Winning the Right Brother. Abigail Strom

the back door.

      He paused, frowning. He thought about asking Will why she was leaving early, but it wasn’t really any of his business. She was probably just tired.

      It was none of his business, he reminded himself as he followed her out to the parking lot. But he’d check on her, anyway, just to make sure she was all right.

      He saw her as soon as he stepped outside. She was over by her car, looking down at what was obviously a flat tire. After a moment she opened her trunk for the spare.

      He crossed the parking lot toward her, noticing that the cool evening breeze was ruffling her hair, teasing strands out of the complicated bun. He came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head quickly, and when she saw it was him she pulled away, just like she’d done after the game. He dropped his hand and took a step back.

      “Need some help?” he asked, gesturing toward the flat.

      “No,” she said, reaching into the trunk for the spare and laying it on the ground. She set the iron and jack down next to it and shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it into the car.

      “Come on, Holly. Changing a tire is a two-person job. Admit you need help.”

      As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they were the wrong ones. Holly stiffened as she knelt down on the ground, grabbing for the tire iron.

      “I do not need help. And even if I did, I wouldn’t need yours.”

      Her words stung, childish as they were. “Fine,” he said. There was a pickup truck parked next to them and he leaned back against it, folding his arms.

      She glared up at him as she placed the iron over the first wheel lug. “That was your cue to go back to your adoring fans. Why are you still here?”

      “On the off chance you come off your high horse and realize you need me. That’s a moment I don’t want to miss.”

      “I hope you enjoy disappointment,” she said before using both hands to bear down on the tire iron in an effort to loosen the nut—to no avail.

      She sat back on her heels.

      “I can bench press two hundred and eighty pounds,” he said.

      She gave him a dirty look before picking the iron up again.

      Her blouse was silk, a soft peach color, and through it he could see the outline of her bra. Her hair was starting to come down, tendrils clinging damply to the back of her neck. Perspiration made her skin glow.

      Thirty seconds later, the nut hadn’t budged.

      “I eat lugs like that for breakfast,” he told her.

      She glared at him over her shoulder. “Do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate.”

      “I could change that for you in a minute flat.”

      “No, you couldn’t.”

      He grinned at her. “Twenty bucks says I can.”

      She turned her back on him and picked up the iron again. And this time, after a breathless, all-or-nothing effort, she actually succeeded in loosening the nut.

      He didn’t need to see her face to know she was feeling triumphant—he could read it in the line of her shoulders and the satisfied tilt of her head.

      “Very impressive. But you know you have to do it three more times, right?”

      “Shut up, Alex.”

      Maybe it was the flush of success, but she didn’t have any trouble with the other three lugs. She ignored him completely as she moved the jack underneath the car and began to crank it up.

      But when she was struggling to position the heavy spare over the wheel studs, he decided enough was enough.

      “Okay, you’ve made your point. Now let me hold that up for you while you get it aligned.”

      She set the spare down for a moment and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand—her first sign of weakness. But when he moved to pick it up she slapped his hand away.

      “No,” she said. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

      “I’m not trying to rescue you,” he said in exasperation. “Just let me hold the tire while you fit it over the studs. Teamwork.”

      “I can do it myself.”

      “Come on, Holly. You’re just being stubborn.”

      “I’d rather be … stubborn than … helpless,” she panted as she finally managed to get the wheel in position. It only took her a few more minutes to tighten the lugs and lower the jack.

      “There,” she said in satisfaction, tossing her tools in the trunk and using an old rag to wipe off her greasy hands. “That wasn’t so hard.”

      “Right,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d be halfway home by now if you’d just let me—”

      “I can take care of myself, Alex. I don’t need anybody’s help.”

      Something else about her that hadn’t changed.

      The summer after their graduation, he’d heard that Holly was pregnant. He figured she and Brian would just step up their plans to get married and have the perfect yuppie life together. But when he found out how wrong he was, that Brian was turning his back on her, something inside him had snapped.

      He’d broken Brian’s jaw first. Then he’d gone over to her house and asked Holly to marry him.

      It was crazy, of course. A white knight impulse that had hit him out of the blue. There’d been no reason in the world to think she’d say yes, and considering their history of mutual dislike, every reason to think she’d say no.

      Still, her scornful refusal had stung.

      Just like it did tonight. The stakes had been higher then, but the feeling was the same.

      “I know you don’t need my help, Holly. You’ve made that pretty clear. But that doesn’t mean you can’t accept it. What’s so terrible about being rescued once in a while? Why are you so damn stubborn?”

      She glared at him. “You’re calling me stubborn? I told you I didn’t need any help, but you insisted on staying out here, anyway. Why are you so damn stubborn?”

      “Uh … guys?” It was Will, standing a few feet away.

      How long had he been there? Alex glanced at Holly, who was looking as uncomfortable as he felt, and then back at Will, who was obviously confused by the tense conversation between his mom and his coach.

      “So,” Will said after a moment of awkward silence. “I guess you guys weren’t best friends back in the day, huh?”

      Holly took a deep breath and let it out again. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “But that was a long time ago, and I’m sure we can keep from arguing every time we see each other now. Can’t we, Alex?” she asked pointedly.

      Not in this lifetime.

      “Sure we can,” he said out loud.

      He glanced back at the restaurant and saw parents and their kids beginning to come out. “Is the party over already?”

      “Well, yeah. You guys were out here a long time.”

      “It wouldn’t have been so long if—no, I won’t start.” He shook his head. “Good night, Holly. Take it easy driving on that spare, okay? And, Will, I’ll see you in practice next week.”

      Lying awake, staring up at the ceiling, Holly kept replaying Alex’s words in her mind. What would it be like, she wondered. To let someone help her. To be rescued.

      She hated herself for even asking the question. She’d been strong and independent for so long. The moment she let herself think about