Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two)

by Emily McIntire

  I tsk. “I may be southern, sugar, but I’m not sweet.”

  His eyes spark. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  My pussy clenches as I picture his head between my legs, his tongue diving into my folds to find the only sweet spot on me.

  “Hey, man. Sorry I’m late.” A hand grips Connor’s shoulder and my heart stalls in my chest.

  If God exists, he hates me.

  Connor smiles, turning to Eli, his teeth gleaming under the lights of the bar. “Hey, I was just talking about you.”

  Sharp blue eyes lock on to mine, widening a fraction as they glide up and down my body. “Becca.”

  “Fuckface.” I raise my shot, tilting it toward him before slamming it back, the burn distracting me from the heat of his gaze.

  “You two know each other?” Connor points between us.

  I roll my eyes, wiping the corner of my mouth and standing up. “I’m tired of answerin’ this question.” I point to Eli. “This your wingman?”

  Connor’s brow quirks. “That depends. Do I still need one?”

  “I doubt he’d help your chances.”

  Eli is leaning against the bar, eyes volleying between us. “I definitely would not help your chances, Connor. You’re not fucking Rebecca.”

  “Dude.” Connor groans, turning toward him.

  “Excuse me?” I push past Connor and step into Eli’s space. He straightens, and I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “He’ll fuck me six ways from Sunday if I want him to, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. God, when did you turn into such a prick?”

  Eli’s perfect jaw tics. “I’d imagine it was around the time you turned into a raging bitch.”

  “Dude,” Connor hisses again.

  Anger bubbles in my veins as I huff out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. I only see one bitch here, Eli, and it ain’t me.”

  Eli straightens, his chest pressing into me, clean laundry and cinnamon assaulting my senses. “You wanna try me, Becca? Keep fuckin’ pushin’.”

  There’s that accent.

  My heart bangs against my chest so hard it vibrates my entire body.

  It’s only when Connor grips my shoulders, pulling me back that I realize how close Eli and I were standing—how harsh my breaths are coming.

  “Okay, firecracker. Let’s calm down,” Connor says, rubbing my shoulders. “And for the record, Eli, you are the worst wingman ever.”

  If he’s trying to lighten the mood, it doesn’t work. I can’t even look at him now without thinking of Eli. I shrug out of Connor’s grip and turn around, storming to my table. Dragging a chair out, I slam myself in it, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m upset that Eli’s here and I’m pissed he just ruined a sure thing for me. Cockblock.

  Sabrina tilts her head, narrowing her eyes.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.” And I don’t. Not to her, at least. But if Lee would call me back instead of playing her favorite game of avoidance, that’d be great. I dig my phone out of my purse and fire off a text.

  Me: I swear to all that’s holy, Lee, if you don’t call me by tomorrow I will fly back home and tell the entire town about the time in fifth grade you pissed your pants because Ms. Johnson wouldn’t let you use the bathroom. THE. WHOLE. TOWN.

  I throw my phone down and glance at the bar. Connor’s already moved onto greener pastures, a girl pressed in between his and Eli’s side. But Eli’s not paying attention to that.

  No, his eyes are busy boring a hole into me. I glare back and now we’re locked in this weird stare-off that I refuse to lose. Right when I’m about to scream from how infuriating he is just by existing, he smirks and looks away.

  Asshole.

  5

  Eli

  “You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

  I hear Connor’s voice, but my eyes have trailed back to the insufferable redhead at the far table. What the hell is her problem?

  Becca was always a little too loud and a little too bratty, but I don’t remember her being this obnoxious. Really, Connor should be thanking me for saving him the headache. I don’t blame him for trying to get it in, though—she’s easily the hottest woman in the bar. Too bad that shit personality ruins it.

  “Hello. Earth to douchebag.”

