Dirty: A Brother's Best Friend/ Sports Star Romantic Comedy (Unexpected Lovers Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Also By JB Heller

  About the Author

  A note from JB

  DIRTY- An Unexpected Lovers Story

  Copyright © 2020 by JB Heller

  All rights reserved.

  Published by- Author JB Heller

  Cover Design by- JeBDesigns

  Editing by- Creating Ink

  Proofreading by- Jenn Lockwood Editing

  Formatted by – JeBDesigns

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  I’m at the top of my game—my stats are looking great, and I’m playing better than ever. Now it’s time to get my hands on that one last thing I need to make my life perfect—Lennon Handler.

  That woman has had me twisted in knots for the past eighteen months, trying to convince her to give us a shot. She says sleeping together was a mistake—I say it was the wake-up call I needed.

  Luckily, I am a man not easily deterred, and I’ve never shied away from hard work. Hell, just take my career, for example. As a kid, I dreamed of being the best pitcher Major League Baseball had ever seen, and look at me now—I’m one of the highest-paid starting pitchers in MLB.

  If Lennon thinks I’m going to drop this, she’s lost her damn mind. I’m every bit as stubborn as she is, and this is a game I’m going to win. Even if I have to play dirty.

  FOUR MONTHS AGO . . .

  “Are you sure you’re not a lesbian? You know you can tell me if you are. Carrie Larson’s daughter just came out and she’s thirty-two,” my mother says into the phone.

  “No, Momma. For the last time, I am not into chicks,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Why is it that everyone thinks that just because I have a vagina, I should want someone to come home to at night? I don’t hear you hassling Bates about his relationship status.”

  “Don’t be so crude,” she chastises, and again, I roll my eyes, thankful this conversation is taking place over the phone. “And Bates is a man. They take longer to mature. Besides, he’s so focused on his career right now. A girlfriend would be too distracting.”

  I scoff. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “What about my career? Am I not allowed to put my wants and needs ahead of some antiquated belief that women should be wives and mothers first and foremost?”

  My mom huffs, clearly getting frustrated with me. “I didn’t say that, Lennon. I’m simply saying you haven’t brought anyone home since you were in high school. Don’t you want a family, sweetheart?”

  I sigh. This is not an argument I want to have right now—or ever. “Look, Momma, I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting with Archer in a few minutes, and I need to get ready.”

  “Oh, how is he? I’ve always loved that boy.” She practically swoons over the line.

  I’m so very tempted to roll my eyes again. “He’s fine. Now I really do have to go. Love you. I’ll talk to you next week,” I say, ending the call before she can get another word in. It’s the only way. As my little Aussie grandma would say—my momma could talk the leg off an iron horse.

  Flopping into my chair, I rest my head back and rub my temples. I have goals, and they require all of my time and attention to achieve them. I’m driven and on a mission. I will be the best damn sports agent this city—no, this country has ever seen. Having a man in my life would only slow me down. They’re like children; you have to feed and walk them every day, and I don’t have time for that.

  Archer strolls into my office and drops into one of the seats across from my desk, pulling me from my thoughts. I shift my gaze to him, and he grins at me, looking better than any man has a right to with his dark-brown hair hidden beneath his backwards baseball cap.

  “How’s my little spitfire today?” he asks, relaxing into his seat.

  “I’m not your little anything,” I mutter, but he catches it, judging by the smirk on his stupidly attractive face. I straighten then run a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. “Right, so how would you feel about an endorsement deal with Primal?”

  His piercing blue eyes lock on me as a slow smile curves his lips. “Seriously?”

  “Would I joke about this? You asked me for Primal, and I got it.”

  Archer is out of his seat and around my desk in seconds, scooping me into a massive bear hug. “You are the shit, Lenny!” he hoots as he spins me around in a circle.

  Oh my God, he smells good.

  Shit. Why am I smelling him? “Put me down, asshole!” I demand, slapping at his broad shoulders.

  Gently, he places me on my feet but hovers in my personal bubble.

  “You’re looking particularly fine today, spitfire,” he murmurs as his gaze dips all the way to my pointed stilettos then rakes slowly up my body, over my black, high-waisted, skinny trousers and pausing at the lace camisole peeking through the low cut of my emerald-green blazer.

  I arch a brow and smirk. “I know.”

  His grin is devastating, and I fight like hell to keep my reaction to it and him under wraps. But he knows what he does to me—he always has, the bastard.

  Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he shakes his head. “I bet you do,” he murmurs. “But I like telling you anyway.”

  His nearness causes my heart rate to spike, and butterflies swarm in my stomach. My fight-or-flight instinct flares to life, and I’m about to kick him in the shin to make him back the hell up, but Archer knows when I’ve hit my limit and retreats to his side of the desk again.

