Hard Luck (15 page)

Cali

“Keep your eyes closed,” Brady commands as we stand outside the closet door in my bedroom.

“Hello? Your big bear paws are covering my entire face. I can barely breathe.”

“Voila,” he announces like a game show host while dropping his hands and opening the door.

“Holy shit,” I say like my tongue is caught in slow motion. Everything that was once on the floor of the closet in my apartment is hanging up and coordinated. Pants are in one area and arranged by colors. It’s the same with the tops, dresses, and even the jeans, which are sorted from light to dark.

“You like it?” Brady asks as he hovers over me.

It’s so big, there’s even a chaise lounge sitting in the middle of the room. “It’s like one of those housewife shows.”

I walk to the chaise and lie down on the plush velvet cushions, flinging one arm over my head like some lady in waiting.
Bethany Frankel, eat your skinny heart out.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just commune with my clothes for a while,” I giggle.

“I’m glad you like it.” Brady moves to the end of the chaise and sits his gorgeous frame on the edge. He corners the market on all things big, and makes the chaise look like children’s furniture.

He’s so adorable sitting here with me, returning my smiles with wider ones and blinding me with his handsomeness. How could I hold anything against him? He’s forgiven for the shit show tonight…well, for the most part anyway.

“Like?” I laugh. “I fucking love it.” I run my hands along the long line of clothes neatly hung and spaced on a bar.

I’ve never had an organized closet in my entire life. I rebelled against my neat freak mother with a constant clothing explosion on my floor. Problem is, I’m still rebelling. Maybe it’s just me and my nature.

“I’m going to let you get settled.” He stands from the chaise and pulls out his phone. “I hate to even turn this damn thing on.”

He runs his finger over the screen. “Here we go. Prepare for ugly,” he chuckles. “Fuck,” he whistles under his breath. “Ten voicemails from my agent. Six from my brother Bryce.” His fingers fly over his phone. “I’ll start with the texts. Easier.”

“Good luck,” I call after him as he starts to leave my room, kind of missing his company already.

“You know where to find me if you need anything.” He gets to my door and stops. He turns around and gives me the cocky smirk that turns me to goo. “Mind if I tuck you in later?”

“I have to warn you. I sleep in the buff.” The look in his eyes is priceless.

***

I’ve sorted through everything in my closet. It’s weird having people set up all my personal belongings and then going through to locate everything. It’s like a fairy godmother waved a magic wand and all my stuff appeared here all organized.

In a bathroom as big as my old bedroom, I rummage through the linen closet and all the different products Brady bought for me. There are shampoos to body scrubs and everything imaginable in between. It’s like a stroll through the best aisles at Sephora. I might be having a moment. Maybe I’m just high from opening all the bottles and smelling the contents.

But the closet and bathroom are too organized for me, so I dig through the racks, find a familiar pair of old jeans along with a T-shirt, and toss them on the closet floor. I step back to view my uniquely me touch and nod. Now it feels like home. Give me until the end of this workweek and the closet will resemble a tornado’s aftermath once again.

Setting out to explore the rest of the penthouse, I wander around the kitchen for a few minutes, opening drawers and cabinets. I peek in the refrigerator to find the shelves and drawers stocked full of meats, cheeses, fruits, veggies, and God only knows what else hidden deeper in the back.

It’s a sad contrast to my usual Lean Cuisines and Greek yogurts, but I smile, finding myself excited to actually cook. I grab some grapes and note a carton of brown organic eggs and the thickest sliced bacon know to porkdom. Breakfast is my favorite meal to cook and I feel giddy about showing Brady I know my way around the kitchen.

Not that it will matter really, but at least he’ll get some warm breakfasts out of the deal since I’m not warming his bed. At this point, we are nothing more than roommates, though I’m not sure I can resist him until after the Series—or if I even want to. I can’t help the feeling that I’m only delaying the inevitable while waiting for him to profess feeling something more for me than just a warm body that gets him off.

After rinsing the grapes and finding a small plastic bowl, I head back to my room. When I turn the corner, I run straight into the brick wall known as Brady. The sudden jarring throws me back a little and the grapes and bowl to fall out of my hands onto the floor.

“Ugh,” I gasp, then realize the big obstacle in my way is a shirtless, sweaty version of him. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“You okay?” he asks, picking up my grapes.

I watch his back muscles ripple as he bends and stands back up. He’s wearing black cycle shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Not that I have to imagine.

“I’m fine. I didn’t see you there. Sneaking up on me?” I hit his arm and meet all muscle. “Been working out?”

“Missed my batting practice today and I needed to work off some frustrations—you know, the lack of sex. Unless you’d like to help me in that department,” he adds with a wink. “I plan on leaving my door unlocked, if you'd like to do the cuddle thing, or whatever.”

