“Jesus!” Myles walks over to me and crouches down. “You’re okay, huh?” He lifts me off the floor and throws me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I protest, trying to squiggle out of his arms.
“Heck no.” His deep, gravelly voice is stern. “How much did you drink tonight?”
“Lots.” I giggle, then I swat him—hard. My giggles turn into a fit of laughter.
“I can’t believe you just slapped my ass.”
“It’s a damn fine one. Why the heck not?”
“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Tink? Unless this is how the twenty-five-year-old version of her behaves.” He flips me onto the bed, hard.
“Ow! Shit!” I complain as I gaze up at him. As he crosses his arms, his biceps bulge. His right eyebrow is cocked and clearly waiting for a response.
Asshole. Or better yet, damn fine and good-looking asshole.
“Ouch! Jerk.”
His grin is intoxicating. Like a light going off in his head, his eyes brighten. “Uh-huh. Oli mentioned a boyfriend. Did he do something wrong, Tink? Is that what this is about?”
“Damn it. Would you stop calling me Tink?” I snap.
“Why?” he asks, almost flabbergasted.
“’Cause I’m not ten years old, and you aren’t Peter Pan,” I mumble, aching to just close my eyes.
He continues to stand at the foot of the bed in the same burly position. Seven years does a lot to a man’s body. Myles is all hard-lined muscle. As I think the word hard, I try my best not to sneak a peek at his junk. I can’t help myself. In my defense, it was a millisecond-quick glance.
“You loved going into that forest and playing the Lost Boys with me and Oli. And be honest, you liked it best when you played Tinker Bell and we beat Captain Hook together. Now, talk to me, and tell me what caused you to get so stinking drunk? I’m not leaving.” He continues to stand beside the bed, towering over me as if he has a right to be here. As if he wants to take care of me.
I let out a groan. “Myles, please just let me sleep,” I mutter as I push my body up to the pillow and close my eyes. Sleep feels good.
Chaper Two
Myles
Damn, I can’t believe it’s really her. I take a seat in the corner of the room and watch her intently. I hope she doesn’t wake up. Knowing her, she’ll accuse me of being some sort of stalker creep, which is actually crazy because she was like my sister growing up. I get up from the chair and figure I might as well sleep on the couch and make sure she’s okay. From what I’ve heard from Oli, she’s career-oriented and doesn’t party too much.
I run a hand through my hair and watch her sleep for a few more minutes. What’s the harm? I haven’t seen her in seven fucking years. Not since her parents’ funeral. My eyes roam over her beautiful, golden blond hair. She’s left it long like back in the day. Her cheekbones seem more defined now, and her eyes, even though they’re closed now, are absolutely stunning when they’re open. Everything about her is beautiful. She looks really uncomfortable still wearing that fitted leather jacket, so I shift onto the bed and slip it off her. She mumbles something, and I freeze. She might wake up and slap me or something. Luckily, she stays asleep. I can’t take my eyes off her. If Oli walks in, he may decide he wants to kick my ass. Heck! I may want to kick my own ass.
I remind myself that this is Flynn, and we don’t have a future together. She also isn’t the type of girl to have a fling. She’s the type of girl you want to marry. Only I can’t marry her because too much has happened. I stand up and stalk out of the room. I’m pissed off and hard as a rock at the same time. I head over to the couch—at least Oli has a nice couch—and I grab the blanket resting off to the side. We have practice bright and early tomorrow, only I can’t sleep.
At four a.m., Oliver decides to saunter through the door then slam it hard. Although he and Flynn are twins, they look nothing alike, which for some reason has been a relief for me. Where Flynn has golden hair, blue eyes, and fair skin like her mother, Oli has dark hair, tanned skin, and hazel eyes like his father had. He drops his keys on the floor. I don’t know how he does it, but the guy can operate like a beast on the ice with little to no sleep.
“Hey, quiet,” I call out into the dark family room.
