Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)
Chapter 22

Ilook up from the ice as we’re all skating off at the end of practice to replace Hunter talking with our assistant coach, Jace Kingston. Pretty sure he’s Jace and Deacon’s agent too. Ironically, Dad was one of his first clients back in the day. Now he represents all three of his sons.

Oh yeah, and he’s pissed as hell. “Sinclair,” he calls out, and Leo shoves me.

“You’re the Sinclair in trouble this time, asshat,” Leo throws my way as he skates off like a little bitch who wants to avoid guilt by association.

I skate over to the boards and wait for him to finish his talk with Jace.

Then he waits for Jace to walk away before turning his pissed-off glare my way.

“You,” he snaps. “Do you have any idea how big the wait-list is to be one of my clients? That’s right, asshole. I said wait-list. Athletes are waiting for me to take them on. Begging for me to help them. And you, you little shitstain. You, who was still a sperm in your daddy’s dick when I made my first million, can’t be bothered to pick up the goddamned phone. What the actual fuck, Sinclair? If Declan wasn’t one of my first fucking clients—and someone I consider an actual friend in a business where you don’t make friends—I’d shitcan your fucking ass.”

“I can’t talk here, man,” I tell him as I look around to see who’s paying attention, and he whistles like he’s awed.

“Holy fucking shit, ladies and gentlemen, he can speak.”

“Hunt—”

“No. Shut the fuck up. Your time to speak was any time over the past few weeks. Now, you listen. You’re going to get changed, and then you and me, we’re going to drive to your house, and you’re going to tell me where your fucking head’s at, because it sure isn’t attached to your goddamn shoulders right now, man.”

“Leo will be at my place,” I tell him, not sure I want my brother involved in this meeting but knowing this is on me.

“Not my fucking problem. I could be home in my bed, fucking my wife today. Have you seen my wife, Sinclair? She’s incredible. Smart and sweet and so goddamned sexy. She’s also off on Thursdays. And do you know what we do when she’s off on Thursdays?”

Pretty sure answering that is career suicide.

We stare at each other, neither of us willing to budge until Hunter finally breaks.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Fucking go. I don’t have all goddamned day.” He looks away with a cocky grin. “Fucking lucky I like you, kid.”

“Doesn’t hurt that you’ve made millions off me already either, Hunt.” He’s not the only cocky fuck standing here. He’s just louder about it.

“Yeah, that doesn’t hurt. Now go before I get really mad.”

I wait for another minute, just to get under his skin, then head for the locker room.

Hunter looks ridiculous sitting at my kitchen table in his fifteen-thousand-dollar Brioni suit. “What the fuck is your dog doing?”

“Who the fuck wears a fuzzy suit anyway? Gordie probably thinks you killed his brother and wrapped him around your legs,” Leo asks him before he pets Gordie on the head and sits down across from Hunter.

“Someone who can buy and sell you without blinking an eye, Leo. And it’s cashmere, not fucking fur. Now how about you run along and let the men talk.”

“Why you gotta be like that, Hunt?” Leo asks, and I laugh before he points at me. “The walls are thin. Just ask your girlfriend. I’m going to hear everything you say anyway.”

“You repeat a fucking word of it, and I’ll tell Dad about the time you lost his Super Bowl ring and didn’t tell him about it,” I warn.

“I found it before he even realized it was missing,” Leo tries to defend himself.

“You found it three months later. You’re just fucking lucky he never gave a shit about those things. Now sit down. Shut up. And don’t repeat a goddamn word. Got it?”

Leo mimes zipping his lips, and I’m not sure who looks more annoyed, Hunter or me.

“I think having him here is a bad idea. But it’s your funeral, Nixon.”

I shrug and wait, bracing for the blowback because there’s no way this is going to go well.

“I put the word out you’d be open to a trade in the offseason, and quite a few teams were interested. Of those interested, three were willing to work within your salary specifications. One has a player I happen to know the Revolution would give their left nut for. Deacon has been trying to get him on the team since he came on as head coach, and it’s never worked out.” He pulls an envelope from his inside pocket and slides it across the table. My office sent this information via email, as well, but considering you won’t fucking answer me, I have no idea whether you looked at it.”

