by Cora Reilly
I had never been around a woman who enjoyed drinking beer, much less knew what the hell a microbrewery was or an Indian Pale Ale. Evie was a surprise package all over.
She pursed her lips, her blonde brows pulling tight. “Are you mocking me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, stifling laughter. Whenever she gave me that stern look, I felt the urge to grin. With her strawberry waves, freckles and cute little mouth, the stern expression just didn’t have the desired effect.
She opened one bottle by wedging the cap of the other bottle under its cap and twisting up, then handed the now open bottle to me. I was so stunned, I could feel my jaw dropping to the fucking floor.
Evie flushed and snorted. Two of her favorite pastimes. “What?” she muttered as she leaned against the counter, propping her ample hip up against it in a way that accentuated her curves even more—and I knew she wasn’t aware of it.
“Nothing.” I raised the bottle to my lips and took a long sip. The taste was amazing, and hit me with its fruity and bitter notes. “Wow. That tastes great.” I checked the bottle, but I didn’t recognize the name of the brewery. “Never heard of that brewery before, though I’ve visited a few local breweries.”
Evie looked surprised at my admittance. Just because I didn’t have alcohol at home didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the occasional beer, if it didn’t interfere with my training routine. “They are pretty new. I hear they have great tastings and tours through the brewery.”
I glanced at Evie. “You didn’t do one?”
She gave a small shrug. “I didn’t want to go alone, and I don’t know anyone except for Fiona and Connor yet. You are a slave driver who stops me from having a social life.”
For an insane moment, I considered asking her if she wanted to do a tour with me. I loved them, and Marc was busy with his kids and work. But I’d never gone out with a woman like that, just because we enjoyed the same things that didn’t involve getting nasty between the sheets. It would have crossed a border I shouldn’t cross with Evie. And I really didn’t want the press to get photos of me spending quality time with my assistant. That would lead to a new onslaught of speculations Evie didn’t need. For some reason I wanted to protect her from the shit the press threw my way, and it wasn’t only because Fiona could be threatening as hell where her twin was concerned. Evie had been broken up after the last few nasty articles. She really didn’t need additional abuse thrown her way, and not just because Fiona would kick my balls until they were different shades of blue and violet.
My attention shifted back to Evie who used a spoon to open her own bottle, then took a swig and let out a small moan. But that sound wasn’t what made my mind drift off to another level of inappropriateness again. A droplet of water had fallen from the cold bottle and landed on Evie’s neckline, and was now slowly making its way down the crevice between Evie’s ample tits. My God. She had never worn a low neckline before, and I had a hard time—in more than one sense—not looking at it.
I took another deep pull from the bottle, hoping the cold liquid would clear my head. It didn’t.
Evie frowned, her perfect nose wrinkling. “You okay?”
I forced my eyes upwards. Too late, of course. Evie followed my gaze and rolled her eyes. Then she took a step toward me and punched my shoulder. I took a step back, utterly startled by her reaction. She had never done anything like that before. “Eyes on my face, Xavier.”
I made a show out of rubbing the spot. “You realize hitting your boss isn’t your best idea.”
“You are in my home, and I’m not on duty, so at the current time you aren’t my boss, only a very rude visitor.”
I flashed her a guilty grin, then clinked my bottle against hers. “Don’t worry, I like it when you manhandle me.”
“If I manhandle you, you’ll know it,” she said with an answering grin. When Evie smiled it always took hold of her entire face. It wasn’t the cautious kind of smile, the smile women used so they would still be pretty. Evie showed her emotions without holding back, without worrying how it would make her look, and it was a breath of fresh air. I didn’t need to guess how she felt. She showed it plainly or told me outright. No female subtlety that drove me up the walls. Evie was like one of the guys, but with curves that gave my dick ideas that would make Fiona choke me to death if she knew them.
Speaking of the evil twin, Fiona entered the kitchen, her eyes darting between Evie and me with a suspicious expression. “What’s going on here? I thought we would have dinner together outside, not do a standing party in the kitchen.”
