Lucky Number Eleven

Chapter Four

Branch

"Hey, you about ready to head into town and raise some hell?" Finn asks from the doorway. "There's a little bar downtown or a bigger one a few miles the other way. Your call."

Pulling my gaze from the window, I look at my friend. "Small town girls are more fun. Let's start there and work our way through."

Finn laughs and disappears around the corner. "Give me twenty. Just going to jump in the shower."

Swiping the cross necklace my grandmother gave me when I graduated high school, I put it on. It rested in a shoe box up until a couple of years ago when I found it looking for something else. It's made up of these little wooden beads with red shiny ones sprinkled in, and more days than not, it hangs around my neck.

It's an odd choice for me. My only adornments typically include a gold watch—the first expensive thing I purchased after I signed my contract, the smirk I got from my dad that both gets me in and out of trouble, and a tattoo that spells my last name running down my right forearm. Jewelry really isn't my thing, yet this little trinket has somehow become some sort of security blanket. I just feel better, more grounded, more me, when I have it on.

Twisting the beads between my fingers, the house is quiet as I head down the hallway towards the kitchen for a glass of lemonade. Wooden beams loom overhead, the staircase flooded with the final rays of sun filtering through the stained glass window. I hit the landing and turn the corner and stop just short of my target.

Layla stands at the kitchen counter in a pair of grey cotton shorts and a white tank top. I haven't seen her since the little meet-and-greet in the front yard a couple of hours ago. She and her friend disappeared to the lake while Finn corralled me back to the house for a game of pool and away from any shot at seeing his sister.

She tucks a piece of hair that's fallen from her ponytail behind her ear as she examines a slew of things that appear to have spilled from a bag sitting askew on the black marble worktop. I can't take my eyes off her. It was hard enough to act normal earlier today with Finn standing by my side, but now he's not here.

I stand in the doorway like a fucking stalker and gawk at this woman who's made me feel like a damn bloodhound since she stepped out of the car.

She's positively gorgeous in the most unassuming way and has an energy that just makes me want to be near her. I find myself wanting to hear her voice, searching for her laugh, looking to see where she is . . . and it's so annoying.

Her brows tug together, a cascade of lines forming across her creamy skin. My fingers itch to run along the ridges, smoothing them out, feeling the softness of her skin beneath mine.

Instead, they go to my cock and attempt, in vain, to smooth it out. The movement catches her attention and she shoots upright.

"Branch!" she exclaims, a hand going to the base of her throat. "I didn't hear you come in."

"How do you think I got the Most Valuable Player title last year?" I wink. "I'm quick."

A smile plays coyly on her lips. "Noted."

Our gazes lock together somewhere over the marble island separating us as her innuendo becomes apparent. It's all I can do not to think about her body beneath mine, my palms memorizing the curve of her hip, the bow of the small of her back.

"I'm also very good with my hands," I add.

"So I see." She tries to hide her grin as she brushes her line of sight down my body and to my hand resting on my now throbbing cock, then back to my face.