by Rion, Paige
Jinny shrugs. “Sure. Sounds fair enough.”
Dean kicks the leg of the desk with the toe of his shoe. “I can’t believe you guys are joking around about this. I don’t like this. Not at all.”
Callie glances up at him. “We’re not joking.”
His cheeks flush, and his eyes glint with disapproval.
Why is Dean being such a buzzkill over this? Jinny is okay with it.
For the first time since she left Mr. Bucek’s office, Callie actually thinks it’s possible to pay down her debt enough by graduation.
She fixes Dean with her iciest gaze. “Stop being so overprotective. I know sometimes you act like the brother I never had, but it’s not like I’ve never dated before. This is the same thing. It’s just that I’ll be going on a lot of dates and being compensated.” She turns back to her computer. “Now, tell me, what bio will attract customers while not sounding sleazy or desperate?”
Behind her, something slams. She jumps in her seat and whips around toward the door. Dean’s basketball bounces, then rolls toward her, and when she glances around the room, he’s nowhere to be found.
What the heck is his problem?
“Brothers,” Jinny says, answering her unspoken question.
Shrugging, Callie turns back to her computer and rubs her hands together. “Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER TWO
DEAN
Outside, the air is brisk. Snow falls in quarter-sized flakes, coating the ground of campus. But inside the stuffy gym, the temperature rises. Dean discards his warm-up pants and sweatshirt for his silky Pitt shorts and tank. Beads of sweat roll down his face and soak through his thick hair. He squares off against three players on this Saturday morning.
He dribbles. The ball pounds against the floor, then back up to his palm. When Jason tries for the ball, he does a figure eight and moves it behind the opposite leg and back again. Grinning as he stares into Jason’s eyes, he pivots and makes his move. He brushes past Jason, crosses to the other side, lifts the ball, and shoots.
The ball swishes through the net. Dean raises his hands in the air and hoots, his breath coming hard. From across the court, Emmett, his best friend, shoots him a high five. But Jason glares at him, his brown eyes turning onyx with challenge.
“Last point,” Jason says. “Whoever scores wins.”
“Fine by me.” Dean runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “How ’bout we up the stakes? Next point wins double.”
Jason raises his brows and cocks his head. “Okay. Just you and me. Winner takes one hundred bucks.”
“Let’s do it.” Dean heads to the position at the top of the court where they’ll square off. The other men drop back, giving Dean and Jason the court, since it’s their bet and their money on the line.
Dean stands a couple feet in front of Jason. He bends his legs and holds his arms and hands out, his limbs limber. Ready. Waiting. He stares directly into Jason’s eyes. He’ll see the move there before anywhere else.
Jason darts left and Dean follows, covering him. Jason backs up, dribbling with ease, then slides right, but Jason meets Dean’s hard chest, a roadblock to the hoop.
From behind him, Emmett hollers. “Come on. Give us something, Jason. Prove you’re not a pussy!”
With the words echoing through the gym, Jason scurries left and elbows Dean in the gut, then spins in the opposite direction.
“Oomph.” The air whooshes out of Dean’s chest, and his hand flies to his stomach. But after only a second, he forces his feet to move. React. He spins and sprints. His long legs give him the advantage, and in three strides, he’s back beside his opponent, and just as Jason raises his hands and sets up for the three-point shot, Dean knocks the ball from his grip.
Jason curses, but Dean’s too fast for him. He dribbles toward the hoop and plants his feet. He bends, pumps his arms, and jumps to deliver his signature slam dunk, but just as his hands graze the cold rim of the hoop, Callie’s face flashes in his head. And his hands fumble the ball.
He hears Jason come up behind him and watches, in slow motion, as the ball spins on the rim, then falls off the edge, missing the net. When Dean’s feet hit the ground, Jason checks him in the ribs. Hard.
Stumbling backward, Dean groans and clutches his ribs. “Shit,” he hisses.