“We’re getting drinks,” Evie said, holding up her bottle.
Fiona narrowed her eyes at me as if she thought I was doing nefarious things to her sister. If anyone needed protecting, it was me. Evie could pack quite a punch for a woman. “Is that beer?” she asked. “You realize you’ve got training in the morning?”
“It’s one beer and I’m a big guy. I can handle it, Mom.”
Fiona turned to Evie. “You shouldn’t encourage him to act like this. As his assistant you need to make sure he eats healthy.”
Evie burst out laughing. “You want me to tell Xavier what to eat, Fiona? I consider a carrot cake a nutritious start to my day.”
“Maybe you should change your eating habits then as well,” Fiona said with a sigh.
Evie’s cheeks turned red, but Fiona didn’t notice. She was busy grabbing water and a salad from the fridge. Evie wrapped one arm over her stomach and scowled down at the beer in her hand. The second Fiona left, I leaned down to Evie and whispered, “Eat all the carrot cake you like, as long as you stay as cool as you are and don’t turn into a stuck-up bitch like your sister.”
Evie laughed and took another sip. “She isn’t a bitch.”
I raised my eyebrows.
Evie shrugged. “Most of the time.”
I grinned. “Now come on, before Fiona orders Connor to get us. He can be a nasty bugger if provoked.”
Evie followed me, a smile on her face that set me oddly at ease.
Two hours into the barbecue, Evie and I were in a full-blown discussion about Marvel movies.
“Amazing Spiderman was a complete fluke. They should keep their hands off the old movies. Every time they try a new take on Spiderman, they ruin the story a bit more,” Evie argued, her cheeks flushed, her chair turned toward me.
“Tobey Maguire was a shitty Spiderman,” I said, slinging my arm over the backrest of my chair to turn fully to Evie. “I didn’t buy his interpretation of the bad guy for one second. That guy’s too much of a goody-two-shoes.”
“And Andrew Garfield isn’t?” Evie muttered.
“Did you know they were nerds?” Connor interjected.
Fiona shook her head. “I knew Evie enjoyed a good book or movie more than actual human interaction. But this…no.”
Connor shook his head at me. “What’s wrong with you, mate?”
“Now come on, you watched the Spiderman movies.”
“I did. But that doesn’t mean I can spend hours discussing the merits of the Marvel universe.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Evie murmured. “They don’t even like Pale Ale.”
I chuckled. “One of these days we’ll have to do a movie night where we binge-watch all Spiderman movies, and then we’ll have that discussion again.”
“Deal,” Evie said.
Fiona cleared her throat. “Evie, I doubt movie nights are part of your job description?”
“She needs to cater to my whims,” I said with a shrug.
Fiona gave me a scowl that could have frozen over hell before she turned to her sister with an expression I couldn’t decipher, but Evie could and sighed.
Before I left, Fiona cornered me in the entryway, her manicured nails digging into my forearm. “Listen, Xavier, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but stop the charm offensive on my sister, all right? She won’t have movie night with you. She doesn’t do overnight hours, especially not the kind you wa
nt.”
I withdrew my arm from her tight grip, stifling my anger before I said something nasty that would make Connor kick my ass. “You aren’t Evie’s guardian, nor mine, Fiona. Why don’t you keep your nose out of our business?”
“Because I don’t want you to hurt my sister, and that’s the only thing you’re good at—hurting women.”
I scowled. “Evie’s my assistant. If I decide that includes hours watching movies together, then that’s what she’ll do, understood?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“And proud of it,” I muttered. “Say bye to Connor and Evie from me. I’ve had enough of your bitchiness for one day.”
If it wasn’t already late and if I didn’t know that Evie would be kicking me out of bed in the morning no matter how long my night had been, I’d have headed straight for a bar to pick up a fuck for the night. Instead, I returned home like a good little athlete, and fell asleep with the image of Evie’s butt giving me the boner of a lifetime.
