by A. S. Teague
“Dude, your watch is sa-weet!” he exclaims, exaggerating the words.
“Oh, yeah. You like it?” I glance down. It is a nice watch, but I have a closet full of them. “Tell ya what. It’s yours.” I begin to take it off, but a look of puzzlement flashes across his face.
“Oh, uh, no, thanks, man.”
I arch an eyebrow in question. “You just said you liked it, So I’m giving it to you.” I’m still trying to hand it to him while he shakes his head no and backs away a step.
“Nah. It’s a really nice watch, but I don’t want it. It’s yours.”
We stare at each other awkwardly for a moment before he grins.
“Hey, you want to go play some Xbox? Mom said we could order pizza too if you wanted.”
Just like that, Connor’s forgotten about my watch and moved on to Xbox. I don’t remember the last time anyone turned something I was giving them down. Anyone else would have accepted that watch before I’d even gotten it off my wrist. They’d be demanding a ride in my car. And probably a four-course fucking meal from the hottest restaurant in the city. This kid though? He wants pizza and Xbox, and it actually makes me want to hang out with him. And that has nothing to do with my promise to Mark or the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
Turning to follow him back in the house, I rub my hands together in excitement. Not only does the kid like my car, but he plays Xbox and apparently has a super-hot aunt, even if she can’t figure out how to master stairs.
“Yeah, kid. Let’s order pizza. I’m not supposed to eat it during camp, so you gotta swear not to tell my trainer I had any. Deal?”
He nods vigorously and throws the scout’s honor sign up.
Throwing an arm around his shoulder, I lead him back toward the door. “Awesome. So, tell me more about your family. What’s your aunt like?”
I couldn’t believe I had fallen down the stairs in front of Connor’s idol. But even that embarrassing snafu wasn’t the biggest shock of the morning.
Lifting my eyes to the source of the sexiest voice that had ever graced my eardrums, I began silently praying that I had also hit my head during the fall and was hallucinating. Much to my dismay, when my eyes registered the man in front of me, I instantly knew that this was real and he was not a figment of any head trauma. I took less than a moment to scan him from top to toe, even though part of me wanted to take my time. But I was a rough sleeper, so my hair was probably the equivalent of a squirrel’s nest, and I might have had a terrible case of morning breath. I scrambled to my feet while yanking my arm out of his grip and mumbling, “I’m fine. Happens all the time,” before turning on my heels and racing back up the stairs.
Two steps from the landing, I stumbled again, hitting my shin, and loudly cursed Abby’s decision to buy a two-story home all those years ago. I was almost to my door when I heard that sexy man openly laughing, and I knew that it was probably in my ego’s best interest to never leave my room again.
Horrified at having fallen down the stairs, in my pajamas, in front of the guy from the club, I lie on my bed, my head buried under my pillows.
“Why?” I moan in to my pillow.
“Why what?”
Abby’s voice from the doorway has me springing off the bed. With a sly grin on her face, she closes the door behind her and makes a beeline to my window.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, Siddy,” she laughs.
I sling the nearest object I can find—a pillow—in her direction and then grimace when it falls well short of the intended target. “What are you looking at out there?”
“Only the sexiest fucking man I have ever seen. Damn. I knew he was good-looking, but Google Images does not do that man justice,” Abby replies breathily.
I have to look at her to make sure she isn’t touching herself. Luckily for me, she’s only worrying her necklace and staring out into space. I try to resist joining her at the window on principle, but she’s right.
“Abby, that’s the guy from the club,” I whisper-yell at her. “That’s Brock! Or Breccan. I dunno what the fuck his name is. But that’s him.”
Abby spins away from the window, her eyes wide. “That’s the guy that went all alpha-dog on Jake over you?”
Nodding, I make my way over to the window and peek out. While we play peeping toms, Brock—or Breccan—shows Connor some fancy sports car that probably cost more than our house.
“What a jerk” I breathe.
