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Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Blakely

“We need fifteen minutes,” Brock says, waiting for me to open the door.

Ella is tucked under his arm, her pool bag in his other hand. She gives me a look of victory, saying my brother is about to apologize to her in ways I’d rather not envision.

I touch the key card to the pad above the handle. They give me a headache .

“What do you want us to do?” I ask. “Stand in the hallway?”

“Fuck that. Take your fifteen in the suite, and I’ll help Blakely get their luggage,” Renn says.

Brock stares at him, unblinking.

“What? I’m being helpful. Do you want to fuck Ella in private or not?”

“Just announce it to the world, Renn,” Ella mumbles as a couple walks behind us. Unfortunately, her attempt at discretion fails.

“Uh, excuse me,” the man says, lightly tapping my brother on the shoulder. “Are you Renn Brewer and Brock Evans, by any chance?”

Ella slips away from Brock and follows me into our room because we know the drill. Fanboying, pictures, and a rehashing of the guys’ stats. An inquiry into the proposed expansion of the American Rugby League will follow this. A handshake so long that it’s painfully awkward will close the encounter— if they manage not to draw a crowd. If they do, it’s rinse and repeat.

“All of our unpacking for nothing,” I say, surveying the space.

“This room is a mess.” Ella sits on the edge of the bed. “I’ll tell Brock I’m helping you, and then we’ll go up together. I’m not leaving you to deal with this crap.”

“No. Go with him. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t, with a clear conscience, leave you to do the work on your birthday trip, Blakely. Come on.”

I snort, swiping my Kindle by the lamp and tossing it into my carry-on. “Oh yes. Poor me . Leave me with Renn all alone. Boo-hoo .”

She laughs.

“I’m kidding.” Glancing up, I spot her lifted brow. “Okay, I’m not totally kidding. Things could be worse.”

“May I make an observation?”

“Sure.”

“That man is so into you, Blake.”

I fight a smile. “That man is into everyone , El.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You know it’s true,” I say, venturing to the window.

“Okay, he’s a bit of a playboy. I’ll give you that. But I highly doubt he looks at every woman like he looks at you.”

“It’s just his vibe, Ella. It’s a part of his charm.”

“He doesn’t look at me like that.”

I laugh. “Because Brock would kill him.”

“And he wouldn’t kill him over you?”

Point taken . I don’t look at her, or else she’ll see the dopey grin on my face.

It’s an ego boost to pretend that Renn is seriously into me. Who wouldn’t want to think that the man who could have any woman he wants chose them ? His face sells magazines. His body sells apparel. He carries such confidence, such swagger, that the idea of him sells cologne. But pretending is a trap—one I can’t fall into.

Even if I was his type and Brock somehow got on board with it, Renn can’t give me the things I need in this stage of life. Love. Stability. A family.

And I deserve those things. I’m determined for my thirties to be my self-care era. Screwing around with Renn Brewer would certainly be self-sabotage.

The door creaks open.

“Come on, Ella. Let’s get the fuck out of here before we’re pinned down,” Brock says as Renn strides past him.

She gets up and dashes for the door. It slams behind her.

“Are we going to have a fan club out there when we leave?” I ask Renn.

“We mentioned that we aren’t staying on this floor. So I hope not.”

“The downfalls of fame.”

He grins. “It can’t be as bad as over the weekend.”

“How was Miami, anyway?” I ask.

“Aside from getting a police escort to leave the concert, we had a good time. Met up with Tate and Ripley—my other boring brother.”

I look at him and laugh. “How many brothers do you have again?”

“Too fucking many.”

“Are they all boring?”

“They’re all overrated.” He shoves off the wall and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Can you excuse me for a second? Or I can take it in the hall?”

I shrug. “Take it here. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.” He puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad,” he says, then pauses. “No, I did not say that . Ask Tate.” His forehead wrinkles as he listens. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information— wait . I do. Gannon told you that, and he can fuck right off.”

Yikes . I go into the bathroom to give him some privacy.

I try not to eavesdrop as I repack Ella’s and my toiletries. It takes a lot of effort to block out the richness of Renn’s tone and focus on the cream bottles and hair ties instead. His voice raises, then softens. It’s gruff, then smooth. I can only gather that someone, presumably his father, isn’t too happy.

As I zip the last cosmetics bag, I hear him end the call.

“Everything okay?” I ask, shoving a curling wand under one arm and picking up the bags. “Sounds like you’ve been a bad boy.”

I turn the corner, and my feet falter.

Renn is standing next to the dresser with a pair of my yellow panties dangling from his finger.

“I’m always a bad boy. Want a demonstration?” he asks, smirking.

I drop the bags and wand into Ella’s open suitcase before snatching my panties from his grasp. My cheeks burn as I tuck away the rest of my lingerie.

“Actually,” he says, “I wasn’t being reprimanded. Only reminded .”

“Of what?”

“To be on my very best behavior. I promised my dad I would be as good as gold.”

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “So you lied to your father?”