The day after the barbecue Xavier was in a sour mood. I wasn’t exactly sure why. After making sure he was on time for his training, I took Xavier’s car toward the office of the sports label to pick up the newly designed briefs so Xavier could try them on in the afternoon. I was still in awe that Xavier let me drive his Maserati for tasks like that. Despite his soft spot for anything that could be classified as luxury, he wasn’t very attached to any of his possessions. Sometimes it felt like they were a necessary evil for him. Who wouldn’t like a Rolex and Maserati as their necessary evil, really? His knack for flouting his wealth didn’t bring him lots of good press, however, and had led to more than one investigation by the National Rugby League to see if his salary didn’t surpass the salary cap after all.
His mood had improved considerably when I picked him up from training in the early afternoon, as it usually did.
“Good training?” I asked as he flung himself into the passenger seat. Sometimes I felt like a chauffeur. Not that I minded. After my initial problems with the shift and the left-side traffic, I enjoyed driving around Sydney, despite the annoying traffic.
“Things are coming together. We need to make it to the Grand Final. We need to win.”
“When’s the first game again?” I asked.
“Second week of March. But the pre-season kicks off next week.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw that. Central Coast Stadium against the Sea Eagles.” It would be my first live rugby game. I had never even been to a football game, so I was curious if I’d enjoy it at all.
Xavier’s expression was focused and eager. No cockiness or flirtiness, only fierce determination. “This is our year.”
Back at his apartment, I sent him upstairs with the package with briefs so he could see which ones he liked best while I fixed us lunch. A huge salad with avocado, chicken, and feta cheese. Xavier, of course, got three cooked eggs and another chicken breast on the side to reach his protein goals for the day. I’d have never thought that I’d become a master in macronutrients, but being around Xavier and Fiona, it was inevitable, not that it had any impact on my own figure. I had lost a couple of pounds without trying, however, because of all the running about for Xavier and the forced healthy regime in his and Fiona’s company.
I put down the cutlery beside the two salad bowls when Xavier came down the winding staircase in one of the briefs. Low-rise trunks hugging his body like a second skin in subdued olive green. I could feel warmth traveling up my throat and face when Xavier turned so I could see him from every angle. I wasn’t sure why the label wanted Xavier as the face and body for their campaigns, as if anyone would pay attention to clothes in this underwear ad.
“What do you think about the color?”
“It’s nice,” I got out.
“Green’s not my favorite color, though it matches your eyes.”
I snorted. “Your underpants aren’t supposed to match my eyes.”
His answering grin was devilish, and I raised the fork still in my grasp in warning. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I’ll poke you with this fork and not in a girly, teasing way, all right?”
Xavier raised his arms and backed away slowly. “So that’s a no to this model?”
He turned around, giving me a premium view of his defined ass and back. I grabbed a glass of water and took a few desperate gulps.
Things didn’t improve from there. With every new model that Xavier presented, the temperature in the room seemed to rise until I wished for panty liners so I could wedge them under my armpits to prevent another embarrassing sweat incident.
“Oh this is my favorite,” Xavier shouted, then laughed.
I perched on a stool, my elbows propped up on the kitchen island, as I snuck one bite of avocado and chicken into my mouth after the other, and almost choked to death when Xavier came into view. This model wasn’t a trunk. It was a slip, and even that term didn’t do the thing justice. The bright purple fabric didn’t cover much.
I coughed. Xavier’s grin grew, and then he turned around, and I was fairly sure my legs would have given way if I hadn’t been sitting. It was some sort of thong that revealed Xavier’s perfectly shaped butt, with two strange strings under his ass cheeks. He turned back to me. “What do you think?”
Not much. Any sane thought had fled my mind. My head was moments from raising a fire alarm. I sat up slowly, trying to form an articulate reply despite Xavier’s grin. “What is that?”
“A jockstrap. Have you never seen one?”
