Edge (7 page)

I shrugged, not wanting him to know how happy I was about what he’d said. “I’m just thinking you don’t seem like the dinner and movie type.”

“What type do I seem like?”

“The ‘
come check out the mirror on my bedroom ceiling’
type.”

“Ouch.”

He seemed less and less like that guy, but there was safety in my blanket assessment of hockey players. “Any guy who could get away with it would do the same in your shoes. It’s the biggest perk of being a hot hockey player.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’ve got friends on my team who are happily married.”

“How old are they?” I asked skeptically.

“Late 20s. 30s. It’s all about finding the right person.”

The waiter walked in with a tray of food and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had no idea how to respond to what he’d said. We’d established that I wasn’t the right person due to our jobs, but I was filled with envy for the woman he’d eventually decide was the one. She was incredibly lucky. I was getting a small taste of her future life right now.

Late dinners with a broad, blond hockey star whose smile upped the temperature in a room. I hoped she’d appreciate him for him, and not his money. Luke deserved a loving family of his own.

The thought of the future Mrs. Hudson having his babies was too much. I shook away the thought. I wasn’t thinking about that right now. Instead I wanted to enjoy my taste while it was just a couple feet away, looking sexy as hell.

Luke

Of all the guys on the team, I’d been forced to move in with Vanderschmidt. He was a strange one. And while I wasn’t a clean freak, he was a fucking slob of epic proportions.

“Jesus, V, your dirty dishes have been sitting here for
days
,” I said, scowling at the caked on taco-meat remnants on the plates and skillet he’d left on the counter.

“Sorry, ma,” he said, not looking away from the TV screen displaying his video game.

I’d walked in to water nearly ankle deep in my apartment almost a week ago, forcing me to live with a roommate while the place was stripped of everything and cleaned up.

It was early in the morning, a weird time to pop out of bed and play video games. I’d just been out on a run, and I went into my bedroom to escape the filth. I scrolled through my phone, smiling at Facebook posts from my teammates back home. I missed those assholes bad.

We had a game that night, and by mid-morning, I had to get the hell away from V. Aggravation wasn’t good for my concentration. I went across the hall to Niko’s apartment and walked in.

“He’s watching Braveheart again,” I muttered, flopping onto the couch.

“Yeah, he watches it before every game,” Niko said.

“Every game?”

“Yep. He’s been doing it since college.”

“That’s fucked up, man.”

He laughed. “V’s a different kind of cat.”

“You guys give him shit over the Braveheart thing, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah, we do. When he scores, we’re all bent over showing him our asses when he walks into the locker room.”

“I had a roommate in college who was OCD about his rituals,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. “He had to leave for the game exactly two hours before start time and drive the same route every time. He laced up his skates 32 minutes before ice time.”

“You have any rituals?”

I thought about it. “I avoid getting off less than 24 hours before a game. And I like to zone out with my headphones and some music before ice time.”

“The fuck?” Niko wrinkled his face with dismay. “What’s that about?”

I shrugged. “It’s too relaxing. I need to be tense and wound up because I play better that way.”

“Makes sense, I guess. But man, I brought two chicks home last night and they drained me dry.”

“Right on.”

“I got their numbers, if you want to come over some night. They’re both fucking hot, so you can’t go wrong.”

I wasn’t even temped to say yes. That was some weird shit. No interest in hot, willing chicks after a really long dry spell?

“You want a ride to the rink?” I asked, getting up from the couch.

“Yeah.”

“Meet me in my car in five minutes. I have to go grab my shit. Hopefully V’s face won’t be painted blue when I get in there.”

Dell

Sadie eyed me from head to toe as I slipped into my dark wool coat. I was leaving for a late-night practice with Luke and she was settling in with her laptop to write an article.

“You look good,” she said. “New pants?”

I glanced at my snug-fitting charcoal yoga pants. “Oh, my old practice clothes were getting worn out so I bought some new stuff.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She said it skeptically.

“What?”

“It’s me, Dell. Just admit it – you like Luke Hudson. Why else would you be wearing perfume just to shoot pucks with a player?”

“Is it too much? Can you smell it from all the way over there?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I saw you putting it on after you checked on Kyler.”

“I’m trying to be less frumpy, yes, but who says it’s because of Luke?”

“Your very observant roommate. You’re supposed to be helping him get back on top so he can get on top of
me
.”

I looked down at the floor.

“You really do like him.” Sadie got up from the couch and stepped toward me, and I could hear the smile in her tone. “You do, don’t you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. No.” I covered my burning face with my hand. “I don’t know. Just … I don’t like the idea of you trying to get with him.”

“Because
you
like him.”

I looked up and she was grinning at me.

“I don’t want to like him, Sade.”

“It’s too late. Does he like you back?”

“No. He’s just a flirt.”

“So he flirts with you?”

“Christ, are we teenagers?” I glared at her.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Just admit you like him.”

I sighed, thoughts of Luke making my heart pound. “I feel something. But I don’t know what it is. It’s been so long since I found any guy crush-worthy.”

Sadie’s bemused expression just frustrated me. I sank into a chair and closed my eyes.

“We can break it down,” she offered. It was something we’d done in college when one of us liked a guy.

“I have to go meet him.”

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I smelled the familiar scent of the apple shampoo she’d been using since college. “Just have fun. You never let go and have fun.”

“Do you know what my dad would do if he found out I’d messed with a player?”

“Stop worrying about him, Dell. You’re 25 years old, and your sex drive’s been in park for way too long.”

I sighed and looked at the door. “Speaking of him, I have to call him on my way to the rink.”

Sadie curled back up with her laptop on the couch. “Have fun.”

