Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1)(7)

When I heard the door close, I jogged upstairs to my room. I turned on the dual showerheads, stripped, and got in. Jerking off was high on my to-do list, and the way I figured things, keeping it just me and my hand for a while would do me some good. The less drama the better.

After I blew my load on the black-and-gray granite wall, I cleaned up, washed my hair, and got out. I fucked around the house for a couple of hours before heading out to my SUV to make the drive to the McRaes’.

One of my favorite things about them was how down-to-earth they were. Houston’s parents had let him buy them a vehicle when he was signed to the Rush, but that was about it. They still lived in Denver, in the same house where he and Garrett had been raised—a two-story in an older neighborhood filled with middle-class families and manicured lawns. They fit there, and I liked that they did.

My father had blown his NFL career in just a few years—not from an injury he couldn’t prevent, like Houston, but with bad decisions, a bad attitude, and a coke habit. He still tried to live a life he couldn’t afford. I tried to minimize my contact with him. I was just starting to get to the point where people didn’t mention my father in interviews, but he never stayed away for long. He didn’t understand boundaries. It was all about what he wanted and when he wanted it, and when it came to me, what he normally wanted was cash. He’d show up whenever he got a hair up his ass to try and get it too.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my muscles tense, the way they always got when I thought about him. He was the last person I wanted on my mind, so instead, I daydreamed about Ms. McRae’s meatloaf, which was to fucking die for, and the look on Garrett’s face if I alternated between calling him Little Man and Baby G. He was gonna be pissed, and I’d love the shit out of it.

I pulled into their driveway to see Houston’s car was already there. I parked and headed for the porch, and just as I hit the top step, the door opened. I grinned when I saw Garrett standing there. “What’s up, Little Man?”

He rolled his melted-chocolate eyes that matched his hair. He appeared to have put on a few pounds of muscle since I’d seen him last. He was tall and broad, with a runner’s body that was big enough to knock the shit out of other players when needed. He looked like the boy next door, almost innocent, though I knew that wasn’t the case. But his features were soft, and he had thick, dark lashes and a Captain America grin…

“That’s Mr. Little Man, a.k.a. future Super Bowl ring winner to you. Wait…you don’t have one of those, do you? I didn’t think so.”

I made sure his mom wasn’t within eye shot and flipped him off. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You don’t even know where you’ll land.”

“I don’t need to. I’m there, we win. We can head out back if you want some pointers.”

“Aw, so cute. Baby G thinks he’s better than me.”

I reached out to pinch his cheek, and he swatted my hand away. He turned just as Houston walked up behind him. “Goddammit, bro. Why’d you tell him that dumbass name?”

Houston shrugged. “I’m your big brother. He’s my best friend. It’s in the job description to give you shit.”

Shaking his head, Garrett walked away, and I’m not proud to admit, I watched him go. He had a great ass, tight and round—and definitely not what I should be thinking about. Even though my bisexuality was uncharted territory, if I weren’t closeted and Garrett wasn’t Houston’s sibling, I’d definitely explore every inch of his body.

“What is it about Garrett that brings out that behavior in you? You always enjoy giving people shit, but it’s even worse with him.”

“I don’t know.” But he was right. I closed the door and followed Houston inside.

“Hi, Warner! You look sleepy. Are you getting enough rest?” Ms. McRae asked. She was one of the only people in the world who actually called me Warner—well, that I allowed to call me Warner, at least. The only others paid my salary so, ya know, I let them get away with it.

She was over a foot shorter than me, with dark hair, glasses, and reminded me of all the perfect moms on TV shows I’d watched as a kid.

“Are you getting enough rest?” Garrett mocked, but I ignored him. I was the perfect angel around their mom.

“Yes, ma’am.” I walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You know you’re always welcome here. And how many times have I told you to call me Connie?” She turned to Garrett. “Stop being a butthead.”

I bit back my laugh as Houston said, “Yeah, stop being a butthead.”

“What’s everyone thinking?” their dad, Dale, interrupted as he came downstairs. He looked nervous in a way I didn’t typically see him. He was tall like Garrett and Houston, but his hair was lighter and nowadays streaked with gray.

“Dad’s freaking out,” Houston said.

“You weren’t this stressed about Houston getting drafted,” Garrett said, the words playful, but he turned in a way that caught my attention. Like maybe he didn’t want anyone to see he was upset.

“We’re not worried about you getting drafted, dear,” Connie said. “We know you’re going to a team.”