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

  I arch a brow as I examine the picture. “What exactly am I looking at?”

  “That little blob in the center there.” She points then says, “That’s my baby . . .”

  I gape. “It already has arms and legs! Oh my God,” I gasp, taking a closer look at the picture. “Is it sucking its thumb? How far along are you? And why are you only just telling us now?”

  “Show me that,” Kins demands, snatching the photo from me.

  Em nibbles on her bottom lip before saying, “The doctor told me that it’s really common to miscarry early on in a pregnancy. So, I did a bunch of reading on it, and one in four pregnancies doesn’t make it to term. It freaked me right the hell out. Bash and I talked about it and decided we’d keep it between us until I was past the danger zone.”

  “Okay, I get that, but I mean, it’s us, Em. You can tell us anything. What’s said in the apartment stays in the apartment. It’s like the cone of silence up in here,” I say, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I knew you were lying about making a sobriety bet with Sebastian.”

  Em grins. “I thought for sure you guys would be onto me when I started drinking sparkling grape juice instead of wine.” She chuckles. “And yeah, bub’s sucking its thumb. How crazy is that?”

  I eye her tummy again. “So how big is it then? ‘Cause I can’t tell by looking at you.”

  “I’m just over twelve weeks, so it’s about the size of a plum.” She lifts her hand, making a circle with her thumb and pointer finger.

  “Wow,” Kins breathes, her gaze going from the picture she’s still holding to Em’s hand.

  And that’s when it hits me. Emory is having a baby; she’s going to move out. I’ll be left in this huge apartment on my own. I only see Kins once, sometimes twice a week since she moved out, and she only moved a few floors above me.

  “What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Kins asks.

  Swallowing, I meet her concerned eyes then shift my gaze to Emory. “So, I guess this means you’re moving out then?”

  Understanding washes over her features, and she comes to sit beside me on the big couch then throws her arms around me. Em is a hugger, and despite myself, I love that about her.

  “Bash found a place on the fifth floor. We can move in at the end of next month. I’ll only be two floors away,” she says. “We’ll all still be in the same building.”

  Well, that’s something, I suppose.

  Kinsley joins in on the hugging action, coming in from my other side and curling her arms around both Em and me. Emotion clogs my throat, and I do everything possible to keep it from overflowing from my stupid, stingy eyes.

  I am not a touchy-feely person. I’m a hardcore, badass ballbuster. But these girls…they’re like sisters to me. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and the thought of life pulling us in different directions is too much to even think about.

  Instead, I relax into their embrace, resting my head on Em’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around Kins’ back.

  The door to our apartment flings open, and my brother strides in. “Whoa,” he says, his eyes widening at the sight of us. “If you guys are about to start making out or something, I’m totally down for that. But, Lenny, you’re gunna have to leave ‘cause I ain’t into incest.”

  He’s met with three sets of glaring eyes.

  “What’d I say?” he says, holding his palms in front of him.

  “You’re disgusting,” Kins tells him as she gets to her feet.

  Emory, having like a hundred brothers, doesn’t even flinch.

  Kins turns her back on Bates to face Em and me. “I’ve gotta go. Arlo has an awards ceremony tonight.”

  “Aww, look at you being stepmom of the year,” I joke.

  She just rolls her eyes. “I’ll see you guys later,” she mutters on her way out.

  Bringing my attention to my brother, I ask, “What are you even doing here? And who gave you a key?”

  He waggles his thick, bushy eyebrows. “I ran into Emmy today, and she said you’re going to be on the hunt for new roomies soon. So, here I am.”

  I shoot Em a what-the-fuck look.

  She shrugs. “What? You will be.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own, thanks,” I tell Bates.

  He waves me off and heads for the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Which one is mine?” he calls back.

  “None!” I yell at the same time as Em calls, “First on the right.”

  I glare at her. “What are you doing? He can’t have Kins’ old room.”

  “Why not? She’s been gone for, like, five months.”

