Chapter 11 Heated #2
“A month ago, after my injury. You came to see me, and it made us realize how much our feelings were in this.”
“Fair enough.”
We shift to discussing the broadcast, which is safer territory.
“So the Trout, game one tomorrow,” she says, her face animated in a way that makes it hard to look away. “Kicking off the season against Seattle. What are they doing to compensate for missing their star player?”
“Coach is working around it,” I add, the weight of not being there heavier than I want to admit. “We’re deep this year, bringing up guys from the farm team to fill the gaps. We have to be.”
She nods, enthusiastic. “Exactly! I want to highlight that angle—how the team’s adapting without you. People eat that stuff up.”
We bounce ideas back and forth about the Boise hockey scene and local highlights. It’s surprisingly easy working with Sydney like this. She knows her stuff, and her passion for sports journalism is obvious.
“And we need to decide how... couple-y we’ll be on air tomorrow,” she suggests after we’ve outlined the main segments.
“Marcus is probably going to introduce us as a couple during the broadcast.” Her face twists with worry, then it relaxes when she says, “Which will be fine because we’re telling Jonah tonight. ”
“What time is his flight getting in?” The tension creeps into my muscles despite the soothing water.
“Not until six—” She cuts herself off, eyes going wide. “We’ll get him at the airport.”
“Right.”
Sydney scoots closer to me in the water. “We need to practice. The physical stuff. Holding hands, casual touches... kissing.”
My heart rate picks up, but I play it cool. “Makes sense. It should look natural by our broadcast tomorrow.”
She nods, a determined set to her jaw. “Exactly. We need to rehearse so that it’s seamless.”
“Right. Rehearse.” My mouth’s gone dry.
“So, um, should we...?” She gestures vaguely between us, suddenly looking uncertain.
“Yeah, we should probably...” I trail off, equally awkward.
How the hell did we go from arguing for almost twenty years to practice kissing in her parents’ hot spring?
“Let’s just count to three and do it,” she says, practical as always. “Get the awkwardness out of the way.”
I nod, shifting to face her. “Good plan.”
“One,” she begins, her voice high.
“Two.” My eyes drop to her lips, which are slightly parted and glistening with moisture from the spring.
“Three,” we say together, and then I’m leaning in, and she’s leaning in, and our lips meet in the middle.
And… it’s awful. Her lips are stiff and unmoving against mine, and I can feel the tension radiating from her body.
And actually, I’m disappointed. All these years of fantasy, and now, when it’s happening, it’s a complete nothingburger. But in the big picture, this is good—no chemistry at all. This’ll make the fake relationship easier to manage.
But then, just as I’m about to pull away, something changes. Sydney tilts her head slightly, and suddenly our lips fit together perfectly. She makes a small noise in her throat, and then she’s kissing me back—really kissing me—and my brain short-circuits.
My good hand finds its way to her waist underwater, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens. Her skin is slick and hot under my palm, and when her tongue tentatively touches mine, I nearly groan out loud.
Everything just flipped on its head, and this is nothing like I’ve ever imagined. Suddenly, it’s amazing. And electric… and dangerous.
Encouraged by her response, I slide my hand up her back, feeling the notches of her spine, the delicate shoulder blades, until my fingers tangle in her wet hair.
I give a gentle tug, testing, and am rewarded with a soft moan that vibrates against my lips.
Her nipples harden through the thin material of her bikini top and press against my chest, and my body responds immediately, blood rushing south with impressive speed.
Sydney’s hands start at my shoulders, careful of my injury, then slide down my chest and around to my back, pulling me even closer. The water around us feels warmer now, or maybe that’s just my blood running hot wherever she touches.
I suck her tongue, and she responds with a moan, a desperation that increases with intensity.
When she nips my lip, a low noise escapes my throat, and I lose control.
My hand drifts lower, following the curve of her waist to her hip, then around to cup her ass, which fits my palm perfectly.
She gasps into my mouth, her fingers digging into my back, and I’m about two seconds from suggesting we take this somewhere more private when—
Splash!
We spring apart as water drenches us. I turn, disoriented and rock hard, to find Jonah standing in the hot spring, fully clothed.
“What the actual fuck?” he roars, lunging toward me.
Sydney leaps between us, hands out. “Jonah! What are you doing here?”
His icy stare never leaves my face. “I got an earlier flight to help Mom and Dad set up for the party. Instead, I find my sister getting pawed by my so-called best friend!”
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say automatically, then wince at how pathetic that sounds.