I take the envelope and fold it in half.

That email has been sitting unopened in my account for a few weeks.

So have the two that followed.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Why the fuck did you have me go to the trouble of doing all this—and doing it quietly, which meant pulling all sorts of favors to get it done—if you had no intention of taking a trade?”

“I never said I wasn’t interested,” I answer, and Leo’s eyes bulge the fuck out of his head.

“Your actions say it, even if your voice is too fucking scared to say it, Sinclair.” Hunter leans back in his chair, but not Leo.

Leo grips the edge of the table as he glares. “What the fuck, man? I thought you might be looking for a trade, but I figured I was wrong because you’d tell me something like that. Way to man the fuck up, Nix.”

“Fuck you, Leo.”

“I’m on Leo’s side for once,” Hunter adds, and Leo’s head whips his way.

“For once? You’re my fucking agent too.”

Hunter shrugs. “Not here for you.” He turns my way. “You, however, I’d like an answer from you.”

“I don’t have an answer for you right now. My reasons for wanting the trade are still valid, I just don’t know that they’re enough,” I admit.

“What fucking reasons? Because you don’t like being a Sinclair?” Leo pushes, seriously pissed now. “News flash, brother. You’re going to be a Sinclair in Atlanta and Chicago too.”

Hunter fakes a ridiculous cough. “DC.” Then the fuck coughs again for good measure.

“Fine. You think they’ve never heard of Dad or Grandpa in DC, dude? You’re going to be a Sinclair no matter where you go.”

I push off the wall I’ve been leaning against and smack the damn envelope against the table. “I never said I didn’t want to be a Sinclair. I just wanted to consider being in a city that didn’t worship them.”

“That sounds past tense. Has something changed?” Hunter asks, sharp as ever.

“Yeah, he met a girl,” Leo tells him.

“Well fuck. That explains it all,” Hunter agrees and smiles.

Not all of it. But it makes a fucking difference.

Kenzie

Hey Nix. I’m on my way home from the office and was going to pick up takeout from West End. You want anything?

Nixon

You.

Kenzie

Good answer, Sinclair.

Nixon

I have a present for you.

Kenzie

An orgasm?

Nixon

I like the way you think, Hayes.

Kenzie

Tik tock, Sinclair. What do you want for dinner and should I get some for Leo?

Nixon

Fuck Leo. Let him get his own hot girlfriend.

Kenzie

Why do I feel like I’m trying to herd squirrels right now?

Nixon

Squirrels aren’t big and masculine, baby. I mean, if you said bulls or lions, it would be a little sexier.

Kenzie

Did Leo steal your phone?

Nixon

Does Leo know how to give you multiple orgasms?

Kenzie

Hopefully not.

Nixon

Hopefully? WTF Kenzie? You’re killing me.

Kenzie

Hey! Don’t Kenzie me.

Nixon

Don’t tease me about my brother and your orgasms.

Kenzie

You started it.

Nixon

I’ll be finishing it too.

Kenzie

I’m counting on it. See you soon.

Kenzie knocks on my door an hour later, then lets herself in, and my smile grows a mile wide. The nights we’ve spent apart these last few weeks have shown me how much she means to me as much as the nights we’ve spent together. And I want more. More of it all. More time. More Mac. Just more.

I fucking love this woman, even if she’s not ready to hear it yet.

I cup the back of her head in my hand, and she lifts up on her toes and brushes her lips over mine, sighing. Her whole body relaxes the minute we touch, and my ego grows every single time that happens, knowing I did that for her.

She hands me a to-go box and smiles. “For Leo.”

Like a heat-seeking missile, he walks out of his room at the first smell of food. “Did I hear for me?”

“Damn,” she murmurs. “Either these walls really are paper thin or you have the hearing of a wax moth.”

“What the fuck?” Leo asks as he takes the box and groans at the burger she got him. “What’s a fucking wax moth, Kenz?”

“The animal with the best hearing in the world,” she tells him like it’s common knowledge. My girl is a fucking sexy little genius.

