Page 46 of Broken Play
Noelle laughs as J.D. grunts. Dad yells, "Breakfast is ready, and, Noelle, isn't Brooks coming?"
Her laugh dies down. "Umm... he had a late night."
A silent understanding passes between J.D. and me. We don't say anything, but we used to be the most sought-after guys in high school and college. We both wore the same excuse—a late night was always code for partying and girls.
Bitterness lies on my tongue at the thought of my sister being cheated on while she sits at home, so I say, "After breakfast, do you want to go see Sutton at the tennis academy?Maybe you could play her. I thought you used to be pretty good, and I'm sure she could use a distraction today."
"Yes, yes." And just like that, she slides off my brother's back and slings her arms around my neck. Brooks doesn't realize how special Noelle is.
TWENTY-FOUR
SUTTON
From high above the field, I watch the way his body twists when he throws. For two days, I've been in a post-Number Ten haze. I can't quit thinking about how he let me take what I wanted. Everything was on my terms, except for the shower. Small kisses and washing each other's backs. His words: "We'll work our way up to hot shower sex. Would you like that, boss?"
He sees everything—so observant. When I clenched my legs, he knew he had me.
Heath interrupts the memories that wrap me like a warm towel. "What do I need to do today? I'm so bored watching everyone else work."
Spinning on my heels, I face him. "Where do you feel you can make the biggest contribution? Marlon seems to think you would be great in our IT department and could work on automating our social media campaigns."
"How much does it pay?" He slaps his palm against the half-wall. "Just curious. How much do you make? Maybe accounting would be a good place for me. I've always beengood with numbers. How about I spend a couple of weeks there and see if I like it?"
My insides shiver, but I chalk it up to not knowing him that well. He's starved for attention, wanting to be the center of the universe. Can I blame him? No. My dad was always working when he was growing up, too. And Tammy, well, she's great to me, but I have the feeling she wishes she had a girl.
"I'll let Rosalie know you'll start tomorrow. Learn from her, and Human Resources will set the pay for the job you're in. In two weeks, if you want to move into a different area, then your pay might change."
I turn and walk back inside, and I feel his eyes on me a little too long. When I get back to my desk, I make a mental note to keep an eye on him for two reasons. One, he must stay drug-free, and two, I can't put my finger on it, but something is off. Maybe working together isn't going to bring us closer as I had hoped. There's an underlying current of suspicion that's hard to ignore.
"Hey, Sis?"
Sis?
The word choice sounds foreign, although technically I am his sister. I glance over my shoulder, and I'm positive I look surprised. "Yeah?"
He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe, body relaxed—more at ease here than you'd expect from someone just a week on the job. "You know, Greyson O'Ryan has a bit of a reputation," he says, voice almost casual. "Doesn't really seem like the type to dash off the field for just anyone." His words hang in the air, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
"He'sa good guy."
"Judging by the internet, he's quite the player."
"His personal life is none of my business."
"Dad said Greyson brought his sister for tennis lessons."
"So? His sister played in high school and wanted to see if she could compete against a professional."
"Former professional," he says, reminding me that I'm retired and pouring salt on a wound that may never heal. I would still be playing tennis if I weren't injured.
Releasing a flustered sigh, I say in a steady tone, "I don't know what you're getting at, but I want to have a rapport with all the leaders on the team. Now, I think it's time you go see Rosalie."
If my stepbrother, whom I hardly know, can deduce that I'm in a relationship with Greyson, we're in trouble.
He shrugs, his lips twitching with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and for a moment I wonder how much of this is genuine concern—and how much is something else. My job is to run the Armadillo organization, not babysit. I remind myself that I want to have a relationship with Heath, and I don't give up easily.
Every Wednesday, Rosalie leaves a neat but fat stack of checks on my desk to sign. It's my weekly signal that Dad insists on handling the Armadillo finances the old-fashioned way. I must sign them all by Friday, come rain or shine, birth or death. When Anna was in the hospital, Dad had to come in and scratch his signature on each check. He says that direct deposit is riddled with errors and people depend on their paychecks. I must say, I love that it's coming from a caring place and that he's not just stuck in tradition.
My next big project is to find a better solution for everyone. I'm pretty sure we're the only team in the league thatstill uses paper checks, and some of the players have complained since my dad bought the franchise.
