Engaged to Mr. Wrong: A Sports Romance Read online

  She takes a deep breath and pulls her hand away.

  “It’s nothing.” She shakes her head.

  “It’s about an inch long,” I say. “It must hurt like a motherfucker.”

  She laughs, then, and her whole face lights up. She bites her lip, as if she’s embarrassed to be laughing, and finally nods.

  “It does hurt like a motherfucker,” she laughs. “You’re right.”

  Hearing such a pretty woman say something like that sends a thrill through my body. I wonder what she’d sound like if she were saying dirty, dirty things in my ear.

  I shake my head, turning towards the first aid kit. I flip it open and find the tweezers.

  “You can… shouldn’t you get dressed? You’re still wet. Aren’t you cold?”

  I look down at my body. It’s covered in goosebumps, and I realize that yes, I am cold. But I don’t want to let this woman out of my sight for a second, so I just shrug.

  “I’m fine.” I find the tweezers and hold out my hand. When she places her hand in my palm, another thrill passes through me. She’s staring at my chest again, and she’s blushing. Why is that turning me on so much?

  I shake my head and turn to her splinter. “Here, come closer,” I say, flicking on a light switch above the stove. She takes a step towards me, and I can smell the sweet perfume she’s wearing. My whole body feels like it’s pulled taut.

  I bring her palm closer to the light, ignoring the heat that’s pooling at the base of my spine. My cock is rock hard, and suddenly I wish I was wearing more than just a towel. She makes a noise when I nudge the end of the splinter.

  “Sorry,” I say, glancing up at her.

  She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m a wuss.”

  “You’re not a wuss,” I chuckle. “This thing would have me in tears. You ready?”

  “Get that fucker out of me,” she grins. “Come on. Do it.”

  God, that’s hot. I grin, loving the way her eyes are sparkling. She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut, and I turn to her palm. I grab the end of the splinter with the tweezers and pull it out in one smooth motion. She groans as it comes out, and then exhales. She pulls her hand away to cradle it against her chest. Her eyes are watering and she’s shaking her head.

  “That was sore.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “That’s not what you said when you first walked in.”

  She grins. “Well, you’ve redeemed yourself. Thank you for helping me.”

  Her eyes linger on mine, and then on my lips. Her cheeks flush again, and I try to ignore the steel rod between my legs. I clear my throat.

  “Here,” I say, pulling out some alcohol and gauze. “We should clean it.”

  Neither of us says anything as I clean the small wound. She inhales sharply as the alcohol touches her skin, leaning towards me. I run the cotton ball softly over her injury as I cradle her palm in mine. Then, I take some gauze and tape and I cover the splinter wound.

  “There,” I say, keeping her hand in mine. “All better.”

  She’s blushing again, and I’m trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs. She smiles. We stare at each other for a few moments. I’m still holding her hand, and I don’t want to let it go.

  “You want me to kiss it better?”

  “You asking for a slap across the face?” She laughs.

  Her eyes flick down to my lips and a sizzle of heat runs down my spine.

  She points to my chest. “What happened here?” Her fingers just brush against my damp skin before she pulls them away. She drops her other hand from mine. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, wishing she was still touching me. Her fingers ran the length of the long, jagged scar that cuts across the left side of my chest from collarbone to sternum. “Happened when I was a kid. My brother and I were horsing around. It was an accident.” Or at least that’s what I always say. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops, as if she’s remembering something.

  She shakes her head.

  “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. You’re Jesse, right? I’m Farrah. I’m Elijah’s girlfr—fiancée.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  “Ah, of course! I thought you were a bit young to be a friend of my mom’s.” I try my best to cover my disappointment with a grin. I run my fingers through my wet hair. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We seem to keep missing each other at family events.”

  “Yeah,” she smiles. She shakes her head and mimicking my movement by tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The movement makes her sweater stretch over her chest, and my whole body throbs.

  Congratu-fucking-lations little brother.