I wrap her arms around my neck and lift her off her feet, not willing to share what little time we get alone with my brother. “Watch Gordie for me, man.”

“Bye Leo,” she giggles, and goddamn, that smile. I’d go to war for that smile.

“What? No dessert?” he jokes.

With one hand around her ass, I grab the bag I left next to the door earlier and carry her down the hall to her place.

“Baby, your laughter is one of my favorite sounds in the world,” I tell her as I set her down inside.

“Oh yeah?” She smiles as she sits on the couch and grabs a glass of wine from the table in front of it where she already has our dinner set up. “What’s your favorite?”

“It comes in second to the sexy little way you moan my name when you come.” I sit down next to her and press my lips behind her ear. “But it’s a close second.”

She smiles with her whole heart, and man, she’s beautiful.

I take the bag I grabbed earlier and drop it in her lap.

“I didn’t need a present, Nixon.”

“Open it,” I tell her, waiting to see her reaction, and she doesn’t disappoint.

“Did you really get me a Sinclair Hoodie?” She giggles. “Why don’t you just urinate on me and mark your territory, Nix?”

“Baby, if I thought you’d be into it, I wouldn’t say no.” I’m full of fucking shit and draw a big goddamn line at that, but Mac just shakes her head and dives back into the bag.

This time, she pulls out a matching v-neck t-shirt with my name and number on the back, which she adds to the pile before carefully pulling out the final piece. She opens the tissue paper like a kid on Christmas morning, then holds up my jersey. “Nixon . . . I love it.”

Yeah, Mac . . . me too.

“I thought maybe you’d want to wear that tomorrow night at the game.” This is new territory for us. We haven’t exactly gone public yet, and that jersey would be about as public as it gets.

She folds the red jersey carefully on her lap, then runs a hand over it. “Are you asking or telling?”

“Asking, Mac. This one is up to you. But I know what I want.” I’ve known what I’ve wanted for a while now. But I’m not putting added pressure on her. “Baby steps, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she whispers and looks down at the jersey again. “You called me your girlfriend earlier. In that text . . . you said, Leo could get his own hot girlfriend.”

“What can I say, baby? I told you I don’t share. Not even with my brothers.” I run my hand over her cheek, then cup her face. “Not you, Mac. Never you.”

“If we do this, there’s no going back,” she whispers, like the words are so powerful, she needs to give them reverence. And I think I might fall a little bit more in love with her for it.

“I don’t need an escape plan. I’m all-in, Mac. You and me.” There’s no fear or hesitation in my voice, and Mac snuggles into my hand.

“I’m scared, Nix.” Her warm eyes lock on mine, and the fear shining back guts me. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. My life has been really good for a long time, but not this good. I don’t remember the last time I was as happy as I’ve been since I came home, and I’m scared to death that I’m tempting fate or something. What happens when that shoe drops?”

“What happens if it never drops, and you’ve spent your life waiting for it instead of living?” I remember something Dad said and smile as I brush my lips over hers. “Time’s a thief, Mac. Don’t give it any more than you have to give. Don’t live your life in fear of the what-if.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Nix.” She climbs into my lap and presses her forehead to mine. “But for you, I’ll try. Only for you,” she tells me, echoing my earlier words. “Only ever you.”

My inner caveman roars to life, possessive as fuck at finally hearing those words. Words I’ve been dying to fucking hear for weeks. “Does that make you my girlfriend?” I ask with my lips pressed to hers. “Because I’ve got to tell you, sixteen-year-old me, would have jizzed his pants if he knew one day Mackenzie Hayes would be his girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” She kisses one corner of my mouth, then the other before she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. “What would sixteen-year-old Nixon have done if he knew he was about to get to touch my boobs?”

“He sure as hell wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with them.” I lick into her mouth, dinner long forgotten, and she pulls back just enough to look into my eyes.

“Guess it’s a good thing I waited for you then, Sinclair.”

Her words are like a balm to my tired soul, erasing the bone-deep exhaustion left over from my meeting with Hunter and the decision that had to be made.

“I love bossy Nixon.” She shifts her hips, and a tiny moan slips past her lips.

“Good. Now get on your knees and show me.”