I wave my hand dismissively in front of him. “Well, I know how you athletes like to avoid interviews whenever possible. Don’t think because either of you k
now me that you can sit here and give me a hard time. Let me do my job, the one I’m getting paid to do. Need I remind you this job pays the bills and puts food on my table, so no bullshit, okay?”
“You can start with me,” Ethan offers. “And don’t worry about food or rent. Will and I have that covered for the next month.”
I lose my breath along with my train of thought. “Did you just say a month?”
Ethan nods. “We heard back from the property manager this morning. The insurance company assessed the damage. They’re telling us about three to four weeks until we can move back.”
“Let’s hope for three,” I deadpan.
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Ethan cups my knee, his fingers digging into my skin, reminding me of when we were kids hanging out on the swing set in my parents’ backyard. “You’re stuck with us for the next month.”
“Lighten up, Mia,” Will says. “Come out with us tonight. Now that we’re roomies, you have to celebrate with us.”
“You’re not supposed to be drinking during the post-season,” I remind him.
“Thanks, Mom.” Will laughs, his smile reaching up to the same blue eyes as mine. “We don’t have another game until next week. One drink won’t kill me. So, you in?”
Ethan tugs at the sleeve of my sweater, making a strange face. “And you might want to leave your grandma’s clothes at home. Clubs downtown have dress codes. They won’t care how hot you are if you look like you knit the clothes you’re wearing.”
“Dude, did you just tell my sister she’s hot?” Will leans forward, his hands folded in front of him, and looks over at Ethan, annoyed. “Stop hitting on my sister.”
I push my hands out at my sides to silence them. “There’s already too much testosterone in this room as it is. Let’s not get into a fight, boys.”
“I’d be less hostile if he would take his hand off your leg,” Will growls. His eyes are focused on Ethan’s hand, and I want to die for not telling him to remove it sooner.
Ethan moves his hand, the loss of his heat making me want him more. He must be thinking the same thing because I can see the desire in his eyes.
Well, that’s not going to happen. At least not on Will’s watch. When it comes to my brother, he would put a chastity belt on me if he could.
“Start with me,” Will says, his voice filled with anger.
I cross one leg over the other and spin my chair to face Will. With my back turned to Ethan, I can breathe a little easier.
“What’s there to know about you that I don’t already? You’re my brother, the starting right winger for the Flyers, and you ended the regular season with sixty-one points. Very impressive, by the way.”
Will gives me an amused smile. “You did your homework on me, huh?”
I nod. “It’s part of my job. I read everyone’s bio and stats before I left the office.”
“You always do more work than you need.” Will crosses his arms across his chest. “My sister, the book nerd.”
“Don’t mock the photographic memory, Romeo.” I laugh as does Will. “Moving on. I know your stats, position, and all the basics. I even know why you started playing hockey. We can skip the usual crap.”
“No one has ever written that story about me, you know. I told a few reporters about how Pop-Pop would take us ice skating when we were kids and how he gave me my first hockey stick. All they cared about was who I was dating and if I had any skeletons in my closet.”
“As a journalist, I can tell you that would bore the readers to death. Only hardcore fans care about your personal life and why you started playing hockey. I’d want to write about scandals, puck bunnies, baby mama drama, you know, the fun stuff.”
“I wouldn’t call that fun,” Ethan says, his gravelly voice forcing me to look at him as he speaks. “Our personal lives aren’t something for reporters to go digging through to sell papers.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Waters. Don’t get your boxers twisted. I was just saying that juicy personal stuff is what sells newspapers.”
Ethan frowns. “It’s how you said it as if you’re chomping at the bit to find some dirt on us to print.”
“There’s not much to cover for you,” I shoot back. “Sex and hockey, rinse and repeat. Oh, and the occasional binge drinking. Did I forget something?”
“There’s more to me than hockey,” he spits back, defensively.