“Thank you.”
“That’s what sisters are for.”
But it takes me a full minute before I set aside my nerves and talk myself into leaving my little haven on the sofa and get ready to scrub my skin so I dazzle my parents’ friends and strangers alike.
Actually, I had better adjust my expectations. I settle on not sizzling, setting anything on fire, or causing anyone to summon the fire brigade. Knowing me, that’s probably more accurate.
2
CHASE
The three women, Callie, Jocelyn, and Carol, giggle at the conclusion of our tour in the Boston Bruisers’ training facility—locker room included. It’s the offseason, so it was empty, though you never know who might pop in for a workout or to escape the demands of public life. Me included.
However, right now, that means smiling, laughing, and casting the net of football star charm. Being on my best behavior. And when am I not?
Unlike my other Bruiser bros, most of the time, I’m exemplary, at least when it comes to dating. Whereas they’re on the prowl and playing the field, I’m on the lookout for Miss Right.
Declan and Wolf get into the weeds with women. But I can’t say much about Grey, other than he’ll need a strong ray of sunshine to break through the clouds circling him. As for Rylen, he went and tied the knot, which is what I’m fixing to do. Once I find the right person.
Callie’s gushy voice breaks into my thoughts with a question about what I’m doing later. Probably the same as now, thinkingabout my future, marriage, and love. It’s never far from my mind.
And I’m over six feet of solid muscle; I can run a football and rope a horse. In other words, I’m a man and have no problem admitting that I’m looking for love.
Snapping back into my role, I gently clap my hands together and give them a rub. “I’d love to hang out, but I have a meeting in the lounge.” Not a lie. Most days, I meet the guys in the lounge at some point. Today, that’s after this tour.
“Can we come?” Jocelyn asks.
“That’s an off-limits zone.” I try to let them down easily, but as the wordoff-limitscomes out of my mouth, a slippery thought joins it.
From time to time, a woman from my past appears in my mind. I call herPizzabecause I really, really like pizza (and at least during the preseason and game time, pizza is off-limits), so I go ham offseason. Sometimes, literally Hawaiian style with ham and pineapple. It’s delicious.
Sure, it’s no substitute, but little do the guys know that if I go on a pizza binge, it’s probably because I’ve been thinking abouther.
Typically, it takes days to shake her loose from my thoughts. Not because she was clingy, or we had a bad experience. Okay, that’s not entirely true, but it wasn’t anything she did.
Rather, it was a matter of my having to push her as far away as possible. Anything more betweenPizzaand me came with too much of a risk. Blood may be thicker than water, but the bro code is quite viscous and I’d hate to see my best friend turn vicious.
It was in Mr. Halverson’s chem class that I gave her the code namePizzaand haven’t looked back. Okay, I’ve looked back, forward, sideways, inside, and out, but there’s no way there could be anything between us. Not in the past, present, or future.
“But the Bruisers are known for breaking the rules,” Carol teases, drawing me back to the moment.
Not this Bruiser. I’m as straitlaced as they come. The bad boy reputation comes by association. The Bruiser Babes, as they call themselves, take all of us guys as a package deal.
It’s not that these three aren’t attractive. Nor are they unpleasant, as far as hardcore fans looking for more go. Rather, I don’t feel the spark. The chemistry. They’re notPizza. But pizza is forbidden.
Incoming!
Theresheis again, popping into my thoughts with those big brown eyes. Wincing, as if she’s actually striding down the hall, I momentarily hope she can’t see me, if only so I don’t have to deploy what I dubbed “Jerk Mode.”
Of course, she’s not here. I blink my eyes a few times, wondering if I need to take a cold shower or drink a strong cup of coffee to return to my senses.
Once the memories ofPizzatake hold, it’s hard to dig my way back to reality. It can take days, even though Chase +Pizzais a closed case. Game over, as it were. Unless we’re talking about a slice withpipperoni. No, I mean pepperoni. I could go for one of those right now.
I grip the back of my neck. This is bad. “My apologies, ladies. But the tour ends here.” I wiggle a Sharpie in my hand to indicate it’s time to sign.
“Rumor has it you’ll autograph anything, anywhere,” Callie says.
This brings to mind a Bruiser Babe who had number twenty-four’s signature tattooed on her thigh—well, use your imagination. “No, that would be Wolf. I’ll sign official Boston Bruiser merch or paper only.” I say all this with my signature smile so they don’t think I’ve deployed Jerk Mode.