“Cuddle?” I shake my head and take the grapes as he hands them to me. “I didn’t know that word was even in your vocabulary since your ‘friends’ are kicked out before the condom is pulled off.”

“That’s true,” he gives me that cocky grin, “unless there’s hope for a round two.”

“Tell me why I agreed to this?” I ask the air around me.

“Because my dick likes you and I was willing to pay to make him happy.” Can’t fault him for being honest, even if it makes me even more like Vivian than I care to admit. “There are other things you can do besides full on sex.” He waggles his brows and I raise my brow, my face deadpan.

“I agreed to inspire your dick, not get asphyxiated by it.” Brady laughs in that wicked way he does when I make fun of him, like he’s in on the joke too. It’s maddening. Damn him.

To further torture me, he removes the white towel slung around his shoulders and I see his bare chest for the first time. It’s like I’m at The Chicago Art Institute standing in front of a sculpture.

I blink a couple times and spot an upturned horseshoe tattoo with the number seven inside it over his heart. It’s not large, but definitely there.

“I didn’t know you had that.” I’ve stalked him since he came to Chicago two years ago, surely I would’ve noticed it on a photo of him before now. “When did you get it?”

“Not too long after I turned eighteen. The horseshoe works for my last name and I’ve always worn the number seven on my jersey.”

Without thinking, I trace my fingers over the horseshoe. His skin is so soft, even though it’s like a slab of granite beneath the surface. I let my eyes travel from his sculpted chest down to his lower abs where his perfect V disappears, sadly hidden by his cycle shorts.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, pulling my hand back to my side. I want to slap myself for being so dazed by his body. Talk about sending the wrong message.

“No problem. I enjoyed it.” He gives me a lopsided smirk.

“Doesn’t take much for you, does it?”

“Not when you’re around.” It amazes me that I do it for Brady Luck. I can’t begin to process this fact as my heart does a little flutter.

“Gotta grab a shower, and it looks like it’ll be a nice long one.” I glance down at his crotch. Sure enough, he’s at full mast or close. “Care to join me?” He throws me a wink and I want to slap
him
for being such a charming devil.

“What happened to the sensitive guy in the elevator who asked about kissing me?” My question is more a tease, because this ornery version of Brady is likely the real one.

“Even after an hour plus on the bike, I am still worked up, as you can see.” He nods down at the magnificent cock outlined by his black shorts. My fingers itch to trace it like I did his tattoo. I lick my lips instead and decide I need to escape back to my room before I do or say something I’ll regret.

“Enjoy your shower,” I say, focusing my eyes on his face, since it’s possibly the least dangerous part of him. “I’m going to go call my mother and Taylor. Maybe watch a movie in bed.”

“Can I join you later if I promise to behave?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Me either,” Brady says, and follows it with a quick peck on my lips. He turns and walks away and I stare at his awesome ass with my mouth wide open. The view gets me all hot and bothered. Add the sweet kiss, and it further breaks down my defenses to hold him at bay.

When he turns a corner down the hallway and disappears from sight, I sigh in frustration—and relief. He’s a dangerous sight for my sex-deprived body.

I head back to my over organized closet and lie down on my chaise, contemplating sex with Brady. It’s boiled down to a should I or shouldn’t I, like a perverted Shakespearean question.

However, there’s only so much a woman can withstand in close quarters with a gorgeous guy who packs a nine-inch cock.

I wonder if I can make it past the weekend. If I do, it will be a miracle.

Brady

After two rounds of hand-to-dick combat in the shower, my need for Cali still hasn’t been quenched. All I can think about is how sweet she smells and how soft her lips are when I kiss them. Add those innocent blue eyes of hers and I want to devour every square inch of her.

Getting ready for bed, I pull some clothes out of my dresser to sleep in, stuff my half-inflated dick into a pair of boxer briefs, and laugh. Here I was worried about my dick being dead and now it’s like a heat seeking missile with a bullseye set between Cali’s legs.

Before crashing, I decide to go check on the legs in question to see if they need anything, or Cali needs anything—her, too. I spray on a shot of cologne for good measure and walk toward her room.

Standing outside her closed door, I listen for any sounds from inside. When I don’t hear anything, not even music playing in the background, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep already and knock lightly on the door just in case.

“Come in,” Cali calls out. “Door’s unlocked.”

I open the door and find her sitting against her headboard with her laptop. “Good time?” I ask.

“I guess.” I can’t miss the stress in her voice. “I just got off the phone with my mother. She’s freaking the hell out about our engagement. I couldn’t tell her I’m living in your penthouse, but I know she’s going to find out.”

“I had a similar conversation with my mother. I won’t even go into what my brother said.”

