’s date. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Shippy isn’t a morning person. Just ignore him.”
“We talked about this,” I gripe as I crutch past him.
He finally drags his eyes away from the screen, and they widen when they land on me. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Hockey.” I continue down the hall, leaving him to deal with his date.
Once I’m in my room, I toss yesterday’s clothes on the end of the bed and root around in the pocket again until I find the painkillers. All I want is to lie down and sleep until my body doesn’t hurt anymore.
There’s a glass of water on my nightstand. It’s two days old, but I’m too lazy to get fresh water, so I use it to swallow the pills. Stevie’s right: I should ice my leg . . . but I don’t feel like going back to the kitchen, so instead I stretch out on top of my comforter and wait for the painkiller to kick in, along with the drowsiness.
My bedroom door swings open a few seconds later. My brother points at my crotch and cups his own with his free hand. “Dude, that looks bad.”
I drag my gaze away from the ceiling. “It feels worse than bad. Can you grab me an ice pack from the freezer?”
“Sure.” Nolan disappears down the hall and returns with one of my gel ice packs and a hand towel.
I drape the towel over my leg and set the pack on top, cringing as the cold skims my balls. They immediately attempt a hasty retreat, causing a shock of pain. I groan and tense, making it worse for a few terrible, mind-bending seconds.
“So what happened exactly?” Nolan jumps onto the bed with his lunch box of medical supplies. Thankfully, it’s a shock-free mattress, so I don’t feel the movement at all.
Dicken, his black-and-white cat, follows suit. He rubs himself on Nolan’s leg, then plunks himself down beside me and rests his paw on my arm. He starts kneading at me, claws digging in, his way of telling me he wants pets.
I rub Dicken’s head while I fill my brother in on the hit I took last night and the splits I shouldn’t have done, which was followed by the trip to the clinic and the six-week hiatus from the ice. I finish up with how I lost my key card down the elevator shaft and ended up on the couch at our neighbor’s across the hall.
“You should’ve messaged when you were at the clinic, and I would’ve gotten rid of my date.”
“I was a little preoccupied.” I drag a hand down my face and cringe. My cheek hit the goalpost when I went down, but the groin injury is far worse, so I didn’t notice the other pain until this morning. “So you know how I thought she was Bowman’s sidepiece or whatever?”
“You’ve been bitching about it since she moved in weeks ago, so yeah.”
“Turns out she’s Bowman’s little sister.” Which actually makes a hell of a lot more sense.
“No shit? Is she single?”
I turn my head only enough so that I can glare at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
He stares right back, one brow arched. “Oh man, now this all makes sense. You have the hots for her, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t.” I return my gaze to the ceiling. She’s got great nipples, though, and a seriously sweet rack.
“I don’t believe you.” He pricks himself with his blood sugar–tester device so he can check his levels before giving himself his shot. It’s the first of five he’ll administer today.
“And that should matter why?”
“You’ve been bitching about this woman incessantly since she moved in. First it was because she was s
o damn loud and because you didn’t approve of her moral standings or whatever. Then you bitched about her being a student and wearing too much perfume. After that you started moaning about how she’s always in workout gear and doesn’t she have real clothes, blah blah. I’d also like to point out that unless you have to leave this apartment, you’re always in boxers. I’m so familiar with the outline of your junk I could identify it in a lineup before I could my own.”
“I don’t see how my observations can be construed as having the hots for her.” I ignore the part about my junk because it’s my place and I can wear whatever I want. If Nolan wants to wander around in his boxers, he’s free to, although he gets cold because his circulation isn’t the best.
“You haven’t talked this much about a woman since Penny.”
“That name is banned; don’t bring her up again.” Penny was my last semiserious girlfriend. That ended because Penny was more concerned with how many likes her posed photos with me had on her social media profiles than she was with me as an actual person.
“Just sayin’. It’s been a long time since anything but hockey has lit a fire under your ass.”
“An annoyance is not the same thing.”
“You keep living in denial, Shippy.” He lifts his shirt and catches the hem with his chin. He pinches a roll of skin between two fingers—he has to hunch forward because he’s lean—and stabs himself, depressing the needle.
“It’s not denial.”
He drops his shirt and rubs the injection site. “I’ve seen you with your face pressed against the door in the morning, waiting for her.”
“That’s not because I have the hots for her.”
“Uh-huh. You know, if you need dating tips, I’m here for you, bro.”
“I don’t need dating tips. I can pick up women fine. If I feel like putting in the effort.” Which I often don’t.
“I’m just saying, your pretty face isn’t going to last forever, and eventually your hairline is going to start receding.” He ruffles my hair, and I bat his hand away. “One day you’ll have to work on your interpersonal skills and learn how to flirt, unless you’re content with self-love for the rest of your life.”
“Based on this”—I point to my groin—“I don’t think I’m going to get any kind of lovin’, self-imposed or otherwise, for a good while.”
“Yeah. That’s gonna suck.” He packs up his insulin kit and slides off the bed. “You need anything before I head out? My shift is only four hours, and I don’t have class, so I’ll be back early this afternoon.”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.”
I stare at the ceiling and think about my neighbor. Rook Bowman’s baby sister.
For the past several weeks I’ve been taunting her. At first it was mostly curiosity and the perverse enjoyment of making her uncomfortable. Because I thought she was someone she’s not. Because who I thought she was offended me on a moral level.
Nolan is right about me waiting around in the morning with my face pressed against the door. I didn’t realize he’d seen me doing that. I’ve felt half-guilty, half-vengeful over the fact that I’m enjoying the strange underwear competition we have going on. Like we’re both trying to get a reaction out of each other.
This frames everything in a whole new light. And I’m not sure what to do about that. Or the fact that I’ve been getting hard over her in that freaking workout gear.
