“I don’t need luck,” she says smugly as she slides her sunglasses up onto her head. “I’ll just bide my time and get you when you least expect it. You won’t even see me coming.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I roll my eyes, because I highly doubt she’ll succeed today or any day, for that matter, in that endeavor. “Like I said,” I go on, “good luck with that.”

  With the gauntlet thrown down, we drop the subject and continue to enjoy floating around in the pool.

  At one point, I jump out to grab the sunscreen so we can reapply.

  Hopping back in and resettling onto my float, I put some on first, and then pass the bottle over to Kelsi. “Here ya go.”

  “Thanks. Oh, hey…” She spins around, holding the bottle over her shoulder. “Can you do my back first? I couldn’t reach that area that well earlier, so I probably missed some spots.”

  I blow out a breath.

  All right, I can do this.

  Taking the bottle from her, I say, “Sure.”

  She pushes her ponytail off to one side, while I squirt a glob of sunscreen into my palm. “Ready?” I ask.

  With her back fully toward me, she murmurs, “Yeah.”

  I gently touch her right shoulder, and she shivers a little.

  “Is this okay?” I ask.

  Damn, I think she likes my touch.

  Softly, she says, “Yes, it’s perfect, Alex.”

  Carefully, I spread the sunscreen around, moving across to her other shoulder, then down her back.

  As I work it all in, I think about all the massages I’ve received from some really amazing trainers and massage therapists and try to use those same techniques.

  I guess I’m successful at that, since Kelsi is soon leaning back into me and saying, “Oh my God, that feels amazing. Alex. Don’t stop.”

  I swallow hard. “Okay.”

  Jesus, there are so many other things I could do to her that would feel even better. I bet she’d say the same thing too.

  No, I know she would.

  Sighing, I tell her, “I think I’m rubbing all the sunscreen into your skin. I better stop soon.”

  “Mmm, that’s okay. Just one more minute,” she rasps. “You can always reapply more if you need to.”

  Softly, and since I want her to feel good, I say, “You got it.”

  I massage her back and shoulders for a while longer. When she feels totally relaxed, like putty in my hands, I reapply a fresh coat of sunscreen, rubbing it in only lightly.

  “All done,” I say as I spin her float around to face me.

  Our eyes meet.

  Blinking slowly, she says, “That felt fantastic.”

  I hold her gaze and tell her, “I’ll have to give you a real massage sometime.”

  She licks her lips. “I think I may take you up on that offer.”

  “Just name the time and place.”

  Damn, my pulse is racing.

  Kelsi takes a deep breath, her beautiful breasts rising and falling as she replies huskily, “I will.”

  A breeze blows across the water then, making our floats bump into each other. Our thighs graze as we end up side by side.

  I suck in a breath, and so does Kelsi.

  We look over at each other again.

  She’s so close that I could lean in and totally kiss her.

  Hmmm, I think I might.

  She’s licking her lips again and lowering her gaze to mine.

  So I go with it, leaning in closer…closer.

  She closes her eyes.

  But just as I’m closing mine and about to touch my lips to hers, I hear someone who is definitely a dude clearing his throat.

  Fuck.

  Are We Busted?

  Damn, I freaking want this man to kiss me.

  Who cares about all the reasons why we shouldn’t?

  Not me.

  Alex’s hands felt amazing on my back.

  Now I want them everywhere.

  I know I should think this through, but I don’t want to. I just want to live in the moment for once in my life.

  This is supposed to be a new me, right?

  Yes, it is.

  So when he leans in to kiss me, I am ready and wanting it to happen.

  Yes!

  But then, shit, just as I feel the warmth of his lips closing in, someone clears their freaking throat.

  Wait, what?

  It better not be my brother!

  My eyes fly open.

  For a beat, Alex and I just stare at each other, both of us conveying the same thought: Are we busted?

  But then, when the mystery man starts apologizing, we breathe collective sighs of relief.

  It’s not Sebastian.

  “Hey,” the guy says, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need a signature for the Range Rover I just delivered. Oh, and also one to take the rental car back.”

  “Thank fucking God it’s just the delivery guy,” Alex mutters.

  “Right?” I breathe out. And then, gathering my wits about me, I say, “Still, this can never happen again. I mean, not even another close call. What were we thinking?”

  “We weren’t thinking,” Alex says. “And I agree. For as much as I really fucking want to kiss you, I can’t do that to Sebastian.”

  “Exactly,” I concur. “I can’t, either.”

  I’m glad we’re on the same page, and neither of us is offended or hurt. We just don’t want to hurt Sebastian by putting him in a complicated situation.

  Finally, we turn our attention to the delivery driver, who’s looking more and more uncomfortable, realizing he walked in on something.

  Poor kid.

  He appears to be in his early twenties. He has shaggy blond hair and is wearing brown delivery driver attire over his skinny frame. He’s also holding a clipboard.

  I give him a little wave, which he tentatively returns, as Alex jumps off the float and swims over to the edge of the pool.

  As he hoists himself up and out of the water, he tells the guy, “Just give me a sec to dry off and I’ll sign whatever you need.”