  I snap my head over, tearing my eyes from Becca. Time has clearly turned her into a bitter bitch, but she’s sadly mistaken if she thinks I’ll lay down and let her steamroll over me. That sharp tongue does nothing but stoke a fire in me to snuff hers out. If she wants to start this game, I’m in. She must have forgotten I play to win.

  My eyes slide back, gliding up those legs that never end, over her tiny waist and dipping into the ample cleavage that ridiculous dress shows off. My dick twitches and irritation simmers in my gut.

  The nerve of this chick.

  She doesn’t know the first thing about me or what I’ve been through, yet she’s so quick to pass judgment.

  “Eli.” Connor smacks the side of my head.

  I break my gaze from Becca again, pasting a lazy smile on my face as I meet Connor’s eyes. “What?”

  “First.” He throws up his finger. “You royally screwed me on the redhead.”

  “Becca.”

  “Right.” He nods. “Which I would have found out for myself if you hadn’t waltzed in with your asshole on display.”

  I laugh. “What’s that even mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is she was a sure thing, dude. I was this close to having those mile-long legs wrapped around my head.”

  The girl next to him huffs, and he grins down at her. “It is what it is, girl. You knew who I was when you walked over.”

  I take a sip of my beer while he placates his pussy of the night.

  “Truly, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you for ruining that, Eli.” He glances over toward Becca’s table. “She’s so, so sexy. I mean… have you looked at her?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he swipes his hand through the air. “Never mind. Clearly, you have. Your eyes have been glued to her since you walked in the bar.”

  I scoff. “Because she pisses me off.”

  Connor raises his chin. “So, staring at her is supposed to somehow… alleviate your anger?”

  I shrug because I don’t have an answer. Not one I want to admit out loud, anyway. The truth is, Becca makes me feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind, and I don’t particularly enjoy the loss of control. When her slender body pressed to mine in that tight as hell dress and those hot as fuck heels, my cock strained against my zipper, and that’s unacceptable. Baby sister’s best friend is a definite no-go. So is her being a student. And if all those things weren’t enough to stamp a giant red x on that tight little body then that belligerent mouth of hers definitely is. No matter how much my dick disagrees.

  I glance at her one last time before forcing myself to look away.

  Get some damn control, Eli.

  I lean over, throwing my arm around the blonde that was just tucked into Connor’s side. “Got any friends?”

  The blonde nods and Connor smirks, slapping his hand on the bar. “There he is! About time you showed up, brother.”

  I smile, ignoring the way my mind begs me to steal one last look at the redhead in the corner.

  It’s September first. It also happens to be the first Saturday of the month, which is why I’m sitting at my kitchen counter, staring at my phone, willing it to disappear. If it does, I don’t have to make the call I’m desperate to avoid, but know I’ll never miss. At least this time I’ll have some good news to share. Maybe Pops will see the prestige in coaching, and it’ll help bring a little bit of his spark back. But I doubt it.

  I blow out a breath, pinching the bridge of my nose, steeling myself for the guilt that’s about to rise up like a tidal wave and capsize me for not going home. There are not many times I let it in, but during these calls it’s unavoidable.

  I grab my phone and dial.

  “Hey, Eli,”
my sister answers.

  She used to be the happiest—if not the most naive—kid on the block. Somewhere along the way, that changed. Now when we talk, it’s lined with a melancholy I wouldn’t know the first thing about fixing, even if I could.

  “Hey, baby sis. How are you and Pops?”

  “Same as last time you called. Eli… he’s not doin’ good, you know? He drinks. A lot. I think he needs help.”

  “Did you get the check I sent?”

  She sighs. “Yeah. I wish you’d stop sendin’ ‘em. We can’t have money lyin’ around here like that. Daddy can’t be trusted with it.”

  I laugh. “Come on, Lee. Pops is a grown man. If he’s not working, you two should use all the help you can get. Let me take care of you.”

  She’s so dramatic when it comes to Pops. Always spouting off about his drinking and trying to guilt me into coming back home. I’m not worried. He’s the most controlled man in the universe.

