"Glad you made it." He grins. "I can take those if you like." He looks down at my beers. I let him take the six-pack from my hands, he gives me one and puts the rest in the drinks’ fridge. I look around and everyone's mingling, drinking, and having fun.I need to relax and stop being so awkward. Pierre takes a swig of his beer and joins me.
"You must be happy that your sister is close by now," I say.
His face lights up. "I am. This will be the first time since we were kids that we've lived near each other. I left when I was a teen and came to New York to live with my agent. Then as my career took off, I moved around a lot while she stayed back home and studied." I nod as I sip my beer. "Do you have siblings? Can't remember if it's ever come up before?"
"I have a sister back in Wisconsin. We're twins actually."
"No way. Twins. I'm guessing she doesn't have a beard," Pierre teases, which makes me laugh.
"Don't ever let her hear you say that. She has a mean right hook."
"Noted." He smirks, then his eyes widen behind me. "Finally. Hey, I want you to meet the team's captain, Emmett Black."
I turn around.
And freeze.
No.
No fucking way.
It's her.
London.
The club.
The hotel.
The girl I've been thinking about for months.
She's standing there. Staring at me. Same dark hair. Same hazel eyes. Same face that haunts my nights.
But now she's here. In New York. In my teammate's apartment.
How?
"Cap, this is my sister, Joelle. Or Jo," Pierre explains.
Oh fuck.
She's Pierre and Felix's sister. The team's physio. My new neighbor. For a moment, neither of us moves, and we just stare at one another. Her eyes are wide and she wears the same surprised expression I'm probably wearing.
Pierre looks between us, wondering why we are acting weird.
"Nice to meet you," I force out, extending my hand to Joelle.
She stares at it like it might bite her before taking it. Her skin is warm. Soft. Tingles race up my arm as images of her chestnut hair spread out beneath me flash through my mind.
"Nice to meet you, too," she says through gritted teeth.
We shake. It's brief. Polite. But neither one of us looks away.
"Jo just flew in from London yesterday," Pierre says. "Jet lag's probably killing her, but I appreciate her letting me throw this party."
"It's fine," she says, pulling her hand from mine like I burned her.
"Pierre," Issy calls out.