  “No problem,” Delivery Dude replies.

  Alex towels off, then walks over to the guy and takes the clipboard to sign the paperwork.

  I overhear the kid telling Alex that his keys are in the Range Rover.

  “Okay, thanks,” Alex says, handing him back the clipboard.

  They shake hands, and then the kid leaves.

  “Are you coming back in?” I call over to Alex.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m just going to head in and get cleaned up.”

  “Yeah,” I say on a sigh. “I think I will too.”

  I let Alex leave first before I get out of the pool.

  So much for a relaxing day in the sun.

  Instead, it feels like things just got a lot more complicated.

  After our pool day, things are a little awkward between Alex and me. Not that we even see much of each other. I eat dinner with Sebastian and Bettina on the regular, but even though Bettina tells me she invites him over all the time, Alex never joins us.

  We pass each other often out in the driveway, usually when we’re either going somewhere at the same time or coming back from a place. We always keep it quick and cordial, and that’s it.

  Still, there’s a longing there.

  And, on my part, a curiosity as to what it would be like to date Alex Hartwell. He’s so fun and full of life. He makes me feel alive.

  I also miss talking to him. We were getting along so well.

  And then there was that almost-kiss.

  Even though it clearly changed things, making us avoid each other, I think about it all the time.

  Yeah, the lust factor is still strong.

  I know it is for him too.

  That’s why our conversation is now relegated to a simple “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Good, great, and you?”

  “Fine.”

  Or sometimes, after a Wolves victory, I’ll give him a thumbs-up and tell him, “Good game.”

  He always says, “Thanks, Kelsi,” and then looks at me sadly.

  There’s so much potential between us, we both see it.

  But what can we do?

  I don’t want to ruin his friendship with Sebastian or fuck with the team chemistry. The Wolves are still playing really exceptionally good hockey. Everyone contributes. They truly are in sync. I sure as hell don’t want to be the cause of any disruptions.

  And hooking up with Alex would be a huge disruption.

  What if we did take that chance, even secretly, and then it all went to hell?

  But what if it didn’t? a little voice in my head asks.

  Damn, best not to think about that.

  No, we’ll just keep things as they are—distantly friendly.

  I’m so committed to do that that I almost don’t accept Bettina’s invitation to finally go to a Wolves game tomorrow night.

  “Aw, come on,” she pleads, leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, where I’m lounging on the bed, reading. “You’ve been here over a month and haven’t gone to a single game. And…” She raises a brow. “I know someone who’d be really happy if you were to go.”

  She’s sporting a sly smile, and shit, I hope she doesn’t mean Alex. Bettina hasn’t mentioned him to me, but I know she was all A-okay in the past with the idea of us getting together.

  Carefully, I set my e-reader on the bed and ask, “Who would be happy?”

  Rolling her big brown eyes, she laughs and says, “Sebastian, silly. Who else would I mean?”

  Uh-oh, now she’s eyeing me curiously.

  Scrambling, I quickly reply, “No one. I just, uh…” I gesture to my e-reader and add in a rush, “It’s just that I was wrapped up in the reading world for a minute and brain farted. You know how that is, right?”

  I don’t think she buys it, as she scoffs, “Yeah, sure I do.”

  I hurriedly get back to the original subject, assuring her, “As for the game tomorrow night, yes, I’d love to go.”

  “Cool. The Wolves are playing the Sharks, so it should be fun.”

  Nodding excitedly, I say, “It does sound like it’ll be a good game. I can’t wait.”

  It’s true.

  Now that it’s happening, I’m excited to see the Wolves in action. TV is okay, but it’s not like being at a game.

  I’m happy I’ll see Sebastian play in person, as he’s been playing so well lately.

  And Alex?

  Well, I’d never let Bettina know, though I think she may suspect, but I am beyond amped to see that man on the ice.

  Highs and Lows

  I get word from Sebastian at our early morning practice that Kelsi will be at the game tonight.

  It takes everything inside me to reply nonchalantly, “Oh, really? That’s cool.”

  Inside, I am fucking über pumped.

  In fact, it’s all I can think about in the hours leading up to game time.

  I want to put on a show for her tonight.

  I want her to be impressed.

  I haven’t been able to quit thinking about Kelsi since the day of our almost-kiss in the pool.

  And that was over a fucking month ago.

  I’ve tried to stay away and avoid her for the most part, as I keep thinking it will make my attraction to her wane.

  But it seems to be doing exactly the opposite.

  She stars in all my fantasies these days, and I look forward to running into her anywhere around the house. I usually see her out in the driveway, but that’s okay. I treasure those brief interactions.

  I think she does too. I see it in her sad caramel eyes.

  Damn it all to hell!

  I fucking want her in my life like I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  Maybe we should just take a chance.

  Sebastian might not mind.

  Or—and this would be the wiser path—we could keep it secret if anything were to happen between us. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with any fallout.

  Plus, no pressure.

  Whatever is meant to be can just happen.

  I’m talking myself into this, and it’s working.

  “Yeah, it is,” I mutter out loud as I’m lacing up my skates in the locker room ten minutes before we’re set to hit the ice for our matchup against the Sharks.