  Where’s she think I learned it from?

  “What else is going on? You still working both jobs? How are things with your dancing?”

  “Yep, still both. And I’ll have you know we do just fine without your guilt money.”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly thick. Guilt money. I don’t know what she wants from me. She begs me to help then bitches when I try. “It’s to help, sis. So you don’t have to work so hard. So Pops doesn’t have to go back to construction since you say he’s in no shape.”

  “Fine, Eli.” She sighs again. “Listen, Daddy’s up. You wanna talk to him?”

  The little bit of hope I had going into this call drains away. My stomach sinks, the knot in my throat growing when I realize she’s not planning to ask about me. I’m not even sure she knows I’m in Florida. Last she asked, I had only been interviewed. Maybe she just doesn’t care. She never really has. I wish with everything in me I could just not care too.

  “Sure. Hey… you doing okay? You sound tired.”

  She exhales. “Yeah, Eli. I’m doin’ alright. Just gettin’ by one day at a time. Here’s Daddy.”

  Pops comes down the line, but we never talk for long. Quite the twist from growing up when he’d lecture me for hours. He tells me all about his fishing, and how he’s enjoying his “retired” life. I ask how things are with Lee, and he complains about her mothering him.

  He doesn’t ask what I’m up to.

  Like father, like daughter.

  I’m not surprised. If it doesn’t involve my name in bright lights or bringing Ma back from the dead, he’s not interested.

  I hang up after an excruciating ten minutes of small talk and glance at the clock on the stove. Five minutes. That’s how long I’ll give myself to feel this… ache that reaches through my stomach and splits open my chest, gripping my heart and squeezing. But only five minutes. After that, I’ll push it to the corner of my mind and lock it up tight.

  Back where it belongs.

  6

  Eli

  I’m standing in the middle of the basketball court, eyeing my setup. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. My job today is to teach Becca the basics. Introduce her to the love of my life. That is, if she even shows up. I’m pretty sure Coach told her to get here at eight a.m., but it’s ten ‘til and she still hasn’t arrived.

  Doesn’t she know “on time” is late?

  I kneel, smoothing the painter’s tape I put on the mid-court line. I spent all of Sunday figuring out my game plan. I’m not sure it will work, but I figured visual representation and teaching her to play is better than her listening to me talk for hours on end.

  The squeak of sneakers on the polished maple floor has me looking toward the noise. Becca struts in, bookbag slung over a shoulder, barely-there shorts, and a skin-tight tee that says “FCU” across her tits.

  Jesus.

  At least she’s wearing better shoes today.

  “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” I stand.

  Emeralds slice through me with her glare. She tosses her bag to the floor and stomps over. “It’s not even eight yet. I’ve got…” She grabs my wrist, peering at my watch. “Four minutes to spare.”

  I jerk my arm back, my skin prickling from where her fingers wrapped around it. “I don’t need the attitude, Rebecca. I need you to take this seriously.”

  She throws her hair into a ponytail, drawing my eyes to the smooth, pale expanse of her neck.

  “Don’t call me Rebecca. Ugh, just when I think I can’t hate you more, you go and sound like my old man.”

  “I don’t really give a damn if you like me.”

  “You should.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future. It’d be a shame to make your life a livin’ hell while I’m here.” She smiles as if the thought pleases her.

  “I’m pretty sure being around you is the definition of a living hell.”

  “Then I’ll be sure to live up to my reputation,” she quips. “Can we just get today over with?”

  I point to myself and grin. “I’m running this. Not you.”

  Her lips purse as she eyes me up and down. “Hasn’t it been a few years since you could even play? I’m surprised you remember how to run anything.”

  My smile drops, teeth gritting as my blood heats.

  Fuck her.

  I lean in close. I want to grip her feisty little throat. Feel her heartbeat quicken under my fingers while I lay out how this will go. My fists clench to quell the urge. “Let’s get one thing straight. Every single thing that happens when it comes to you and this court? I control it. You can run that fuckin’ mouth of yours all day long. It’ll only make your submission that much sweeter.” My voice drops. “You want this job, Becca? You better learn to play my way, baby girl.”

