Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)

“Dude. You should have seen her,” Leo chuckles as he walks through our front door and carefully steps over Gordie Howe, my lazy bulldog, who’s been waiting patiently for us to get home. “She was fucking perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes . . .”

“Dude,” I mock him before he gets the chance to keep going, then bend down and scratch Gordie behind his ears as Leo walks into the kitchen. “You realize you just described our sisters and half our family, right?”

My phone rings as Leo drops his hockey bag against the wall and grabs something from the fridge. It’s my agent, Hunter, again.

I send it to voice mail.

“Grace has had brown hair for years. So really, I’m just describing . . .” His words die off like he just realized I’m right. Took him long enough.

“Okay, yeah . . . What-the-fuck-ever. You made your point. But she was hot and stacked and looked nothing like our sisters. Don’t ruin it for me because I choose not to live like a monk. What crawled up your ass anyway?”

“Who’s living like a monk?” comes from a groggy voice in the living room.

Both our heads spin to the couch where Callen is lying, one arm thrown over his face, half asleep, but apparently awake enough to be listening to our conversation.

Gordie pops up from the floor and takes his good old time wandering over to Callen. My fat pup uses all the effort he can muster to push all his rolls up next to Callen before basically nut-punching him while he makes himself comfortable and crop dusts the whole room.

Guess he told him.

“Fuck, Gordie . . .” Callen sits up and jerks away from the smell. “You’re dog’s fucking gross, man.”

“You’re on his couch,” I remind him and add my hockey bag to the pile. “What the hell are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at practice, or I don’t know . . . maybe at your own place?”

“Air conditioner is broken. They’re sending someone up later today to fix it, but it’s too damn hot in there. Especially after a brutal practice,” he tells me like it’s the most normal thing in the world to go sleep on someone else’s couch. Guess I should be grateful he’s not in my fucking bed. “So who’s living like a monk? And I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly why either of you would willingly forgo sex. It’s basically the greatest gift the world has to offer . . . Well, after football.”

Callen chugs the family football Kool-Aid big time.

I’d call him one of the great football players of our generation. Well, not to his face. The fucker’s ego is big enough already without the boost. Technically, he’s my dad’s generation, not mine. He’s what we like to call an oopsie-baby. Something the whole family still teases him about as often as possible. Especially considering he may have been conceived on the kitchen table as my Uncle Murphy walked in, catching Grandpa and Grandma in the act.

Grandpa has coached the Philly Kings for close to three decades. Dad retired from the team a few years ago and is still known as the best quarterback the NFL has ever seen, and now he’s the quarterback coach. Then there’s Callen. He’s been carving a name for himself for years. Another Sinclair at the top of the game.

And that’s just the family associated with the Kings.

Can’t forget the uncles who are retired Hall of Famers too.

What can I say . . . we’re a family of overachievers.

Hockey vs. football is an everyday argument at family dinners.

Leo moves into the room and tosses me a bottle of water. “Yeah, Nix. Why the hell would you be living like a monk when you could have your pick of any woman in the city? I’m sure there’s a few Callen hasn’t already sampled.”

Callen shrugs, and I throw the water at his head.

He catches it easily with one hand.

Fucker.

“I’m not a monk, asshole.” I drop into the chair across from Callen and kick my feet up, irritated with my jackoff brother. “Just because I’m not as in your face about it as you two fucks doesn’t mean I’m celibate. It means I don’t need the world to know what I’m doing. I’d rather not have the Kroydon fucking Kronicles reporting on me once a month, thanks.”

“Sounds like somebody needs to get laid, if you ask me. Could this have anything to do with the hot date you’ve got Saturday night?” Leo shoves Gordie off the couch and takes his spot. “Because Kenzie Hayes is smoking fucking hot, Nix. And she’s a doctor.”

“The hell?” Callen looks from Leo to me, like he couldn’t possibly have heard him right. “You got a hot date with Kenzie you forgot to tell the class about, man?”

Oh yeah. He’s pissed.

Now the question is—why?

“You got a thing for Mac you failed to mention, Callen?” I lean back in the chair and watch and wait. People can say whatever they want aloud. It’s the nonverbal cues that’ll tell you everything you really need to know though.

Callen’s shoulders tighten, and his face pinches.

He might be pissed or possessive, but I don’t think it’s either.

He’s being protective.

Interesting.

“You two are worse than the twins, you know that, right?” I clench my jaw, already over this shit. Definitely regretting mentioning it to Leo. “It’s not a hot date. I’m helping a friend out. That’s all.”

Not sure I believe it, but maybe they will.

Callen drags his hand over his face in a move that makes him look so much like my dad you’d think Callen was his son instead of his little brother. “Helping out a friend, huh?” He sounds like he believes it as much as I do. “Whatever helps you sleep better at night, man.”

Whatever I’ve got to tell myself . . . I kick that thought around in my head for a minute.

What the hell am I telling myself?

She needs a friend . . . I can be a friend. A friend who finds her incredibly sexy.

“Maybe you should try not sleeping alone. Might help with that . . . problem,” Leo jokes, and if I had something to throw at him, I would.

“I don’t have a problem,” I grind out. “Other than the fact that Callen never answered the question. Maybe he’s the one who has a thing for the smokin’ hot doc.”

Oh yeah. I don’t like the sound of that even a little fucking bit.

“I don’t have a thing for Kenzie. I just don’t want to see you get screwed because you’re screwing around with somebody in the circle,” Callen argues defensively.

“The circle? What fucking circle? Like the circle of trust?” Leo laughs and stretches his arms out like he’s holding an oversized beach ball.

“Leo, man. You’re not that damn dumb. Like our circle of friends. Like one of your sisters’ friends. One of my friends. Your team’s co-captain’s little sister. She’s in the circle. Kenzie being Kenzie makes things complicated. Trust me,” he warns, and my guard goes up.

“You got personal experience with complicated, Uncle?” Leo pushes harder, and I’ve about had enough of this shit.

“It’s not complicated, guys. I’m here to help. And if I need to step aside and let someone else do the helping, then let me know. If not, I’m taking Mac to the event this weekend and making sure Dr. Dick knows not to fuck with our friend. Now, if we’re done talking about this, I’ve got shit to do.” When no one adds anything else, I walk out of the living room into my bedroom, kick the door shut behind me, and face-plant on my bed.

The whole conversation left a sour taste in my mouth.

Not because I mind going with Mac.

More like the idea of someone else being interested makes me feel . . . something.

Angry.

Frustrated.

Possessive as hell.

All emotions I have no right to feel about this woman. But that doesn’t change them.

Friends, I remind myself as I move the pillow over my head.

She’s my friend.

My stunningly beautiful, incredibly sexy, intelligent friend.