Page 12 of Fashionista's Playbook

“Well, we’ve got to do something. Because threats aren’t working.” Yates addressed me directly. “Your brother makes you look bad, which makes us look bad, and that’s not the team I own.”

Coach stood abruptly. “We’ve got work to do. Don’t let your brother in your house unless you’re there to chaperone. No parties, no bullshit that’s going to be a distraction. Go get warmed up, Madera.”

Final word from the coach, which left Yates red-faced and fuming a little bit. Caley, though, was my direct route to the championship endzone.

I glanced back at Linc as I stepped out of the door. He just shrugged with his hands spread wide likewhat can I do?

More, it was whatIcould do. Telling Vincent he couldn’t stay over, be there when I went out of town was bullshit. And after all Vin had done for me…

The memory flashed through my mind with the blinding blue glare of police lights and finality of handcuffs clicking in place. Years of Sunday visits and putting money on his books—because Vin had gone to prisonforme.

I owed my brother, more than anyone could ever comprehend.

My gaze narrowed on Linc, who dropped his to the desk. Yeah, he knew all right.

****

Tuesdays, Coach Caley kicked us out of the facility. Rest and rehab at home, not to even think about coming in. Which was great, except it left me too damn much time to think.

If I wasn’t stressing this shit with Vin, I was fantasizing about Moriah.

Vin loved to housesit if I played out of town—even if it was only half furnished. Free food, the game room, the pool…perfect place to throw parties. Making up for lost time, he’d call it.

I unracked another set of weights and started lifting, channeling the anger into the motion of my arms. The effort was minimal at first, dropped the weights to my chest then pushing up again, until I reached about ten or fifteen. Then I couldfeelit. The tension, the exertion kicked in and I had to work for it. I did just that, until sweat formed on my chest and my muscles burned with effort.

Being on the field would be a bigger distraction, but this would have to do.

I slammed the bar back up with a loud clang, before sitting up and moving onto curls. Simple, basic weightlifting to distract me.

One day, I would have to cut the cord with Vin, let it all go. But not until he was at least set up, settled down somewhere.

He was gonna be pissed.Fuck. I’d have to make up for it. A new car, a vacation, something. And then find someone else to look after things.

Maybe Moriah would do it.

I closed my eyes to keep from thinking of the things I’d rather do with a woman like that.

The dumbbell clanged and echoed when I dropped into onto the rack. Being backed into a corner pissed me off—sexual frustration only made it worse.

“Oh wow, I’m sorry!” A familiar, feminine voice broke through my angry thoughts.

I whipped around in time to catch Moriah backing up the steps, her face kissed by a flush that was more arousing than I could have anticipated. Thankfully I’d learned a hell of a lot of self-control over the years.

“It’s cool, I’m finished.” I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face.

“The other day you…said I could use the gym if I wanted…” She was cute when she babbled. “I thought you were out…so I was about to hop on the elliptical for a little while but I’ll just…” Her cheeks blushed an even brighter pink as she stumbled over her words.

She blew her cheeks out on a deep breath. I was smiling, couldn’t help myself.

“I’ll just see you tomorrow. I made this really weird.”

“Wait.” The center of my chest itched with a laugh that I held in to keep from spooking her. “Use the gym anytime you want, whether I’m here or not.”

The several moments she considered me did little to diminish the pink tint to her cheeks. She barely wore makeup, her blond hair was swept up into a high messy bun, and I’d never wanted to kiss anyone more than her right then.

Not a nice guy thought, Madera.It was getting harder to bethatguy. At least next week’s game in Denver would put some distance between me and Moriah. Maybe then I’d stop imagining shit like kissing her.

“Thanks.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “Just trying to ya know…”

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