Shut Up and Kiss Me (Sibling Goals #3)

Prologue

Sophie

Four Months Ago

I'm not nearly drunk enough to be at this party. Unfortunately, I'm also not allowed to drink enough to get to that point. Perks of being a professional ballerina. You attend a lot of parties…but you never really get to enjoy them, either.

I sigh, sticking to the edges of the room as laughter floats around me. I don't know most of the people here. This is Sidney and Austin's world, not mine. My brothers are professional football players, and their teammates and hockey friends are everywhere.

I'm the only dancer in the mix.

Sidney is lucky I love him and his fiancée, Hattie.

I could be at home right now, in my pajamas, but I'm here for them instead.

"Son of a bitch. How long do engagement parties last?" a giant to my left growls.

I laugh despite myself, turning to face him. My eyes widen when they land on his face. I recognize him instantly. Harlan Ward is one of Hattie's older brothers. He's also captain of the Knights, the professional hockey team in Los Angeles.

And like me, he looks like this is the last place he wants to be.

"Forever, apparently," I mutter to him.

He grunts, his blue eyes scanning across my face. He doesn't really make a secret of the fact that he's studying me, so I watch him, too.

He's an interesting kind of gorgeous—too big and gruff to be beautiful, but too damn beautiful to be called anything else.

His dark hair is a chaotic mess, almost like he tried to tame it, then said screw it and messed it all up again.

I'm not sure if the suit was made for his broad shoulders or if his shoulders were made for the suit, but he is wearing the damn thing.

I have entire costumes designed specifically for me, and I've never looked that good in any of them. Maybe our ballet company needs to hire his tailor. Jesus.

His denim-colored eyes keep flicking back to my mouth, like he's waiting for me to say something.

I don't think "I'd like to wear you like a suit" is an acceptable option here. It's giving serial killer, not accomplished flirt.

God. I'm bad at this.

I can flirt like it's my job when I need to do it. I'm even pretty great at it when I'm flirting just because I want to see Austin or Sidney's eyes twitch. But apparently, as soon as I actually want to do it, I've got nothing. Awesome.

Instead, I stare at Harlan like a deer in the headlights. And then, blessedly, I notice Sidney from the corner of my eye. He's hovering over Hattie like he's two seconds from snatching her up and hauling her out of here over his shoulder, caveman style.

"How long do you think it'll be before they're fucking in a closet?" I blurt.

Harlan's eyes widen, one brow arching toward his hairline. "What?"

"Sidney and your…" Ah, crap. Reminding him that my brother is fucking his baby sister probably isn't the stellar opening I was going for here. Literally no one wants to think about my brother naked.

I walked in on him in the bathroom once. His ass is so pale, it rivals a polar ice cap. I'm still in therapy, trying to forget the image.

I seriously need more wine if I'm going to make it through this night.

"Never mind," I mutter, shaking my head. "Forget I said anything." I take a step back, preparing to make a graceful exit…or a hasty retreat. Same difference.

"Ten minutes," Harlan growls.

"What?"

"I give it ten minutes." He shoves a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing on my brother like he isn't thrilled by the thought…but also like he kind of hopes he isn't wrong. Damn. I guess he really wants to get out of here. "They'll be MIA in ten minutes."

I hesitate for a minute and then grin at him before peeking at my phone to check the time. "You don't know Sidney very well if you think he'll last that long, Harlan. He basically hates everyone in this room right now because they're paying attention to Hattie."

It's not that Sidney's jealous. Hattie idolizes my brother, and he knows it. It's that he knows Hattie hates being the center of attention. And the only thing Sidney hates more than losing is literally anything that upsets Hattie. It's disgustingly adorable how much he loves her.

I absolutely do not want the same thing for myself.

I might also be a dirty liar.

But my fans are already losing their minds, hoping I fall next. Since both of my brothers have, it's like they smell blood in the water. I'm doing everything I can to not contribute to the lunacy. I have a career to focus on. Love isn't on the menu

"You know my name." Harlan's staring at me again, his denim eyes boring into me like he's trying to figure me out.

"Obviously." I tilt my head, smirking at him. "What? You think I didn't do my research on the family my brother is marrying into?"

He grunts, his expression tensing.

I immediately regret what I said—mostly because I know there's a whole world of complicated history with their mother lurking in his past. He probably doesn't want to talk about any of it…or think about it, for that matter. The woman is pretty much the worst mother on the planet.

"I'm just kidding." I lean closer, like I'm going to tell him a secret, just to lighten the mood. "Don't tell my brothers, but I'm secretly a hockey fan. It's far more interesting than football."

Harlan's laugh is rough and abrupt, like it caught him by surprise. I kind of love it. He's got this stoic, surly thing going on, and then when he laughs, it's like a little ray of sun blasts through.

"Football is for people who don't understand violent poetry," he says, deadpan. "Hockey is for the ones who do. But I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."

"Oh, so we're sharing secrets now, huh?"