He squints downcourt to see Jason scramble after the ball, and all of Dean’s frustration and fury from the day before hits him like a kick to the gut.
Jason snatches the ball and comes straight at him. With the image of Callie’s every expression flickering in his mind like a slideshow, Dean plants his feet and shoves Jason in the chest, knocking him on his ass. The ball jostles from his tight grip, and with lightning-fast reflexes, Dean steals it. Turning, he raises the ball in the air and shoots. The three-pointer sails into the air and hits the backboard once before rolling across the rim and into the net to win the match.
Jason is on his feet like a shot. “What the fuck, man?” He moves in front of Dean and shoves him. “Is that how we play?”
Dean grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring with barely suppressed rage at visions of Callie on dates with rich pretty-boys like Jason. “It’s better than a check in the ribs, asshole.”
“Girls, girls, girls,” Emmett taunts as he walks toward them. “Let’s not fight. The way I see it, Dean won.” Emmett turns his smirk to Jason.
“This is bullshit,” Jason shakes his head.
Dean’s eyes flash, but Emmett just shrugs and places a hand on Dean’s chest to keep him in check.
“Maybe so, but it’s chow time, and you have a debt to settle,” Emmett says, rubbing his stomach with his free hand. “So stop being such a pansy and pony up.”
Without another word, Jason turns and stalks off the court, pounding his fist against the bleachers before he disappears into the locker room.
“Good job pissing him off. I guess he’s not buying us beer at Hemingway’s tonight,” Emmett says, referring to the off-campus hangout.
“Screw him.”
Emmett narrows his eyes, and Dean shifts on his feet, avoiding the scrutiny.
“Before you shoved him on his ass, you had murder flashing in your eyes. I thought for a second you might kill him.”
Dean shrugs and exhales a deep breath.
Get her off your mind, man. “He plays dirty, and I’m sick of it. That’s all.”
Emmett nods. “Mm-hm.”
Okay, so maybe it’s more obvious than he thought that his annoyance at Jason is about more than the game. After all, when does Jason not play dirty? If you play with Jason, you know what you’re getting. He’s one of those former prep school kids who’d be going to an Ivy League school if it weren’t for a drunk driving incident prior to his freshman year. Not even his daddy had enough money to buy out the boards of Harvard after that, or so Dean’s heard. Choosing to stay here, Jason claims his attendance at Pitt is due to his desire to play for a Big East school. But Dean knows better. Jason thinks he’s above the rules—and above everyone else, for that matter. Dean’s never liked him much, but he’s a part of the team and a good ballplayer, and Dean makes it a point not to make enemies, especially when it comes to his teammates.
Dean thinks of Callie again—the way she smiled as she and Jinny discussed her newfound scheme—and he knows he has to get her off his mind or he’ll implode.
Sighing, Dean turns to him. “It’s nothing. Just this girl…”
Emmett smirks. “Trouble with the ladies, Michaels?” He smacks him on the back. “I feel for you. I’ve been in love with your sister for the past two years, but she hates me. That’s the way love rolls, I guess. Face it, love hurts, man.”
Dean glares at him. “Don’t start on my sister again. Unless you’d like me to release a little of my frustration into your face.”
Emmett raises his hands and snorts. “Whoa. No need. No need, my friend.” Emmett bends over, picks up the basketball, and twirls it on one finger while he talks. “Whatever happened to that hot ch
ick you were seeing? The one with the short black hair and the nose piercing—Maya or something? Now, she was something. Is this about her? If not and she’s available, then maybe…”
Dean shakes his head and runs a hand through his damp hair, wishing his best friend would just shut the hell up. But before he can say anything, the door to the locker room slams open, echoing like a cannon. Jason stalks toward them and shoves a handful of crumpled bills into Dean’s hand, then jabs him in the chest. “Next week. Rematch,” he says, then pivots on his heel and leaves.
“Damnit. You screwed us, man. I told you he wasn’t buying now.” Emmett rests his hands on his hips and stares after Jason’s retreating form with longing. “I only have five bucks left until payday, and I was all amped up for a couple brewskis.”
