He felt his insides knot.
“Well, yeah, it’s nice and all, but . . .” he bit into his toast and shrugged succeeding in looking absolutely nonchalant, letting that loaded “but” hang in the air. It got the result he was after because her smile faded.
“But . . . what?” she asked, concerned.
“Nothing. It’s a nice dress.”
Dionne set hands on her ample hips as she looked crossly at him. “But, what, Aidan?”
“This toast is really buttery—”
“—Aidan van Nuys! I know you heard me,” she said, practically seething.
“They make your . . . hips a little, um . . . full.”
She stiffened before she looked down her curvaceous length, highly critical of herself. Her wide hips were a real sore spot for her. “Really?” she looked a little alarmed.
He could kick himself for making her feel anything but beautiful, but he was jealous she was wearing that sexy dress. Well, it was sexy to him! But she wasn’t wearing it for him. She was wearing it for that idiot boyfriend of hers.
“Nah,” he said unconvincingly, and he knew she heard it. “So, Mom made this special breakfast hoping it’ll help me play a good game?” he said, twisting his waist and taking the glass of O.J. from the tray. Then he noticed her looking a little sheepishly back as she wrung her hands. Uh-oh, he thought. “She’s coming to the game, right?” he asked with a worried frown.
“Oh yes, of course!” Dionne quickly assured. Then she cleared her throat and smiled. “You know she’d never miss it for the world, but um, I made you breakfast this morning.”
His black eyebrows shot up. “You did? That’s . . . really, really nice of you, Dionne.” His blue eyes slowly took in her fidgeting as she cleared her throat again. “Right?”
“Why yes. Of course it is,” she laughed a little guilty.
“Spill it, Sis,” he said with half-lidded eyes, seeing the color creep into her face.
“Um . . . I don’t know if I’ll make it to the game.”
Silence.
“Oh?” he finally said.
“Well, see, I know I’ve never missed a single game you’ve played, Aidan, but Helmut asked me to accompany him to Loma Linda to check out the university’s—”
“—This is the last game I’ll play for the Arcadia Aces, Dionne. You can’t not go!” he said, upset. “Can’t Heimlick go anywhere without you having to hold his goddamn hand all the time??”
“Aidan! Language!” she reprimanded hotly. “And his name is Helmut!”
“Fuck language!” he snapped. “And fuck HelMUTT!”
“You’re acting like a big baby,” his sister admonished tersely, crossing slender arms.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he snapped. “You treat me like one all the time!” Then he tossed aside his covers and shot angrily out the bed, uncaring she’d be shocked to see him naked. “Tell me, Dionne, huh?” He threw dark arms wide. “Do I look like a baby to you now?”
Dionne stared at him in stunned silence.
“What are you waiting for, Dionne?” he honed. “Why don’t you do what you do best, and turn tail and run up the stairs like the prissy little girl you are?!” he snapped at her before he marched to his bathroom and slammed the door shut leaving her stunned, blushing, and silent.
**~~**
Chapter Two: Winning Her Heart
“This is a fucking nightmare, Ace. Those Brazilians are just too good. I’m really gettin’ a little scared here,” grumbled tall, tawny-haired Shawn Puretti. He almost looked as distraught as Aidan did, but just as downtrodden as the rest of his teammates. He stood by his team’s Captain and fellow forward, feeling as if they were going to lose this all-important game. “And to be honest, Ace, you’re not really in the game.”
“Yeah, well, stop whining. It ain’t over till it’s over, Shawn,” Aidan grumbled, but who was he kidding? The Beach Blazers were tough this year since they had two incredibly talented team players from Brazil.
The bleachers were packed that sunny day. Fans and spectators were there to cheer on their respective soccer teams with enthusiasm, and excitement sizzled in the air. The Arcadia Aces, the prominent Arcadia soccer team, was playing that season’s championship game on home turf against the Long Beach Beach Blazers.