  Before I can respond, Bates reappears. “I’ll take it,” he declares.

  Grinding my teeth together, I scowl between him and Em. “You can’t have it,” I finally say.

  Bates smiles widely at me then shoots Em a wink. “Thanks for giving me the heads up. I’ll start moving my stuff in over the weekend.”

  Then, the big bastard leaves like he didn’t just drop a massive bomb on me and my carefully structured life.

  “Tell me why you’re moving in with Lenny again?” I say to Bates as we sit on his massive couch in his mini-mansion of a bachelor pad, drinking beers and eating chips while watching ESPN.

  “Because,” he says with a shrug, “Kins moved out. And Emmy’s got a bun in the oven, so she’s moving in with her baby daddy soon, and Len will be all by herself. She acts tough, but she’s not. Not really, like deep down. Lenny’s like a marshmallow.”

  I pause, a chip just about to enter my mouth, and turn to face him. “A marshmallow?” I ask with a raised brow.

  “Yeah, like a roasted one that you’ve burnt on the fire. It’s all ugly and crusty on the outside, but if you can get past that, you get the reward of the soft, gooey, and sweet center.”

  I hate to agree with Bates’ messed-up logic, but that’s kind of the perfect analogy for Len. After popping the chip into my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “Okay, so why not have her move in here? Your place is bigger. It’d make more sense for her to come to you than you going to her.”

  Bates snorts. “Yeah, as if I’d be able to convince her to move in with me. She’s stubborn and all ‘I’m an independent woman.’” He says that last part in a terrible, high-pitched impersonation of his sister. “She’d never go for it. So, I’m going to her.”

  “Why can’t she just get another roommate?”

  My best friend looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

  “What?” I ask, frowning at the thunderous look in his eyes.

  “You expect me to be okay with some random moving in with my little sister? What if she let some ax-murdering psycho take Kins’ old room? Or a sociopathic narcissist? Hell no. Not on my watch,” he says.

  I burst out laughing. “Do you even know what those words mean? Have you been googling Craigslist horror stories again?”

  He launches for me, but I’m already off the couch and running for my life.

  “Come back here, you condescending asshole!” Bates roars after me.

  “Ohh, look at you with the big wor—”

  His body collides with mine as he tackles me. We hit the wall then tumble to the ground, knocking the wind from my lungs. It takes approximately three seconds for me to tap out. “I give, I give!” I call, smacking my palm against the floorboards.

  “As you should, fucker,” he says, pushing to his feet then offering me a hand.

  I take it, and we amble along the hallway and return to the couch. Our beer bottles are tipped over on the floor, amber liquid pooling on the cream rug beneath the coffee table.

  “Ah shit,” Bates grumbles. “Tia’s going to have a bitch fit over this,” he says, bending to pick up the now empty bottles.

  “Your housekeeper?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah, she lost her shit at me last week after the little soiree I threw. My guests may have left a little bit of a mess . . .”

  I scoff. “A little bit? Bates, I’m going to go out on a limb here
and say there were bras, underwear, and booze strewn from one end of this place to the other. It’s a miracle she hasn’t quit yet.”

  His brows furrow as he turns away from me to dump our empties in the trash. I follow my unusually quiet friend. I perch myself on a barstool as he wanders to the fridge, pulls out two fresh brewskies, and pops the tops with his teeth, frowning the whole time.

  “Am I missing something?” I ask when he hands me a bottle.

  He shakes his head then takes a long pull from his beer, swallowing half the bottle in one go.

  “Dude,” I say, “what’s going on in that big head of yours? You’re all pensive and shit. It’s weirding me out.”

  “Fuck off,” he mutters before finishing the last of his drink. “I’m just thinking. That’s all.”

  I nod and remain silent, leaving him to his thoughts. Bates is a big dude with a big heart. He’s the life of the party in any situation, but every now and then, he gets introspective. It’s a side of himself he doesn’t let many see.