He chuckles, taking the clothes hanging in the closet off the hangers. “ No .” He draws the word out as if he’s thinking it through. “I endeavor to be on … probably not my best behavior, but I don’t plan to ruin my contract terms or his business deal.”

I hum.

Renn’s suspension from international rugby was worldwide news. Even if I didn’t follow the sport, I would’ve known. Renn transcends rugby . So when he returned to the States, the big question was would he sign with a team here ? It was touch and go for a while, and he sat out last season. But a few months ago, he signed with the Tennessee Royals to play with Brock.

“What kind of deal? Anything interesting? Or is it boring like Tate?”

He lays the clothes on the bed next to the suitcase. Then he sits beside it. “Dad is in the process of purchasing the Tennessee Arrows.”

“The baseball team?”

He nods. “All owners have to vote and approve any team purchases or transfers. It’s a fail-safe to preserve the league’s integrity. Apparently, they’re concerned about our family’s reputation—mine specifically—which is all kinds of bullshit considering we’ve owned a pro hockey team for twenty years and a dozen corporations without a problem.”

Wow . What kind of first world problem is that?

“It’s really just a campaign by another shareholder to keep us out because Dad pulled strings they didn’t want pulled on a business deal in the nineties,” he says. “So they use my … spirited behavior as ammo. And the fact that the Royals made me sign a good boy clause in my contract didn’t help.”

“That seems kind of unfair.”

Renn shrugs. “It’s how it goes. Baseball is much pricklier than other sports, it seems.”

He hands me a dress. I avoid his fingers and take it.

“So why baseball and not rugby?” I ask. “Or soccer?”

“I don’t fucking know. It’s all Gannon’s doing, I think.”

I take another dress from the stack. “Another brother, right?”

“Yeah. The biggest prick of them all.”

“So he’s not boring like Tate?”

He narrows his eyes playfully and gets up from the bed. “ Stop thinking about Tate .”

I laugh and lay the dress on top of the other.

Renn moseys around the room while I finish folding the things we’d hung up in the closet. Ella completely overpacked. The sunlight creates a muted warmth in the room, making it feel cozy and calm.

Besides his looks, this is what I love most about Renn. Sure, he can be frustrating and, at times, self-centered. And it’s almost impossible to have a genuine conversation with him if people are around. But when it’s just the two of us— when he’s not Renn Brewer, Superstar —it’s almost possible to forget what a player, figuratively and literally, he is.

“Give me those,” I say, taking a pair of my shoes from him. “Did you come here just to go through my stuff?”

“Yup.” He removes a silver heel from my bag, ignoring my sigh. “These are fucking hot.”

“Well, I do get a lot of compliments when I wear them.”

His eyes flip to mine. He tosses the shoe beside the other. “So who are you seeing these days, anyway?”

With my back to him, I grin. “No one.”

“Such a shame.”

I laugh.

“What’s the problem?” he asks. “Just haven’t found the right guy?”

I pull a phone charger out of the wall. “I have a tendency to pick the wrong ones. What about you? What starlet’s heart are you in the midst of breaking?”

“I’m keeping my options open. Much to my mother’s dismay.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s also a gentle, affectionate smile for his mom. Lucky woman . “Rory Brewer believes that her six children should all be married and producing grandchildren. And as far as I care, she can shove that up her ass.”

“Renn!”

He whisks his phone off the bed and glances at the screen. “I had to make sure Dad wasn’t still on the line.” Satisfied, he shoves it in his pocket. “I did that once—thought I’d hung up but hadn’t and said some shit I shouldn’t have. That didn’t end well.”

I point at him. “That’s why you shouldn’t say anything about someone you wouldn’t say to their face.”

“Oh, I’ve said as much to Mom’s face … every time I talk to her . She thinks I’m playing with fire with my scandalous, bed-hopping ways. According to her, I should settle down, find a nice woman, and start a family before I retire.”

I zip my suitcase while Renn works on Ella’s.

“Does she pressure all of your siblings?” I ask.

His hand pauses in the air. “Now that I think about it, it’s mostly me.”

“She probably thinks it’ll get your name out of the tabloids.” I pull the suitcase onto its wheels. “Think about how good that would be for your image. You, winning a championship, with a blushing bride and bouncing baby boy at your side.” I laugh. “What would the baseball guys say then?”

He makes a face that has me laughing.

For someone with the nickname Renegade , Renn is surprisingly dutiful regarding his family. His respect for his father is evident. His love for his mother is written all over his face, and he’s always mentioning his siblings, making it obvious they’re close. So his apparent disdain for wanting a family is odd.

“You don’t want to get married someday?” I ask.

He licks his lips. “I’m too busy. I can be selfish. To be honest, I like my independence. I can spend my money on whatever I please. But probably the biggest thing is that I don’t have to wonder about hidden motivations.”

I nod. I can understand that. I’ve seen Brock deal with similar things.

“It makes it difficult to have a real relationship with someone when you’re wondering in the back of your mind if they see dollar signs, you know?” he asks, his voice softer. “I’ve seen way too much—with me and my family. I don’t think I could ever trust anyone that much.”

