C3 3

“I wanted to be drafted. I suck at school and I . . .” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I wanted to be drafted, but I was hoping Chicago or Detroit would draft me. I’m scared to move so far from home. Which I realize is dumb, but . . .”

“It’s not dumb.” Easton had his pick of colleges, and he went to Starling College in Grand Rapids. They have a good football team, but he could have gone to Florida or LSU—teams whose football programs are practically NFL breeding grounds. I figured it was because he wanted to stay close to home, but it never occurred to me that those preferences would hold true three years later. Only, this time the choice is out of his hands. “You can visit, though, right? A contract that big means you can fly home as often as you want.”

His gaze locks on his feet. “Right. Of course. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s really not.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to come across like the ungrateful rookie or like I’m too immature to handle the move.”

“I promise.” I squeeze his wrist, but I’m suddenly all too aware of the fact that I’m touching him. His skin is warm under my fingertips. I can feel his strength and the power of his big hands. How many times have I imagined those hands on me?

I jerk away, but he grabs my hand before I can get far.

“It’s your turn,” he says, threading his fingers through mine. What is he doing? “Why do you think you’re shamefully inexperienced, Shayleigh? Your friends aren’t pressuring you to have sex, are they?”

Sex. Oh my God. He thought I meant sex. Now my dumb secret feels even more mortifying, but he’s still holding my hand, and even as embarrassment warms my cheeks, I don’t want him to let go. “No one’s pressuring me.”

The back door clangs closed as Carter pushes into the kitchen. Easton jumps back and drops my hand.

“What are you two talking about in here?” my brother asks. He crosses the kitchen between us and opens the fridge. “Don’t you know the party’s outside?”

Easton’s throat bobs and he tucks his hands in his pockets. “We’re just catching up.”

Carter pulls out another beer and uses the opener on the wall to pull off the cap. “Well, I hope you’re finished, because people are starting to wonder if you already moved to L.A. or something.”

“Relax, Carter,” I tell him. “The night is young.”

He frowns as he looks back and forth between me and Easton. “I don’t like you two being alone in here together.”

I snort and for the millionth time in my life wonder what it would be like to not have five overly protective brothers. “Why not?”

Carter stares at Easton for a long beat. Easton gives a subtle shake of his head and Carter sighs. “Because you’re my little sister, and this punk breaks hearts in his sleep.”

“My heart is fine.” Liar, liar. Does Carter know how I feel about Easton? I’ve never told anyone. “We’re just talking.”

Carter taps Easton’s arm with the neck of his beer. “You. Outside. We’re celebrating your news, after all. And anyway, that redhead Tri-Delt showed up and is looking for you.”

Easton heads toward the back with my brother. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” He opens the door and turns back to wink at me before heading toward the lakeside bonfire with my brother.

I guess Easton doesn’t want to know my secret after all. I dodged a bullet.

So why do I feel so disappointed?

Easton

“Y

ou have to fucking stop.” Carter stomps away from the house and toward the bonfire blazing on the beach.

“Stop what?”

“I already told you she’s off-limits.”

The Jackson brothers have been telling me for years that their sister is off-limits. It just didn’t matter until last summer. I’d been busy with school and hadn’t seen Shayleigh in months when I came out to the Jackson family cabin with Carter. Shay was here and suddenly she was . . . more. It’s not like I didn’t know she was pretty before. She’s always been pretty. She’s also always been really fucking special to me. Something about Shay brings me peace when I need it the most. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who can chill my anxiety just by sitting next to me.

But sometime between when I’d seen her at Christmas and when I came out here last summer, she went from the pretty-but-quiet little sister of my best friend to the kind of beautiful it’s hard to look away from. Or maybe it happened long before last summer, and the swimsuit brought it to my attention. Because Shayleigh Jackson in a swimsuit, with her long legs, soft thighs, and full breasts—no idea when that happened. She wasn’t simply the Jackson sister anymore. She was a fucking siren, and I was going to drown trying to resist her. With her dark hair falling around her shoulders and that wide smile and easy laugh, how could I not notice?

And I noticed a few too many times, because Carter caught me staring and tore into me.

Carter looks to the house then to me, and I can practically see him calculating the pros and cons of locking his sister away to protect her virtue.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt her,” I say.