  “Alright, man, I’m out. I got shit to do,” I tell him. I don’t really, but he clearly has something on his mind. I drain the rest of my beer then get to my feet. “I’ll catch you at training tomorrow.”

  I leave Bates’ place with heavy thoughts of my own taking root in my mind. Lennon had two roommates. One’s already left, and the other will be gone in a couple of weeks, which means there will be a spare room . . .

  After my discussion with Bates last week, I got to work developing my three-step master plan. Step one—pull out of the contract on the house I was planning to buy. Step two—forget to renew my lease. Step three—cry homeless to Bates, who will, of course, come up with the bright idea of me moving in with him and Lennon. Boom, I’m in.

  Today, I’m putting the first step into action. If only my realtor would get on board. The look on her face strongly resembles that of a stunned mullet.

  This is just one of the reasons I greatly dislike peopling.

  “I changed my mind. I’m pulling out of the contract,” I say for the third time in a freaking row.

  She pales and presses a hand over her heart. “But—but it goes unconditional tomorrow. I don’t understand what happened.”

  Her confused gaze is really starting to annoy me. Gritting my teeth, I massage my temples with my thumb and forefinger. I take a deep breath, then I lift my eyes, shooting her a pissed-off glare. “Look, Kelly, I’ve told you what I want. If you don’t terminate the contract immediately, I’ll be taking legal action. I’m not buying that house—end of discussion.”

  Kelly jumps to her feet. “Mr. Austin, if you’ll just let me take you by the property one last time, I’m sure you’ll reconsider.”

  I stand, having had more than enough of this conversation. “Right, well, I’ve said what I came to say. So, if I haven’t received confirmation of cancellation by midday, I’ll be calling my lawyer.” With that, I leave.

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I slide my hands into my pockets and stride out of the building.

  Phase one—complete.

  “I am not washing your underwear, you miscreant,” I tell my disgusting brother.

  “Why not? Just throw it in with yours,” he says, attempting to put his dirty clothes in my basket.

  I cringe, stepping out of his reach then snatching a dirty top off the end of my bed. “No, just no. Go do your own damn washing.”

  His face goes blank. “But I don’t know how.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He shrugs like it’s completely normal for an almost-thirty-year-old man to have no idea how to operate a washing machine. “I’ve never had to do it before,” he says.

  I blink at him. “You’re a grown-ass man, Bates. How is that even possible?”

  “I’m a professional athlete. I don’t do my own laundry. I have people for that.” He lifts his hands in a what ya gunna do gesture.

  “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I tell him, rolling my eyes. His answering grin has me shooting out my hand to stop whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not one of your people. So, you’re either going to move your ass out of my apartment and go back to your own damn house where your people can do your laundry…” I pause, taking in the frown furrowing his brows. “Or you can come down to the washroom with me, and I’ll show you how to do it yourself, like a big boy.”

  His frown deepens, and he goes as far as to wrinkle his nose. “Do it myself? Ugh, you’re such a ballbuster, Lenny. A good sister would just do it for me.”

  I snort. “Never have I claimed to be a good sister. Now get your shit. Let’s go.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m about ready to castrate my man-child of a big brother. “Oh. My. Freaking. God. What are you doing?” I yell as he picks up a bottle of bleach, unscrews the cap, and extends his arm to pour it where the washing detergent goes.

  His big hand pauses, and he lifts his head to look at me. “What’d I do?”

  “That’s bleach, you moron. You’ll strip the color from all your clothes if you put that in. You only use it on your whites,” I explain—again.

  The crease that burrowed its way between his brows when I dragged him down here with me somehow deepens even farther. “But you put this in with yours.”

  “Yeah, with my whites.” I rub my temples and pray for patience.

  “I told you it’d be better if you just did it for me,” Bates mutters, and I shoot him a scowl.

  “And I told you, you’re a grown-ass man who should be embarrassed he doesn’t know how to do his own laundry.”

