Rule number one of their code: once you’ve known a guy for more than twenty-four hours, his sister is off-limits forever.

“I don’t like that rule anymore,” Stoykers said.

“Too fucking bad!” Army yelled. “You can’t just change the rules! That would mean I could tell everyone you like to watch figure skating.”

The room fell silent. Stoykers’ face went red.

“Figure skating?” Hughie said. “Seriously?”

“Fuck off,” Stoykers muttered.

“She’s an adult,” Hughie said. “You can’t stop her from going out with one of us if she wants.”

“Oh yeah.” Army gave him a meaningful look that was also…well, mean. “I can.”

The guys all hooted, but eyes shifted and Marc knew they knew Army meant it.

“C’mon, man. Better she dates one of us, someone you know and like, than some stranger who could be a complete asshole,” Hughie said.

“I’m a nice guy,” Stoykers added, looking wounded. “Why wouldn’t you want her to date me?”

Army scowled at him. “You sleep with chicks two at a time, that’s why.”

“Not always,” Stoykers protested, not even trying to deny it.

Marc just listened. This conversation made him want to punch someone. He didn’t know who. Anyone. The fact that apparently every single guy on the team lusted after Lovey Armstrong pissed him off. The fact that Army was being so protective of her also pissed him off, although why that was he had no idea. How could he blame a guy for looking out for his little sister? Well, Stoykers had a point—she was an adult.

A very sexy, sweet adult.

Fuck that. He had to wash those thoughts out of his head. He could not be thinking about her sweet little ass cheeks twitching as she walked down the hall that morning, heading to the bathroom she was sharing with him.

Fuuuuuck.

After lunch, he and Army headed back to the condo. It had started to snow from a pale overcast sky. Jesus, it wasn’t even the end of October and it was snowing already.

When they walked into the condo, the music of One Republic was playing and Lovey was on the big couch, sock feet on the coffee table, her sleek silver Mac computer on her lap. Her head and upper body were moving to the music as she stared at her computer screen, fingers tapping on the keyboard. Pale light flooded the room through the big windows as snow fell outside.

“Oh hey.” She looked up at them and illuminated the room with that wide, white smile. “You’re back. How was your practice?”

“Good.” Army shrugged out of his jacket. Marc did the same, trying hard not to look at Lovey.

“Still on Facebook?” he muttered to the floor. At least she was dressed now.

“Um…sort of. Good news. Jillian can come to the game with me tonight.” She set aside her laptop and stood.

“Great.”

Yeah, she was dressed. A big, loose-knit sweater with a high neckline swaddled her from chin to thighs, black leggings covered her legs—although they didn’t disguise their sexy shape—and big Nordic-patterned knit socks ensured she was shrouded all the way to her toes. And still she somehow managed to look tempting.

He was so fucked.

“Who’s Jillian?” Army asked.

“We went to college together at Madison Tech. She moved to Chicago after we graduated. When I was coming here, I planned to look her up and hopefully get together, so this is great.”

Army nodded.

“Okay, gonna take a nap now.” Marc moved past her toward the hall. “See ya later.”

He made a hasty retreat down the hall, stopping at the bathroom. He walked in and shut the door, then gazed around in dismay. Lovey had apparently unpacked. Bottles of all kinds of girl crap lined the counter and the bathtub, the scent of cupcakes filling the air. A pink poufy sponge hung off a hook in the shower, and a lavender makeup bag spilled cosmetics out onto the marble vanity. A hair straightener sat on a folded-up towel there. Jesus.

Yup. Fucked.

Chapter 5

Lovey smiled, watching Marc disappear down the hall. She turned back to her brother, who stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“What?” She blinked at him.

He narrowed his eyes. “He touches you, he’s a dead man. Don’t screw around with him.”

Lovey lowered her chin to one side and gave him a sidelong look. “Dude. What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. And you’re not sleeping on the couch again. Get a fucking bed in here ASAP. Meanwhile, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I thought we already had this conversation.” She folded her arms across her chest to match his pose, cocking a hip. “You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”

“I am, but you can’t sleep out here in those skimpy little clothes when Marc is around.”

Now she lifted an eyebrow. “That’s what I sleep in.”

“Get some flannel pajamas.”

She laughed. “Right.”

“Seriously, Lovey. This is why I didn’t want you staying here. You can’t walk around dressed like that. He was looking at you.”

She grinned. “I know.”

He groaned.

“Oh relax, Dunc. We’re all adults.”

“We need to talk.”

She frowned. “About what?”

“About why you’re here. Why you quit your job. Why you broke up with whatshisname—”

“Richard.”

“Yeah. Richard. And what you think you’re going to do here in Chicago. But right now…I need to have a nap.”

She shrugged. She was familiar with game day naps. “Go ahead. And FYI, I already called Mom and asked her to get my stuff sent here. She’s going to do it Monday. I should have a bed next week.”

He sighed again. “Fuck me. How do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

He disappeared down the hall into his bedroom and she was alone again. She sucked in a long breath and let it out, looking around. Macklemore sang through her computer speakers on a playlist she’d created.

She wandered to the big windows and gazed out at the skyscrapers now obscured with the falling snow, slow, fluffy flakes that drifted slowly from the sky. The view from Duncan’s condo was awesome. She loved the city. She’d visited Chicago many times and couldn’t wait to go out there and explore and get to know it better. It would be different now that she lived there. She wasn’t just a visitor. This was going to be her home.

Why hadn’t she done this years ago?

The condo felt warm and cozy with the snow outside the glass. She padded in sock feet across the thick area rug toward the kitchen to brew herself a beverage in that cool Keurig machine. She’d found packages of all different kinds of drinks—lattes, cappuccinos, hot chocolate. Moments later she held a warm mug of caramel vanilla cream coffee. Yum. She didn’t want to think about the calorie or sugar content. She’d just have this one. She paused a moment, wondering why Duncan and Marc had such a drink…they didn’t seem the type to like a sweet coffee. Oh yeah—all the girls they had over.

She rolled her eyes and strolled back to curl up in the corner of the big, squishy leather couch.

Like last night. She’d learned later in the evening that they’d just met those girls at the bar. Here she’d thought she was meeting and hanging out with some of their friends. But no, puck bunnies. She grimaced. They’d actually been really nice girls, although Angel had clearly had her sights set on Marc. Beh.

Why did that bug her? It wasn’t like Marc was hers. But he was really, really attractive. And she knew he felt the same about her. She’d sensed the tension in him whenever they were together. Last night he’d kept watching her. This morning when they’d been in the kitchen together he’d clearly been attracted. There was no mistaking how he looked at her, and the cute way he was trying to keep his distance.