Page 20 of Hard to Score

So much for me and my mouth. When am I ever going to learn?

“Brex? Don’t you dare be close-lipped on me now. You know you offered the info up because you’re dying to tell someone about him. I’m that someone, so give me the deets, woman.”

“It was nothing. Never mind.”

“Ha.” She crosses her arms over her chest and levels a stare at me. “So either tell me what happened or I’ll go tell Dad and then you can tell him the juicy details.”

“There are no juicy details. And Dad? Really? Can’t you be more original than that?”

“You know as well as I do that keeping a secret from Dad is next to impossible.” She shrugs. “So it’s me or him.”

I hold her gaze and know she’s right. I’m dying to tell someone and telling our dad right now isn’t really an option. When it comes to him, questions lead to more questions and I’m nowhere near ready to go into full confession mode.

My sigh is my answer and her smirk tells me she knows she’s got me.

“So things were fine and then they weren’t?” she asks, picking back up to where we left off.

“So to speak. We were standing in his kitchen in that suspended moment when you’re holding your breath because you think you’re going to be kissed—”

“You’re the only person I know who’d ever say those words out loud.” She laughs and lifts her eyebrows. “You sound like a romance novel.”

“And there’s something wrong with that? It seems you found your happily ever after with Hunter so how can you tell me they don’t exist?”

“Touché,” she murmurs with a gloating grin. She’s so damn cheerful since finding and falling in love with Hunter, it’s nauseating. But in that good, I’m jealous but happy for you, kind of way. She plays with the rock weighing down her ring finger and even though I roll my eyes, it’s all for show. I’m more than thrilled for her. “So? You thought he was going to kiss you and then what?”

“The doorbell rang. He disappeared and dealt with it, and when he came back the mood was gone.”

“Who was at the door?”

I have to stop myself from saying her name. “His sister.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Yeah, but it was more than that. They were arguing about something and . . . I don’t know, the mood was gone.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t gone, gone.”

I snort. “He made sure to drop the friend term as he saw me out.”

She hisses in response. “Ugh. That sucks.” She plops down in the seat in front of me. “What was his name again?”

“I’d prefer to not say,” I say nonchalantly and shrug before leaning back in my chair to stare at the city streets below. Kincade Sports Management is fifteen stories up, dead center in Manhattan. There’s always plenty to look at outside of its walls, especially when you want to use it to avoid answering your older sister.

“Ooooh,” she says, her ears perking up with a sudden interest. I mentally chastise myself because once again, I’m just drawing her in further. “That means I know him,” she says in a sing-song voice with a clap of her hands.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know you better than you do. So . . . how’d you meet him?”

“Work,” I deadpan without batting an eye. She was the oldest kid between our two families and, was more times than not, the ring leader with Drew when it came to planning all our shenanigans. Hell, she probably played with Maggs more than I did now that I think of it. She’d probably remember even more about the sequence of events leading up to Gary Bowman’s scandal. The last thing she needs to know is who it is or that I camped out on his doorstep.

“Amusing. Dare I ask if he’s a client or not?”

“Why?”

“It’s just a question,” she says coyly.

“Please spare me any lecture you’re conjuring up about not dating clients. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” I snort considering Hunter was her client and clients technically should be off limits.