Hooked On Her - Stacey Lynn Page 0,2

always ask about him. I’ve had a crush on my brother’s best friend since before I could drive a car. It’s embarrassing and a habit I’ve tried to kick, but it’s no use. Jason Taylor is firmly cemented in my brain as the most perfect guy in existence and no one else measures up.

“I’m sure Jason can’t wait to see you, too.”

“Right.” I doubt it. Jason barely talks to me anymore and when he does, it’s usually with both of us sharing tight-lipped verbal barbs to see who will walk away first.

Usually, it’s me. Except on New Year’s. Jason did the walking away then.

Stop! I shout to myself silently. New Year’s Eve was a mirage. I’m certain he didn’t brush my hair off my shoulder, skim his lips across my cheek and linger, whispering, “You’ll find the guy for you who deserves you when you’re ready to open your eyes.”

Oddly enough, I’d been plastered against a dark hallway, eyes closed as he spoke, and when I did manage to pry them open… the hallway was empty.

But no. I’ve convinced myself that night was one of my many dream-induced fantasies I’ve created over the years starring my brother’s teammate, one of the best wingers in professional hockey.

Please. He can have any woman. He doesn’t need his best friend’s little sister.

And the fact he still only sees me as a little sister is part of the reason why I’m so angry around him. I’m aware enough to realize it.

“You know,” Sawyer says, lifting my suitcase into the back of his Tundra with ease. “I still can’t figure it out. Jason gets along with everyone and yet somehow, you two can’t be in a room together without me needing to hide the knives.”

Well, you see, big brother, when you fall in love with a guy six years older than you and spend years trying to find someone to replace him because you can’t get over the fantasy version you’ve created for yourself, it makes you a wee bit sassy in his presence.

No big deal, really.

That’s right… hours ago, Will emptied my apartment and stole everything from me, and it’s all Jason Taylor’s fault. I can trace that web of ridiculous thought all the way back to him one thin, silken strand at a time.

Chapter Two

Tessa

* * *

I shove a toasted bagel into my mouth and chew slowly. Hard to force food down when the sound of retching can still be heard down the hall. I’m not certain if my brother still thinks I’m a naive nine-year-old, but if he does, he’s a bigger idiot than I usually think he is.

A behemoth on the ice. A dolt in person.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Yesterday, Debbie had a bug. She was fine when I got here and then passed out on the couch at eight o’clock. I woke this morning to the sound of her throwing up, her laughing, throwing up again, and Sawyer’s murmurs through the wall—apparently their bathroom is on the other side of my bedroom—telling her she only has a few more weeks to go.

Whether they’re hiding it from me because of everything that’s happening with Will, or they’re waiting to tell the team and family until she’s past the first trimester is the only question I have.

And it better not have anything to do with me.

The heavy thud of Sawyer heading down their wood staircase draws my attention from my spot in their open kitchen and I grin as Sawyer saunters toward me. He’s showered, dressed in his athletic gear. I’m assuming he’s headed to the team’s practice facility for a workout. As a defenseman for the Ice Kings, and with their season starting soon, if I know my brother, he’s in full-on, last minute, kick ass on the ice mode twenty-four seven.

Or at least he usually would be, if he didn’t look like he was getting ready to puke himself.

I snort and chomp down on my bagel.

He glances at me and heads to the coffee pot.

“When is she due?” I ask. There’s no point in beating around the bush.

He curses and I laugh. Coffee drips down his wife-beater tank top and he’s swiping at his crotch.

“Damn it, Tess. Don’t startle me like that.”

I swivel on my stool and cross my arms. “She has a bug.” I use finger quotes and he glares at me. “She was comatose on the couch by eight last night and she and I usually stay up until one in the morning