The Arcadia High soccer field looked lively and bright. It was given a fresh coat of paint showing the bright white lines that made up the boundaries of the playing field. Large goals stood coy on either side of the lush, green fields containing twenty-two, sweaty, and exhausted players.
The goal board showed: Home: 04 ~ Visitors: 05
They were on time-out since one of their own had fallen and hurt his thigh. He was being looked over by the coach and doctor, but it didn’t look good. As they took that time-out by the sidelines, they were handed bottles of water by very willing young ladies. The two forwards for the Arcadia Aces drank their fill to rehydrate precious fluids they were losing much too rapidly under a merciless California sun.
“It might as well be,” Shawn grumbled. “Romero and Mendes are too good.”
“Yeah Shawn, they’re good,” Aidan said before he spat on the grass; his thick spittle bothering him. “But like I said, it ain’t over till it’s over.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he narrowed his sharp eyes fringed with long black lashes. He peered over at the two smiling and confident Brazilian immigrants, and he could see they were all but certain they’d already won. They were popping the black and white soccer ball on ankles, passing it to one another, cleat to cleat, with acrobatic ease.
“I’m not going to lose this one,” he said with a grim tone.
“We’ve only got ten minutes left. Maybe a couple more added for injuries, and we’re down by one. We need two, and it doesn’t look as if Marv and Stan can outrun the Brazilians. I don’t know if even Ace Magic can save us this time,” Shawn said pessimistically.
“Yeah . . . that might be, but again, it ain’t over—”
“—‘til it’s over. Yeah, yeah. You said that already.”
“Let me make it crystal clear for you, Shawn,” Aidan said with a determined set to his jaw. “I’m not going home without that there trophy,” he said, nodding in the direction of a blue pop-up gazebo where four judges sat in the shade behind a table where the three-foot high gold-plated trophy stood. “I don’t like odd numbers.”
Shawn Puretti knew what his friend meant. The total trophies their team had won over the years ended with an odd number. He grinned with deep creases in his jaw, seeing the determined set to his best friend, and fellow soccer teammate’s, jaw. They’d been close ever since they were toddlers, and he knew when Aidan van Nuys had his jaw set that way, the inner bulldog was awake and well. Now he wasn’t worried anymore.
“Ever give modesty a try, Ace?” Shawn asked.
“When you’re out to win, modesty is a liability, so I don’t waste my time with it,” he said, showing his strong competitive streak. Then he grinned strong white teeth to soften his arrogant response.
“So, Ace? Speaking of modesty, um, I guess you know how I feel about your sister all these years,” Shawn started, and Aidan’s smile slowly faded as his blue eyes got a little harder, “and I know how protective you are of her. But I was just wondering . . . do you think she’ll wanna go to a dance with me sometime—?”
“—She’s got a boyfriend,” Aidan cut him off gruffly.
“It’s just a dance. And I did say sometime. Not now—” he protested just when the referee whistled. “We’ll talk later,” Shawn said.
Aidan sent him a bland smile. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
It was time to get back to the game, much to Aidan’s relief. He just got more time to think up ways to make Shawn back off, but right now he had a championship game to win. He shot a handsome, confident grin over at three, sexy girls in skimpy outfits calling out his name before he tossed his bottle to them. He chuckled as they scrambled to catch it before h
e turned and sprinted with his friend back to midfield, smiling at the two grinning Brazilians with cool confidence.
He could appreciate their confidence. He recognized the same in himself. He told Shawn the truth, even about his older sister Shawn had been getting more and more interested in for some time now, although he didn’t want to think about that.
No. When the stakes were high, he didn’t waste his time on modesty. He never gave it a moment’s thought, not with his powerful, competitive nature. He’d succeeded in everything he’d ever set his mind to, and did so with bulldog tenacity. He pursued his goals relentlessly, undeterred by temporary setbacks, and always got what he set out to get . . . although he wasn’t making one iota of progress with her.