Maybe Nolan is right. Maybe I do have the hots for her. I mean, physically she’s nice to look at. She’s got a great body and a sharp tongue. She smells good. All things I can appreciate in a woman.
Except she’s the baby sister of my team captain. Who I loathe.
If I was a vindictive person, I might use that to my advantage.
CHAPTER 10
APOLOGIES AND FAVORS
Stevie
I arrive at work with only minutes to spare before my first client arrives, which is not how I like to start my day. I’m always at the clinic a good half hour early so I can review my schedule and pull treatment plans before my clients arrive. I also like to chat with Pattie and Jules and my other colleagues—aside from Joey, whom I staunchly try to avoid.
And who also happens to be the first person I run into as I jam my stuff in my locker.
“Hey.” He props his forearm on the locker beside mine.
“What do you want?” I don’t bother to look at him, because then I’ll have to see his smarmy expression, and his armpit hair will be right in my face. He always wears muscle shirts between clients. I used to think it was endearing, but it’s gross.
“I signed us up to work on the fundraiser gala together. I said we could handle the decorations part, ’cause you’re all crafty and stuff. I thought it would be a good idea, since you’re new and it’ll make us look good. Plus it’ll give us a chance to hang out.”
All I want to do is punch him in the nuts and make him cry, but instead I grit out, “Awesome. Thanks.” Clearly it’s full of sarcasm and disdain, which he either doesn’t pick up on or decides to ignore.
“I know you’re still angry with me, Stevie, but I really think this will be good for us.”
I slam my locker shut and stare at the gray paint for a few seconds while I take some calming breaths. What I should do is tell him to fuck off and find someone else to work with. As much as I’d rather have my fingernails ripped off one by one in lieu of working with Joey on anything, I recognize putting up a fight will create complications.
I slowly turn to face him, forgetting that his arm is positioned above his head. It looks like one of those troll heads is sprouting from his armpit. There’s also a small clump of deodorant tucked in among the hairs, like his troll has dandruff. “For you, you mean; it’ll be good for you,” I say to his armpit troll. Joey is the opposite of crafty, so I’m assuming the workload is going to fall solely on me.
“Stevie.” He drops his arm.
“I have a client.” I sidestep around him and head for the door so I’m not tempted to do something that will get me written up for workplace harassment.
Pattie and Jules grab me before lunch and steer me away from the staff room. “We need to talk to you,” Jules says as we step out into the warm September afternoon and drop our stuff on the closest picnic table.
“Joey already cornered me this morning.”
“We’re so sorry. He’s never here early, but today he was, and he signed you up right in front of Loretta, so we couldn’t do anything about it.” Pattie looks as distressed as I felt when he corralled me by my locker earlier.
I pat her hand reassuringly before I continue to unpack my lunch. “It’s okay. I appreciate the attempted save.”
“Maybe we could talk to Loretta and explain the situation so you can get out of it.”
I shrug off the idea. Complaining to my boss about working with my ex-boyfriend won’t look great on me, and I’m not particularly keen on explaining my personal life to the people who issue my paychecks. “Honestly, it’s probably best if I deal with Joey. If nothing else I can make his life miserable while he’s forcing us to spend time together. Plus he owes me money, and it’ll be easier to get it out of him this way.” I hope I’m right about that. Joey isn’t known for his great money-management skills, hence the reason I had to front all the first month’s rent in advance. The more time I have to think about it, the more I realize how poor a boyfriend choice he really was.
Pattie makes a face. “What if we sign up too? So you could come over to our place to work on it. Can you imagine how uncomfortable Joey would be, surrounded by our brothers?”
As alluring as the idea is, I’m not sure it’s a good one in the long run. “I appreciate the offer, and if I need backup, I’ll let you know. Anyway, change of topic from one douche to another. You know that guy I told you about who lives across the hall?”
“You mean Billboard Balls?” Jules asks.
“That’s the one.” I nod.
Pattie props her chin on her fist. “Th
at is literally my favorite nickname ever. What kind of panties was he sporting this morning?”
“Caution tape, but there’s more.” I fill them in on what happened last night: how I was nice enough to let him sleep on my couch despite his being a giant a-hole and that I found out this morning that he’s my brother’s teammate, Bishop Winslow, the guy who was injured in last night’s exhibition game.
“Whoa, wait, you’re telling me you have a professional hockey player living across the hall from you with a groin injury?” Pattie’s eyes light up like a disco ball.
“Who is on my brother’s team and who thought I was my brother’s mistress until this morning, yes.”
Jules makes a face. “That’s just . . . ew.”
“Very ew,” Pattie agrees, “but I guess I can kind of see where he might have gotten the idea.”
“That I was a puck bunny?”
“Yes. No. I mean, why else would a hot woman suddenly move into an empty penthouse in the middle of the night that is supposed to be for your brother, right? It’s not like you broadcast that you’re related to Rook. You don’t have any pictures of him on your social media, and all of these guys are new to each other. I’m just saying I can kind of see how he might make that mistake, and if you think about it, maybe it’s a good thing he was an asshole to you.”
“How is him being an asshole a good thing?” I pop a grape into my mouth.
“He thought you were screwing a married guy with a family. At least you know he has a moral compass.”
“Ooh, good point.” Jules nods her agreement.
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess it sort of makes sense, especially with his “morally defunct” and “home-wrecker” comments. “He called me a boner-killer.”
Pattie makes a face. “You are definitely not a boner-killer. My guess is he said that because he thought you were a bunny. Anyway, I have a spectacular idea.” She pauses, maybe for effect.
“Which is what?” Jules quirks a brow.
“You should offer to help him with PT.” Pattie smiles widely, as if she’s handed me the Holy Grail.
“Why would I do that when he’s been nothing but a huge jerk?”
A Favor for a Favor Page 7
