Page 36 of Fashionista's Playbook

“He’s still mad that he doesn’t get to stay here when I go out of town. Probably why he’s here. I’ll handle it.”

She smiled, and damn it if my dick didn’t get half hard. It was that knowing spread of her lips.

“You…” I trailed off when she laid a finger on my lips. Her touch sent tingles through the lower half of my face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Travis.” And she disappeared down the hallway.

Whatever good vibes Moriah left me with were gone the second I walked into the room with Vin. My brother’s dark eyes were narrowed, his mouth a tight line.

“The hell she doing here this late, bro?” Vin spat as soon as I stepped into the living room.

“I should ask you the same thing.” I snatched a tennis ball from the fireplace mantel and tossed it into the air.

Vin ignored the bite in my tone. “I need a favor.”

Our entire life, Vin never held a grudge. He could be pissed off one minute and cutting up the next. I’d always admired his ability to let stuff roll off. I went with it. If he wasn’t going to push the Moriah issue, neither was I.

“How much is this going to cost me?” No amount of money really compared to what he’d done for our family, for me.

Vincent laughed. “Time, bro. Maybe an hour or two.”

Calmer now, I replaced the ball with the remote and flicked on the TV. The league’s sanctioned highlight show came on instantly, telling me things about other teams that I already knew. But the noise put me at ease.

“It’s this chick, Lyrical. Dude, she’s banging, a swimsuit model.”

I turned to him, tapping the remote against my chin. “What happened to the single mom? Or that other girl, the social media chick you let drive my Escalade?”

He waved my questions off. “Kari Tatum introduced me to Lyrical this week.”

“Wasn’t Kari friends with that other woman?” No loyalty. A damn shame.

“Bitch is stacked. But she won’t hang out with me unless I bring someone for Kari.

The fuck was this, middle school?I tilted my head and eyed him with skepticism. “You got other friends, Vin.”

I couldn’t give two shits about Lyrical the Swimsuit Model or her friend. Neither of them compared to Moriah Stanhope, Budding Fashion Icon.

“Bro—it’s Kari Tatum. You know, she’s on the cover ofallthe magazines, little brother.”

I was unable to match the excitement in Vin’s voice. “And?”

“Tatum’s got it bad for you. Lyrical wants a meet and greet, maybe set something up at the house Kari has rented while she’s here doing photoshoots.”

No way in hell. “You could have texted me, man.”

“No.” He shook his head, an arrogant grin on his face. “Because you’d ignore that shit and brush it off.”

The urge to roll my eyes was strong. “Since when have you needed me to tag along so you can get a date?”

Vin picked at a phantom piece of fuzz on his shirt, avoiding eye contact. “Man, you need to get out more, lighten up some. Wouldn’t hurt you to take Tatum for a spin, a woman like that ain’t looking to play house like your assistant.”

Was this the real reason he was here? Worried about Moriah? “I’m not interested, Vincent, tell her as much.”

Leaning forward he glared and cracked his knuckles, the way he used to do to intimidate me when we were kids. Vincent was running through all his options. I gave in and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.

“I’m your older brother, Travis. If anyone in the world knows what’s best for you, it’s me.”

I snorted an irritated laugh. “Are you still mad about the team not wanting you hanging out at my place when I’m out of town?”

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