Abby turns her head towards me. “What? Breccan? Oh, I don’t know about that. He seemed really nice.”
Scoffing at her assessment of him, I ask, “You talked to him for, what? All of five minutes? How can you know that he’s ‘really nice’?”
Smirking at me, she says, “You seemed to think he was really nice too, if I remember correctly. You talked about him nonstop for a week, Sidney. Now’s your chance.”
I scoff at the thought as I continue to peek out my window. It makes sense now why he jumped Jake. He’s a fighter. Fighters like to fight. Apparently not just in the ring.
God, he may be the definition of sex, but he’s basically a Neanderthal. And arrogant. I can tell just by the way he looked at me when he pulled me off the ground, all that smooth confidence. He knows he’s sexy. And that is not sexy. Not one bit. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“I’m an investigative reporter, Sidney. I can tell what kind of person someone is with a single look. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know that he’s a good guy,” she insists, turning to face me.
I refuse to meet her gaze and continue to watch Breccan interact with Connor. They’re both laughing, and I wish I knew what they were talking about. I wonder if Breccan said something funny or it was Connor. More than likely, it was my nephew. He has a way of making people smile even when they don’t want to do anything more than hide away in a dark room for a day.
Abby clears her throat, and I finally look at her.
“Are you still interested?” she asks, elbowing me in the ribs.
“Interested? In what?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. Breccan. Are you interested in him?” she responds with mock irritation.
“Uhm, only lesbians wouldn’t be interested in that man. Hell, for him, they may switch teams. I don’t think he even recognized me. Did he say anything?” I glance back out the window and see Breccan holding his watch out.
What is he doing?
I continue to spy on them and try desperately to read his lips. Connor shakes his head and point towards the house. Before I have the chance to back away from the window, Breccan’s gaze travels up.
“Oh shit!” I squeal, dropping the blinds and shoving Abby away as if we are in the middle of a drive-by.
“What the hell?” she shouts as we both tumble to the floor.
Embarrassed for about the tenth time today, I tell her, “He saw us! He saw us watching him. Jesus, could this get any worse?”
Abby laughs while I try to push myself off her. Before I can get purchase on the floor, she wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight.
“I love you, Sid.”
I freeze at her words.
Not because she’s never said them to me. She tells me all the time how much she loves and appreciates me. So often, in fact, that I’ve begun taking it for granted. But, this time, it’s different. This time when she says it, I feel the meaning behind her words. She isn’t just saying it because I swooped in and took care of business for her yet again. She’s using this moment, this humiliating morning I’ve had, to remind me that I’m important. That I mean something to her. That I’m more than just her gopher. More than just the planner, the caretaker of her child.
I squeeze her back, not ready to let go just yet. I don’t want her to see the tears shimmering in my eyes.
After clearing my throat, I whisper, “Love you too. So much.”
The front door slams shut, and Connor shouts at us from down below.
“Mom! Aunt Sid! Brec brought me stuff! He said all his fr
iends call him Brec and I should too cause now I’m his buddy! Come see this cool shi—stuff—he brought me!”
Connor’s excitement has always been contagious, but today, it’s on a whole new level.
When Connor calls him Brec, it dawns on me that he must have introduced himself to me that way as well. With the music blaring in the nightclub, it was easy to misunderstand. I mean, what kind of name is Brec anyway?
Shuddering at the thought of seeing him again, I shout back, “Can’t, honey! Gotta go out. Getting in the shower!” Before Abby has a chance to question me, I rush to the bathroom.
There isn’t anywhere I need to be today—or any Saturday, for that matter. But the one place I don’t need to be is downstairs, in the same room as the gorgeous guy I haven’t stopped thinking about. Obviously, he can’t say the same about me, because there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his eyes earlier.
