Page 135 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“I don’t exactly know yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know yet?”

“I mean, Dad said we need to recruit one at a time so it looks more subtle than a hostile takeover, or some weird father analogy like that.”

I stare at the game unfolding before me—at the loss the Jacks are being handed, no thanks to Hunter. “So I’m the only one who’s—”

“Teacher’s pet always gets to have fun first,” she says in a singsong voice. She called to gloat . . . or to make sure I’m not fucking up things for her because let’s be honest, when’s the last time she thought about anyone or anything but herself?

If KSM were to fail as a business, how would my sister survive without all the fancy social functions that go hand in hand with being a sports agent? God forbid, it would thrust her out of the limelight she thrives on.

I’m far from naïve and know her concern is genuine but skewed for selfish reasons.

But what the hell is my dad pulling here? While he has some logic to avoid an all-out war with Sanderson, why was it so pertinent that I pick up my life on the fly and do this?

“I’ve got to go,” I murmur.

“No. Wait!”

“What?” I snap. “What more can you possibly have to say that’s not duplicitous in its meaning?”

“Look, all of that came out wrong. All of it.”

“I don’t care anymore, Len. I’ve got a game to watch and a client to schmooze.”

“Hear me out.” It’s the tone in her voice and the fact that I’ve been like their mom that prevents me from hanging up.

“You’ve got two minutes.”

“I know you like him, Dekk. And I know how you get when someone gets too close to you,” she says. I’m still not following her. “Because of Mom, because of the hurt we experienced, it’s easier to push someone away when you love them than to see where it leads.”

“There is no talk of love here.” I snort at her ludicrousness.

“But there was when you walked away from him last time.” Her voice softens and she speaks before I can interrupt her. “You can interrupt me all you want, you can tell me you didn’t have feelings for him, but I was staying at your place that night when you came home. I know that look you had, and I know you were hurting and maybe, just maybe, it’s because you were too chicken to tell him how you felt. You were too scared that if he said he had feelings for you too you’d have to face your fears. That you’d have to let someone in.”

I forgot about that. That she was there at my place when I got home. The twenty questions she peppered me with asking what was wrong. The twenty shrugs I gave, telling her I was perfectly fine. The scrutiny of her stare and how irritated I got when her voice turned compassionate, because it only made the tears I was fighting burn brighter.

Damn my father for giving me him to recruit.

Old feelings are better left dead and buried.

“Len—”

“All I’m saying is if you choose to sleep with him—if you choose to risk him as a client and what Dad’s asked of us because of it—that it better be for more than just sex. It better be because you’re going to put yourself out there and tell him how you feel this time.”

“I have to go.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says quietly but doesn’t argue.

I end the call.

I sit back in my seat but don’t see a minute of the game before me.

It better be because you’re going to put yourself out there and tell him how you feel this time.

I’m used to the panic that comes with the thought, but I’m not used to someone else seeing it or knowing it . . . and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

What I do know is that what started out feeling like a wild goose chase to acquire Hunter has turned into so much more.