Chapter 2
Jackson
Hitting snooze for the fourth time isn’t going to get my ass to the field on time. I roll over and groan, muscles tight, head pounding. I’m not twenty-three anymore.
In fact, reverse those numbers and add another twenty years, and that’s about how old I feel.
If I’d stayed in the NFL, my body would be completely shot by now. They’re not kidding when they say you only get a few good years.
And I blew mine.
After letting the hot water beat against my back a little too long, I’m dressed, grabbing my bag, coffee, and keys, and heading out. I check my watch as I lock the door.
“Good. Only ten minutes late today.”
Movement across the street catches my attention. I climb into my truck, tossing my gym bag to the passenger side and start it up. As I pull up along side my best friend’s truck parked at the curb, I’m just in time to see a pair of tan legs—and the best ass I’ve ever seen—climb the steps to the front door and disappear inside.
“Hey, bro. Another late start?” Adam chuckles, leaning against my door.
Dragged from my lustful stare,I shrug. “Can’t move fast like I used to.”
“Lay off the booze, women, and late-night stay-outs,” he says. “Your body might bounce back.”
I eye him. He’s pushing my buttons, and he knows it. I can’t party like I used to. “I don’t need commentary from the jealousy train this morning.”
He laughs and pushes off my door. “So, who’s the chick?” I nod my head towards the house. “You call dibs yet?” I flash my signature smirk.
His face twists like he’s in physical pain. “What the fuck, Gage? That’s my sister.”
“What?”Wow. I donotremember Francesca looking like that all those years ago.
“Stop remembering,” Adam snaps. “And don’t look at my sister that way.”
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
I laugh it off, open my door, and take a light swing at him. “She moving in? I should go welcome her to the neighborhood.”
“Jackson, go easy on her,” Adam warns.
I circle my truck, already heading toward the house. “Relax. I just want to say hi.” Then, louder, “Yo, Chessy! Get out here!”
“Jesus, man,” Adam mutters. “It’s early.”
“Yeah, and we own this block. Stop being a nun.”
Wedoown this block—in good ol’ Christmas, Texas. After college, I was drafted to play professional football. Adam came home, joined his dad’s construction business, and rode the building boom. We bought empty shells—we, because I invested in the first few—and turned them into real homes.
Thank God I did, seeing as I was ousted from the NFL before I was ready. At least I had a place to come home to. Now, we live close, the way family should.
The door opens, and Francesca steps out. Confusion flashes across her face—until she sees me. Her steps falter for half a second, but I catch it. She’s deciding whether to punch me or bolt.
Adam, his two younger brothers, and I tortured her and my sister Britt growing up. By high school, it got worse—we blocked dates while parading our girlfriends right in their faces.
Mature? No. But I kind of liked her, and maybe I liked her just a little too much. But she was my boy’s little sister. I couldn’t act on it, no matter how badly I wanted her.And despite her having three brothers, I still wanted to be the one to protect her.
She stops a few feet away, hands on her hips, an evil gleam in her eyes.Damn.She’s hot as fuck.
“Well, if it isn’tJacks-offGage,” she says sweetly, teasing me with a raunchy nickname.