Game Changer Read Online Free Page A

settle, and to keep following the serendipitous path he was being led along. From Walter Reed Hospital to a rehab facility near his parents’ house in Connecticut, then to Destiny Falls to play ice hockey with a bunch of other wounded vets and reboot himself as a personal trainer, then into the public eye after his discovery by a prominent photographer. From there, it was magazine spreads, interviews on national television, and now
Meet the Groom
. It was a straight, tidy line of opportunities that built on one another and that didn’t include being trapped in a small town, pining over a woman who refused to give in to the attraction that sizzled between them every time they were near each other.
    â€œGet out of your head,” Mutt commanded low and cool, as though he was reluctant to break the mood set by the smooth, sexy R&B coming from the speakers on the side table.
    Brandon rotated his jaw. “Sorry.”
    â€œNo worries.” He lifted his eye away from the camera and twisted to look behind him. “I need everyone else to clear the room. Terrance, April? You, too.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary,” Brandon said. His career couldn’t afford for word to get around that he was high maintenance, or that he couldn’t perform on demand.
    â€œI know. We’re just trying something new.” As soon as the room cleared, Mutt walked to the speakers and, with a press to his smart phone, stopped the music. He ambled to a set of shelves that lined the back of the studio where Brandon noticed an old-fashioned record player. Mutt set the needle on the record that was already there.
    A trumpet crooned the opening notes of a jazz song from the speakers that flanked the record player. With a few thuds of a drum, the melody broke wide open into a beat-heavy, exotic jazz number that reminded Brandon of tropical places and cultures he hadn’t yet explored, like Mexico or South America or an island in between.
    Mutt returned to position and lifted the camera to his eye. “Let’s start over. Face forward and close your eyes. Get into the Cuban jazz. Relax and clear your mind.”
    Cuban jazz?
Okay then. Yet another place on Brandon’s bucket list. He let his eyes drift closed. The jazz melody was laid over a jagged-edged, driving beat that evoked in Brandon a visceral feeling of tropical humidity, as if he were walking the streets of Havana at sunset during the dog days of summer, the whole world washed in sepia tones. Holding that image and feeling in his mind, he exhaled in a slow stream through his nose and forced his shoulders to relax.
    â€œGood. That’s it,” Mutt said. “Now slide your hand down your chest, nice and slow. All the way down.”
    Brandon obliged. Cocking his hips just so, he set his hand at his clavicle and dragged his fingers over his flesh.
    â€œWhose hand is that?” Mutt’s voice was a gravely murmur. “Who wants to fuck you right now? Can you see her in your mind?”
    The vision of Havana was shattered by Harper’s image and the almost-real sensation his imagination evoked of her body touching his. He could feel her glossy pink fingernails scratching over his abs, then combing through the neatly manicured hair below his navel, the hair he’d insisted on keeping despite Terrance’s strongly worded suggestion that he wax. She was wearing her typical black tank top for work, the one that sometimes tugged down enough that a hint of a black lace bra showed along the swells of her breasts. She’d been wearing that same tank top the night before, accessorized by that rifle she’d practically strangled in her grip, and accompanied by a look of betrayal that radiated from her features as she’d stared him down in the parking lot.
    His eyes snapped open. His hand froze on his low belly, his fingertips nudging either side of his cock. He ground his teeth together, forcing the thought of Harper away. It was