Not Husband Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 1)

“Damn right we will,” I agreed, and I hung up the phone, a grin on my face.

Between Jillian and Jeff, things were starting to feel like old times again. And that felt good.

“And I remember Rhett rocketing down centerfield, powering through that fall that fucked up his leg as if he was on bath salts.”

Jeff laughed as he knocked back the rest of his beer and listened to me talk. There was a basket full of hot wing bones between us, along with three beer bottles each. When we got to talking about the college days when we were on the soccer field together, we could go on all night, if we weren’t careful.

“I swear that guy’s immune to pain,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “He pulled the same stunt the first game I ever played with him. If I didn’t know him, I’d swear he just made up his injuries to make himself look good.”

“Oh, believe me, the doctor could tell you they were real,” I recalled with a laugh. “After that game, I’ve never seen a medical professional so ready to kill someone.”

“God, with everything we were doing to our bodies back then, I’m amazed we’ve lived to see thirty,” Jeff remarked as the bartender served another round of beers.

“We did miss each other's thirtieth,” I pointed out with a smile, tilting my beer to his, and he met mine with a clink of glass. “They say these are the best years of our lives.”

“They say that every decade,” Jeff said with a snort.

“Then we’ll have damn good lives,” I shot back, and he laughed heartily. “You know, now that we passed the thirty mark, we ought to get together and do another game,” I added, a grin on my face, but Jeff raised an eyebrow at me.

“Trying to get us both killed, huh?”

“Speak for yourself,” I retorted, sitting back and flexing my muscles. “Some of the professionals wish they could have a body like mine. You’re not much worse,” I said, ribbing him both literally and figuratively.

“Yeah, but I don’t brag about it,” he ribbed back. “You always fucking brag.”

“Show me up on the field, and I’ll cut the price of the Mirabella,” I offered, tilting the beer to him again before taking a long drink.

“Now that, you’d regret,” he said, and it was his turn to grin. “Because then, you’d have both your pride and your bank account hurting.”

I punched him in the shoulder as the two of us laughed, then fell quiet for a few moments before I broke the silence. “Seeing the two of you again really does take me back, though,” I said. “Those were some damn good times.” I thought it best not to bring up his parents. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said, “feels like since I inherited the business, it’s been all work, getting faster and faster around me.”

“Speaking of,” I paused slightly, deciding to push ahead with what was really nagging at the back of my mind, “Jillian? Working for you? That, I wasn’t expecting.”

“I think she’s got you beat as far as seeing unexpected things on that yacht goes,” he explained with a raised eyebrow at me, and I was caught speechless for a moment.

“Shit, she told you about getting a look at me out of the shower, huh?”

“Obviously,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, though. We’re like family, it’s nothing.”

My smile was a little restrained, and I didn’t say anything for a beat too long.

“She’s changed a lot, though, hasn’t she?” I prodded.

“How do you mean?” Jeff asked, taking a swig of his beer and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I guess it’s been different for you, being your sister and all,” I said, knowing I was entering uncertain territory. “You’ve been around her so long you probably haven’t noticed.”

“What are you getting at?” he asked, his voice suddenly sounding a little more guarded. I heard my common sense telling me to slam on the brakes, but I was in too deep now.

“I was just surprised to see her...the way she is now. She was just nineteen last time I saw her, but now? Being an adult, handling business? It’s a good look on her, I’ve got to say.”

“A good look?” he repeated, the humor gone from his tone, and I realized that I had entered forbidden territory here. “Bruin, she’s my sister. My little sitster,” he pressed.

“To you, sure,” I said, although in hindsight those were a pretty poor choice of words, “but all I’m saying is—”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Jeff interrupted me. “And I really don’t want to hear it. She thinks of you as a brother, Bruin. Let’s keep it that way. Besides, you have...” he paused. “There’s a lot going on with you at home in Santa Barbara. My little sister’s in a different world.”