  “I knew you’d land the deal, but I didn’t think it’d happen this quick,” he says as he sits then stretches his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.

  I shrug, relief spreading through my veins now that there’s a barrier between us once more, then lower into my own seat. “You said it—I’m the shit.”

  We spend the next twenty minutes going over the finer details of the contract before I hand Archer a pen so he can sign on the dotted line. His fingers brush mine as he takes it from me, clearly a deliberate move. Everything with Arch is intentional.

  “What up, bitches?” Bates’ voice booms through the room as he strides in like he owns the place then deposits himself in the chair next to Archer.

  “Bitches?” I query. “Is that the way you refer to your best friend and the best freakin’ agent you’ve ever had?”

  Bates snorts. “You’re the only agent I’ve ever had.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still the best,” I tell him, sliding a stack of papers across my desk to him.

  His
beefy hand shoots out to take them the second they’re within his reach. “What’s this?”

  “Read it,” I say in a bored tone.

  Archer tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes as Bates reads the first few lines of the contract I just gave him.

  “Fuck yeah!” Bates yells, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air.

  “What is it?” Archer asks.

  I grin at my stupid big brother as he strikes half a dozen different poses with his hand on or near his face. “You’re looking at the new face of Lux Moisturizer for him.” He says ‘for him’ in a hilarious French accent.

  Archer bursts out laughing. “Are you serious? You pansy-ass motherfucker.”

  The look of elation on Bates’ face drops, and he glares at his childhood BFF. “Take it back,” he demands.

  Just like I did when I was a teenager, I know when they are about to come to blows over the dumbest shit. So, I sit back in my seat and wait for the shitshow that is these two to begin. I wish I had some popcorn.

  “Make me,” Archer says, smirking.

  Bates moves fast, his hand shooting out to slap Archer across the cheek. The sound reverberates through the room, and a burst of laughter spills from my mouth. I clasp a hand over it because these guys are freaking weird about their little bitch fights and take them super seriously.

  Archer gapes at Bates. “You just slapped me!”

  “You deserved it,” Bates retorts, a smug smile tilting his lips.

  “Fuck you, fucker,” Archer spits, tackling my brother to the ground where they roll around like a pair of toddlers fighting over a stuffed animal and knock a vase of flowers off the corner of my desk.

  Glass shatters. My assistant, Clay, rushes in, his eyes wide with panic until he sees Archer pinning Bates to the floor in some MMA-style hold. Clay narrows his eyes at them. “Jesus H. Christ, I leave my desk for thirty minutes and you two sneak in.”

  “You love us!” Bates calls out as Clay turns his back on them, returning to his work station.

  “He really doesn’t,” I say. My poor assistant hates it when my brother and Archer are in the office at the same time. Something always manages to get broken, and he’s the poor sucker who has to clean it up. Unluckily for Clay, I’ve taken to booking them in together so I don’t get stuck alone with Arch for too long.

  Archer scoffs as he offers Bates a hand. “Of course he does.”

  “Yeah, everyone loves us,” Bates chimes in.

  “Someone really needs to get those egos of yours under control,” I mutter.

  “Whatever. We’re fucking awesome, and you’re just jealous,” Bates says, returning to his seat.

  “So jealous,” I say, deadpan.

  “Knew it.” He offers Archer a fist to bump.

  “That was sarcasm, bro,” Archer tells him, wrapping a hand around my brother’s fist and pushing it back to him.

  Bates shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He smiles big and bright, causing my own lips to curve. His happiness is contagious.

  My brother may be a dumbass, but he’s my dumbass. And I love him.

  Lennon thinks bringing Bates and me in together means she can avoid too much one-on-one time with me. Silly little spitfire, I am so onto her. As if that would be enough to deter me from my pursuit.

  I’m all over this shit. When Bates stands to leave, I get to my feet too, acting like I’m ready to roll. I follow him all the way to the elevator and wait for him to get inside. “Shit, man, I forgot to tell Lenny about that chick who keeps blowing up my social media inboxes with titty shots. She knows how to block that shit. I’ll catch you at Mulligan’s tonight.”

  Bates pulls a face. “I don’t know why that’s a problem, dude. But whatever,” he says with a shrug as the metal doors slide closed in front of him.

  There is no chick, but he doesn’t need to know that. Bates hooks up with cleat-chasers every other weekend and finds half of them through the nasty pics they send him on his socials. I, however, haven’t touched a woman since I was with Lennon over a year ago.

  It’s been a struggle—not turning down the diamond dolls, but keeping my hands off Lennon. She is temptation personified.

  I slide into her office like a ninja—'cause I’m a stealthy motherfucker—then shut and lock the door quietly behind me. She’s sitting at her desk, looking all sexy and shit as she glares at her computer screen.