After an hour and a half in the bathroom, I walk down the stairs and hold my breath, hoping Adonis has left. Just my luck, he’s sprawled out on the couch, an Xbox controller in his hands. Looks like Connor talked him into the UFC game, and it’s no surprise that Breccan chose to play as himself. I have no idea who Connor’s fighter is, but from the shouts coming from the couch, I can tell that Breccan isn’t going easy on him.
Dropping his controller, Connor exclaims, “Aww, man! TKO again.”
“Sorry, kid. It’s what I do.” With a laugh, Breccan ruffles his hair.
I expect Connor to shrug him off; it’s what he does when I try to do that very thing. But he just beams and replies, “I know. Your name is KO for a reason. I just can’t believe, even in a game, you’re knocking people out.”
Breccan smirks and bumps Connor with his shoulder. “What can I say? I’m the champ. What’s next? Want to play Madden?”
Connor’s face lights up, and he jumps off the couch to change the games. But then he turns back towards his idol and asks, “You don’t have to go? I mean, I don’t want you to. I just thought you would have better stuff to do than hang out with a sick kid.”
My heart breaks a little at his obvious desperation, and I’m fearful of what Breccan’s response will be. I open my mouth to interject and hopefully change the subject, but before I have the chance, Breccan surprises me.
“Dude, I carved out this whole day to hang out with you. I can’t think of anything that’s much better than playing Xbox all day long with a buddy, can you?” The honesty on his face tells me that he isn’t just blowing smoke up Connor’s ass.
Connor’s face lights up with his megawatt smile, and my heart practically melts. Realizing I’m teetering on the bottom step, I take a deep breath to steady myself. Before I get caught eavesdropping—or, worse, fall again—I head towards the kitchen.
As I pass through the hall, Breccan’s head snaps up. His gaze hones in on me. He flashes me a wide smile that has me stumbling and my face flushing. He chuckles to himself, clearly aware of the effect he’s having on me and enjoying it. His eyes flicker for just a moment and I think, He does remember me. But, just as quickly, the look disappears.
I quicken my steps to get out of his sight and into the kitchen, where my sister’s fussing over treats. I glance back at him and see that he’s watching me. As I walk into the kitchen, he winks at me.
Jackass.
“Arrogant,” I whisper in Abby’s ear.
She’s bent over, pulling cookies out of the oven, and almost drops the tray. “Dammit, Sidney!” she snaps when she recovers her grip.
Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, I snatch a cookie off a plate. “Payback for earlier, I guess”
Swatting it out of my hand, she grins. “Oh, hell no. Those are for our guest. If you want one, you have to take that plate out to him first.”
I want to tell her that I didn’t want one anyway, but that would be childish of me. And a lie. There isn’t much that Abby does that could qualify as motherly, but baking cookies is one. It’s a rare occasion that she bakes, but when she does, it usually makes up for whatever last-minute trip she’s sprung on me.
Suspicious that she’s about to do just that, I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Are you getting ready to leave again?”
She shakes her head at me. “God, Sidney, no. I’m not allowed to make cookies for the hell of it?”
She doesn’t make eye contact with me, so I’m not entirely convinced she’s telling the truth, but I decide not to press the issue.
Snatching the plate off the counter, I turn toward the living room and snap, “Fine. I’ll take them the damn cookies.” I stomp back towards the couch while Abby chuckles behind me.
Connor and Breccan are taking selfies, and I can’t help but feel a warmth in my stomach. The forgetful asshole looks like he’s enjoying it nearly as much as Connor is.
They both look up when I enter the room.
Clearing my throat, I shove the plate toward Breccan. “Abby made these for you. Her cookies are heaven on a plate. Have one.”
He reaches his hand out before dropping it and groaning. “Man those smell incredible. But I can’t. Training camp.” He shrugs one shoulder before reaching in his pocket and pulling a protein bar out.
Then he unwraps it and takes a bite. His strong jaw clenches as he chews.
I wonder what his lips would feel like. He was a mere second away from kissing me that night when Jake interrupted. I must have let out a small moan, because suddenly, the lips I’m studying turn upward into a smile.