  He shrugs. “If doing laundry got me laid, I’d be better at it.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’ve been going about this all wrong. Plastering a serene smile on my face, I tell him, “Bates, women find domesticated men crazy-hot. If a woman saw you separating your colors from your whites and putting a load in the washer, she’d be all over you like white on rice.”

  His brows rocket up his forehead. “For real?”

  I nod. “Oh yeah.”

  And just like that, his entire attitude to our task changes. Within the hour, he’s got it all figured out like the pro he is.

  He smiles proudly as we sit in the plastic chairs, playing a round of Snap while we wait for the dryers to finish. “You should have led with ‘chicks dig dudes who do laundry,’ and I wouldn’t have bitched so much,” he says, looking at the cards in his hand.

  “You’re right.” I nod. “I ought to have known everything is about your dick—even laundry.”

  “Lennon, I’ve got Mary-Jane Curtis on line one for you,” Clay tells me through the intercom, and I push aside the contract I’ve been working on.

  “Thanks, Clay,” I respond, a massive smile on my face. I’ve been courting this chick for months. She’s a young, up-and-coming tennis player who needs better representation, and I’m just the woman for the job.

  I pick up the handset and click over to her call. “Mary-Jane, how’s it going, girl?”

  “Hey, Lennon, not too bad. I missed a call from you,” she says.

  “Yeah, what are you doing Friday night?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “As in tomorrow?”

  “Yep,” I say, popping the P.

  “Umm, I don’t have any exciting plans. Why?”

  I grin. “Because I have a party you need to be seen at. I’ll send a car for you. We’ll do a late lunch then go dress shopping and get ready at my place.” Taking a client to my apartment isn’t usually my M.O., but Mary-Jane and I have forged a friendship over the last few months, so I feel like I can be a little less formal with her.

  “As amazing as that sounds, I can’t really afford a new dress right now. I just spent a ridiculous amount of money on training equipment,” she says.

  “Oh, honey, no.” I frown. This is why she needs me. “You shouldn’t be buying your own gear. That’s what sponsors are for, babe. And tomorrow’s on me. I’m going to show you how your agent should be treating you, and
what one is supposed to be doing for your career.”

  She chokes. “Are you freaking serious?”

  My grin widens. “I don’t speak because I like the sound of my own voice, MJ. Of course, I’m serious.”

  “Umm, well, okay then,” she says. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Great. I’ll have the car pick you up at one.” I end the call then press the intercom button. “Clay, I need you to book a car to pick up Mary-Jane tomorrow at one, then make a reservation at Alberto’s for one-thirty. Oh, and please block the rest of that afternoon for me, too. I’ll be out of the office for the remainder of the day.”

  I go back to the contract proposal I drafted for Mary-Jane and make a few notes. Her career has the potential to be huge, but she needs to be rubbing shoulders with the right people as well as keeping up her amazing winning streak.

  Her current agent isn’t looking after her best interests, and that pisses me the hell off. I clench my jaw, annoyed that he made her fork out for her own training equipment when he should have had that all covered by a sponsor by now.

  “Whoa, what’s with that face?” Archer’s voice hits my ears, and I straighten.

  How does he keep doing that? Sneaking in here like a freaking ninja and scaring the crap out of me. I lift my gaze to him, careful to keep my expression neutral and not give away the fact that he looks mouthwateringly hot. “I don’t have you booked in today. What’s up?”

  He drops into the chair across from me, spreading his jean-clad legs wide and lacing his fingers behind his head. “Not much.” He shrugs. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by and see if you’d eaten lunch yet?”

  I shift my focus away from his killer biceps and back to his face. But that doesn’t help slow my racing pulse. Damnit, why does he have to be so attractive? His eyes are a pale shade of ice-blue and, I swear, can see right through me. I swallow then shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “Seeing as it’s almost five o’clock, I’m going to go ahead and say that’s not why you’re here,” I tell him with an arched brow.

  His lips curve into a smirk, and he drops his hands from behind his head. “You’re right. That was a lame excuse, even for me.”