Lucky 13 (Deadlines & Diamonds) Read Free Page A

, Enrique Santiago felt the need to roar and bury the thing into the drywall .
    “Yeah?”
    “You’re still asleep?”
    At the accusation, Ricky rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s seven twelve.”
    “And your lazy ass is still in bed.”
    He bit back his frustration and simply shook his head. Some things didn’t change no matter how many pages were pulled from the cal endar. His brother, older by twelve years, still treated him like the child he’d been when their father passed away twenty years ago.
    “What do I owe for this pleasant wake-up call?”
    “We need to talk.”
    Anytime his brother said those words, it meant Ricky was about to be confronted by all his faults—new as well as ones long buried—and the disappointment it caused Eddie and their mother.
    “ Okay. Why don’t you meet me for lunch? My treat.”
    Eddie ’s bark mocked . “ Get some sleep, pretty boy. I’ll see you at eleven thirty at Mama’s .” The line went dead.
    Perfect! Instead of a neutral locale, Eddie intended to take their conversation right to Mama’s front door. Or corner booth, as the case was.
    Shit. He slammed his fist into the pillow and attempted to go back to sleep. Like that would be possible. He really needed to find his balls and deal with his brother man to man.
    Maybe today would be that day. Yeah, probably not.
    It wasn’t that he enjoyed being told he was a shit-sandwich, some things just were the way they were. As it stood , Ricky didn’t have the energy to blow up the happy-little-family façade.
    He tried to go back to sleep, but his brain kicked up his brother’s condescending accusations , his ever present displeasure. No chance of Ricky’s ego getting too big, he had his brother to keep him humble .
    Ricky clampe d his eyes closed tighter. “Dammit! ”
    Another slam of his fist against feathers did little to relieve his stress. Only two thing s had a chance to alleviate the tension bunching his shoulders . And sex wasn’t an option at the moment .
    Ten minutes later, dressed in workout clothes, Ricky grabbed his keys. The off- season meant using a local gym instead of the one at the stadium. Not his first choice, but until he could fi nish his workout room, he made the sacrifice.
    The drive to the gym took all of a few minutes. He put his stuff in a locker and was on the treadmill when an irritation in the form of a surgically altered body covered by spandex stepped onto the machine next to him.
    F rom h er long bleached ponytail to the latest gimmick pretending to be shoes, she dressed for hook-ups not workouts. She smiled, her collagen lips making him think of a blowfish.
    “Hi.” She hit start and walked along at a clip that could qualify her in the Geriatric Olympics. “I’ve seen you around here before.”
    He just nodded and wished he’d brought his iPod along.
    “Aren’t you—”
    He shook his head. “Nope. Whoever you think I am, I’m not.”
    “But—”
    “I’m just so me average, every day guy tryin’ to get his workout in. Uninterrupted.”
    Her smile faltered, her botoxed features fell , and he felt like a total ass. He hated when people put him in the position of having to blow them off. In the very beginning of his career, he got off on the attention, but learned real quick the chicks stroking his ego only wanted to stroke other parts of him. And he preferred to remain disease free, thank you very much.
    He upped the speed on his treadmill. She lowered hers until the tread stopped. He considered apologizing, u ntil she crossed the gym and hopped onto a stationary bike—r ight next to another average, every day guy. Except that guy flashed her a quick smile before checking out her double-D’s. He stretched back, flexing his chest and arms.
    What a chump.
    Ricky finished his workout, ran a few errands and strolled into Mama’s early. She looked up from where she’d been wiping the countertops with a white rag. Her dark eyes sparkled and a huge grin lit up