"Might as well." He shrugs, making a show of glancing around. "What the fuck else are we going to do tonight since we can't run away?"

I can think of a few things…but I don't say that. Instead, I arch a brow at him, genuinely curious what secrets he has. "Fine. What's your shameful secret, Captain?"

His lips twist. It's not quite a smile, but close. "I only have a fantasy football league so I can draft my brother every season and then spend the whole thing fucking up all his stats."

I throw my head back, cackling. "Tye will be devastated."

"Oh, I know." Harlan's eyes glimmer with wicked satisfaction. "I've been doing it for years. He hasn't helped anyone win a damn thing since I started."

"That's diabolical. I like it." I eye him sideways, grinning like an idiot. "Please feel free to draft both of my brothers to your garbage team and absolutely demolish their stats." Their heads will explode. That's always a fun time for me.

"I'll consider it for a price."

"What's your price?"

His gaze flicks down my body again, his expression heating in a way that makes my core clench. "I'll tell you later."

"You do that," I murmur, my heart thudding against my ribcage.

He grins, a real smile this time. Jesus. He should really do that more. He's sexy as hell when he's smiling.

"You're a dancer, right?" he asks after a moment.

"No, I'm a ballerina."

His brows furrow. "There's a difference?"

I prop a hand on my hip, leveling him with a firm glare. "Is there a difference between football and hockey?"

"Touche," he murmurs, a tiny smile flickering at his lips.

"Anyone can dance. It takes dedication to learn ballet."

Harlan's gaze drifts down my body again, but he isn't looking at me like most people do, as if they think it's wild that I might actually be a ballerina at my size. He's looking like he thinks I'm exactly the right size for the job.

"You look like you were built for it," he says quietly. "To move, I mean." His eyes linger on my thighs, then dart up to my face.

"Thanks," I say, fighting the urge to press my legs together. He'd probably notice that, right? "I guess you'd know since you throw your body around an ice rink like it's fun seven months a year."

"Don't forget the playoffs," he says.

"We definitely can't forget those," I tease him.

"Smart ass."

I grin, not denying it. And then I catch a blur moving through the crowd. It's Hattie, with Sidney right behind her. He's got her hand like he thinks she'll fly away if he doesn't keep a death grip on her. They're making a beeline for the nearest exit.

I check my phone. "Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Looks like I won."

Harlan's eyes flick to the spot where Sidney and Hattie are already disappearing from the room. He looks entirely unbothered, almost satisfied.

"I suppose you want a prize for that." His mouth is so close I can smell the hint of whiskey on his breath. For some reason, the comment fires through me like a dare.

"I mean…I do appreciate being recognized for my talents," I murmur, tipping my head back.

He studies me, his head tilted just so, the way predators look at prey when they're deciding if they want to hunt or not. Except…I've never been prey a day in my life. I have claws. Always have.

"What's your price, ballerina?"

I lift my hands, shooting him a little smirk. "Guess you'll have to find out."

"Tease," he says, but there's a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that says he loves it. "You know I'm looking forward to it."

"Looking forward to being fleeced by a ballerina?" I arch a brow. "That's mighty brave of you, considering you don't even know my price yet."

He leans down, dropping his voice so only I can hear. "I'll pay whatever you ask, whenever you ask."

There's something about the way he says it—not a hint of sarcasm, no obvious flex, just this quiet promise. I'm not used to men meaning what they say. Especially not men who could bench press a small car.

I break eye contact first, but only because if I hold that stare for one more second, I'm going to say something embarrassing, like "please let me climb you like a rock wall." I'm not entirely convinced he would hate hearing it, which is part of the problem.

I don't make a habit of getting involved with my brother's friends. I mean, I flirt, but who doesn't mess with their brother's friends just to annoy the hell out of said brothers? It's basically a biological imperative.

And in my world, we don't just perform on stage.

We perform every damn time we're in front of someone with a checkbook and the tiniest interest in ballet.

Ballet isn't cheap, and donors pay the bills.

But this is different. I'm not trying to annoy Austin or Sidney.

I'm not trying to secure a donation for the Company, either.

I just want to know what it feels like to be wanted by Harlan, simply because it's him.

He cocks his head, studying me, and I get the sense he's waiting for me to make a move. Like this is chess, and he's the kind of guy who always plays defense. For the first time in a long time, I want to make a move.

I want it so badly, it's like I can already feel his hands on my body. I can taste him on my lips, feel his weight pinning me. And I want the reality so badly I'm ready to crawl out of my own damn skin.

So I do what I always do when I'm about to do something stupid: I run.

"I should, uh, find Sidney," I blurt, even though I know damn well where he is. "And make sure he's not getting arrested for public indecency."

I turn to go, but Harlan catches my wrist, his touch gentle but unyielding. "Ballerina," he says.

I glance back at him, my heart hammering.

"I will be seeing you again."

It's not a question or a warning, just a simple statement of fact. The sun will rise, the earth will rotate, and Harlan Ward will get what he wants.

"I…" I gulp and then nod. "Okay."