Months of teasing me last season and months apart from the off season and she’s finally giving me an in? I’ll take whatever I can get.
Sloane grabs a Post-it and writes her number down and hands it to me.
“I think it’s best we keep this between us?”
I nod, feeling completely dumbfounded as I look down at her number.
Did I really think I had a chance? No, not really. Sloane can have any Alpha she wants wrapped around her finger within minutes, and somehow she's choosing me to have at her beck and call.
I stand up from the bench, bending my neck to look down at her. I’m not going to fuck this up.
“How's your nose now?” she asks in a soft voice.
“Never better.”
“So Sunday?”
“Sunday,” I reply, placing the note safely in my locker. “I’ve got to get back to practice.”
“Of course. Oh, and Bram?”
“Yeah?” I turn around to face her.
“My favorite flowers are peonies, I don’t eat red meat, and I get car sick with long car rides.” She says the last bit shyly.
I tap my head with my finger like I’m locking all that knowledge in. “Noted. I’ll text you about Sunday.”
“Okay,” she says, some of the overconfident facade falling away as her genuine excitement takes over.
The smile on her face? I put that there, and I plan on doing a hell of a lot more than making that woman smile. I plan on making her mine.
CHAPTER 3
“It’s the first fucking day, and you’re already getting into it with Nilsen?” my brother complains.
Coach Applegate already tore me a new one, and now I’ve gotta take it from my little brother who, despite his designation and age, has everything I've ever wanted. He’s a champion, he has a pack, and he’s fucking happy in a way I didn’t think possible.
He’s always been jealous of me, but it was always him who had everything. Yet I’m the one biting my tongue and wearing deodorizers to make him more comfortable. My scent has always been a point of contention with me and Owen. I know the hatchet has mostly been buried, but I’d rather just avoid that issue all together.
Plus, with my scent tamed, it should help with my little PR problem.
It doesn’t matter how I feel. I’m known as some playboy, asshole, bachelor. But willing Betas are the only thing that has kept me company for the last few years. With my schedule, nothing has stuck, but at least for a night or a few weeks, I don't feel so hopeless.
I’ve been so alone for so long. I’d hoped that coming and playing for the Foxes was going to be the thing to help fix our relationship and possibly help with this unending loneliness that’s been following me around for years.
“Max, are you listening to me?” Owen asks, shoving my shoulder.
“Nilsen and I go way back. I don’t know what his problem is,” I tell my brother honestly.
I truly don’t know why Bram Nilsen hates my guts, but on the other hand, he doesn’t seem to like a lot of people in general.
“Nilsen is loyal as hell. Whatever you did, you need to make it right. This is going to be a rebuilding year. If we want to make the playoffs, you’ve got to be in sync with the rest of the defense.”
I hate being chastised and consoled by my younger brother, but I just nod my head, not wanting to pick a fight. I also just wish he would pick my side. Why does he automatically think the issue between me and Nilsen is my fault?
“I’ll work on it,” I tell him.
“You better. I pulled strings to get you here,” he says.