He hated losing any match, but the match he found himself now forced to play was the most important one of his life, although pursuing this particular goal wasn’t really by choice. It was a deep-rooted need. Some would call it fate. But all he knew was, he felt his whole life stood or fell by a lose or win.
That’s how important this was to him.
It was really frustrating to him he couldn’t get his message across, though, and every time he tried, he’d instantly turned into a bumbling idiot. What’s worse, he was growing increasingly insecure around her, and it was putting a serious dent in his confidence and focus.
Normally, Aidan was never a guy to make his needs and wants a secret (that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?), but he found himself tongue-tied the moment she’d look at him, completely clueless about how he felt. He’d choke up until he finally had to divert his gaze away from golden-brown bunny eyes so he could at least breathe.
With dark, sweaty head bent, he spat to the grass with an annoyed frown marring his brow, thinking about how stupid he’d been that morning. That didn’t help make his case with his sister. If anything, his inability to be mature enough not to lose his temper that morning reset the whole goddamn thing.
With eyes down and lean hands on his hips, he looked as if he were contemplating strategy. In all truth, he was—just not for the soccer game at hand. Still, his teammates exchanged knowing looks, smiling . . . thinking their “ace” was about to be pulled out. This boosted their spirits with renewed energy and excitement—something that was sorely needed.
Then he looked up, and was about to go to his position on the field when something caught his eye. He paused as his jaw nearly dropped. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His sharp gaze zeroed in on the fairly petite figure sitting between two rambunctious redheads. He nearly caught his breath, seeing Dionne had come to the game after all.
An all too familiar sizzling started between his muscular thighs as his young cock twitched with excitement. His half-mast erection told him just how happy he was to see she’d come. Good thing he wore biker shorts under his soccer shorts or the reaction he was experiencing seeing Dionne there would’ve been pretty embarrassing.
He knew now how much he needed to win this game now. Not for the trophy, or the fact it would be his last for Arcadia High, but . . . for her. For them, and their future. Come hell or high-water, he was going to win her heart and make her his. HelDUH could kiss his ass. Just as long as he left Dionne’s alone!
He finally returned his focus on the game. With her there, he felt a fresh surge of adrenaline infuse his exhausted body. He raised his head to look at his fellow teammates’ positions, and mesmerizing bunny eyes faded into the back of his mind. For now.
Slowly, an insightful, strategic plan began to unfold. It was a risky one, but the only prayer they had left if they were going to win this championship. Now he felt daring, willing to go against reason, and strong enough to take on the risks that were necessary if he was going to lead this game to victory. He couldn’t lose this one, not now she was there.
Aidan made a series of hand gestures only his team mates seemed to understand. He glanced one last time up at the bleachers to see his family sitting in the front row. There sat a small, light-skinned, dark-haired Malaysian man in a light blue shirt and dark blue slacks. The moment he got his attention, he jumped to his feet and began waving enthusiastically.
“Well, looks like your dad’s got full confidence in you, Ace,” Shawn chuckled as he passed him to get to his spot.
“He never gives up on me,” Aidan said cynically, and Shawn chuckled with a wink.
Then he nodded a return greeting to his father, seeing him smile before he seated himself beside his wife again. Mom, a stocky Malaysian woman with a round, bright smiling face, was there tending to their large brood. Aside from Dionne, Aidan didn’t know of any other woman in the world with a heart as warm as the sun and as big as Jupiter.
A clever smile slowly spread across his full lips when he noticed Dionne wasn’t wearing that denim dress. His hastily put together scheme had worked after all! She changed into one of his favorite dresses—one that didn’t emphasize her lush, pillowy behind as that denim dress did. The moment he got his chance, he was going to look for it and toss it out. Maybe even burn it.