  Goddamn she’s beautiful.

  My lips rise as I watch her. I’m being a total creeper, but this is nothing. I’m willing to go to extraordinary lengths to win Lennon over. Whatever it takes to get my spitfire standing by my side—instead of facing off against me at every damn turn—I’ll do.

  I clear my throat, alerting her to my presence, and she jolts in her seat.

  Her hand flies to cover her heart as her eyes narrow to slits on me. “What the hell, Arch?”

  “How long did you think double-booking me would work for?” I ask conversationally as I approach her.

  She licks her lips and averts her gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Right, and I don’t love cheesecake, but we know they’re both lies.”

  Her blazing gaze returns to me, scowl firmly in place on her stunning face. “What do you want, Archer?”

  I blink at her dumbly as I step into her space and spin her chair toward me. Tilting my head, I lean in and brace my hands on the arms of her seat then get right in her face. “You, Lennon. I want you.”

  Why is he doing this?

  I swallow hard, pushing down the words that want to bubble forth from my very soul—I want you too. But I’ll never admit it to him. I can’t. Not only is Archer my client—and that right there is a huge problem all its own—but he’s also my brother’s best friend.

  He’s so close right now I can smell him, and goddamn, I like it. I should shove him away, tell him I’m seeing someone, something, anything. But I don’t do any of those things. I sit there and stare at him.

  His gaze searches mine. I know what he’s looking for. I just can’t give it to him.

  “Lennon,” he breathes, edging nearer.

  I close my eyes. I can’t handle the way he’s looking at me. It weakens my resolve. I grit my teeth and straighten my spine. “You need to leave,” I say, still keeping my eyes firmly squeezed shut.

  Unsurprisingly, Archer doesn’t listen to me. He does, however, halt his advancing lips, hovering a mere inch from my own. But he remains silent.

  I can feel his stare boring into me, feel the desperation and determination pouring off him, feel his unsteady breaths caressing my skin. I swallow—hard. “I can’t do this, Arch, and you know why. Just let it go,” I grit out.

  Quiet surrounds us as tension builds to suffocating levels, and I can’t stand it any longer. My eyes flash open, and I shove him as hard as I can. My chair swivels from the sudden motion and tilts him off-balance. Shooting to my feet, I grab my bag and dash for the door before he can stop me.

  He’s hot on my heels as I make a beeline for the elevators, but I don’t let that deter me from my escape.

  “Lennon, stop running from me, damnit!” His voice is close—too close—and people are starting to stare. Shit, shit, shit.

  I repeatedly hit the down button, praying for the elevator gods to open the damn doors. They must be listening because the silvery gateway slides apart almost instantly, and—thank you, lift deities—there are other people inside. I slip in between the two men standing against the back wall then smirk at Archer’s displeased expression when he enters a moment later.

  The guys I’ve wedged myself alongside eye me, then Archer, and then me again. I give them my best smile.

  Arch turns his back on me as the lift begins its descent, and I release a sigh of relief at being freed from his penetrating gaze.

  A second later, my phone chimes with a text, and Archer twists his head to grin at me over his shoulder. I glare at him as I retrieve my cell.

  ARCHER: You c
an only run for so long, Len.

  My gut clenches, but I refuse to let him see how his words affect me. I let a nonchalant mask slide over my face as I return my cell to my purse. When I lift my gaze, the metal doors slide open, and he strides out without a backward glance.

  I wait a beat to gather myself before exiting just in case he’s waiting to ambush me outside the building. There’s no sign of him when I step outside. Thank God. I take a deep breath then make my way to the cab rank up the block and go home. I am so over this day, and it’s only just past noon.

  I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Arch isn’t giving up, and I have no idea what he’s going to do next. But I have a feeling my willpower is about to be tested more than ever.

  PRESENT DAY

  “You’re having a baby? How did that even happen?” Kinsley, my former roomie, asks. She’s staring wide-eyed at my last remaining roommate, Emory.

  I snort at Kins. “Well, you see, a man inserts his penis—”

  Her palm slams over my mouth, and her cheeks flame. “I know the mechanics, Len. You don’t have to give me a play-by-play.”

  Emory laughs and shakes her head at us as Kins squeals, yanking her hand away. I smirk at her.

  “Eww, you licked me! You’re so gross. Who knows where your tongue has been.” Kins groans and pulls a little bottle of hand sanitizer from her purse.

  I roll my eyes and mutter, “Drama queen.”

  “Alright, you two, back to me,” Em says with a clap of her hands.

  Kins and I turn to face her, then my eyes drop to her flat stomach. “You sure there’s a kid in there?”

  Em produces a grainy black-and-white photo from her pocket and hands it to me.