“Thanks.” Her warm gaze fell to her hands as she picked at a nail. The skin around the nail bed looked raw, ragged. Kieran fought the urge to reach out and grab her hand, to wrap her fingers in his own so she couldn’t hurt herself. She had done it as long as he’d known her, always picking at her nails, a nervous habit learned in childhood.
“I should probably go,” Kieran finally said, once the silence between them grew bigger than he knew what to do with.
“Thanks for bringing the grain.” Sammie rose to follow him outside. She squinted against the sunlight, her face scrunching up as she brushed a stray strand of dark hair away from her eyes, just in time for Kieran to avoid making a fool of himself by doing it for her. His caveman brain, the one that knew an attractive woman when he saw one, definitely needed to chill.
The Sammie in front of him now was a far different person from the Sammie of ten years ago. A stranger compared to the girl that had told him she loved him then, in the way only someone young and inexperienced and naive could at sixteen.
At the time, Kieran had felt nothing but a blazing secondhand embarrassment. He had been about to graduate, scheduled to fly off to Seattle a week later to begin his career as a professional volleyball player. He hadn’t had time for things like young love and girlfriends. Atticus was one of his best friends, and he’d only ever seen Sammie as his friend’s sister. And it had been right around that time that Kieran had started to realize he didn’t feel the things that all of his friends seemed to. Thecrushes, the confessions, the tentative, blooming romance that had all the other guys grinning and boasting to one another in the locker room after every practice.
When Sammie had come to him with a confession of her own, Kieran had said no. No, he couldn’t love her back, for so many reasons, his own lack of romantic feelings the most glaring of all.
However, the Sammie of now… well, she was gorgeous. And while Kieran might have given up on that sort of love, his body couldn’t help but be drawn to her.
And suddenly, despite the fact that she was his childhood best friend’ssister, Kieran found himself wanting to touch her. Not in a creepy weirdo kind of way. Little things. Brushing her hair back out of her face. Arms close enough to bump as they walked through the brewery. A hand wrapped around her own, holding it safe.
“Anytime,” Kieran said, swinging open the door of his truck.
“I can’t keep having you drive all the way back home to bring me my favorite malt,” she laughed.
“Well.” He grinned back at her. “You can’t get it anywhere else. It would break my dad’s heart, and he’s got enough trouble as it is. Besides, I go down there all the time. Heading back after practice tonight to be there for one of his doctor appointments in the morning.”
Her gaze lightened into something caring, her smile going soft and a little crooked. “Tell him I said hi. Meredith too. And I hope the appointment goes well. I’ll stop by to see them next time I’m down at the old house.”
Greta’s house, the one she’d left to the twins. The one Sammie was shouldering the responsibility for. His father had confided in Kieran that he thought she should sell the place before it turned into a money pit. Had told Kieran to try and nudge her in that direction, as though Kieran had any sway overwhat Sammie did. He didn’t thinkanyonecould convince her to do something she didn’t want to do, let alonehim.
“I’ll let them know.” Kieran hopped up into his truck. “Good seeing you.”
“Yeah,” Sammie said. “You too.” She shut his door, giving it a pat before stepping away.
Kieran watched her in his rearview mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot. One hand against her brow, shading her eyes, the other resting firmly on her hip. Hair that had come loose from her braids flying in the breeze.
He couldn’t get those stormy eyes and that pretty, sly grin out of his mind.
CHAPTER TWO
THE BALL RESTED against Kieran’s palm for the span of a heartbeat. A moment later, whizzing diagonally between the blockers and the net, it crashed to the floor with a resoundingthwack.
“Fuck yeah!” A hand smacked against his back, and Kieran turned, adrenaline pumping through his veins, to see a grinning Atticus Mills.
“I almost had it.” Bowen Kelly, their loud mouthed wing spiker, squatted down, frowning as he ran his hands through prematurely gray hair.
“No you didn’t,” Atticus continued, preening as if he were the one who’d made the play as he wiped sweat from his brow, hanging a damp arm around Kieran’s shoulders. “I felt it in my legs man, the power behind that spike was insane!”
Kieran tugged the tie out of his hair, strawberry blonde curls spilling past his chin, before pulling back all the pieces that had escaped during the last few volleys.
“Let’s go, game point!” he shouted, and the teams rushed back to their positions. Atticus was still serving, and Kieran didn’t have to watch him to know that his setter was going through the same ritual he used every time he served. Deep breath in, out, a glance toward the empty stands. Probably imagining his boyfriend sitting there. Or maybe his sister. Neither of them ever missed a home game.
“Carpenter, watch out!” Bowen shouted as the ball flew across the net with so much force that Kieran winced when it smacked their libero’s pale, freckled forearms. It was a good dig, the ball going high and giving the opposing players a moment to think, to breathe. Aaron Jacobs, second string setter, was ready across the net, sending the ball into Bowen’s waiting palm.
Kieran had been waiting for the play. He kicked off the wood floor, arms up and forward, ready for the sting as Bowen’s spike sent the ball just to the left of where Kieran jumped. He shifted, his arm splaying out to the side at the last moment, blocking the spike just high enough to send it back over the net. Eric, moving faster than Kieran’s eyes could keep up with, was under the ball in a flash, but the hit landed wrong. The volleyball sailed over the sideline.
The players on Kieran’s side of the net whooped at the win, crashing into each other, jumping around the court as though they’d just won a championship game.
“Alright, alright,” Kieran called out. “Get your stretches in before you head out.” He pointed at Bowen. “Especially you. Don’t think I didn’t see you trying to hide that leg cramp. I’ll tell Ivy if I see it again.”
Bowen saluted, fear in his eyes. “Aye aye, captain.” Threatening to sic the hard-ass athletic trainer on them seemed to work for keeping most of the team in line when it came to playing safely.
Said trainer was by the bench, engrossed in a conversation with their coach, Gabriel Rodriguez. Kieran approached, eyeing the practice schedule they both held copies of.