Dean’s eyes light up as he lifts the hand holding the cash Jason gave him. “Who needs free beer from that douche?” He backs away, his mood lifting slightly. “Tonight at eight. I’ll meet your sorry ass at Hemingway’s. I’ll buy.”
Emmett lifts his chin. “Hey, what about the girl?”
Dean’s smile fades and his mood darkens again at the reminder of Callie. “It’s not about Maya. It’s someone else.” Then, without another word, he spins and leaves the gym.
* * *
Dean takes his time in the shower, then changes into something warmer before leaving the gym and heading outside toward his dorm. Two inches has accumulated while he whittled away the day playing ball, and the last thing he needs is a cold in the middle of the season. Not with play-offs coming up. The Panthers need him. He and Jason are the strongest players on the team. Without them, they don’t stand a chance.
Dean picks his way across the parking lot, his gaze on the ground as he walks. He thought a little ball today would take his mind off Callie, but he had been wrong. He couldn’t stop the incessant thoughts. And now that he’s done playing and has nothing to do, his mind can run wild.
“She’s your sister’s best friend,” he murmurs into the frigid air.
It’s the same thing he’s told himself a million times over the past seven years, but it never matters. No matter how many times he tries to think of her as just a friend—a friend of his sister—the feelings he’s had for her since junior high won’t go away. The moment Dean hit puberty and noticed girls, his sights set directly on Callie. And he couldn’t help it any more when he was thirteen than he can now. But Callie thinks of him as a friend, at best. A brother at worst.
What did she call him last night? The overprotective brother she never had?
Dean winces at the memory. Close enough. God, talk about a dagger to the heart. Brother was way worse than friend. How does a guy recover from that? He probably can’t.
Dean knows how hard she’s worked over the last two years at her internship, and he knows how badly she wants this job, but the solution to lowering her debt that she has cooked up is preposterous. And what’s worse is that his sister is going along with it. Maybe he should talk to Jinny alone, get her to see reason—that this scheme is ridiculous and will wind up getting Callie hurt.
Who knows why some loser needs to pay for a date.
Probably because they’re deranged, or they have ulterior motives, just like she does.
The question is, what are their motives? They could be dangerous. What if they’re controlling or abusive? What if she goes on a date with a serial rapist? Or some asshole who wants nothing but sex? Or one who takes advantage of her?
Dean clenches his teeth at the thought and shifts the gym bag on his shoulder. He can’t have that.
But what can I do? How can I stop her?
He has no answers. He’s not even sure she can be stopped. All he knows is that he must stop her. She deserves someone who will treat her like a lady. She needs someone who will understand that she uses shopping and fashion as a form of therapy. Someone who knows how rough the last five years have been, with her parents gone. Someone who knows how many months after their deaths she spent doing nothing but crying, never leaving her room. Someone who knows how incredibly smart she is. How talented. How goofy she can be when she lets loose and it’s just her and Jinny. How her nose crinkles when she laughs or eats something gross. How it only takes one drink to get her tipsy. She needs someone who knows she likes only flavored coffee, with two scoops of sugar, no cream. Someone who knows every line of her face, every contour. The curve of her jaw, every freckle…
Dean swallows, feeling the swell in his chest at the thought of Callie going out on date after date with a bunch of men she doesn’t know. Rich men. Possibly older men. Men willing to pay her.
Men who could probably provide her with a lot more than you could.
He fists his hands and switches direction, veering off the sidewalk and heading toward Buzz—the local coffee shop off the corner of campus—knowing Jinny is working so that’s where Callie would be.
Callie Cartwright is his. She’s the girl of his dreams. And he’s the man of hers. She just doesn’t know it yet. All he has to do is make her see that.
He just doesn’t know how…
CHAPTER THREE
CALLIE
Callie nods at the spreadsheet on her laptop. “I officially have my first few dates.” A grin spreads across her face as Jinny—who’s supposed to be working—peers over her shoulder.
