“You should’ve messaged when you were at the clinic, and I would’ve gotten rid of my date.”

“I was a little preoccupied.” I drag a hand down my face and cringe. My cheek hit the goalpost when I went down, but the groin injury is far worse, so I didn’t notice the other pain until this morning. “So you know how I thought she was Bowman’s sidepiece or whatever?”

“You’ve been bitching about it since she moved in weeks ago, so yeah.”

“Turns out she’s Bowman’s little sister.” Which actually makes a hell of a lot more sense.

“No shit? Is she single?”

I turn my head only enough so that I can glare at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

He stares right back, one brow arched. “Oh man, now this all makes sense. You have the hots for her, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t.” I return my gaze to the ceiling. She’s got great nipples, though, and a seriously sweet rack.

“I don’t believe you.” He pricks himself with his blood sugar–tester device so he can check his levels before giving himself his shot. It’s the first of five he’ll administer today.

“And that should matter why?”

“You’ve been bitching about this woman incessantly since she moved in. First it was because she was so damn loud and because you didn’t approve of her moral standings or whatever. Then you bitched about her being a student and wearing too much perfume. After that you started moaning about how she’s always in workout gear and doesn’t she have real clothes, blah blah. I’d also like to point out that unless you have to leave this apartment, you’re always in boxers. I’m so familiar with the outline of your junk I could identify it in a lineup before I could my own.”

“I don’t see how my observations can be construed as having the hots for her.” I ignore the part about my junk because it’s my place and I can wear whatever I want. If Nolan wants to wander around in his boxers, he’s free to, although he gets cold because his circulation isn’t the best.

“You haven’t talked this much about a woman since Penny.”

“That name is banned; don’t bring her up again.” Penny was my last semiserious girlfriend. That ended because Penny was more concerned with how many likes her posed photos with me had on her social media profiles than she was with me as an actual person.

“Just sayin’. It’s been a long time since anything but hockey has lit a fire under your ass.”

“An annoyance is not the same thing.”

“You keep living in denial, Shippy.” He lifts his shirt and catches the hem with his chin. He pinches a roll of skin between two fingers—he has to hunch forward because he’s lean—and stabs himself, depressing the needle.

“It’s not denial.”

He drops his shirt and rubs the injection site. “I’ve seen you with your face pressed against the door in the morning, waiting for her.”

“That’s not because I have the hots for her.”

“Uh-huh. You know, if you need dating tips, I’m here for you, bro.”

“I don’t need dating tips. I can pick up women fine. If I feel like putting in the effort.” Which I often don’t.

“I’m just saying, your pretty face isn’t going to last forever, and eventually your hairline is going to start receding.” He ruffles my hair, and I bat his hand away. “One day you’ll have to work on your interpersonal skills and learn how to flirt, unless you’re content with self-love for the rest of your life.”

“Based on this”—I point to my groin—“I don’t think I’m going to get any kind of lovin’, self-imposed or otherwise, for a good while.”

“Yeah. That’s gonna suck.” He packs up his insulin kit and slides off the bed. “You need anything before I head out? My shift is only four hours, and I don’t have class, so I’ll be back early this afternoon.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.”

I stare at the ceiling and think about my neighbor. Rook Bowman’s baby sister.

For the past several weeks I’ve been taunting her. At first it was mostly curiosity and the perverse enjoyment of making her uncomfortable. Because I thought she was someone she’s not. Because who I thought she was offended me on a moral level.

Nolan is right about me waiting around in the morning with my face pressed against the door. I didn’t realize he’d seen me doing that. I’ve felt half-guilty, half-vengeful over the fact that I’m enjoying the strange underwear competition we have going on. Like we’re both trying to get a reaction out of each other.

This frames everything in a whole new light. And I’m not sure what to do about that. Or the fact that I’ve been getting hard over her in that freaking workout gear.

Maybe Nolan is right. Maybe I do have the hots for her. I mean, physically she’s nice to look at. She’s got a great body and a sharp tongue. She smells good. All things I can appreciate in a woman.

Except she’s the baby sister of my team captain. Who I loathe.

If I was a vindictive person, I might use that to my advantage.

CHAPTER 10

APOLOGIES AND FAVORS

Stevie

I arrive at work with only minutes to spare before my first client arrives, which is not how I like to start my day. I’m always at the clinic a good half hour early so I can review my schedule and pull treatment plans before my clients arrive. I also like to chat with Pattie and Jules and my other colleagues—aside from Joey, whom I staunchly try to avoid.

And who also happens to be the first person I run into as I jam my stuff in my locker.

“Hey.” He props his forearm on the locker beside mine.

“What do you want?” I don’t bother to look at him, because then I’ll have to see his smarmy expression, and his armpit hair will be right in my face. He always wears muscle shirts between clients. I used to think it was endearing, but it’s gross.

“I signed us up to work on the fundraiser gala together. I said we could handle the decorations part, ’cause you’re all crafty and stuff. I thought it would be a good idea, since you’re new and it’ll make us look good. Plus it’ll give us a chance to hang out.”

All I want to do is punch him in the nuts and make him cry, but instead I grit out, “Awesome. Thanks.” Clearly it’s full of sarcasm and disdain, which he either doesn’t pick up on or decides to ignore.

“I know you’re still angry with me, Stevie, but I really think this will be good for us.”

I slam my locker shut and stare at the gray paint for a few seconds while I take some calming breaths. What I should do is tell him to fuck off and find someone else to work with. As much as I’d rather have my fingernails ripped off one by one in lieu of working with Joey on anything, I recognize putting up a fight will create complications.

I slowly turn to face him, forgetting that his arm is positioned above his head. It looks like one of those troll heads is sprouting from his armpit. There’s also a small clump of deodorant tucked in among the hairs, like his troll has dandruff. “For you, you mean; it’ll be good for you,” I say to his armpit troll. Joey is the opposite of crafty, so I’m assuming the workload is going to fall solely on me.