Free Sugar Rush (Offensive Line #1) by Tracey Ward Page B

swat at him wildly. “You dick!”
    He cringes away from me, laughing. “Hey! No hitting the driver!”
    “I’m allowed to hit the driver when he acts like a pussy and a dick.”
    “That’s a lot of anatomy you’re throwing around.”
    “Beat him up for me.”
    “No.”
    “Ugh,” I groan, slinking down in my seat petulantly. “You’re worthless.”
    “Sorry. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
    “Gross.”
    “How is that gross?!” he demands.
    “You’re my brother. I don’t want to hear that shit.”
    “Whatever,” he mumbles. “Why do you want me to beat this guy up? Was he rude to you?”
    “No. I want you to beat him up because he was nice to me.”
    “Are you being sarcastic?” he asks, sounding like Colt.
    “Nope. It’s the truth. He was fun and it was awful.”
    “Showing up at the bakery, it sounds like he came looking for you. Do you think he likes you?”
    “I hope not,” I reply glumly.
    It’s a bigger lie than I’d like it to be.
    “Do you like him?”
    “Maybe.”
    “It’s not a bad thing to be liked by someone, Lil,” he tells me seriously. “And it’s definitely not a bad thing to like somebody.”
    “It is if it’s the wrong kind of somebody.”
    “What makes him wrong?”
    “Everything.”
    “Can you be more specific?”
    “He’s famous. Or he’s getting famous, which is probably worse.”
    “So?” he laughs. “Half of the people in L.A. consider themselves famous. You should give him a chance.”
    “That’s what Rona said.”
    “Rona’s smart. You should listen to her. And you better tell Mom about him before she does.”
    “There’s nothing to tell. He asked me to dinner. I said no. That’s it.”
    “Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully.
    I glare at him mildly. “Shut up.”
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    “You were thinking things.”
    “I think you should tell Dad at least,” he says distractedly, pulling us off the freeway. “He’d flip out if he heard you met one of the Kodiaks.”
    I feel my stomach turn, my appetite disappearing in an instant. “I really doubt that, Mike,” I mutter miserably.
    His hands clench on the steering wheel, flexing and stressing. “Sorry, Lil. I wasn’t thinking.”
    “It’s okay.”
    We fall into an awkward silence where we pretend everything is fine. Like no one’s hurt and nothing is wrong. My family is famous for it.
    I check my phone again.
    It’s three fifty-one. I have seventy-seven percent battery life.
    No new messages.
    No missed calls.

CHAPTER NINE
    COLT
     
    Palmetto Warehouse
    Los Angeles, CA
     
    “Maria, I love you. I mean it.”
    “ Alto ,” she laughs.
    “I can’t stop. It’s too real. I love you.” I take another bite of lasagna, the cheese stretching gooey and thick from my mouth to my plate. “This is so good. What’s in it? Oregano? Cocaine?”
    “Cheese. A lot of cheese.”
    “ Mucho queso. ”
    “ Si. Bueno.”
    “ Te amo, Maria. ”
    She laughs again, her back to me, her hands in the sink washing the last of the dishes. “I love you too, Mr. Avery.”
    Short, thick, sixty, and sassy, Maria is a surrogate mother for me here in Cali. She’s been with me for the last two years cleaning my apartment, making me dinner, and taking care of Kat, my big, beautiful yellow lab, whenever I’m away. I couldn’t function without her. Tyus gives me shit for hiring her. He says I can’t live without a woman taking care of me, and he’s not wrong. Not entirely. The truth is, I like having someone to come home to. When I’m alone in my empty apartment I feel jittery. I’m painfully aware of the silence. And having someone to download my day with helps me cool it for the night, like I’m settling in. Unplugging.
    “Your mother called me today,” Maria tells me in her thick accent and flawless English. “The other apartment is empty soon.”
    “Really? I talked to her on the drive home and she didn’t mention it.”
    “She does not like you to know when it’s open.”
    “No, she