4. Brooke
4
brOOKE
T he video goes viral.
Millions of views and a ton of shares mean it’s a slam dunk that the shoe sponsor has seen it.
It doesn’t hurt that Miles looks fantastic in the video.
Sure, a few hundred of the views might be mine, justifiably ogling my boyfriend.
My gaze drags to a comment near the bottom of the post.
No one’s that good .
Garrett sure as hell isn’t.
A dozen upvotes isn’t many given the hundred plus comments. Still, I click on the two replies.
After the fight with Kevin and the team’s press release, it felt as if the worst had blown over.
Miles needs this shoe deal for his grandmother. More than that, he deserves it. He’s worked so damn hard this season, and for years before that. He’s always shown up and been a team player.
My mom’s words come back about things only heating up from here. She’s suspicious by nature and necessity. It’s her job to scan the environment for any possible problem.
It’s not my nature anymore though.
“See something you like?” Chloe’s voice pulls me out of my daydream.
I lower the phone. “Always.” I hold out the flowers I bought.
“What are these, a bribe?” She turns the vase in her hands, admiring it.
“They’re a thank-you. For having Miles’s back with James and Harlan.”
She motions me inside. Her office is large with a window that looks out toward the mountains. She’s got a few years on me, but she’s already head of PR with several staff. All the time I spent chasing after Elise, I’m not sure I fully appreciated what Chloe’s accomplished.
“Want a drink?” Chloe shuts the door after me, then reaches into the mini fridge behind her desk.
“I should probably turn down alcohol.”
“Just as well because I have water and Powerade.” She shifts back to reveal a fridge full of rows of colored drinks.
“Wow. Every flavor?”
“Sponsorship deals.”
“I’m good with water.”
She pulls out and sets one in front of me with a glass.
“So, the team has some work to do.”
“It’s been a tough season. Sponsors and fans see you win once, they expect it to happen again. But it takes luck and skill.”
“Is that the excuse the team uses when they lose?”
“No. It buys us time to figure out how to win.” Her eyes glint. “You must be here to talk about the job.”
“If the offer still stands.”
Chloe nods.
“Great.” I take a breath. “Can you tell me more about the day-to-day?”
I ignore the glass and twist off the lid of the bottle as Chloe walks through the basics—liaising with the social media lead to grow brand presence, looking for ways to improve the team’s visibility and reputation.
Being an influencer is what I know, but this could be a way for me to build on those skills in a different way.
“It’s long hours but limited travel. I often go to away games with the team, but with rare exceptions, you’d be based here,” she confirms.
That all sounds doable. But I have a question.
“Why me?”
“With anyone else, I’d be worried about you coming in with rose-colored glasses. You understand enough about both PR and the team to know it’s not always sexy and no job is perfect. But this one is a fantastic position to build your skills and resume, and there are chances to advance.”
On paper, it’s a great opportunity. The salary she mentioned would be more than enough to pay my expenses.
Still, I’m hesitating, though I can’t put my finger on why.
“I need a few more days. Just with everything going on.”
Chloe’s brows lift. “Okay.”
“I actually need a favor. Miles’s apology for the incident with Kevin—any way he can get out of it? Public service?”
She shakes her head. “No way. If he dodges this, it’ll piss off management.”
The image of the Kodiaks’ owner appears in my head. “But it wasn’t Miles’s fault.”
“I know. We all eat shit for things that aren’t our fault every day,” Chloe reminds me. “If you want to help, you could try to keep him out of trouble for the rest of the season.”
“I was trying,” I mutter.
“You want to do something more active?” she asks dryly. “Like a guerilla campaign filming him playing with a bunch of kids at a city court?”
I inspect my nails innocently. “You saw that.”
“Me and a couple million others. James included. The video was smart but risky.”
The team’s been playing better this week. They’ve won two and dropped one, but every game matters more as we hit the trade deadline. Teams are down to the wire now. It’s organizations’ last chance to make major moves before committing for the rest of the year.
“James and Harlan running around with any last-minute trades?” I ask.
“That I couldn’t talk about.” She tilts her head. “Now if you were a member of the organization…” Her long fingers twist her badge in the air. “You’d get the inside track on everything. Plus, free lunch every day. I could score you an office.”
It does sound really appealing. With the Vivaro problems, my brand partnerships have dried up. Working for the Kodiaks would give me a security I haven’t had.
I scan the office, taking in the official brochures and photos and awards tacked up on the walls. “I don’t believe you.”
Chloe frowns. “About the perks?”
“No, the all-star announcement. You have to prepare to reveal it to the players, the family. As much as they want us to believe it’s all a surprise, it can’t be. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” I lean in.
She snorts, clearly impressed by my tenacity. “If he does get in, he had more help than yours and mine.” She folds her arms. “Jay had Miles’s back every bit as much.”
Surprise sets me on my heels. “Jay didn’t say anything to me.”
“He’s softening… or his disgust for your ex is worse than his feud with Miles.”
Her tone is matter of fact, but there’s kindness in it too. She loves this team.
