Real(5)
Riley tosses his blond head, his smile crooked. “Trust me, neither Pete nor I will sleep tonight if we’re not sure you’re home safe.”
“Well hello there, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Mel says, voice soft, eyes sparkling on Riley with pupils dilated and everything. Then she goes on to charmingly work on Pete. “And who are you?”
Groaning, I quickly make the introductions, then grab each one of the girls in my arms as we head out to the elevators and then to Kyle’s car, my heart still kicking fiercely into my ribcage. They’re all gushing over the whole “experience” except Kyle, who’s scowling as he climbs behind the wheel.
“That was one weird-ass interview. In a fucking hotel room?” “Tell me about it.” My woman’s pride is pricked because somewhere down the line I’d convinced myself the guy wanted to sleep with me. Instead, he offers me a job? Not bad, but totally unexpected, that’s for sure.
I think I’ve got my sensors out of whack, and he’s probably the one to blame too.
“I feel so important seeing that they’re tailing us,” Mel informs us minutes later, and she swiftly lifts her phone and takes a pic. “What are you doing?” Yes, I just asked her, but I’m not even sure that I want to know.
“I’m tweeting about it.”
“Remind me never to go out with you again,” I groan, but I’m so restless, I can’t stand myself. Blue eyes. Dimples. Shoulders a yard wide. Slick, glistening bronzed skin. But no sex … definitely no sex with him now.
“What do you think the deal with those guys is?” Mel wants to know.
“I don’t know. Riley, the blond you want to do, is the coach’s second, and Pete is his personal assistant, I think.”
“I want to do both, actually. Pete is cute with that good-boy kind of look but he needs more meat on his bones. And Riley looks easy-breezy. They’re definitely both warm, verging on hottish. How old do you think they are? Thirtyish?”
I shrug.
“Remington is twenty-six,” she says. “I think they’re a tad older. Remy’s definitely younger. How do you think they met?” “You’re the one with all the tidbits, so what are you looking at me for? I don’t spend all day stalking people on Google.” Only him. Shit.
“Brooke, tell us about your new job,” Kyle breaks in from the driver’s seat. “You’re not seriously considering leaving with a guy with his reputation?”
It takes a moment for me to answer, because I’m still dumbstruck that I have a job, even if it’s only temporary.
I’d always been told I was born to run when I was younger, and when I got broken, there were many days—not days, months—when I felt like I amounted to nothing. Sports rehab healed me in ways I might not have healed, and now the more that I think about it, the more I would love to help a man as aggressive as Remington, whose brutally pounded body for sure needs some serious TLC. “I am, Kyle. In fact, if all goes well and their contract terms aren’t crazy, I leave Sunday. I promise you I can take care of myself, ask my self-defense class teacher. I’ve kicked his ass several times. I’ll be traveling, which will be fun, and I might have a chance to become a free rehab agent if I get good references. I won’t even have to endure any more job interviews if that happens.”
“This guy can take down an elephant, Brooke. Didn’t you see him? Pandora sure as hell saw him.”
“Dude, there was nothing to see but him. That guy could take down a freaking elephant train,” Pandora says from up front. She’s been busy sucking on her e-cigarette and blowing vapor into the air, since this is the first week of her having “quit” real cigarettes.
“I wonder what the guys behind us would do if we stop at the Jack-in-the-Box drive-through, place a big order, and say they’re paying,” Melanie says.
“Melanie,” I say warningly. “How many have you had?” I notice she has a small bottle of vodka in her hand and I immediately deduce it’s the one she stole from Remington’s bar. I put the cap back on and shove it into my bag. “I’m going to be working with these guys for three months, so behave please.”
“Just to see what they do, girl, come on,” Pandora pleads.
Laughing, Kyle makes a right into the drive-through and begins ordering one of everything. I grab my purse containing the lone condom and my credit card. “You dick,” I say, throwing the condom at him. “You guys are infantile. Stop at the damned window. You’re going to eat all that you ordered.” When Kyle stops at the McDonalds drive-thru next, I’m seriously fuming. I make them wait to pay for the order, and then I step out of the car and go over to the Escalade. I hand two Happy Meals with two apple pies through the driver’s window. “Here. Sorry about that. I told you it was unnecessary to follow me. I seem to be riding around with children. But I’ll get home safe, please just go back to the hotel.”