“You’re a dick, you know that?” Also, was this a good time to tell Houston his brother was fucking hot? That them being related didn’t make it so I didn’t think he was spank-bank material?
“But you love me.”
I did. He was the brother I never had, which sort of meant Garrett was too, only I liked to check out Garrett’s ass and I didn’t do that with Houston’s. “Fine. Babysit the little man. Got it.”
The Rush training facility was about forty minutes outside Denver, but our team had a rule about staying in a hotel for camp. It wasn’t mandatory because they couldn’t really do that, but it was strongly encouraged, and we all knew that meant keep your ass in the fucking hotel to be a team player. Because that was what it was all about—building camaraderie, growing bonds so we were like a family before the season started. It wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but I got it, especially for the rookies. We needed to get used to each other, get to know and trust each other.
I headed toward the entrance while shooting off a text to Garrett. How far out are you?
Who dis?
I rolled my eyes. He was such a fucking idiot. Your favorite person.
It was ridiculous how I watched my phone for his reply. I never knew what would come out of Garrett’s mouth next, and I liked that. Most people were predictable, and I guessed in some ways he was too, but not in others.
Santa? Is that you? I knew you were real! Can I sit on your lap?
A flash of a naked Garrett riding my dick flittered through my head, sending blood rushing for my cock. Not a good sign. I shoved those thoughts away and answered him. Get your ass here, slowpoke.
Dad?
A laugh jumped out of my mouth, surprising me.
I’m waiting. I was pissed at myself for not playing up the daddy thing, but after I’d just imagined fucking him, I needed to get my head on straight.
Oh, it’s someone boring…hm…Ramsey? I was really far off. You wouldn’t make the top twenty on my faves list.
Somehow, I didn’t believe that. Liar. Hurry up.
Then stop texting me!
I chuckled, leaning against the building.
Hammond, one of our defensive linemen, showed up next. “What’s up, Rams?”
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” We bumped fists.
“You ready to do this? Kick ass, whip the rooks into shape.”
One rookie, specifically, was on my list, but I didn’t tell Hammond that. “You know it.”
“This whole Baby McRae thing… Is it me, or is that kind of fucked up? I mean, after losing Houston.”
I shrugged. “We needed a wide receiver, and he is one, a damn good one too. That’s all that matters. They stand on their own.” That was something I needed to stress to the team. We teased and talked shit to each other—that was part of being teammates—but comparing Garrett to Houston wasn’t going to benefit any of us.
“I got’chu, Cap.”
“That was last season.” Some teams chose a new captain each week and some by the year. The Rush went by season.
“I’m sure it’ll be this year too. See you in there.”
Hammond walked in just as—
“Jesus fucking Christ, a goddamned Aston Martin?” I said as if Garrett could hear me. Because I knew it had to be him. A lot of guys did it—got their paycheck and bought a badass car—so I couldn’t talk too much shit, but of course he had to be as flashy as fucking possible.
Sure enough, once the car was parked, a long-legged Garrett climbed out. He grabbed his bag from the back and headed my way, a pair of Aviators hiding his eyes.
His brown hair was wet as if he’d gotten straight out of the shower and headed over. He wore a pair of nylon shorts, his college tee, and a big-ass smile. “Aw, you came out to carry my shit for me?” He held his bag toward me, and I bit back my laughter.
“Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle or something.” I grabbed the handle of his bag, but Garrett didn’t let go.
“Oh fuck you.”
“I’m just sayin’, you probably need to conserve your energy for training camp. You’re finally out of the playpen and get to hang with the big boys. Might be too much for you. Don’t worry, I got your back.” Our fingers brushed, a snap of electricity shooting off between us. We both pulled back, and the bag dropped.
I adjusted the backward cap on my head, determined to ignore whatever the hell that had been. “Let’s head inside.”
Garrett’s strong hand wrapped around my bicep before I could head for the door. “Seriously, Ramsey, why’d you text? And wait for me?”
I shrugged. I should have been prepared for this question, but I didn’t know how to answer it because I had a feeling that even without Houston asking me to watch him, I’d be standing right where I was. “Don’t know really.” Which was true. “Guess you kinda feel like my little brother too.” Totally not true, though stepbrother porn was hot. I’d be down for some roleplay if he was.