This woman is only a few years older than me, but she’s the kind of person I always pictured being. Cool, fun, accomplished. Not the too perfect of the Kappas, never a toe out of line, but real.
I could do far worse than working for her.
“Why did you and my brother break up?” I hear myself ask. “I know you were serious once. He never talked about anyone else. He hasn’t been the same since.”
Something flickers through her dark eyes. It takes a lot to catch Chloe off-guard, and I’ve never seen a reporter do it. Now, though, she looks vulnerable.
“That’s another thing I can’t talk about,” she says at last.
“Unless I take the job?” I supply.
“ Especially if you take the job,” she says wryly, recovering.
Her office phone rings. Whatever number is on the call display has her grabbing for it.
“Yes, I can speak to the commissioner’s office.” Her eyes flash a warning for me to be quiet.
Anticipation burns me from the inside out. It takes everything in me not to hit the speakerphone button. Still, I’m straining to hear what’s said over the phone.
I don’t catch a damn word.
“Understood. Thank you.” She clicks off.
“Well?!” I demand.
“Time to get back to work.” Chloe rises and drinks the rest of her water in a long gulp. “Not every team gets a player in the all-star game.”
My eyes shut as disappointment floods me.
Miles isn’t going. All this work was for nothing.
I hear a ping and blink. The empty water bottle hits the bottom of the recycling bin without bouncing off the sides.
Chloe’s squared up toward the bin. She lowers her hands slowly, gaze still fixed on the makeshift basket as her lips curve with satisfaction.
“Some teams get two.”
MILES
“You’re making me coffee this morning?” I pad into the kitchen in sweats and a hoodie, my hair still wet from the shower.
“Can’t let you steal all the glory.” Brooke holds out a mug then goes to make one for herself.
I lean against the counter and take an appreciative sip.
This morning, she got dressed before me, in jeans that hug her curves and a soft cream-colored sweater. Her face is fresh, her bronze skin glowing with a hint of makeup that makes her eyes look even bigger and her lips fuller.
“This is really better than joining me in the shower?” I say, my voice full of doubt as I remember the offer she turned down.
“Needed the caffeine stimulation.”
“The shower would’ve been plenty stimulating.” I set down the mug and step closer.
She has this habit of pulling her hair back in a curly ponytail before she gets ready in the morning, but today, it’s already smooth.
It’s a tipoff.
Brooke never gets ready without a purpose, and now, I’m using every ounce of my brain to try and figure out what it was today.
“Mmm. As tempting as the offer was, it would’ve made us late,” she murmurs.
“Fuck the calendar. You can’t be late for life, Princess.” I pull her against me, my lips brushing along her jawline.
Right now, Brooke’s the best part of mine.
“You weren’t always this sappy,” she accuses.
If she only knew what’s going through my head right now.
“Sweet,” I correct. “I just hide it in front of the guys.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But don’t go spouting poetry on the way to the grocery store.”
“I’ll save the iambic pentameter for dinners out.” I grin, and she can’t resist either.
Just like I can’t resist kissing her again.
She’s been distracted the past day. Probably since our disagreement over apologizing to Kevin.
I hate it when we’re not on the same page.
She rests her hands on my chest before pushing me back. “Focus,” she commands.
I groan, because her telling me what to do is one of the things that turns me on most about her.
“You’re getting good at this,” I comment as she finally turns back to the espresso machine. It’s sexy as hell to watch her make coffee.
Now, I’m picturing her hands on me instead, capable, insistent.
Fuck it. We have time.
I can make her come at least twice, which is the minimum, even for a quickie.
Got to keep my standards up.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I pounce on her words. “Aha! So, it is a special occasion. You’re going to have to tell me before I leave for practice.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I do a double take, my suspicion dialing up another ten notches.
She turns away, but I grab her by the waist, my hands finding the soft skin under her sweater.
“Brooke Ellis, you know something.”
She ducks out of my grip and grabs a mug out of the cupboard, doing a little shimmy on the way.
“Thought you were meeting Chloe about the job.”
“I did. I told her I needed to think it over.”
I was trying my best to be a supportive boyfriend; as much as I’d love for her to take it so I’d get to see her at the office, it might mean she’d have a more demanding schedule that would eat into our time together.
Plus, there was the issue of her wanting to be independent. She had wanted distance from her brother’s basketball life, and now she was dating one of his teammates. Setting up an office at the Kodiaks could make it even harder for her.
“That’s all you talked about?” I grab her legs and lift her in the air. She screeches and drops the mug, eliciting a little yip from Waffles, who’s watching from the dining room.
“You broke a mug.” Her legs go around my hips.
“No way. You knew?!” I’m not talking about the mug.
“You’re going to step on it and hurt yourself.” She still is.
I don’t know whether her mouth finds mine first or the other way around. It doesn’t matter because I can’t do anything that’s not kissing her.
I’ve been to the all-star weekend, but only for the three-point competition.
Getting named to the actual team means you’re legit. Out of the hundreds of guys in the league, you’re one of a couple dozen that coaches and reporters and fans agree is the best of the best.