He jumps and grabs onto his heart with one hand. “Jesus. What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, blowing out some air. His hair is rumpled, his shirt isn’t tucked in, and he looks drained. Yup, must have been having a good time tonight. Walking over to the fridge, he takes out a jug of orange juice and begins to chug it straight from the carton.
I raise my brows. “Flynn showed up drunk out of her mind. The bartender from Malone’s carried her across the street with some friend of hers,” I explain.
“Shit. She didn’t call me.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket to check messages. “Fuck. She messaged me asking if she could stay over tonight. It better not be that fucking douchebag of a boyfriend. Met him last Christmas… Got the feeling he’s a weasel, but Flynn liked him, so I didn’t say anything.”
Listening to Oli speak of some guy Flynn is dating makes me feel like the Hulk, and I want to go find the asshole and pound into him. I realize I’m jealous. Feeling out of my element, I stay quiet.
“Thanks for being here, man. I got her from here,” Oli says as he stalks away toward his room.
I shout, “She’ll probably need some Tylenol and juice in the morning.”
“Dude. She already has a brother. I need two hours of sleep. Go get some rest.”
“Yeah.” I head out of the apartment repeating his words. She already has a brother. Where the hell does that leave me?
Chapter Three
Flynn
I open my eyes slowly. There’s a picture of Marilyn Monroe above the bed. I shift a little and wince. My head feels like it weighs a ton. Rolling over, I notice how lush and soft the bed feels. Much softer than mine and Matt’s.
My eyes open wide.
Where am I? I fly up to sit up, grasping my aching head. I’m in Oli’s spare bedroom… My memory is shady as I try to recall why I’m here.
I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes. My stomach turns, and I’m overwhelmed by nausea. I take a long breath and glance at the clock on the night table; it’s seven a.m. Relief washes over me. I’m not late for work. Next to the clock on the nightstand is a tall glass of orange juice and a bottle of Tylenol with a note next to it. I pick up the note.
Drink the whole glass and take two Tylenol.
I heard you had a bad night. Call me later. I’m heading out to practice.
Oli
Reality crashes down on me.
Matt cheated on me.
Memories from last night flood my brain, and I hold my head in my hands. It’s splitting in two. I gulp down the glass of orange juice, leaving just enough to swallow the two pills, hoping they kick in fast.
Oh my lord!
Matt and the receptionist having sex and… Ugh. I’m not going there.
My memory skips to Myles in a pair of boxer shorts. Was that a dream?
I groan.
Nope.
I’m so screwed. Clearly, I should never drink.
I read Oli’s note again. He usually behaves like a father more than a brother since our parents died. I’m hoping that his fatherly role will work on his conscience, and he’ll let me move in here. We haven’t been roommates since he left for Chicago a little over a year ago.
I haven’t seen Myles, though, since he got drafted seven years ago. He stayed behind to play for the Maple Leafs in Toronto. I know he came out to New York over the years to visit Oli and has a pack of puck bunnies following him like my brother does. At least, his social media pages give off that idea.
Why couldn’t he have gotten uglier over the years? I get even more nauseous thinking of Myles with all those girls.
He was my first real crush. The three of us spent years playing together. I was one of the boys. We called ourselves the Los
t Boys and clung together just like they did in Peter Pan. When I was small, I’d ask Mom or Dad to read the story to me and Oli almost every night. Since we’re twins, it was hard for them to separate our play time between me playing with dolls and Oli playing with trucks and Legos. Dad was amazing, but he didn’t like when Oli played with my dolls. He got rid of the dolls, and I played with trucks and Legos instead. The story of Peter Pan was a concession of my dad’s, since it was the least girly of all the princess stories. It was only later that I became Tinker Bell, or “Tink” as Myles likes to call me.
My phone alarm buzzes, notifying me I need to get to work. I trudge out of bed. The spare bedroom has its own en suite which I’m relieved to see is stocked with shampoos and soaps. Oli’s apartment is definitely fancy, but it’s not over the top since he isn’t an over-the-top kind of guy. Myles seems to be the same or else he wouldn’t be living in this building. It separates them from some of the other players who definitely indulge way too much.