The door jingles as another customer enters. “Hang on…” Jinny says, turning to greet whoever it is. “Oh, never mind. It’s just my brother.” She moves back to Callie and the computer, calling over her shoulder, “Hey, loser.”
“Hey,” Dean says. “I’ll take an iced coffee.”
“I don’t remember asking.”
Dean grins. “Would you like me to consult the manager?”
Callie laughs when Jinny sticks her tongue out and moves back behind the counter. Dean has worked at Buzz since he was in high school, and due to his great rapport with the customers and the owner, he was promoted to manager two years ago. And every day since, he’s relished reminding Jinny that her younger brother is now her boss. Callie would never admit it to Jinny, but it’s pretty amusing.
Jinny pours coffee over ice, then gives it an angry stir and hands it to Dean, who is already adding two bucks to the cash register for his drink. When she returns to Callie’s side, Callie glances back over her shoulder to see Dean staring at her. Frowning, Callie’s about to ask him what his problem is when Jinny says, “So you have your first dates already? It’s only been a week. That’s insane!”
Dean chokes on his drink, sending a spray of coffee shooting across the counter.
Callie flinches. “Ew.”
“Yeah, I’m not cleaning that up,” Jinny says.
“How’d you get dates so fast? I thought for sure it would take you at least a month.” Dean closes the gap between them and narrows his eyes at the computer screen as if they’re making it up.
Callie shrugs. “It must’ve been the pic I posted.”
“What picture?”
“Her profile pic,” Jinny answers. “She used that hot bikini pic from our spring break to Cancun last year.”
Dean closes his eyes and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.
Callie scrunches up her nose and eyes him over the computer screen. “What’s your problem?” she asks. Then, returning to her spreadsheet, she clicks on the calculator minimized in the corner.
“So, let’s see how much I’ll make. I have two dates that include dinner and a tentative third. So, I’ll save money on the dinners just from having the meals paid for. That’s twenty-five bucks right there. Plus, the money I stand to make, which is…” She trails off as she calculates the numbers in her head. “Holy crap!” She glances up, her eyes bright. “I stand to make four hundred bucks just this week, plus the twenty-five in meal savings! That’s four twenty-five! I can put all that on my cards. And if I can do two to three dates every week…” She pulls the calculator on her computer up this time and crunches the numbers again, then glances up to
Jinny and Dean with a triumphant smile. “That’s over ninety-five hundred dollars!”
“My Lord, that’s a lot of money!” Jinny’s wide eyes stare at the calculator. “Maybe I should start doing this, too. We could go into business together. A lot of guys like petite girls, right?”
Dean stares at them in horror, his mouth rounding into a perfect “o.” “No. No way.”
Jinny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think Todd would go for it. Then again, maybe for that kind of money, he’s expendable…”
Callie tips her head back and laughs.
“You. Are. Not. Doing. This,” Dean spits between his clenched teeth. If he grits his jaw any harder it might crack. “God, I’m the younger one of us, so why the hell am I being the most sensible?”
“Chill out,” Callie says. “Can’t you tell when your own sister’s joking? Yeesh.” She shakes her head and eyes him, wondering if he’s gone mad.
Maybe he has. He’s getting way too worked up over this whole escort thing.
Jinny winks at Callie, but Dean just continues to glare.
“What would really come in handy is if one of these guys likes me and becomes a regular. I’d probably make a killing.”
“I’ve heard of guys doing that!” Jinny points a finger at her. “These rich corporate guys who need to look like they have a girlfriend to bring to events and dinners and stuff.”
“Yes, exactly!” Callie bites her lip, considering. “I need someone who’s high up in business who needs a regular date for things when they come up. They’d view it purely as a business transaction, then. They contract out dates for events and business dinners. Period. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about them expecting sex after a while, which is a giant no-no.”
“Ya think?” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his hand.
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t do that. That would be—”