I’ve always settled for good enough. Being part of a group, not standing out.
I’m laughing when I pull my mouth from hers. “The data crunchers fucked up and picked my number by accident.”
She arches a brow. “Oh, wait, you’re not the Miles Garrett who’s been putting up twenty-five points a night on his shorthanded team? The one who’s been logging extra hours in the gym and watching tape, who stepped up the past few months in a way no one saw coming but they all should have?”
Damn. Her words touch a part of me that I didn’t know needed to be touched. The way she sees me makes me want to be even better—for her, my team, myself.
Brooke cups my face as her dark eyes go serious. “Well, then, just tell them they’ve got the wrong guy and you’re not interested.”
“Let’s not rush into anything. I am pretty great, actually.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm.”
“At what?”
I toss her over my shoulder and start for the hall.
“Miles!” Brooke screeches, though it’s closer to a bellow—probably thanks to the angle and where my shoulder’s pressing into her stomach. “We’re going to be late!”
“Too bad. Going to show you exactly what I’m good at before we leave.”
We make it to the car twenty minutes behind.
But my girl is three orgasms ahead, so that’s good math.
The entire drive over, I’m buzzing, and it’s not from the coffee. I crank the music, whistling along the entire time.
I’m excited for the day, grateful to have her at my side. Nothing could ruin this moment.
“I need you to do something for me,” Brooke says as we pull into the parking lot at the stadium.
“Anything, Princess.” I shift out of the car and open the back to grab my gear bag.
She appears next to me. “Apologize for the fight with Kevin.”
Slamming the hatchback isn’t an option, so I stab the power close button. “Anything except that.”
I’d started to think the disagreement had passed, that she was going to accept my decision and move on.
I shoulder my bag and start for the door, frustration edging into my anticipation. Security holds the door, nodding to me. I nod back.
Brooke catches up partway down the hall. We pass a camera crew that’s got a sports network’s name on it.
“I talked to Chloe,” Brooke says at my side. “It’s important.”
Her heels click along, taking two strides for every one of mine.
“And what will they do?” I shove a hand through my hair and slow down a bit. “We stalled—thanks to you—and it’ll blow over.”
“It’s not over,” she says with certainty. “They could fine you, trade you—fire you.”
Her words make me pull up.
She’s standing in the middle of the hall, breathing heavily. I drop the bag at my side and close the distance between us. I take her arms in my hands.
“You’re the one who stands up for what’s right,” I remind her, my gut knotting tightly. “Who tells the bad guys to fuck off, usually in public.”
She looks past me, brows drawn. “This affects other people. Your team needs you. Your grandmother needs you.”
My throat tightens. Brooke’s not wrong, and the reminder makes it all hurt more.
I have pride, but more than that, I’m not about to lie down in front of a piece of shit who treated her like she was worse than replaceable—who used her and lied to her, then dared to act like she was his property when she never was.
Not when they were dating, and sure as hell not now.
“You want me to do it for them?”
A nod.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then do it for me.” Her eyes shine.
The trouble I caught him in, the pact we made, plays back in my mind. I don’t owe him anything. Back then, he tried to hurt Brooke—succeeded, come to that—and all he got from it was a black eye.
Brooke doesn’t move, almost as if she knows what’s going through my mind.
“Princess,” I say under my breath. “You’re the reason I can’t.”
I turn and head for the locker room, smacking my fist into the wall on the way.
We’re running hard drills, sweat sticking my jersey to my back, when Coach calls for a break.
I’ve tossed back half a Powerade when Atlas shoves my shoulder and nods behind me.
James and Harlan are standing at the edge of the court, Chloe at their side.
Is he here to tell me to apologize too?
I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Clay grunts at my side.
“No love lost between me and that man, but what did happen with that fight last week?”
I debate how much to say. “Back in college, I roughed up Kevin pretty bad. He deserved it for the way he treated Brooke.”
“You get in shit for it?”
I shake my head. “Nah, because I got photos of him. He wanted to know if I still had them.”
He blinks. “And you said…?”
“I said, who the fuck knows what I have stored away?”
Clay grabs a towel and scrubs it across his face and the tattoos covering his shoulders and arms. “Why does he have a problem with you now?”
“Probably doesn’t like seeing me with the woman he thought was his. If he has an ounce of brain in his douchebag head, he realizes what he let get away.”
“I get it, but we need this. Sometimes the biggest plays you make happen off the court.”
James finally steps forward.
“In a moment, we’re going to turn on the broadcast. The all-star committee is going to announce their next selections: Miles Garrett from the Denver Kodiaks.”
A roar goes up from the guys that rivals anything from a full stadium.
My grin splits my face.
“And Clayton Wade will be repeating for his fifth performance? Sixth? Who the hell knows how many,” Harlan says with a grin, and the guys laugh.
I turn to Clay and clap him on the back in congratulations.
“You deserve it, man,” I laugh.
“You do too.”
But it’s the words Clay says before I release him that stick with me long after practice.