Page 7 of The Sweetest Risk

Nothing else.

Brooke crosses her arms as I approach. “Oh really? Well I promise you that I am not as bad as he makes me out to be.”

“He told us that you drive him crazy. I can see why. You are stunning.”

Brooke shoots me a wide-eyed look and her lips part slightly. And a weight the size of Texas drops in my stomach.

I nervously laugh, but before I can explain anything, Brooke plainly says, “I guarantee you that’s not why I drive him crazy.” Her face is still flushed and I don’t know if it is because of what my sisters just said or because of the sex dream she had of us. I am eager to find out. There is a heated gaze between us now. One we never had before. This weirdly doesn’t feel like hate.

Andi and Nora purse their lips and back away simultaneously. They really are like twins. “Okay, well we will be over here talking with Bradley and his lovely and lucky fiancée,” Andi says.

Once they are out of earshot, I say, “I am sorry about my sisters. They have it out to embarrass me any time they have a chance.”

“They are my kind of girls,” Brooke says with a smirk. The color has not left her cheeks. Maybe it is out of habit, but I desperately want that color to deepen.

“So, that was a pretty spicy dream you had last week, Cupcake.”

I can already tell I am getting a rise out of her and making her skin crawl in a good way. She is flustered Brooke, and I love flustered Brooke.

“That text wasn’t meant for you, Hot Shot. Forget about it. It was just a dream. There must’ve been a fluke in the cosmos or Neptune must be in retrograde or whatever for me to ever have a dream about you in that way.”

I step closer to her and lessen the gap between us. “But you did.”

Her eyes are ablaze with something other than annoyance. I can barely make out the shade of green because her pupils are dilated. Is she thinking about the dream right now? It sure seems like it.

She notices my hat, clears her throat and tries to detract. “Are you wearing your own brand? Seriously, Hot Shot, who does that? Aren’t you a little full of yourself?”

“Well, it’s pretty standard for people to have their own brand, especially when you are the face of the franchise like I am. It’s been in the works for a while now, Cupcake. Where have you been?”

“Avoiding you.” Crossing her arms again, she walks away from me. “Mom and Dad, I’m heading to the car.”

They acknowledge her with a nod and continue their conversation with my parents, who at some point started talking with the Becketts. I watch as Brooke walks away, her long dark caramel hair swaying back and forth along Bradley’s number and their last name. My stomach clenches again for someunknown reason. Actually, there is a reason. A little piece of me wants my number to be on the back of her jersey.

For the rest of the night, I wonder why I want it so bad. I don’t want to see Brooke in that light, where I am aching to see her wear my jersey. I know what that will mean. There is so much weight to that possibility that I need to bury it deep inside. Should be easy enough. When it comes to Brooke, I am an expert at keeping things under lock and key. Except I never throw that precious key away, and I am not sure if I maybe want to use it.

6

“To Tristan!” My father raises his mimosa. “We are so proud of you, son. For you and Bradley to break the record for the number of goals scored in a single game is quite the accomplishment and we are so lucky we were able to travel down from Canada to see you celebrated.”

My family all clink their glasses together. Everyone had a mimosa except me. I don’t like to drink all that much during the season, especially the morning after a game. There may be a handful of times where I will party with my teammates or if it’s a special event. Not this morning. This morning I need to stick with water.

“Thanks for coming out, you guys. It means a lot to me that you would travel so far to celebrate with me.” My parents were insistent that we go out to brunch this morning since it wastoo late to do a celebratory dinner last night. I took them to Oddfellows in the Bishop Arts district. It’s one of my favorite breakfast spots in Dallas and I know they serve beignets, which are both my sisters’ favorites.

“So, honey.” My mom turns to my dad. “When do you want to head to the airport tomorrow?”

Their conversation started to trail off as I dug back into my food. Andi and Nora were sitting directly across from me. I can tell in their faces that they wanted to talk about last night. I can read both of them like a fricken book. They wanted to talk about Brooke.

“So…” Andi starts, smirking while playing with her food with her fork.

Here we go.

“So what, Andi?” I muster up the most annoyed tone I can, even though I am already halfway there.

“What’s going on with you and Brooke?” Andi asks, her eyebrows wagging.

“Nothing is going on between me and Brooke.” My jaw clenches at that reality and I hate it that my body responds that way. It reveals too much about what is going on in my head.

Nora chimes in, “She’s gorgeous, by the way. Her caramel hair. Her hazel eyes. I love her style, too. She looks like she came straight from Barbie Land with the pink headband.” She takes a bite of her beignet and looks accusingly at me.

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