The dress she was wearing now was an airy, sleeveless summer dress in ivory with splashes of warm browns and yellows. He knew those were flower patterns even if he couldn’t see them from where he stood. He knew it because it was one of his favorite dresses; one he always thought looked really pretty on her. The color suited her ivory skin that rarely tanned, and complimented her golden brown mane that usually tumbled down from a center part to just under her shoulders in soft waves.
As if she could feel his gaze on her, she turned her head. He could see her stare at him for a few moments, and he felt his heart thud hard in his chest. Was she still upset with him? She had every right to be.
Suddenly she lifted her hand and waved enthusiastically at him. His tight squinting eyes, hidden behind thick black lashes, softened a moment when he saw it before he stuck up his hand and returned the greeting.
This is what he needed. He needed her attention to feel whole. He needed her there to make this championship worth fighting for, because she was. Feeling infused with energy now, he turned and sprinted to the center of the field for the kick-off.
He was ready.
Standing at six foot four, Aidan was the tallest player on the field. When he saw who the Beach Blazers had chosen to take the kick-off, he knew he couldn’t be the one to do it for his team. It wouldn’t be fair—height wise.
Or so he wanted the Beach Blazer’s captain to think.
Instead of taking the kick-off himself, he instructed a fellow team player to do it. He was the same height as the guy they chose to do the kick-off so it leveled the playing field. Not that Aidan had any qualms about taking advantage of his height in any game or sport. On the contrary. He’d used it to his advantage more times than not. And it wasn’t because he’d gotten all generous all of a sudden. No. The choice to send another team player to take his place for the kick-off was part of his strategy.
He really did want that trophy—and he didn’t want to disappoint her.
Standing by the two jumpers for the teams, the ref put the whistle to his lips before he tossed the ball up between the two players braced to come into action, and blew the starting whistle. Luckily, the brunette for the Arcadia Aces was an excellent jumper. This was his specialty.
So when the ball came down, he shot up into the air like a tight-wound spring, shooting up higher than the team player for the Beach Blazers. With a swift snap of his head, he sent the soccer ball flying into Aidan’s direction.
Quickly shooting into a short run, legs defined with powerful, flexing muscles, Aidan threw himself up into the air and with a snap of his head, knocked the ball in a high arch over the heads of the opposing team’s players into a fairly empty part of the field.
Empty, except for Shawn, that is.
He caught it and shot into a run, dribbling it through a growing wall of Blazers. His legs moved with skill and grace, snapping around before catching the ball on the instep of his cleat before he kicked it straight down
the field, barely above the grass.
The ball shot undeterred through the other team player’s legs. They seemed hesitant or unable to catch it, just as Romero and Mendes sped to the ball coming to the Arcadia Aces’ Captain who was shooting forward.
When they got too close, Aidan shot the ball off to Marv further up to his right who stood closer to the goal, and was no longer blocked by Romero. Marv knew what his Captain wanted to do, so he caught the ball, dribbled it forward and zigzagged between the Blazers’ defenders as Aidan sped forward breaking through their defense. Marv kicked the ball to Aidan who hauled back his left foot and with a hard kick, sent the soccer ball spinning to the top right corner of the goal.
The ball was kicked so hard, it flew right over the reaching fingers of the Blazer goalie into the net, spinning along the back of it before it came right back out. With a loud whoop, Marv shot to the ball, secured it was already a goal, and kicked it back in before running with arms up in victory.
A roaring cheer erupted from the bleachers.
“That was fucktastic, Ace!” Shawn shouted happily as the score board added another point to the home team.
Aidan’s radiant, chiseled face broke into an ear to ear grin as they slapped hands high in the air, passing each other on their way to their respective positions. There wasn’t any time to gloat, though. The clock was ticking, and they needed one more goal to win.
Aidan was determined to have that trophy.
“Cruijf!” his father shouted.
He looked up, seeing Dad with hands cupped along his mouth.
“CRUIJF!” he shouted again.
Aidan chuckled, putting up an acknowledging hand.
Loving Siblings: Aidan & Dionne Page 2
