First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“Look at that, already finding humor in your sad, gray home. Good for you.” She nods while I stop counting how many times she’s made me smile since she tumbled out here.

My sister finally closes the distance to us with her head down the entire way, paying attention to her feet out here in the dark so she doesn’t trip and spill anything.

“I finished packing up the trophy room, but if you want me to—Oh shit!” Rachel curses as she comes to a stuttering stop a few feet away, finally looking up from the ground and wincing when some of the hot coffee splashes on her hand. And because of her little slip. “Sorry, Quinn. I thought you were out here with Tyler.”

I give her apology a chin lift in response, her eyes darting back and forth between me and Emily as she walks the rest of the way to us, knowing she feels bad about what she just let slip in front of a stranger. I’m still not 100 percent sure where I’m going when this season is over, but I know I’m done with California. I won’t be making a move for another few months, but this is a huge house with a lot of shit in it after fifteen years. Rachel figured she’d kill two birds with one stone while she was out here to help me make up my fucking mind already and thought she’d get a head start on helping me pack. Which she’s not supposed to discuss with anyone except me and Tyler, including our parents. We just can’t risk anything getting out until it’s time. I’ve been telling everyone my home is so boring and lifeless, as Emily so nicely put it, because I’m getting ready to redecorate. When really, Rachel already packed all the family photos I had strewn all over the walls and tables.

“Nah, Tyler left a few hours ago when I wouldn’t let him pat down all the guests,” I inform her as she stops next to Emily’s and my chairs and hands us our coffees.

“He is such a freak,” Rachel says with a roll of her eyes, giving Emily what I know as her I don’t trust you smile, when Emily quietly thanks her for the coffee.

“Rachel, this is Emily; Emily, this is my sister, Rachel,” I introduce as the two women shake hands.

“And how did you two kids meet?” Rachel asks in an overly pleasant voice that I know is complete bullshit. She’s always been protective of me, but even more so since I became a pro football player and women seem to constantly try to screw me six ways from Sunday.

“I made fun of his house and his performance at the last Super Bowl, and then I threw up a gallon of tequila in his yard,” Emily states, lifting her cup of coffee toward my sister in a cheers before taking a careful sip.

Her honesty and zero-fucks-given attitude is seriously turning me on. In front of my sister. This is awkward.

Rachel’s tense shoulders visibly relax, and her mouth slowly tips up into a grin.

“I like you. Next time, puke on his Nikes. He’s a shoe whore and has entirely too many pairs.”

“Heeey,” I complain, as Emily laughs, and Rachel gives both of us a salute before turning and disappearing around the side of the house from where she came.

“Do you have any annoying brothers or sisters?” I ask Emily as soon as Rachel is out of sight.

“I have four, actually. They live all over the place. I’m the baby of the pack and the one who has to pay for all of their mistakes,” she says, wrapping both her hands tightly around the mug and shivering a little. “I got the strict curfew, I got the strict dating rules, and I get to run the family business I hate, because they all went out and made lives for themselves before I could.”

“Ouch… and here I am just feeling sorry for myself, trying to decide if I even want to play football anymo—Shit. Pretend I didn’t say that,” I tell her nervously, wondering what in the actual hell is wrong with me that I said something like that to someone I barely know.

Someone I barely know, who makes my dick hard and makes me want to sit and talk to her out here forever, but a stranger nonetheless. Rachel and Tyler would both have my ass.

“Are you forgetting what I did over in your bushes?” She laughs as I lean as far back as I can on my chair, grabbing the remote for the gas fireplace with the tips of my fingers off the stone base of it and clicking the Ignite button. “Believe me, I won’t be saying a word about anything that has happened here this evening… to anyone… ever.”