Linc switched the station. “Seems like the children have a new benefactor. Read the press release the hospital sent out.”
“They mentioned my donations?” I scratched the back of my head. I wondered exactly how detailed the information had been. I hadn’t thought about it since Alexa showed up at my door. One taste of her and everything before was a distant memory.
“Hell, they said the Warriors’ quarterback was the night’s most generous donor. Didn’t know you had it in you.” He looked at me sideways, keeping one eye on the road.
“Coach wanted me to throw some money out there. So I did. That motherfucker is probably smiling over his cup of coffee this morning reading about it.”
“Uh-huh.” Linc’s lips twitched. “And I saw the Lexi Wilde pictures. How was the concert?”
I nodded. “Pretty good.”
“She’s hot as shit. Did you meet her? Did you get her number for me?”
I gave my brother a sharp cutting glare. “Since when do you like chick music?”
“Since the chick looks like that. What did you talk to her or something?”
“Yeah, when she rolled out of my bed this morning.” If Linc had any interest in Alexa, I needed to shut that shit down right now. She was mine.
“Bastard,” he muttered. “It’s like some kind of gift. No matter who the woman is she’s going to end up right where you want her.”
I grinned, thinking of all the places Alexa had been in my bed. Hot as shit didn’t begin to describe her perfect ass and tits.
“You gotta tell me how that happened.”
Yeah, I was the kind of guy who fucked and told, especially if there was competition. I was a territorial bastard.
“I saw her after the concert. We started talking. I gave her my number and she came over.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Simple as that.”
“Simple as that? She’s the damn sweetheart of country music. And you fucked her.” He groaned. “I should have gone with you.”
“Why? So you could have had a chance?”
I laughed so hard I snorted.
“It could happen.” Linc was pissed.
“I only need to say two words: Laney Peppercorn.”
“Shit. Not Laney again.” He turned into the Warrior corporate office drive.
“What? You hate that she chose the little brother over the big brother for prom. You can’t stand it,” I teased. I was feeling extra punchy this morning. It was the combination of sleep deprivation, incredible sex, and being pissed at management.
“You always bring up Laney fucking Peppercorn. You know she’s married now and has three kids, Luke.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So. She’s not part of this equation. Always with the Laney Peppercorn thing. Damn it.”
He threw the gear in park and stared ahead at the offices attached to the far end of the stadium. The concrete was stained with black streaks. I heard him mutter Laney’s name again. I liked to rile him up about her. Every once in a while I’d throw in she was the first girl I’d ever slept with, but that just rubbed salt in the wound. He’d been hung up on her for his entire senior year and never had the balls to ask her out.
That wasn’t me. I’d always had balls too big for my own good. Fuck. I got what I wanted because I went after it. In high school it was Laney Peppercorn. Last night it was Alexa Wilde. God, she was worth every second of missed sleep.
Linc reached for his briefcase. I guessed he thought it made him look more official—less like my brother, and more like the manager of the AFA’s highest-rated quarterback.
I eyed the corporate offices.
Somewhere in there, Charlie was waiting for us. Waiting to save my career with a life-altering public relations campaign. I wanted to punch something just thinking about it. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know how I lived my life. And I’d be willing to put a thousand grand on the table when we walked in, betting he didn’t know a fucking thing about football.
“Let’s get this over with,” I grumbled.
We both stepped from the truck and made our way to the McCade offices.
“Just let me do the talking,” Linc advised. “Don’t piss this guy off in the first five minutes.”
“This is fucking bullshit.” I tapped the elevator button.
“Yeah, but it’s the bullshit I handle, so keep your mouth shut. This is what you pay me to do.”
We stepped inside the elevator and counted the numbers to the top floor. I didn’t know if McCade thought he could actually impress someone in this shithole. Scheduling the meeting here was a statement. I got the message. This was a corporate issue. Not something for the locker room or the field. There weren’t enough touchdowns I could throw to get me out of the meeting. This was legal and human resources. This was the bastard’s only way to muscle me into anything.