Bryce asked if I was off my meds and needed a straightjacket. I told him to go fuck himself, he said I was the one who was fucked, and I ended the call shortly after that.

“Anyway, my mother wants to meet you tomorrow. My brother’s having a pool party at his house and we’re invited. You up for it?”

“It’s part of my gig,” she says with no enthusiasm at all and draws her mouth into a straight line. I hope she’s just tired.

I clear my throat and reach to grab the door handle. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I was going to watch a movie on my laptop. Care to join me? You’ll have to stay on top of the covers, though. No touching beneath the sheets.”

“What are you going to watch?” I let go of the handle and take a few steps into the room.

“Um,
The Notebook
,” she answers, and I roll my eyes, trying to think of any reason not to watch it, but how can I say no to her favorite movie? It’s the least I can do for the hell she’s getting from her family.

“Are there boobs in it?” I tease.

“Maybe,” she singsongs, patting the empty side of the bed next to her.

“I can work with that.” I ease onto the bed and scoot close to see the computer screen. Her scent hits me and I take a deep breath. “Damn, you smell really good.”

“Thanks. It’s called Black Opium.” She moves her cursor and clicks play to start the movie.

“Perfect name,” I mutter, feeling high just from being near her. I move my nose closer to her hair and inhale.

“Are you sniffing me?” she asks, turning away from the computer to face me. Our faces are so close, her breath washes over my skin. Our eyes lock and my world stills until soft piano-type music begins to play.

“The movie,” she rasps, “it’s starting.”

“You don’t say?” I whisper back, so tempted to consume her lips.

“Watch it with me,” she pleads. Hell, I can’t say no if I want to. This moment has me—hook, line, and sinker.

“Okay. Bring on the sappy shit.” She hits me in the arm and I flinch in surprise. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“Quit being a big jerk.” She scoots away from me and though it’s only a couple inches, I don’t like it one bit. I want her back and Black Opium hitting me with every breath.

“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up and settle against the headboard. “Promise to wake me up when the sex starts.”

“Shut up, Brady,” Cali orders with a side-eyed look that would make me cringe if she weren’t so damn cute.

The movie begins and I wonder when the romance crap is supposed to start. “It’s just a bunch of old people running around a nursing home. Maybe I don’t want you to wake me up for the sex after all.”

Cali gives me an elbow to my ribs. She’s as bad as my brother with all this punching and jabbing. But I can overlook the slight pain, since her killer rack is barely hidden behind her tank top. Shit, I see the perfect outline of her nipples too. I can make it through this movie as long as I have this view.

“Be patient,” she says with a sigh. “The old man is telling the woman a story from back in the forties.”

Finally, Gosling appears and I relax. Things are starting to look up. Until this fiery redhead named Allie won’t go out with him.

“Well, shit. She just dissed him.”

“She makes him work for it. It’s part of the fun between them.”

“The chase,” I conclude as he stands around waiting for her at a Ferris wheel.

“Something like that.” She searches my face and something passes between us, “but when he finally catches her, it’s worth every bit of the struggle.”

“We’ll see,” I say in a challenge, and she laughs.

“What the fuck?” This Noah dude is one crazy ass motherfucker. He’s purposefully dangling from the spokes of a Ferris wheel trying to get Allie to go out with him.

“Are your hands sweating?” Cali asks in a tease, but my palms are sweating.

“She better tell him yes fast.” Finally, Allie agrees to go out with him and I’m thinking he won the battle of wills until she pulls down his pants while he’s still hanging there. “Shit, that girl’s got balls. I like her.”

“Told you it was a good movie.”

Before I know it, I’m sucked into Allie and Noah’s story. I even quit talking and just enjoy the movie, which shocks the hell out of me.

Occasionally, Cali will glance over at me and smile. Other times, I’ll do the same and catch a tear rolling down her cheek or hear a quiet sigh.

Yawning, Cali leans her head against my shoulder.

“Tired?” I ask as I put my arm around her.

“Exhausted. This getting fake engaged wiped me out.” She eases down on my chest and I gently run my fingers through her hair. This type of touching, the kind that doesn’t lead to fucking, is intimate and foreign to me, but I like the feel of just holding her—I like her in my arms.

After realizing she hasn’t moved in well over fifteen minutes, I say her name in a quiet voice, but she doesn’t stir.

I should lay her down against her pillow and turn off the movie, but I have to watch it to the end now. I don’t like Allie’s father and her mother does everything she can to keep them apart, but they’re stronger than all the forces pulling at them, including another guy. He seems like a nice guy, but he’s not Noah. That dude is made for her.

I cringe at my thoughts, already hearing the laughs from the team if they find out I watched this chick movie and liked it. It’s not even a funny chick-flick. The guys on the team will never let me live it down. Maybe I should add this incident to Cali’s NDA.