Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
The house I live in has gone from one family member to the next, starting first with Karrie and Matthew, who fell in love at first sight. Then Allison took it over only to fall in love with Matthew’s enemy, Max. Finally ending with Zara, my twin, who ended up with Evan and lives in Long Island in the mansion I found them. Now not only does she live an hour away from me, but she’s also expecting her own baby. We can’t explain our bond. It just is. Pushing off the desk, I grab my phone and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.
A collection of photos of all of us line the whole wall going downstairs. It started with Matthew and Karrie and slowly got filled up with everyone who’s lived here.
Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge and find it half empty. I take my phone out and order a pizza.
My phone buzzes in my hand the minute I press confirm. “I swear I didn’t do anything.” I smile, grabbing a bottle of water and walking to the couch.
Matthew’s laughter fills my ear. “Hey, squirt.”
“You know I’m almost twenty-four, right?” I make my way to the living room throwing myself on the couch, sinking in, and then reach over to grab one of the throw covers to cover my bare feet.
“Almost twenty-four is still in squirt age,” he says, and I hear honking in the background. My brother is seventeen years older than us. My dad fell in love with our mom when he showed up at her arena to train. From all the stories they’ve told us over the years, it was one look and he was gone. Matthew was fifteen, and Allison was five. Their father is long gone, out of the picture, but no one will ever tell me or my family that my father isn’t his father. Blood or not, they are the same person. “I need a favor.”
“Holy shit, is hell freezing over?” I laugh, grabbing the remote. “Remember last year when you got mad at me and said you weren’t ever asking me for anything again?”
“You put Karrie in a bikini and had her pose next to a pool for one of your real estate ads,” he hisses. “You made it sound like she was single.”
I roll my eyes; my brother is a caveman. Actually, all the men in my family are a bit to the extreme. “I’m surprised you didn’t walk around town with her beating a hand to your chest saying mine.”
“I thought of doing a billboard of us in Times Square,” he says quietly. “But she vetoed it.”
I roll over in laughter. “Why am I not surprised you would suggest that?”
“Anyway, I have a huge favor.” His tone turns serious, but with him, you never know.
“What now?” I ask him.
“Can you come to the arena tomorrow at three?” he asks me, and now he’s piqued my curiosity. “I’m working with our new guy tomorrow, and it’s the perfect time for you to meet him.” Matthew is or was the hockey “It” guy until he retired two years ago. He hung up his skates, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the game anymore. He’s now the general manager for the New York Stingers. Where Matthew was the “It” guy in hockey, our father is the hockey god. He still holds some of the highest titles, and everyone wants to be him.
“Are you setting me up on a date?” I ask him, knowing that’ll irritate him. He hates the fact we, his sisters, date. He hates the fact we have sex, and if it was up to him, we would live in a bubble. “I haven’t been out in forever.”
“Are you crazy?” he hisses. “Don’t even talk like that, especially when you are here. The last thing I need are the rookies going apeshit over you.”
“You are such a buzzkill, Matthew,” I moan. The doorbell rings, so I get up and walk to the door. “So what do you need me for if it isn’t to rock his world?”
“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You are going to give me a heart attack.” I smile, knowing he is probably standing wherever he is and rubbing his chest, believing this. “The new guy needs a realtor,” he says. I open the door, smiling at the guy, and grab my pizza.
“Thank you.” I block the phone while greeting the six-foot-three hunk in front of me. He just nods and turns to walk down the stairs. I stand here appreciating his backside. Hey, men aren’t the only ones who can look.
Matthew’s voice brings me back from my daydream. “Anyway, he’s living in the loft for now,” he mentions. I lived in the loft my brother-in-law Max owns before I moved in here. It was amazing until the guy upstairs left his water running and ruined everything. It’s now back to what it was, if not better, but I’m in the brownstone in Brooklyn now.