I grin. “No-Chest. Been a long time,” I fire back, using hers from when she was thirteen.
“It has.” She lifts a brow. “I was hoping you grew out of your nickname—like I did.”
Adam coughs to hide his laugh as my eyes roam. Short shorts. Long tan legs. A tank top hugging curves that didnotexist back then. Thick chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail.
I’d love to wrap it around my hand and?—
“Yo, Gage. Eyes up here.”
“You’ve definitely… grown,” I say, dragging my eyes back to hers as she crosses her arms, trying to look tough but still shy. “So, you’re moving back to Christmas?”
“Just for now.” Her face falls, gaze dropping. “A stepping stone. I’m grateful my brother had this place open.”
She smiles at Adam, and I wish she’d aim that smile at me.
What the hell is wrong with me? I haven’t seen her in years. Why is she affecting me so easily?
Because it’s Francesca.
“Gage, you better get to the field,” Adam says. “You’re already late. Your team is going to riot if you don’t watch yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I backup. “Good seeing you,Noches.” All those years of high school Spanish finally paying off. “And hey—if you ever need to borrow some sugar, I’m right across the street. That’s what good neighbors are for.”
I wink, dodge Adam’s slap, and jog back to my truck, laughing all the way. Jumping in, I take one last look at her as I pull out and see her eyes are right on me, arms still crossed. She’s always kept herself guarded. But having her across the street just made the neighborhood a little more interesting.
Not that I’d ever act on it.
There’s a bro code. Adam would kill me, and I would never risk our friendship, not after everything he and his family have done for me. I couldn’t take a chance of losing them.
But a little eye candy never hurt anyone.
Chapter 3
Francesca
Jackson Gage. First-round draft pick. Rookie of the Year. Star NFL quarterback.
Until he wasn’t.
I’ll admit, I always had a little crush on him.
Okay—a big crush.
Okay, fine. I used to doodle my first name and his last name, hearts and flowers covering the margins of my notebooks.
He was my older brother’s best friend. I think it’s a written rule in the sibling handbook that the younger sister crushes on the older brother’s friends. It’s inevitable.
We just couldn’t act on it.
Not that Jackson ever would.
I was the annoying little sister who ran around withhisannoying little sister.
We were the lowest of the low, according to my three brothers and Jackson.But I followed his career in college right up until the night he was drafted. It was exciting. Our families were together on Draft Day, and every holiday in between. When Jackson won, it was like we all won. He put our little town of Christmas on the map. My oldest brother, Adam, was ecstatic. Having never been good enough to be called up himself, he walked it out with his bestie like it happened to him. He was never jealous, just so damn proud.
And now he’s here, across the street. All six-foot three inches of him. Same dark thick hair that is as unruly as he is. Same chocolatebrown eyes that feel like they can see right inside me. He’s still just as gorgeous as he thinks he is, that ego of his shining outward, only now he’s more muscle, more dominant, more… man.
I never thought we’d all be back here again. It’s like we went back in time, together again, in the same small town. When I moved away for college and then right to the city to work as a PR rep after graduation, I didn’t follow any back home gossip. I wanted to leave this part of my life behind and start new. Not that it was bad, per se, but I was over it. I wanted bigger and better, and I wanted more.More fun, more friends, more opportunities... more love… less Jackson. Those last two didn’t work out.Actually, none of them worked out because here I am, back to square one.Only this time, instead of living off my parents, I’m living off my brother.