Chapter 2
Jackson
Hitting snooze for the fourth time isn’t going to get my ass to the field on time. I roll over and groan, muscles tight, head pounding. I’m not twenty-three anymore.
In fact, reverse those numbers and add another twenty years, and that’s about how old I feel.
If I’d stayed in the NFL, my body would be completely shot by now. They’re not kidding when they say you only get a few good years.
And I blew mine.
After letting the hot water beat against my back a little too long, I’m dressed, grabbing my bag, coffee, and keys, and heading out. I check my watch as I lock the door.
“Good. Only ten minutes late today.”
Movement across the street catches my attention.
I climb into my truck, tossing my gym bag to the passenger side and start it up.
As I pull up along side my best friend’s truck parked at the curb, I’m just in time to see a pair of tan legs—and the best ass I’ve ever seen—climb the steps to the front door and disappear inside.
“Hey, bro. Another late start?” Adam chuckles, leaning against my door.
Dragged from my lustful stare, I shrug. “Can’t move fast like I used to.”
“Lay off the booze, women, and late-night stay-outs,” he says. “Your body might bounce back.”
I eye him. He’s pushing my buttons, and he knows it. I can’t party like I used to. “I don’t need commentary from the jealousy train this morning.”
He laughs and pushes off my door. “So, who’s the chick?” I nod my head towards the house. “You call dibs yet?” I flash my signature smirk.
His face twists like he’s in physical pain. “What the fuck, Gage? That’s my sister.”
“What?” Wow. I do not remember Francesca looking like that all those years ago.
“Stop remembering,” Adam snaps. “And don’t look at my sister that way.”
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
I laugh it off, open my door, and take a light swing at him. “She moving in? I should go welcome her to the neighborhood.”
“Jackson, go easy on her,” Adam warns.
I circle my truck, already heading toward the house. “Relax. I just want to say hi.” Then, louder, “Yo, Chessy! Get out here!”
“Jesus, man,” Adam mutters. “It’s early.”
“Yeah, and we own this block. Stop being a nun.”
We do own this block—in good ol’ Christmas, Texas. After college, I was drafted to play professional football. Adam came home, joined his dad’s construction business, and rode the building boom. We bought empty shells—we, because I invested in the first few—and turned them into real homes.
Thank God I did, seeing as I was ousted from the NFL before I was ready. At least I had a place to come home to. Now, we live close, the way family should.
The door opens, and Francesca steps out. Confusion flashes across her face—until she sees me. Her steps falter for half a second, but I catch it. She’s deciding whether to punch me or bolt.
Adam, his two younger brothers, and I tortured her and my sister Britt growing up. By high school, it got worse—we blocked dates while parading our girlfriends right in their faces.
Mature? No. But I kind of liked her, and maybe I liked her just a little too much. But she was my boy’s little sister. I couldn’t act on it, no matter how badly I wanted her. And despite her having three brothers, I still wanted to be the one to protect her.
She stops a few feet away, hands on her hips, an evil gleam in her eyes. Damn. She’s hot as fuck.
“Well, if it isn’t Jacks-off Gage,” she says sweetly, teasing me with a raunchy nickname.
I grin. “No-Chest. Been a long time,” I fire back, using hers from when she was thirteen.
“It has.” She lifts a brow. “I was hoping you grew out of your nickname—like I did.”
Adam coughs to hide his laugh as my eyes roam. Short shorts. Long tan legs. A tank top hugging curves that did not exist back then. Thick chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail.
I’d love to wrap it around my hand and—
“Yo, Gage. Eyes up here.”
“You’ve definitely… grown,” I say, dragging my eyes back to hers as she crosses her arms, trying to look tough but still shy. “So, you’re moving back to Christmas?”
“Just for now.” Her face falls, gaze dropping. “A stepping stone. I’m grateful my brother had this place open.”
She smiles at Adam, and I wish she’d aim that smile at me.
What the hell is wrong with me? I haven’t seen her in years. Why is she affecting me so easily?
Because it’s Francesca.
“Gage, you better get to the field,” Adam says. “You’re already late. Your team is going to riot if you don’t watch yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I back up. “Good seeing you, Noches.” All those years of high school Spanish finally paying off. “And hey—if you ever need to borrow some sugar, I’m right across the street. That’s what good neighbors are for.”
I wink, dodge Adam’s slap, and jog back to my truck, laughing all the way.
Jumping in, I take one last look at her as I pull out and see her eyes are right on me, arms still crossed.
She’s always kept herself guarded. But having her across the street just made the neighborhood a little more interesting.
Not that I’d ever act on it.
There’s a bro code. Adam would kill me, and I would never risk our friendship, not after everything he and his family have done for me. I couldn’t take a chance of losing them.
But a little eye candy never hurt anyone.