“Really?” Jonah’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Because it looks like you had your tongue down my sister’s throat and your hands on her ass, which is exactly what you vowed would never happen! If you weren’t injured, I’d beat the living shit out of you.” He’s up in my face, water sloshing everywhere.
“Jonah, stop!” Sydney pushes against his chest. “You don’t understand what’s happening here!”
“Oh, I understand perfectly. Brooks decided his dick was more important than our friendship.”
“That’s not—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Save it.” He turns to Sydney. “You know where that tongue of his has been? How about the twins in San Francisco? Or the strippers in Vegas? You need a mouth condom just to kiss this dude.” Jonah rakes a hand through his hair. “And you don’t even know the half of it, Syd. Fuck!”
He drags his way out of the spring, water streaming from his clothes as he points at me. “You. Me. Walk. Now.”
Sydney has panic in her eyes. “Brooks—”
“Let me talk to him,” I say quietly. “Please.”
She hesitates, then nods, wrapping her arms around herself.
I climb out of the spring, grabbing a towel and hastily drying off before pulling on my T-shirt. Jonah is already stalking toward the wooded area at the edge of the property, his wet clothes leaving a trail of droplets on the ground.
I jog to catch up with him, my shoulder tensing back up. When we’re deep enough in the trees to be out of earshot, he rounds on me, his face purple with rage.
“You planning to stop your habit of fucking multiple women every other night?” A vein bulges on his forehead.
“Listen, Jonah—”
“I trusted you!” he explodes, shoving me in the chest. I stumble back a step but don’t retaliate. “I asked one thing of you—stay away from my sister. You promised me, Kingston.”
“It’s not what you think.” I hold up my hands in a placating gesture. “We’re just faking the relationship. It’s not real.”
That stops him short. “What?”
I take a deep breath, seizing the opportunity. “We’re just pretending to date. For Meema and for Sydney’s career. She needs me for her position as sportscaster, and I need her to make Meema happy, so she responds well to her treatment. It’s a deal we made.”
Jonah stares at me, confusion replacing some of the anger. “A fake relationship?”
“Yes. It was Sydney’s idea, actually. And it’s working—Meema’s eating better, she has more energy. And Sydney got the sports anchor position over Donny.”
“If it’s fake,” Jonah says slowly, his eyes narrowing, “then why did you have your hands on her ass?”
I run my fingers through my damp hair, struggling to find an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like a complete dickbag. “We were practicing. For the party tomorrow night. So it’d look convincing.”
“That sure as hell didn’t look like practice. That looked like you were about thirty seconds from tearing each other’s swimsuits off.”
He’s not wrong, which is the problem. “It got... carried away,” I say. “We didn’t expect—”
“Didn’t expect what? Your dick not to take charge when you’re sitting half naked together in a hot spring?” Jonah laughs, but it’s a harsh sound. “Anyone with one fucking brain cell could see that coming a mile away.”
Again, he’s not wrong. “Looking back, the timing was bad.”
“Goddamnit!” he yells, pointing at me. “You and Sydney have been dancing around this for years.”
His words hit me like a body check. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on. Everyone knows that if you two ever got past your bullshit, you’d either kill each other or fall hard. And given your lifestyle, neither of those is great for my sister.”
I have no response to that. The idea that Jonah has seen something between Sydney and me all this time—something I’ve only just started to acknowledge to myself—is a mindfuck.
Jonah inhales sharply. “Do you think you can really settle down with one woman?”
Yes. I could, if my situation was different. But I don’t want to get into that, so instead of speaking, I stand there, dumbstruck, like a fool.
Jonah points his finger at me. “Look, what’s going on with you is your business. But with your lifestyle, this can never become real.”
“I know. She knows.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“We’re not,” I say, though the words feel hollow. “What Sydney and I are doing is fake. When Meema is better, or when...” I can’t bring myself to say the alternative. “When it’s over, and I’ve fulfilled my commitments to KBVR, we’ll have a clean break. That’s the deal.”
Jonah studies me for a long moment, the anger gradually fading, replaced by something that looks disturbingly like pity. “I need time to think about this—I’m going for a hike. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow night.”
Translation: go home.
He turns to leave, then pauses, looking back over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think after that kiss I just saw—you’re both already getting burned.”
As he walks away, I stand rooted to the spot, his words echoing in my head.
Playing with fire.
God, I know deep down he’s right. Because the feeling of Sydney in my arms, her lips against mine, her body pressed against me, the hot water—it felt like something I’ve been waiting for my whole life.