“I didn’t realize I needed to give you a play-by-play of my evening plans.”

“What the hell is going on here?” RJ’s blazing eyes are fixed on Bishop.

Based on the way these two are glaring at each other, I have a feeling they don’t like each other very much. It may explain why my conversations with Bishop that revolve around hockey are only ever related to his PT and his friend Kingston. Bishop actually seems like he might be a bit of a loner. Or a homebody. Or both.

RJ’s lip twitches. “Are you hanging out with this guy?”

“I’m helping Shippy with PT.” I use the nickname on purpose, to let Bishop know I don’t appreciate whatever the hell drama he’s about to cause me.

“Shippy?” RJ looks like his eyes are about to bug out of his head and roll across the floor.

“Kody needs to go to bed, and Lainey’s waiting on you.” I grab my brother by the elbow and lead him to the elevator, jabbing the button four hundred thousand times in less than three seconds. Thankfully, it opens right away. I use my brother’s shock, or whatever it is, to push him into the elevator. He drags me in with him, though.

I jam my thumb on the button for the parking garage, repeatedly, and fire a glare at Bishop, who’s still standing in the hallway in a pair of red underwear, looking super pissed off. As if he has a right. Christ.

My brother points a finger in Bishop’s direction as the doors slide closed. “What the hell is going on? You better not be dating him.”

“Excuse me?”

RJ crosses his arms. “You can’t date a hockey player.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You just had your heart stomped all over, Stevie. Do you really think you need to be getting involved with someone right now? Especially someone who travels for more than half the year? Not to mention that guy is an ass clown.”

I rub my temples, trying to keep a lid on my anger, but I don’t think it’s a battle I’m going to win. “Okay, first of all, Rook, you don’t get to dictate what I do or who I do it with. I’m not a kid. I’m an adult, and I can make adult decisions without consulting you or anyone else. Secondly, I’m not dating Bishop.”

RJ scoffs. “Come on, Stevie. Do you think I’m an idiot? He was in his underwear in the hall saying he’s been waiting on you for two hours.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to pace in the very confined space. It’s not effective because he’s at one end and then the other in two strides. “Are you hooking up with him?”

“He has a groin injury, RJ. He can’t have sex.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he snaps.

The elevator doors slide open, and I push him out into the parking garage. “I’m helping him with PT, not trying to ride his broken dick. Not that it’s any of your damn business.” I’ve thought about it, though. During our sessions I’ve gotten to know Bishop, and under that surly exterior and his poorly thought-out comments that often come across as seriously rude insults is what I’m beginning to think is a genuinely nice guy.

Plus he’s insanely hot, so I would have to be asexual not to have dirty thoughts about him. The kind I use as fodder for my private one-hand clapping parties after our nightly PT sessions. My vibrator has been getting one hell of a workout lately. Not that I’m going to share that with my unreasonably angry brother.

“He already has a team therapist working with him. He actually has a full staff helping him rehab, so why would he need you?” RJ’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean for it to sound as dismissive as it does, but it still gets my back up. This is the exact reason growing up as Rook Bowman’s baby sister is a curse. Like what I do is so paltry and unimportant I couldn’t possibly be helpful in any real capacity. “I’m helping because he wants to heal faster, and it’s a good opportunity for me, career-wise. I get to work one-on-one with an injured NHL player.”

“I’ve already offered to get you a job working with NHL players, if that’s what you want. All I have to do is talk to our GM, and you’re in, Stevie. I have connections that could get you in to work with the women’s team. Then you can rehab and condition hockey players in a professional setting that isn’t Winslow’s apartment.” RJ keeps running his hands through his hair, gripping it at the crown.

“I already told you, I don’t want you to get me a job. I want to do it on my own merit, not because I have some high-profile brother who can pull all these strings for me. I’m damn good at my job, and I don’t need my brother swooping in to do everything for me. I’m better than that.” I try not to raise my voice, but I’m pretty annoyed by this whole thing.

“Why do you think Winslow is letting you rehab him?”

“Because I offered, and he wants to get back on the ice.”

RJ sighs and rubs the spot between his eyes. “Come on, Stevie, you can’t be that naive.”

“What are you talking about? Naive about what?”

“He’s using you, Stevie.”

“I’m the one who suggested it. Besides, it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, so I don’t see how that constitutes me being used,” I snap.

“He’s doing this to get back at me.”