  My gaze swings to her lips as they part.

  “I ain’t your baby.”

  “No?” I smirk. “That’s fine. I’ll settle for you being my bitch.”

  Her eyes flare, and satisfaction digs its way through my system, burrowing in my chest.

  “Becca! Good, you’re here,” Coach interrupts.

  I clear my throat, realizing how close we’re standing, my lips a centimeter away from hers. I take two large steps back. Becca’s eyes shutter, the heat dying as she looks toward Coach and smiles.

  “Here and ready to learn, Coach.” She taps her head.

  “Atta girl.” He stops next to me and surveys the court I’ve destroyed with painter’s tape. “Inventive. Looks like you’ve got this under control.” He faces Becca. “I got your class schedule, so after you’re done here, stop by my office and we can work out your hours.”

  Becca bobs her head. Coach claps me on the back, walking away.

  I sigh, turning to Becca. “How long do I get you for?”

  She grabs a strand of hair from her ponytail and tugs. “I have class at ten-thirty.”

  “Okay.” I walk to the sideline, grabbing a ball. “Let’s start with what you know. See if you remember anything I taught you and Lee back in the day.” I grin as I dribble.

  She guffaws. “Clearly, you don’t remember our childhood. The only thing you ever taught me is how to successfully avoid basketball players.”

  She’s wrong, I do remember. Out of all my sister’s friends, she was the one I enjoyed teasing the most. Even back then she was a loudmouth, and I found a sick sense of pleasure in figuring out the best ways to get her to shut the hell up. Plus, there’s just something about watching that blush spread from her neck to her hairline. My dribbling slows as I think about what it would take to make that happen now.

  “If I recall, your perky freshman face was at plenty of games and after-parties, hanging off a player or two.”

  While Lee was never one to go to a party—at least while I was still in town—Becca was at every one, front and center. I rarely went to any, too invested in making ball my life. But the rumors grew rampant around school, and the locker room talk wasn’t exactly quiet. In the short tim
e of our shared tenure at Sugarlake High, she made quite the name for herself. The slutty preacher’s girl—wild and unruly.

  I’m sure her folks have been so proud.

  That thought gives me pause, stomach rolling from my judgment. It never crossed my mind what she may have gone through at home because of her reputation. If it’s anything like what I feel with Pops, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Failing to live up to people’s expectations is a hell of a bruise.

  I dribble between my legs, my eyes seeing her in a new light.

  She waves me off. “That’s beside the point. Those boys served a purpose and that’s all they were good for. Kinda like you.”

  My brows lift, a smile teasing my lips. “What purpose do I serve?”

  “Teachin’ me the ‘love of the game.’ After that, I’ll toss you to the side just like the rest of ‘em.”

  I chuckle at the fact she thinks I’ll need to be tossed. Like I would give her that kind of power.

  “Okay, well this” —I hold the basketball in the air— “is a bas-ket-ball.”

  She widens her eyes. “Wow. That’s amazin’.”

  “It is.” I nod. “Just wait until you learn about shooting.”

  “Like a pistol?” she gasps, throwing a hand to her heart.

  I make a finger gun, pointing it at her. “Bingo, little lady.”

  She snorts. “You’re ridiculous. Can we be serious? I need this job, Eli.”

  I stifle a grin. “I’ve been serious. It’s you who needs to be ready.”

  She nods, walking closer. “I’m ready. I hear you’re the best to learn from. Besides, you know what they say.”

  I stare down at her, our eyes locking. If she can keep things civil like they have been for the past couple minutes, we’ll get through this just fine.

  “What do they say?” I ask.

  “Those who can’t do… teach.” She winks, swiping the ball from my hands and sauntering to the basket.

  Bitch.

  7

  Becca