  “I should probably...” She points her thumb over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I gotta…” I gesture to my body. I’m still only wearing a towel, with freezing-cold drops of water covering my torso. Farrah laughs, her cheeks reddening again. She flicks those enchanting eyes up towards mine again.

  “See you in there.”

  “I hope so,” I say without thinking. Her eyes widen and her blush deepens. A smile twitches at her lips and then she turns towards the door. I watch her walk out, and then head to the window to see her jog across the yard towards the house. When she disappears through the patio doors, I let out a huge sigh.

  Well, fuck. The first woman I’ve been attracted to in months also happens to be my brother’s new fiancée.

  3

  Farrah

  I jog back into the house and close the door behind me. I lean against the door, letting out a big sigh as I close my eyes.

  What the heck just happened? Why am I so flushed? Why does it feel like I’ve just run a marathon?

  Why is my underwear completely drenched?

  Who am I kidding? I already know the answer to those questions… and the answer lies in those deep, steely grey eyes and that incredibly broad chest. The way the water droplets ran down Jesse’s skin was doing crazy things to my insides. I can still feel his touch on my skin, and my heart is hammering against my ribcage.

  Shit.

  I’m attracted to my fiancé’s brother.

  Oh my gosh, I’m a terrible person.

  A terrible, terrible person. The worst kind of person.

  I open my eyes again to see Bruce and Shannon sitting near the fireplace as Elijah builds a fire. I kick my boots off and take a deep breath. I press my hands to my cheeks—yep, burning hot.

  How could I not be blushing? Jesse was like a six-foot-four wall of solid, glistening muscle. He was wearing nothing but a towel, for crying out loud! His shoulders were like two boulders, and his chest was so inviting. I just wanted to trace my fingers over every inch of rippling brawn.

  And when he ran his fingers through that thick mop of brown hair—my lord. I just about melted.

  My feet carry me over towards the family even though my mind is still at the pool house. Shannon looks up at me and her eyebrows shoot up.

  “How is the hand, honey?”

  “It’s good,” I say, uncurling my fingers and showing my bandage. “Jesse helped me.”

  Is it just me, or did Elijah stiffen? He keeps his eyes on the fire, and I ignore the feeling of dread creeping up my spine. I shake my head. I’m just paranoid…

  … Because I’m so turned on that I can hardly think straight. By my fiancé’s older brother.

  Did I mention I’m the worst kind of person?

  Everyone turns their heads when the back door opens and Jesse steps through. The air rushes out of my lungs as his eyes meet mine. He glances at Elijah by the fireplace and shakes his head.

  “Typical,” he laughs. “I do all the work and Elijah gets all the glory.”

  Elijah stands up and grins. “You were always better at the grunt work than I was.”

  They walk towards each other and wrap their thick, muscular arms around each other. It’s like two giants crashing into each other in the living room.

  Now I understand why the
ceiling is so high. It looks almost proportional with these guys filling up the space. Two NFL star quarterbacks need a lot of space—if not for their huge, muscular bodies, then for their egos.

  My eyes drift to Jesse. I want to look away—I know it’s wrong to stare at him like this, but I can’t help it. He’s wearing a tight white tee-shirt and dark jeans. When he walks towards the living room, I can see the shape of his pecs through the fabric of his shirt. His nipples are hard, which for some reason is really, really turning me on.

  Or, continuing to turn me on, I guess.

  Jesse’s eyes flick to me. A smile twitches at his lips and my cheeks burn again.

  This is so wrong.

  I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

  I should be a dutiful wife—fiancée. I should be all over Elijah, not lusting after his brother.

  But when Jesse spreads his arms with a grin and gives Elijah a quick hug, all I can look at are the way his biceps bulge. He turns to me and my heart starts racing.

  “Nice to see you again.” His arms spread out again and he wraps me in an awkward, not-very-brotherly hug.

  God, he smells good.

