Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps, #1)

by Riley Hart

Warner Ramsey was the Rush’s quarterback, and an undeniably great one. Also, my brother’s best friend.

Because another undeniable thing about him was that he was even hotter in person. Tall, leanly built, with a stubbled square jaw, dark hair, and the kind of blue eyes that could pierce you even from the far end of a hallway. Which they were definitely doing now.

I’d learned two things tonight. One: these were my people. Or at least, I wanted them to be, and I was hell-bent on spending the next four years getting there. And two: I was most definitely bi.

“Hey, some lady asked for my autograph in the hallway.” “She was probably looking for me. Accepted you as a weaker alternative.”

He’d looked good in crappy fluorescent bathroom lighting, but in the warm glow of the pub’s overhead pendants, and with what was probably half a keg under my belt, he looked like the fucking answer to the meaning of life.

“I just can’t figure out how one human can contain so much genetic lottery winnings. It seems like even nature would say, ‘That’s not fair. Let’s give him a weird eye or ears that stick out.’ Something. Some flaw.”

Garrett McRae was ridiculously fucking hot too. I liked knowing he thought that about me. I’d liked hearing it even more.

“Guess you kinda feel like my little brother too.” Totally not true, though stepbrother porn was hot. I’d be down for some roleplay if he was.

We’d done it. We’d won our first preseason game, and I was pretty sure Garrett was flying. Damn, did I like to see him soar.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, or where I was going, or why I suddenly wanted him so much, it was hard to breathe. Yeah, I’d always been attracted to him. He amused the shit out of me. I loved how he never stopped giving me hell, but this craving for him was different. The second we were around the backside of the building, alone in an alley that, unfortunately, stank like trash, I pushed him against the wall and took his mouth with mine.

Kissing your best friend’s brother and NFL teammate is a great idea…said no one ever.

“Stop being an asshole.” “Get inside my asshole.” We laughed, our bodies vibrating in sync like the moves had been choreographed.

“Wow…you’re going to marry my baby brother.” “No I’m not.” “And have his babies.” “Ha-ha.” “You’ll adopt a bunch of them, fill that big-ass house of yours, buy a minivan with stick figures on the back windshield.”

“I’m pretty sure Garrett’s wanted a minivan and ten kids with you for years.” That shouldn’t have made me smile—I didn’t even want children—but it did.

Garrett was staring at you with the mopiest damn look I’ve ever seen. I swear it was like watching a movie and the two of you were separated because your families are feuding or some shit, and you really just want to run off into the woods and maybe live with seven dwarves.”

You make me feel…” Happy. Loved. Worthy. Important. All those things and more were true, but I settled on, “Everything. You make me feel everything.”