The en suite is designed with a large mirror that covers a vast wall. The sparkling white marble tub takes up an entire wall, too, and if I’m not mistaken, I see water jets. I wish I had time to have a long soak in it, but I don’t, so I step into the large glass-enclosed shower. I turn the water on and allow the luxurious spray to ease my achy body. A girl could definitely get used to living here.
Matt’s and my apartment was much simpler. But then, we’re both just starting out. Having to cut my shower short, I step out of the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around me.
I’ll need to call Oli later and figure out my living arrangements. I pick up my clothes to put them back on, but they smell like they’ve been doused in a bottle of tequila. I don’t have another choice, though, so I get dressed and leave the bedroom in search of some much-needed food. Oli’s fridge is stocked to the hilt. With all the calories he burns playing hockey, he eats a lot. His housekeeper takes care of his groceries. It’s a sweet deal. I grab some eggs and turkey bacon.
After breakfast I feel a little more human. I check my phone, expecting a message from Sloane. I can’t believe she left me here with Myles. Not that Myles would take advantage of me or anything, I just hate that my mouth didn’t have a filter last night. A quick glance at my phone tells me I have five missed messages, all from Sloane.
Sloane: Where are you?
Sloane: How is the hangover?
Sloane: Holy hell Myles is hot!!!
Sloane: Did I say that Myles is hot?
Sloane: Call me, bitch.
Every time she meets someone, she thinks she’s found Mr. Right, but things never turn out the way she expects. I used to tell her to be patient, that the right guy will come around. Now, I’m not so sure Mr. Right even exists.
Was I really that girl, coasting along in a relationship? How could I have been so blind?
Because you like to be in control.
Things with Matt felt stable—until yesterday. He didn’t want to leave New York, but he conceded when Weldrick and Ross offered a competitive starting salary. Our relationship was consistent, dependable, and comfortable. It was missing one major thing—love.
I only have an hour to get to work. Oli’s place is farther away than mine; I’ll need to Uber it today. Normally, I take the bus, since it’s cheaper. There’s one small problem: I don’t have any clothes to wear into the office today. Fuck, I’m so screwed.
My phone beeps again. It’s another message from Sloane.
Sloane: Hellooooo, are you alive?
I roll my eyes and chortle as I dial her number.
She picks up after one ring. She shoots off words a mile a minute. My morning-after brain needs a moment to process.
“Shit, you’re alive. I was starting to get worried. I left you all alone last night with that gorgeous hunk of a man. I thought he might have sexed you up to pieces.”
“Sloane, there was no sexing up. Myles is an old family friend. I’ve told you about him.” I let out a puff of air. Even if I wanted sexing up it would have never have happened. Myles is too respectful to take advantage of a drunk girl, and too much has happened between us for me to even think about anything with him. Even with all his hotness.
“Yeah, hon, you told me he was like a second brother to you. Let me let you in on a little secret…” She lowers her voice, and I’m curious about what she’ll say next. “Brothers don’t look at their sisters the way he was gazing at you last night.”
“Eww. Sloane, come on. I was drunk, and if anything, Myles has always been an honorable guy…even if he has been exposed to thousands of puck bunnies these last seven years. Okay, well, maybe I don’t know him anymore. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Our friendship was in the past where I plan to keep it,” I remind her.
“I don’t believe that stinking lie for a minute, but I won’t push.”
I rub my left temple as I strategize a way to shift the conversation. “So how was the bartender from last night? Cale, right?” I wince—unfortunately, I wasn’t drunk enough to completely black out everything I did.
I wish.
She huffs. “You were a badass.” Her voice is incredulous but playful.
I grimace at the memory of my behavior. “Did you at least thank him for me?”
My life follows a daily routine of work, home, and meeting Sloane for coffee. I wear a variation of the same suit every day. I’m not the type to let too loose or engage in public displays of drunkenness.
Jeez.
