Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

“Well, hello, sunshine.” Brogan places a coaster in front of me. “Water? Beer?”

“Give me a shot of Jack.”

His brows rise.

“And make it a double.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, before turning to get the bottle of liquor off the back shelf.

I glare at him as he fills a shot glass.

“Some people find talking to their bartenders, me specifically, therapeutic. I have a kind face and soulful eyes.” He smirks and waggles his brows as he pours.

As soon as he’s done, I toss the drink back and motion for another.

“Uh-uh.” He holds the bottle hostage, making me glare harder. “Not until you tell me what the hell has you looking grumpier than Hendrick before he met Jane and drinking like Archer during spring break.”

“God, you’re annoying,” I say but my tone has no bite and I feel the tension in my chest loosening. I don’t want to get drunk any more than he wants to peel me off this barstool later.

Brogan keeps himself busy behind the bar. He sets the Jack back on the shelf, pours a Dr. Pepper and puts it in front of me.

“I was a jerk,” I say.

“I’m sorry, what?” He turns his head to the side and puts a hand up to his ear.

“Fuck off. You heard me.”

His quiet chuckle is barely audible over the noise of the bar. “Who’d you piss off?”

I take a drink of the soda before answering. “This…girl.”

That makes him laugh harder. “Tell me everything. Leave out nothing. I love it when you Holland brothers put your foot in your mouth.”

Brogan is the only one of my brothers that isn’t related by blood. He and Archer have been best friends forever. He was always hanging out at the house, staying over, and avoiding his place. Mom used to love to dote on him. I think she must have realized how much he needed it. I don’t know all the details, but his family situation was tough and at some point, he just stopped going home. Now he’s as much a Holland brother as the rest of us.

I’m considering telling him the entire story, but then a group of women at the other end of the bar waves to get his attention.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.” He points at me as he walks away.

Alone with my own thoughts, I replay the conversation with Avery. Am I crazy or was she asking for a lot? Surely Colter didn’t really spend that much time working with her.

A gymnast. I never would have guessed the prissy-looking chick in her clean white sneakers and pink lace was a gymnast. A ballerina, maybe, or a cheerleader. She has that rich, spoiled, daddy’s girl air about her.

She looked good though. Her spandex leotard left nothing to the imagination. God bless it. And all that blonde hair piled on top of her head, no makeup, covered in chalk. Something about her looking a little less put together was sexy.

Not that it matters since she’s undoubtedly plotting my demise after I insulted her. She caught me off guard. I mean seriously, two hours every day? I don’t know when she thinks I’m going to squeeze that into my schedule.

I drop my head and mutter a curse at myself. What the hell am I going to do?

Brogan comes to stand back in front of me, but his gaze goes over my shoulder. “What’s up, Colter?”

I swivel in the barstool.

“Hey.” My buddy looks around at the place with wonder. “I can’t believe how busy this place is. Hendrick must be thrilled.”

“He’s in the back counting his piles of cash right now,” Brogan says with a grin. It’s a funny image because it’s so unlike our oldest brother, but the bar really is doing great, and I’m happy for him. It was our mom’s place growing up, then it closed for a bunch of years after she passed, and Dad sold it. Just another example of him destroying something good.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Brogan asks as he tosses out another coaster in front of the empty seat next to me.

Colter slides onto the barstool. “Do you have Bud on tap?”

Brogan nods and leaves us to pour the beer into a tall, frosty glass.

Colter waits until he has his drink, takes a sip, and then turns to face me with a knowing smirk. “Heard you had a nice chat with Avery.”

“How do you already know?” I ask, then remember. “She’s roommates with your girl.”

He nods and takes another drink. “What in the hell did you say to her? She was wound up tight, stomping around the dorm room and muttering about jerks with egos twice the size of their dicks. I had to leave so Quinn could sage their suite and calm her friend down.”

Some of my earlier frustration resurfaces. “My ego? What about hers? Do you know she told me she’d rather light herself on fire than help me?”

Colter throws his head back with a laugh. I’m glad he’s fucking amused.

“Seriously? What the hell?” I ask him.

“All right, so you two didn’t exactly start off on the best foot.”

“That’s an understatement,” I mutter, then look at him seriously. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“Did you really work out with her for two hours, every day?”

“Yeah. Probably. I was there a lot.”

“Doing what?” Disbelief makes my voice rise.

“Whatever they did. Quinn and I had just started dating, so at first it was just another way that I could hang out with her. She was on the team and they practiced every afternoon, then after, she and Avery would go to the club gym to get in extra skills practice.” He shrugs, then takes another drink of his beer. “I had to get a workout in too, and it was a hell of a lot better while staring at Quinn in tight shorts and a sports bra. For such a small chick, she’s got a big ass.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. Quinn’s a cute girl but I’m not trying to have images of my buddy’s girl in my head.

“You did everything they did?”

“Well, no. I stayed off the bars and beam, and never attempted any of those crazy tumbling runs, but anything that was in the realm of doable, I did. I can almost do the splits. Wanna see?”

“Definitely not.”

He grins wide. “I know it seems wild, but I swear I’ve never worked out harder than with those two.”

“Doing handstands and splits? That’s the hardest workout you’ve ever done? I need to introduce you to the team trainers at Thorne.”

He laughs quietly. “I really thought you and Avery would hit it off.”

“Why?” We’re so different. She and I are from two completely different worlds.

“You’re both competitive and hard-working, not to mention incredibly stubborn.” He eyes me in that knowing friend way, seeing past all my bullshit. “She’s this decorated Olympic gymnast, and you’re on your way to being the best motocross rider the sport has seen in years…” His words trail off. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought you two would get each other.”

My brain is stuck on one particular phrase. “Did you say Olympic? Like the Olympics?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “She’s legit.”

Fuck me. I really know how to put my foot in my fucking mouth.

“I didn’t know,” I say absently.

And why is Avery with a couple gold medals around her neck such a sexy image? I add a mental note to look her up later since there’s no way she’s ever going to help me now. Damn.

“Why would you? She doesn’t walk around flaunting it. Avery’s cool, and I’m not just saying that because Quinn would hurt me if I didn’t. My girl is feisty. Don’t make her angry unless you want to find out how hard she can punch.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but I can do this on my own. I’ll call around to some trainers tomorrow.” Surely someone other than Miss Priss (I mean, Miss Olympic Priss) can give me some exercises to help with the strength and coordination of the tricks on the bike. I don’t need her.

Colter waves me off. “Forget about it for the weekend. I’m having a party tomorrow since a lot of the team is in town. It’ll be a good chance for you to get to know everyone. Bring your swim trunks and come hang by the pool, kick back, relax, and have some fun. You do remember what that’s like?”

“Fuck you, I have fun.”

“He really doesn’t,” Brogan interrupts.

With a laugh, Colter stands and pulls out his wallet.

“I got it,” I say, waving off his money.

“Thanks.” He slides his wallet back into his pocket. “Two o’clock tomorrow. You better be there.”

As soon as he’s gone, Brogan clears the empty glass. “I like the sound of this Avery chick.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

He enjoys another laugh at my expense and then he says, “She’s one hundred percent right, too. Your ego really is twice as big as your dick.”