MILE HIGH

57

ZANDERS

“S

top being a little creep and come sit down.”

My sister’s words pull my attention away from the sprawling floor-to-ceiling window in my penthouse and back to the table where she and my dad sit, post-Christmas dinner.

“I’m not being a creep, Linds.”

Okay, that’s a lie. I am being a creep, but I saw Stevie’s family walk into her apartment building a bit ago, so I know she got my gift, and yet, I still haven’t heard from her.

Maybe she didn’t like it? I already felt like an i***t buying her something. Let alone buying her f*****g sweatpants.

Who buys a girl sweatpants for Christmas?

Also, who buys a Christmas present for their last hookup?

I do. That’s who. f*****g i***t.

“Then why have you been looking back and forth between your phone and that damn window every five seconds?”

“Linds, can you not call me out like that, please?”

Taking a seat across from my dad and next to my sister, Lindsey tries to snag my phone out of my hand. But I’m a professional athlete, so I’m plenty quick to hold that s**t above my head and out of her reach.

“Why are you being so weird tonight?” Her hazel eyes sparkle with a knowing glint.

“I’m not. Chill out.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Her mouth falls open in disbelief.

“What? f**k no. Have you met me?”

“Yes, Ev, I have. Do you have a girlfriend? Is she hot? Would I be into her?” Lindsey’s grabby hands try to pull my arm down, wanting my phone, but I keep it far away from her.

For a thirty-year-old lawyer, when it comes to chicks, she really turns into a teenage girl.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. She’s...a friend. And yes, you’d think she’s hot.”

Lindsey stops trying to attack me for my phone and instead stills. “I never think your little puck bunnies are hot.”

“She’s not a puck bunny, and she’s not like my usual hookups.”

“So, you have hooked up?”

“What a lovely Christmas,” my dad pipes up with sarcasm, which is about the most he’s said to me tonight, and I don’t even know if those words are directed at me. “I’ve got to take this.” He holds his phone up before slipping into my guest room.

“Who the f**k is calling him? The only people who call him are you and me.”

“No,” my sister corrects. “The only person who calls him is me. Would it kill you to be friendly to him tonight?”

“I’m not not being friendly. We just don’t have s**t to talk about.”

“Evan, he came all the way to see you.”

“To see us.”

“To see you. This was planned long before yesterday when I found out I could grab a red-eye flight to make it in time. Would it kill you to make a little effort back?”

I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he and I haven’t said more than a few generic words to each other over the years. I’m still mad at him for the way he handled things when my mom left. If Lindsey didn’t make it last minute, you’d be hearing crickets in my penthouse.

“I don’t know what to talk to him about. He doesn’t care about hockey. What else am I supposed to bring up? The f*****g weather?”

“He does care about your hockey. He’s always filling me in on your stats when I call.”

“Well, he doesn’t say s**t to me, so I don’t say s**t to him.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes at my immaturity before changing the subject back to the wild flight attendant who has been taking up way too much of my brain space lately.

“Let me see a pic. I bet I could steal her from you.”

“Pfft. No shot.” That sounded like bullshit even to me.

My sister is almost more of a player than I am. She pulls as many women, if not more, and tries half as hard. She stole more than a chick or two from me growing up.

But I’m not pulling all that many women these days. In fact, I haven’t had s*x since that night in DC. What’s the point? After knowing what it feels like to have a partner who can keep up with me, why would I want less?

Unfortunately for my right hand and me, Stevie hasn’t given in to a repeat round.

But ever since that day at the dog shelter, I don’t know that I’m all that interested in just another session in the sack. I kind of what to hang out with her, too. With our clothes on.

Without is cool too.

Whatever.

“Ev, do you like someone? For real?”

“No, Linds. I don’t.” My sister’s smile is lifted and knowing. “f**k. I don’t know.”

“Holy s**t. What is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. We hooked up once and it kind of f****d with my head, and I haven’t been too tempted to crawl into bed with anyone else.”

“Evan...” My sister’s eyes are big and proud. “You like someone.”

Exhaling a deep, resigned breath, I hide my face in my hands. “I know.”

“Can I see her?” Lindsey’s tone has shifted drastically from the teasing she was doing a moment ago. Now there’s just pride and excitement in her voice.

Pulling up Stevie’s i********:, I show Lindsey my favorite picture on her page. But I also make sure to hold it away from my sister so she doesn’t accidentally double-tap it. Knowing her, she’d do that s**t on purpose.

This photo of Stevie, standing on a bridge overlooking a river, with her back to the camera, is beautiful and natural, her chestnut curls waving in the wind. Her face is turned back over her shoulder, showcasing her freckles and blue-green eyes. She’s in her typical attire of baggy jeans, dirty Nikes, and an oversized flannel, though it’s blowing away from her body, and she just looks really...pretty.

Fuck. What the f**k is wrong with me?

“Damn.” Lindsey’s eyes go wide. “She’s nothing like your typical type. She also looks way too cool for you.”

“She might be.”

“She’s hot, that’s for sure, and look at that ass.” My sister leans in closer, examining my phone.

“Absolute dump truck.” My voice drips with pride, but I don’t know why. It’s not like the owner of that ass is mine, though I kind of want her to be.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Lindsey relaxes back in her chair, bringing her red wine to her lips.

“There is no deal. She works for the team and—”