“We spoke for a little while outside the bar. He’s a nice guy. He didn’t try to put the moves on me, which means he respects girls. I liked that. He walked me to a cab and asked for my number. I gave it to him. He held the door open for me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and said he would be in touch. Chivalry isn’t dead, Flynn. Amen.”
I burst into laughter. Sloane grew up in Kanas City, Missouri. Her father is a pastor, and her mother had a midlife crisis around the time I first met Sloane. She left her conservative upper-class life and moved to India. When she returned, she said she had found her calling as a sex guru. I’ve met her parents, and I never understood how they got married in the first place. Sloane attracts men like a magnet and seems to fall in and out of love fast. She’s also a twenty-five-year-old virgin and swears it has nothing to do with her religious upbringing. I’m not so sure.
“I never said chivalry was dead, but I do need to get to work on time, or else I’ll be dead. I don’t have any clothes here, and I can’t imagine going back to the condo. What happens if Matt is there with her?” I smack myself upside the head, and it causes my headache to become more painful. “Shit! How am I supposed to face both of them in the office today? It’s going to be torture.” This is so messed up.
Sloane lets out a long sigh. “Flynn, honey, I’d lend you clothes, but you’re like a giant next to me, so that won’t work. I would say go shopping, but stores don’t open until nine. Be brave and just go back to the condo,” she explains with a soft tone, as if she’s a teacher speaking to her student.
“I don’t know if I can face him yet.” I still have the visual of him fucking her. Pain pierces my chest. “I may want to rip his balls off. If I succeed, I could go to jail, and my law career will go down the drain, and well… Oli will be pissed about all the money he’s spent on my education for nothing,” I say with a serious tone, but I can hear Sloane guffaw again in the background.
“Babe, the only thing you’re getting is an Academy Award for that performance. Now stop being a wuss—because both of us know you’re anything but—and get your ass into work. I’m heading out for some job interviews today, but if you do what I say, I may be inclined to meet you for lunch.”
I snicker. “You’re such a bitch. And wow. That’s awesome. Where are you interviewing?”
“I’ll tell you if it comes through. I don’t want to jinx anything.”
“Good luck.” I let out a long breath, hoping to purge some anxiety. “I have to go get my bitch on and act like he didn’t actually g
ut me by cheating on me.” I sigh into the phone.
“That’s my girl. I can already hear the Oscars calling out your name.”
Her response makes me smile, which is a heck of a lot better than crying. I’m strong. I’ve been through a lot. I can get over Matt Sundeski that’s for sure.
“Thanks, Sloane. We’ll talk later.”
“Bye, good luck!”
I press the end call button. Now that my hair and body are clean, my clothes from last night smell even worse. Shit! Did I drink the tequila or bathe in it? All dressed up, I grab a coffee in one of Oli’s to-go cups and head out the door. I can do this. I can get through this day.
…
I’m relieved to find an empty condo when I get there, so I pack a few things, change my clothes, then catch an Uber with my suitcase in hand.
When I open the front doors of Weldrick and Ross, my heart beats frantically. I give my usual smile to security and rush across the lobby’s dark marble floor, listening to my heels clapping loudly as I make my way to the elevator. My inner dialogue is barely triumphant, but I persist anyway.
You can do this, Flynn. You are a strong woman. Don’t let a scumbag like Matt get you down.
Besides, he’ll never do for you what Myles can with one look.
I groan internally because a weird chemical reaction goes off in my body when Myles is around. Not that it matters. I’m so not going there. Ever.
The elevator lands on one of the two floors that are home to Weldrick and Ross. In my professional attire I’m in my element. I inhale deeply, sweep my long hair out of my face, and step off the elevator. Although the suitcase doesn’t usually come with me to work, I act like I’m on top of the world, slightly swaying my hips past Maddy’s desk. From the corner of my eye, I watch the boyfriend-stealing receptionist look at me nervously. I make a straight line for my cubicle.
An hour later, I’m breezing through my morning, engrossed in a case, when I hear a female clearing her throat behind me. I’m sure the sound isn’t directed at me, so I continue the perusal of the document on my desk.
Big Stick Page 2