  The image of him wearing nothing but a towel with his skin glistening with water pops into my head. Jesse pulls away and drags his hands down my arms. He takes my hand in his.

  “How’s the palm.”

  “It’s good,” I choke. My voice is gone. I clear my throat. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He winks at me and drops my hand. I take a few steps over to Elijah and put my arm around his waist. Is it just me, or is he more tense than usual? I squeeze my arm around his waist and then he pulls away, grabbing his drink from the mantle.

  My chest stings.

  Can he tell?

  He’s been distant lately. And in the car, he was completely ignoring my requests to slow down. Have I done something to upset him? My head is going a million miles an hour.

  Mr. Moose jumps off the chair where he was dozing, and comes bounding towards me. He circles my legs and then sniffs at Jesse suspiciously. Jesse drops down on one knee and starts scratching his ear and talking nonsense to him.

  My heart swells.

  Elijah never touches Moose.

  Jesse sits down on the floor and Moose climbs on top of him. Soon the two of them are rolling around. Jesse’s laughing, his perfect, pearly white teeth sending a thrill down my spine. He picks Moose up and holds him against his chest, then glances at me.

  “Your dog?”

  I nod. “His name is Mr. Moose.”

  Jesse laughs. I take a step towards him as Moose nuzzles into Jesse’s neck.

  “He likes you.”

  Jesse’s eyes meet mine for a second, and the energy between us is heavy and intoxicating. I don’t need any mulled wine when he’s close. I’ve never been drunk before, but I imagine this is what it feels like.

  I jump when Maria’s voice rings out behind us. “Dinner is ready,” she announces. Her eyes meet mine and I smile at her. She seems surprised, her eyes flicking between Jesse and me. Then, she nods and smiles back. A knot forms in my stomach. I follow the family towards the dining room, doing my best to keep my distance from Jesse.

  We walk down a wide hallway and my eyes widen. Anyone who calls this place a ‘cabin’ is definitely living a different reality than I am. We step through tall double doors into a huge room, dominated by a long, hardwood table. There are candlesticks lined up along the center, with a thick white tablecloth and fancy place settings. There are about twice as many utensils as a reasonable person could possibly need, and I’m pretty sure the chandelier cost more than my college degree.

  I should be used to all this by now—Elijah and I have been together almost two years. He makes more money than I could imagine, but I didn’t know he came from money, too.

  I take my seat next to Elijah and glance at Mrs. Matthews.

  “This is a lot more than I was expecting for our first meal. I thought we’d be having sausages roasted on the fire, or something,” I grin.

  She laughs, and then waves her hand towards a bottle of wine. Jesse hands it to her, and then he looks at me. His gaze lingers on my eyes.

  My cheeks are on fire. Warmth blooms in my stomach, and I quickly look away.

  This is so, so wrong.

  “So, Jesse,” Elijah says gruffly. I know that tone of voice, and I don’t like it. “How are you feeling about the rest of the season?”

  Jesse shrugs. “Team’s doing pretty well.”

  He’s being modest. I know that Jesse’s team, the New England Patriots, is vying for a spot in the Super Bowl. The way things are shaping up as the playoffs come nearer, it looks like Jesse and Elijah might play each other.

  “Could be a Matthews family Super Bowl,” Elijah says. I can hear the challenge in his voice. If both teams do well in the playoffs, the biggest game of the year will have the two brothers going head-to-head.

  “I’m aware.”

  “You think you can outplay our defense? It’s ranked the best in the league right now.”

  Jesse’s grip on his wine glass tightens, and Elijah is sitting stiffly beside me. Underneath the polite voices, there’s tension that betrays years of competition.

  “Let’s not talk about work at dinner,” Jesse says. “Plus, I’m sure your beautiful fiancée is sick of hearing about football.”

  “What, because women aren’t into sports?” I say before I can stop myself.

  Jesse’s eyes gleam, and Elijah chuckles.