  Sebastian, who is seated next to me and lacing his skates up as well, asks, “What was that, dude?”

  Like I’m going to tell him what I’m thinking.

  Yeah, right.

  Clearing my throat, I simply say, “Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself, getting into the right mindset for the game. You know, thinking of plays that might develop and how to respond.”

  Patting me on the back as he stands, Sebastian says, “I hear ya, man. We have to stay sharp and focused to beat the Sharks. They’ve been on a tear lately.”

  Since that’s true, I agree, “Yeah, for sure.”

  Luckily, we do stay sharp and focused, at least for the first two periods. I’m teamed up with Dylan Culderway, my defense partner these days. We work well together. He likes to get a little more up in the play, whereas I generally hold back. I’m more of a stay-at-home defenseman.

  Still, I do score here and there, and in this game, I score a goal late in the second on a power play.

  It’s a shot from the point, and—bam—the puck goes in.

  I have a killer instinct at that position, and usually some good luck as well.

  The horn goes off, and the crowd goes wild. My teammates on the ice with me celebrate, and then we head over to the bench.

  Looking up into the stands, I think, Man, I wish I knew exactly where Kelsi and Bettina are seated. Wait, it has to be up in the wives’ and girlfriends’ section, right?

  Since that makes the most sense, my gaze travels to that area.

  And holy crap, there’s Kelsi, standing and cheering along with the crowd. Her chestnut hair is up in a high ponytail, and she has on dark skinny jeans and a black-and-red Wolves jersey.

  It makes me happy to see her celebrating my goal, and as I’m fist-bumping the guys on the bench, I do so with even more enthusiasm.

  Once I’m seated, I look up at the Jumbotron to watch a replay of the goal.

  It’s then that I make a decision.

  I am done avoiding Kelsi Alderman.

  I’m going to start accepting those dinner invitations from Bettina.

  Or maybe I’ll just invite Kelsi over to eat with me. I mean, I can make a mean spaghetti. Plus, I still owe her for that breakfast.

  Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do—invite her for dinner.

  I feel so good about this decision that the last few minutes of the second period, and even intermission, just fly by.

  Next thing I know, we’re deep in the third.

  We’re up by one, but not for long. The Sharks go on a power play and score in the last five minutes of play.

  Fuck, now we’re tied.

  As time ticks down, the Sharks ramp up their intensity. Clearly they don’t want to go to an overtime period. But we’re aggressive, too, thinking the same thing.

  Yeah, let’s get this thing done.

  Time ticks down until there’s only two minutes and twenty seconds left in the final period.

  There’s a battle in the corner, behind their net, between me and a big-ass Sharks defender.

  I’m giving it my all when suddenly the fucker elbows me in the fucking face.

  What the hell?

  My head snaps back and then forward.

  I know right away that something isn’t right. Not physically, per se, but I feel foggy.

  The prick gets a penalty as I skate over to the bench, semi-dazed.

  “You okay?” Coach Townsend asks, frowning.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  Our team trainer checks me over and recommends that I leave the ice and enter concussion protocol.

  I nod just as a wave of nausea comes over me.

  Shit, I know then that he’s right. I definitely have a concussion.

  Fuck.

  Truce

  In the final minutes of play at my first Wolves game, my eyes are on Alex, as they have been for much of this night.

  Right now he’s battling for the puck in the corner with some hulking Sharks defenseman. Impressively, Alex is holding his own.

  He sure is strong on his skates. No wonder I couldn’t dunk him in the pool.

  He’s played a great game tonight, scoring a goal and everything. I’m glad I’ve been here to witness it all.

  And now this battle, which Alex appears to be winning, is just icing on the cake of a game well-played.

  Suddenly, though, the jerky Sharks player freaking elbows Alex right in the face.

  His head snaps back, then forward.

  Okay, this is not good.

  With my hand flying to my mouth, I gasp, “Oh my God! That did not just happen.”

  Shaking her head, Bettina mutters, “What a fucking dirty hit.”

  I scoff. “You’re not kidding.”

  Looking dazed, Alex skates over to the bench, where Coach Townsend leans over him and asks him something.

  He shakes his head, and the trainer comes over. After talking for a minute, Alex stands, and together they walk down the ramp to the locker room.

  “Shit, I hope he’s all right,” Bettina says.

  Swallowing hard, I mutter, “Yeah, I do too.”

  “It’s probably a concussion,” she says.

  “Fuck.”

  I certainly intend to find out whether it is or not. That man is not going to be able to avoid me, not after this. If he does have a concussion, he’s going to be out for a few games at least. He’ll have to take it easy, as well.

  I can help him out with that part.

  After all, we live in the same freaking house.

  Now I’m anxious for the game to just be over.

  When it is, though the Wolves win with a last-minute goal on the ensuing power play from the penalty from the Alex dirty-hit, it all feels bittersweet.

  On the car ride back to the house, Bettina does the driving. I just sit over in the passenger seat, thinking. We don’t say much. I’m too busy wondering what the update is on Alex.

  When we arrive home, I tell Bettina, “I’m tired. I think I’ll just head straight to bed.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14