Page 65 of The Defender
The last time he dropped by was over a year ago. I’d just moved in, and he’d showed up with a brand-new toolbox and toilet paper as housewarming gifts.
The smoke alarm’s shrieks came to a sudden, merciful stop.
My dad opened his mouth, but something behind me caught his eye. He froze, his concerned frown hardening into a glare. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon whole.
I turned in time to see a shirtless Vincent pop out of the kitchen. “I finally got the alarm to—oh,shit.”
My stomach plummeted. My dismay matched the absolute horror on Vincent’s face.
Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. This was bad.Really bad.
I whirled to face my dad again. Dozens of excuses crowded my tongue, but they withered beneath the weight of his glare.
His face reddened as his eyes darted from me to Vincent and back again. When he finally spoke, his voice boomed loud enough to make me flinch.
“What thehellis going on here?”
CHAPTER 18
VINCENT
Long story short: I didn’t die.
I did, however,wantto die by the time Coach was done reaming us out.
“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from me for a month.” He paced the living room, his body trembling with unsuppressed anger. “Do you know how bad this looks? The fact that my captain is shacking up with mydaughter?Jesus!”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. A vein throbbed in his forehead, and his complexion had morphed from cherry red to a concerning purple. I wondered, somewhat inappropriately, if I’d narrowly escaped starting a house fire only to kill my coach with a heart attack minutes later.
Brooklyn and I had hastily explained the situation, reassuring him that weweren’tromantically involved and that I was paying rent like a normal tenant, but he wasn’t having it. The more we talked, the deeper his scowl got.
Brooklyn sat on the sofa while I stood by the front door, my shirt back on and my muscles rigid with tension. I’d taken my top off because it’d reeked of smoke, but the universe clearly had it out for me. Coach’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
“This is why we didn’t tell you.” Brooklyn sounded frustrated. “We knew you’d freak out.”
“With good fucking reason!” Coach roared. “This is a complete violation of our no-fraternization policy, not to mention it’s…it’s justwrong!”
Technically, we hadn’t violated Blackcastle’s no-fraternization policy because we weren’t romantically or sexually involved. The bet fell into a grayer area, but Coach didn’t know about it and neither of us was stupid enough to tell him.
Is it because of the bet?
Not everything is about the bet, Brooklyn.
I pressed my lips together. If the kitchen situation had played out a little differently before the fire, Coach’s concerns might’ve had merit.
I’d come so close to giving in. When I’d walked in and saw her sitting there, it was like taking a sucker punch to the gut—completely unexpected and almost brutal in the way she took my breath away.
I hadn’t expected the bet to go this far. I’d imagined something fun and light, an entertaining way to flex my seduction skills while competing with Brooklyn. If it ended in me satiating my curiosity about how she tasted, then that was even better.
A low-stakes bet. That was it.
It wasn’t supposed to make me yearn for her this much.
And it damn well wasn’t supposed to hurt.
I just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to emotionally manipulate me into kissing you.
My chest pinched.