He forces a swallow.

“Makes sense.” It’s also one of the reasons Ella and Brock work. He trusts her. And he doesn’t trust easily.

He grins. “Your turn. What’s in Blakely Evans’s future?”

“ That is a good question.”

“Do you want a marriage someday or no?”

“Oh, I do. Definitely. It’s just something I’ve never prioritized. But now that I’m thirty—or will be in a few hours—I need to stop dating men with no husband potential.” I brush a strand of hair out of my face. “If I don’t find a decent guy, I’m going to wind up with an anonymous sperm donor. You and Brock will have to be the cool uncles who spoil my baby with male attention.”

He chuckles.

“I’m not joking. I’ve seriously considered getting a sperm donor someday. Think about it—it has its upsides. No man to deal with and no pressure to settle with one just to start a family. No in-laws to loathe. I can do it on my own terms and timeline.”

“I have an idea,” he says, grinning.

“That scares me.”

He pulls Ella’s suitcase across the room. “Have a baby and tell my mom it’s mine. Think about it—you get a kid with a built-in babysitter and college fund, I get the media boost, and my mom is happy. We all win.”

“ Oh, okay . That sounds like a great idea,” I say, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“What do you mean? It’s perfect.”

I laugh. “Renn Brewer, that might be the most selfish thing you’ve ever said.”

“Selfish? You mean selfless ?”

“Nope. I meant selfish.”

He pulls the bright green suitcase to a stop by the door.

“Oh, wait. We forgot Ella’s carry-on.” I grab it off the chair and attempt to finagle it onto my arm. “I need more hands.”

“Here. I can get it.”

I cross the room and hand the satchel to Renn. My foot bumps my suitcase. It rolls behind me, effectively blocking Renn and me in the small corridor beside the door and bathroom.

The room around us shrinks, and the air thickens. Suddenly, I’m aware of the rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin layer of cotton stretched across his torso.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks down at me.

We’re almost too close. Almost touching. His exhales fill the small space between us with small blasts of wintergreen.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?” he asks, taunting me.

“Should it?” I smile coyly back at him.

He widens his stance, a playful smirk ghosting his lips. “Would it make you uncomfortable if I kissed you?”

My stomach pulls tight, and my lips part, begging for air … and a kiss. The movement catches his attention, and his gaze drops to my mouth. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip.

A shiver snakes down my spine, reminding me of all the things that tongue could probably do.

We’ve been here before—one wrong move away from starting something I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t, couldn’t , stop. Lucky for us, we both know better than to go too far.

That doesn’t mean we won’t go as close as we can. It’s a carefully choreographed dance that we’ve perfected over the years.

“Is that what you want to do?” I ask, lifting a brow. “You want to kiss me ?”

He grins, his eyes hooding. “No. I want to fuck you.”

God .

My palm sweats around the suitcase handle. I try to look away from him—needing as much distance as possible to think straight. But as I attempt to pull my gaze from his, he refuses to let go.

“If only there weren’t so many reasons that can’t happen,” I say, as much a reminder to myself as it is to him.

“Refresh my memory.”

I laugh. The sound breaks some of the tension, and I clear my throat.“For starters, my brother would kill us both.”

“I can take him.”

“ Okay .” I laugh again. “Second, we’re friends.”

“You’ll like me even more when I make you come. Promise.”

My face flushes. “ Stop it .”

“What other reasons do you have?” he asks. “You gave me two shitty ones.”

My head scrambles, trying desperately to remember why I can’t grab his face and bring his mouth to mine.

He reaches for me, pressing his thumb against my lips. “Just think about it—I’d bring your birthday in with a bang .”

Fucking hell . I struggle to catch my breath as I imagine that scenario in detail. His calloused hands roaming over me. His tongue circling my nipple. His cock—

He laughs, pulling his finger away from me. “All right. Come on, cutie. Let’s get out of here.”

“ What ?”

He grabs the door handle and leans toward me, lowering his voice. “We better get up there before your brother beats me up.”

I shove his chest. He grabs me, wrapping his hands around my wrists and jerking me into his chest. I pant, staring up into his handsome face.

“Remember something,” he says, eyes sparkling. “ You said no.”

“ No , I didn’t. W e said no.”

He releases me slowly, smirking. “I didn’t say shit.”

Dammit .

My blood heats, pinking my cheeks. I can’t hear anything over my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I fight myself from reaching for him, from taking him to bed and fucking him like an animal.

He pulls open the door and props it open with his foot. “I only get turned down once.” He watches me pass by him, smiling ruefully. “If you ever want this dick, you’re gonna have to beg for it.”

“Ha. Not going to happen. I never beg.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing to worry about.”

I know him well enough to know he’s struggling to keep his amusement off his face. And he knows me well enough to know I know that.

“You’re an asshole,” I say, heading down the hallway. Thankfully without a crowd .

The door closes behind me, ending the moment.

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