Fuck. My. Life.
Dominic’s sister’s place is the last spot I want to go, and seeing Penny is the thing I want to do least in the world. I’d rather go to the proctologist, or have a glass rod shoved up my dick without lube and then broken, or wherever and whatever is worse than that. Hell, I’d rather referee Brody and Howe, because they’ve moved on from verbal sparring to some slaphappy roughhousing on the other side of the locker room. Yes, with Brody’s dick still playing peekaboo, which means Howe is sticking to shots to Brody’s northernmost head. So far.
“All right, I’ll meet you at Pro-Bowl, then,” I suggest, hoping he’ll take me up on the offer to secure our preferred table in the back corner of the cafeteria line–style restaurant that lets us load up on protein and healthy veg while giving us a discount, saying it’s for the good of the team. “Triple chicken, brown rice, double guac, and veg, yeah?” I confirm, though I know his order as well as my own.
“Nah, come with me. We can give Penny shit and see if she wants to grab food too.”
Dom’s a thoughtful, protective, caring brother. Did I mentionprotective? Because fuck, is he. He’s the only one who can give Penny shit the way he does. Anyone else, he’d destroy without hesitation. But it’s done out of love. His whole family dotes on her like she’s the golden child of the household, but the truth is, she’s not. They take special care of her because she nearly always has some drama happening in her life, and though it’s typically not her fault, it doesn’t change the fact that Dom often spends his time worrying about her, to the point of wantingto make sure she eats, but is just as likely a ruse to do a wellness check and make sure nothing has imploded in her vicinity today. Literally or figuratively.
The first time I met Penny, Dominic and I were rookies. He dragged me to his parents’ house during an off week, promising good food, relaxation, and some parental affection. We’d only known each other for a few weeks, but it was like he’d already homed in on my weak spots. To be fair, food and relaxation are something everyone enjoys, but the family angle? That’s always been the special seasoning spice in my fucked-up life.
The team was a brotherhood of sorts, and all the guys would have their families—wives, girlfriends, kids, moms, dads, former coaches—come to cheer them on. Except me. No one ever cheered my name, or came to watch me play, or gave a shit if I was alive or dead. Back then, I wore that hurt like a chip on my shoulder, which is probably how Dom saw it so easily. Now I dodge any questions about family and, if pushed, usually say I haven’t talked to my parents since the day I turned eighteen, even though the truth is, I stopped talking to them long before that. I just existed in their house like a ghost, me ignoring them and them ignoring me for years before the quiet noncelebration of my eighteenth trip around the sun set us all free.
So Dominic had pestered me to go with him until I finally relented just to get him to shut up about it. He’d spent the whole flight telling me all about his amazing parents and his annoying sister, but even as he bitched about her, he had this stupid grin on his face, so I knew he cared about her. The picture he’d painted was of a dorky, weird, much younger brat. What walked out of the kitchen that first night had been anything but.
Penny was then—and is still—an absolute stunner, with curves that beg for a man’s hands, a mouth that you never know what’ll come out of, and a sunny disposition that could make Eeyore smile. Or a grumpy asshole like me.
I’d been smitten before Dominic had even introduced us. Then I’d remembered the first rule of brotherhood—a man’s mother and his sister are strictly off-limits. Multiply that rule times a billion, and you’ve got an approximation of how protective Dominic is about his sister. His mother, too, but I’ve never had any desire to have her sit on my dick. Penny, though? Yeah, I’ve thought about that particular fantasy a few thousand times over the last five years.
Which is why it’s always been safest to avoid her at all costs. It’s doubly hard when I’m forced to be in her vicinity and treat her the way Dominic does, which is to say, like the annoying brat she can sometimes be.
I sigh heavily, resigned to seeing her, talking to her, and later, a night of replaying the whole encounter and punishing myself for being the asshole I always am to her. It’s for her own good, but also for mine.
Dominic is the one thing I have in this world. My teammate, friend, and brother. And his family is the only family I have. I won’t do anything to fuck that up. Even if it makes me miserable and angry at the unfairness of the world and the hand I’ve been dealt.
The errant thought is enough to make me want to punch something. But my locker walls are made of steel mesh that’ll do real damage to my hand, so I force myself to relax, splaying my fingers to stop me from fighting my own hatred for myself.
“All right. Let’s see if Penny-Nickel-Dime has broken any bones today,” I grunt, using the childish name her family bestowed upon her and rolling my eyes like I’m annoyed by her accident-prone nature and don’t worry about her as much as Dominic does.
Or maybe even more.
“Get dressed, Honey,” Dom tells me, using the nickname I got because my last name is Mahoney. Well, the name and the fact that I’m sticky as hell on the ice, never losing my footing or a brawl. I don’t mind it. It could definitely be worse. Just ask our center, Jack Off, whose actual last name is Jacofovich.
I could delay things, get dressed so slowly that Dom gives up on me and agrees to just meet me at Pro-Bowl, but I don’t. As much as I don’t want to see Penny, I also want to see her more than anything. It’s been weeks since we’ve had an actual conversation, though I see her when she’s doing her Ice Hawkette duties during the games. I try to ignore her then as much as possible, though. I have a job to do, and if I saw some spectator getting handsy with her in the little crop tops or short skirts the cheerleaders wear, I’d likely end up in jail.
So before Dominic has even pulled his jeans on, I’m fully dressed and telling him to hurry his slow ass up. “I’m hungry, man.”
I am. But not for a chicken-rice bowl. I’m hungry for two seconds of Penny’s eyes on me, full of fire and fury, as she spouts out ridiculous comebacks to my rude commentary. It’s the only way I can keep her at a distance ... by treating her like a bothersome little sister, just the way Dom does.
Chapter 3
Penny
Bang-bang-bang.
I don’t stop the delicate work I’m focused on, because the square-cut emerald in fourteen-karat gold on my worktable deserves my full concentration. Instead, I simply yell toward the apartment door, “Talia, did you forget your key again? I swear I’m gonna put it on a ribbon around your neck like a latchkey kid.”
Almost instantly, Mrs. Rosenthal bangs on the wall between our apartment and hers to let me know I’m being too loud.
I freeze, waiting for my roommate to answer me, or for whatever lost soul accidentally made their way to my doorstep to wander off. I don’t need a new internet provider or whatever crap they’re selling.
Unless ... what if it’s cookies? I love when those adorable little girls come around selling boxes of yummy goodness.
I lift the magnifying lenses of my loupes so I can see. Still, I have to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust before I can stand and make my way across the room. I peek through the door’s peephole, crossing my fingers for some Thin Mints, and have to blink again because it’s not my roommate standing in the hall, nor is it adorable cookie-laden kids. It’s my pain-in-the-ass brother.
I swing the door open, already demanding, “What do you want, Mom’s Least Favorite?” It’s a long-running joke that I’m the most favorite and he’s the least, but truthfully, Mom has always been determined to love us equally, which is why we can make the joke without hurt feelings.
Immediately, I regret opening the door at all, because it’s not only Dominic in the hallway. His best friend, and the bane of my existence, Griffin, is standing at his side. To put it mildly, he drives me fucking crazy, and if Dominic didn’t swear that he was redeemable to some degree, I’d downright hate him for the way he acts around me.