“Until you I wasn’t around jocks all that much,” I muttered, trying very hard not to look at how the jock thingy accentuated Xavier’s thing. But it was really really difficult not to risk the occasional peek because that man wasn’t only ripped, he also had every reason to be cocky as far as I could tell.
Xavier was enjoying this far too much. I bet he wouldn’t have tried on every single piece of clothing if it wasn’t for my reaction. “Yay or nay, Evie?”
“To be honest, I think ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the male population shouldn’t even be thinking of wearing something like that.”
Xavier strolled over to me. Did this man not have any kind of shame? “But I should?”
“God no,” I said, forcing my gaze to rest firmly on his annoyingly cocky face. Of course, the reason why Xavier shouldn’t be wearing a jock strap was an entirely different one. It was to preserve the last shreds of my sanity because seeing him in his Calvin Kleins was already bad, but this?
“Why not? Share your thoughts with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I don’t think it’s very manly if guys wear thongs.”
What I really thought was that if Xavier didn’t start wearing more than briefs around me soon, the non-disclosure clause would be useful after all.
“Sure. That’s why,” Xavier said, then turned to head back upstairs. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he flexed his butt cheeks to give me an additional show.
“Only one more,” he informed me a couple of minutes later.
“If it’s got less fabric than the last, I’m out, Xavier. I warn you,” I called up.
His answering chuckle made me smile stupidly. To my relief—or disappointment, it was difficult to determine at this point—the last model was another low-rise trunk with the red lips pattern.
“This is my favorite pattern,” he announced, standing on the last step.
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“I like lips on my junk,” he said as he strolled over and sat on the stool beside me.
“Of course.”
Xavier glanced down at his salad, then at mine. “Where’s your chicken and avocado?”
“Your show made me hungry,” I said without thinking about it.
Xavier’s expression made me lift the fork and poke his side with it.
I narrowed my eyes. “Last warning.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said, rubbing his side.
“Your expression did.”
&n
bsp; We spent the remainder of the afternoon going through several interview questions for online magazines and Rugby World, as well as a few fan emails that required a more thorough reply.
It was almost seven when I glanced at my watch. “It’s later than I thought.”
Xavier looked up from the last fan letter. Thankfully, he’d by now changed into jeans and a gray shirt. “Why don’t you make good on that Spiderman movie marathon you promised me.”
I frowned. I had really liked the idea, but after seeing Xavier half naked the majority of the day, I wasn’t sure anymore if it was safe to be around him after work as well. Don’t be ridiculous, Evie.
Even if Xavier’s body gave me all kinds of fantasies, my body definitely didn’t have that effect on him. In the month that I’d worked for him, I’d seen him with twenty women, all of them tall, thin, fit, and breathtakingly gorgeous. I could bind myself to Xavier in my birthday suit and it wouldn’t get his pulse up. “Why not,” I said.
Surprise flashed across Xavier’s face, and then he smiled. Not the cocky, the challenging, the arrogant smile. A real smile. One I’d never seen on his face before, and my pulse rate doubled.
“Since I don’t have training tomorrow, why don’t we treat ourselves to some ribs and French fries from my favorite fast-food joint?” Xavier asked, getting up from the barstool to grab his phone and a takeout menu.
“Sounds perfect,” I said.
After Xavier had put in his order, he opened the fridge and took out two bottles of beer that didn’t look like the low-carb dishwater he called beer. “Got a few craft beers in preparation.”
I hopped off the stool and joined him in front of the fridge, surprised. “You didn’t know I’d agree to a movie night.”
He shrugged. “You’re working late all the time, might as well have a beer you enjoy when you’re here.”
I blinked up at him, but he drew his eyes away with a small frown. I scanned the inside of the fridge, finding beer bottles of different sizes and forms. All of them craft beers. “What’s your rec for the ribs?” I asked.
Xavier held up the two bottles. “Oatmeal stout from a brewery I visited with Marc a while back. They sell their beers in a small craft beer shop in the Rocks.”