And, to my horror, he mouths the words, “See something you like?”
I cough and turn my entire body towards my nephew. “Uh, Connor, want a cookie? Your favorite—double-chocolate chunk.” After dropping the entire plate into his outstretched hands, I begin to make my getaway toward the door.
Rolling his eyes, Connor drawls, “Okaaaaay.” He’s still looking at me, his brow furrowed, when he asks, “Aunt Sid, are you okay? Your face is really red. Are you sick? You sure were in the bathroom a long time.”
I nod frantically as he continues.
“I wanted to show you the cool stuff Brec brought me, but Mom said not to bother you. That you were working something out. Whatever that means. Anyway, want to see it now?”
I am mortified at the thought of Breccan Carlisle knowing I was working something out in the bathroom. He’s probably assuming it had to do with him. He’d be right, but judging by the way his eyes darken and his smile grows impossibly wide, he probably assumes I was working it out with my hands…between my legs.
My cheeks heat, and I do my best to ignore Breccan. “No, honey. Not right now,” I tell Connor. “I’m really late for something. Remember? Ma-maybe I didn’t tell you about it.” Great. Not only am I tripping over my feet, but I’m stumbling over my words as well. I have to get out of here. “Anyway, I have to go.”
There. Perfect. Done. I head for the door only to freeze. Shit. I spin back around.
“Have you seen my purse?” I frantically search the room.
I am acting like a complete idiot. Nothing quite like having a sexy guy I almost kissed and obviously doesn’t remember me enjoying the show.
When my gaze finally lands on my stuff, I rush over and grab them before I bolt to the door. “I’ll be back later and you can tell me all about the rest of your visit.” I’m desperate for an escape but bested by my manners. Turning to face Breccan, I take a moment to collect myself. “Brock—er, Brec—it was really nice to meet you. Again. Thank you for coming to see my nephew. I know it will be the highlight of his year. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a thing to do.” Then I open the front door, and I have one foot out when I hear Brec speak again.
“Nice to meet you too, Sidney. Let me know if you need a highlight too.”
Looking over my shoulder at him, he winks at me. Again.
What is it with this guy and winking? And why does it turn me on?
Before I say something I’ll regret, I walk out the door and slam it behind me. Then I decide that arrogant isn’t th
e only word that fits him. There’s an even better one.
Asshole.
It’s been a week since I met Connor, and even though I gave him my number before I left, I haven’t heard a word from him. While having lunch with Rebecca and Tripp, I decide to send him a text and see how he’s doing.
Me: Hey, Connor. It’s Brec. How ya been, kid?
Leaving his house that day, I felt good. For the first time in a long time, I actually had a smile that wasn’t fake on my face. There was something about the kid I really liked. I’m not sure if it was the genuine happiness he had from meeting me or the fact that he didn’t sit around and mope because he was sick. For once in my adult life, though, someone wanted to hang out with me because of me and not what I could do for them. I mean, I tried giving the kid my watch and he politely turned it down, for fuck’s sake.
I’m still waiting for a response when I hear a throat clear across the table. Dropping my phone, I glance up and catch Rebecca staring at me.
“What?” I ask with more attitude than I intended.
She responds quickly, cutting her eyes to Tripp. “Nothing.”
This whole lunch has been awkward, and I can’t figure out why. I feel like there’s something Rebecca wants to say. She keeps clearing her throat and opening her mouth before clamping it shut or saying something random. She’s never been one to hold back before, so I’m beginning to worry that it’s something serious.
It isn’t unusual for Reb to show up with a pizza and a six-pack in the middle of the week, and we make it a point to have lunch together often. So, there was no reason to question it when she called asking to meet last minute. But, now that I think back on it, I realize she did sound strange during that brief conversation.
The three of us have been tight since middle school. We met when I was twelve. One afternoon, I was leaving football practice and stumbled across Tripp as he was getting pummeled by a couple of older kids behind the gym.
