Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(37)

“I agree,” Justin says, bro-shaking hands with the triplets. “Come on, Mia, we need to talk.”

I pull my eyebrows together. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“You can talk here,” Colt adds, folding his arms.

“No, we can’t. Come on, sweetheart. Five minutes.”

Cody clamps his jaw, grinding his teeth when I get up, following Justin down the steps and around the corner, where he stops at the mouth of the tunnel leading to the changing rooms.

He bends his knee, propping his foot against the wall, gaze locked on me as he rubs his neck before pushing a sharp breath down his nose. “I’m risking my head here, so you gotta promise this stays between us.”

I don’t like the sound of that, but I nod, waiting for whatever he has to say.

“You’ve been marked, Mia.”

“Marked? What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve got a big red X painted on your back courtesy of Brandon. Remember when I told you he’s getting really creative? Well, the game’s afoot. The guys who asked you out? Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but they don’t want to date you. They want to fuck you. The first one who does wins the money.”

“Money?” I choke, feeling as if he smacked something hard against my temple. “What money?”

“You didn’t take Brandon’s deal, so he put five grand up for the first guy who gets you in bed.”

Shame mixes with disappointment. Tears immediately prickle my eyes. “This makes no sense... he wanted me for himself, why would he—”

“My guess is he hopes you’ll give up once the guys start getting too forward. The prize is internal, limited to the guys on the team, but you know shit spreads like wildfire here. It won’t be long before this gets out, and then who knows how many guys you’ll have to deal with.” He rakes his hand through his hair, pushing away from the wall. “I told you I was trying to do you a solid. My offer stands. Brandon will find a way to break you sooner or later, so just think about getting ahead of him.”

I scoff, swatting the first tears away. “You think offering to punch my V card to spite Brandon is doing me a solid? If you want to help, lie. Tell him I caved. Tell him we had sex.”

Justin lets his eyes rove my body. “I wish we did. I won’t play the game. I don’t care about the money, but I won’t lie.” He lifts his hand, pushing a wayward lock of my hair behind my ear, then wipes my cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s just sex, Mia. Think about it. And maybe don’t tell the triplets about the prize. I have a feeling they’ll go throwing punches, and that’ll only rile Brandon up.”

He drops his hand, walking away, leaving me alone and shaking. I take a few deep breaths to calm down, ignoring the hot ball of hurt burning my stomach.

“What did he want?” Cody clips when I sit down beside him, gathering my things. “He asked you out?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I said no.”

“Where are you going?” Conor asks, hauling himself around to sit up.

“Library. Don’t wait for me. I’ll take a cab home.”

◆◆◆

I peer up from the music sheet at the sound of rain pattering against the windows. It’s dark outside. I didn’t notice it get dark. After the chat with Justin, I left the triplets and went home, ditching my last lectures to play piano at home.

“There’s a storm rolling in,” Toby says, and I damn near jump out of my skin.

I turn around, finding him on the couch with a sketchpad in hand and an empty cup of coffee on the table.

“You sure get in the zone when you play. I’ve been here for an hour now. I even asked if you were hungry.”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“It’s cool. Turns out, listening to you play fuels my creativity.” He turns the sketchpad, showing me a tattoo design. A typewriter with strings of words rising like smoke and different flowers complementing the picture. “What do you think?”

“Is that for Aisha?”

“Yeah, she wants a whole sleeve. This is just the start.”

“I think you’re very talented.”

He smiles humbly, and we both look out the window when a flash of lightning clips outside like a camera flash.

“That’s my cue,” I say, a jolt of excitement heating the blood in my veins.

Toby shouts something behind me as I bolt to my room, but the bang of my door closing cuts him off. I pull a hoodie from the wardrobe, throwing it over my dress. It’s gray, five sizes too big, and not even mine.

I got it from James, a driver on my dad’s team, when I went to see the race in Austin last year. We sat outside until the early morning hours in front of a dying fire, toasting marshmallows and drinking champagne with a few other drivers. The air was chilly, so James pulled his hoodie off and forced it on me despite my weak protests. I never gave it back.

“I’m going out!” I yell into the kitchen not a minute later, pulling the hair on top of my head into a ponytail. Then I slip on a pair of white sneakers, grab the keys, and close the door behind me.

I breathe in the fresh, crisp air, feeling giddy like I’m floating out of my body. I pull the hoodie up, heading down the driveway, turning right at the bottom, toward the beach. The rain drenches my clothes within minutes, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s refreshing. Purifying, somehow.