  “She doesn’t mind,” my fiancé says.

  “Let the woman speak for herself.” Jesse watches me as he sips his wine.

  I hold his gaze, playing with the base of my water glass. I tilt my head to the side and grin. “I wouldn’t be marrying Elijah if I wasn’t into football. Been watching the Giants play since I was three years old.”

  “Ah,” Jesse grins. “So you’d never cheer for the Patriots, then, would you?”

  “Urgh,” I say, side-eyeing him. Jesse’s mouth stretches wider.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “There is one redeeming thing about you playing for the Patriots,” I say, taking a sip of water.

  Elijah turns towards me with an eyebrow raised. Jesse leans forward, and I can see Mr. and Mrs. Matthews hanging on my words. I put my glass down, raising my eyes back towards Jesse.

  “At least you don’t play for the Jets.”

  Bruce bursts out laughing, smacking his meaty palm on the table and pointing at me. He lifts his wine glass up towards me and winks.

  “Well said, Farrah.” Bruce laughs. “Elijah, you’ve done well.”

  “You sure have,” Shannon replies, smiling at me.

  I steal a glance at Jesse, whose eyes are flashing with mischief. He’s grinning in a way that makes my chest fill with warmth. My palm burns, and it’s not from the splinter. I can still feel his touch on my skin. I look away, leaning into Elijah and clearing my throat.

  Elijah puts his arm around the back of my chair and squeezes my shoulder. He nods to his father.

  “I sure have,” he says. “She’s a keeper. Now if only Jesse could find a woman half as good, he’d be twice as lucky.”

  Jesse shakes his head. “We’re not talking about my love life. Not now. Not at dinner.”

  “Why not?” I can’t stop myself. I want him to look at me with those dark grey eyes again.

  When he turns them towards me, my heart does a flip.

  “I don’t think you could handle that kind of drama,” Jesse grins.

  “You might be surprised,” I answer. Why am I still talking? Is it obvious that we’re flirting right now?

  Fuck. I mean, obviously it’s obvious. I need to shut my mouth! What is wrong with me?

  Thankfully, Maria arrives with a couple plates full of steaming roast beef and mashed potatoes, and the six of us move on to other subjects.

  I keep my eyes on my own plate for most of the dinner, except for one moment, ri
ght before dessert. It feels like someone is staring at me, and I look up to see Jesse eyeing me. He holds my gaze for a few moments until my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. His eyes flick down to my lips and a sizzle of electricity zips through my body.

  Finally, I tear my gaze away and put my hand on Elijah’s thigh. He puts his hand over mine, and I ignore the heat curling in my stomach.

  This is so wrong.

  4

  Jesse

  What’s that part in the bible about coveting your neighbor’s wife? How about coveting your brother’s wife? Does that make it an extra-deadly sin?

  If it is, I’m definitely going to hell.

  It takes all my self-control to not stare at Farrah all dinner long. It’s a good thing I’m only at the cabin for two nights, because I don’t think I’d be able to resist talking to her. Or staring at her perfect body and beautiful face. Or trying to make her laugh.

  I watch Elijah push his chair away from the dinner table while Farrah is asking him something. He walks off without answering, and I see her face fall. She takes a deep breath and turns to my mother.

  “Thank you so much for dinner, it was delicious.”

  “You’re welcome, Farrah,” my mom says benevolently, even though she didn’t lift a finger to cook it. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. That never goes over well.

  Elijah stalks out of the room without a word, and my eyes flick back to Farrah.

  I know that look.

  It’s the same look that all Elijah’s girlfriends get after a while. Thinly veiled loneliness and sadness clouded with confusion. When the glamour of dating an NFL-star wears off, and they see what a fucking asshole he really is.

  I probably shouldn’t say that about my brother, but it’s true.

  I kiss my mother’s cheek and bring my plate to the kitchen. Maria is busy wrapping up the leftovers. I put my plate in the dishwasher and she waves me away.