I waved and dialed my dad on the way out to the car, connecting my phone to the speaker system in the car. His booming non-greeting surrounded me from all sides and I cranked the volume down.

“Did you get Kyler signed up for summer camp?”

“Hi, Dad. I haven’t decided about that yet.”

“What’s to decide?” he balked. “It’s a great camp. He’ll fall behind if he doesn’t work summers.”

A flare of irritation made me roll my eyes, though he couldn’t even see me. “Dad, I don’t care if he falls behind. He’s five. There’s a science camp he wants to go to, and I think that’s enough for one summer.”

“Science camp?” I knew the vein in his forehead was standing out. It seemed like all I had to do to work my father up was speak. “I don’t want my grandson falling behind on his game because he went to some pussy nerdfest.”

“He’s smart, and you better not make him feel like there’s anything wrong with going to science camp. Kyler’s not going to be your hockey protégé. I told you that when he was born. I wasn’t sure I wanted to let him play at all, but he wanted to because of his dad.”

Dad gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. “Is it the money? Because your mother and I would be honored to pay for it.”

I softened a little. “It’s not the money, Dad.”

“Well, they don’t pay you enough in that rinky-dink league, I’ll tell you that right now. You’re a damned good trainer. Let me find you something in my league.”

“I appreciate that, but I want to earn my way. I’d never be happy getting a job through your connections.”

“Any team would be lucky to have you.”

My throat tightened. Despite his usual gruff tone, his praise meant a lot to me. Compliments from Butch Price were few and far between.

“Thanks, Dad. Listen, I have to go. But I’ll talk to Kyler about the camp. If he wants to go, I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll pay for his spot and then if you decide against it, they can use the money for a scholarship.”

I wanted so badly to refuse his offer. But the camp was expensive, and I knew this meant a lot to him.

“Okay. I appreciate that.”

“They treating you well there? None of those boys are feeling you up, are they?”

I smiled. “They treat me great. Tanner’s very professional, and the guys are, too.”

Another grunt that was Dad’s means of reluctantly dropping a subject. “Can I talk to Kyler?”

“Uh … he’s asleep, actually.”

“Oh.”

A surge of anxiety flooded me. If he asked me where I was and what I was doing, I’d have a hard time lying to him. And he’d flip his shit if he knew I was meeting Luke Hudson at nine p.m. for one on one training.

“I’ll have him call you after school tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and breathed out a slow sigh of relief. My old fears about Dad finding out I was involved with one of his players resurfaced. When I’d told him I was pregnant, I was shaking from head to toe before I even spoke the words. He’d roared like a cornered lion and I’d worried he was going to have a heart attack.

Here, in northern Illinois, I was relatively safe to do my own thing. Still, my father cast a wide gaze, even from Nashville. He had eyes and ears everywhere, and I didn’t need any gossip starting that could get back to him.

I wrapped a scarf around my face to block the icy night wind and darted inside a side door. Even in the chill of the arena, I’d defrosted by the time I dropped my stuff off in the locker room, laced my skates up and met Luke on the ice.

“Hey,” he said, grinning and nodding toward the rink’s half-wall. “Brought you some hot chocolate.”

I looked over at two tall paper cups with black lids. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Nothing I enjoy more than warming you up.”

He’d made me blush in less than ten seconds, from about thirty feet away. I had to be careful. I’d learned my lesson about hockey players. Their lifestyle wasn’t conducive to relationships. Some of them changed women more often than underwear. And anyway I was a mom; my focus was on my son, not men.

Luke skated up and down the ice and I passed him pucks that he fired into the net one at a time. He’d shot a few dozen when we stopped for a break. He wiped an arm across his face to clear the sweat away from his eyes. As usual, I watched him. It was hard for me to look at anything but him when we were in the same place.

His icy blue eyes studied me and he licked his lips, looking almost nervous. “Having something extra to work for has been helping me. Knowing I’ll get a reward from you sets me on fire to score.”

Yeah, it was setting me on fire, too, but in a different way. “My offer still stands on the fantasy. Score at the next game and I’ll tell you one. I’ll even text it since I know hockey players love an impersonal touch.”

He arched his brows in a glare. “Not this one. And as much as I’d love to find out what you fantasize about, I’ve got something else in mind.”

I bent down to unlace my skates, my heart pounding. “What is it?”

He leaned his face down next to mine and his breath caressed my cheek. We sat so close on the bench that even though we weren’t touching, I felt the heat radiating from his body. I was covered in goose bumps from head to toe.

“I only want you to say yes if you’re comfortable,” he said. “I understand if you aren’t.”

“We can’t—”

“I know. This doesn’t involve me touching you. I wouldn’t even be close enough to.”

I was supposed to be relieved by that, but somehow I wasn’t. At this point, I was pretty sure the no touching thing with Luke was making me hotter than touching would.

“Let’s hear it then, Blondie.”

“Did you just call me Blondie?” he grinned. “That’s a first.”

“What do other women call you?”

I sat up, and he followed suit. I immediately missed the feel of his warm breath on my skin.

“I’ve never known a woman with enough fire to nickname me.”

I laughed and released my hair from its ponytail. “Have they all been bimbos who are screaming your name within 15 seconds of you being in them?” I gave him a few fake moans and his eyes widened. “Mmm, Luke. Right there. Oh, my God! Yes, yes, yes!”

His lips parted and he licked them quickly. “I’m trying to be offended by your suggestion that a woman would fake with me, but I’m too turned on to.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my hair out. “Please. Don’t tell me fake moaning turns you on.”

“From you, any moaning turns me on.” He leaned his face close to mine again, inches from making contact. “Tell me what you sound like when you come.”

I swallowed hard. “Um … well, it’s been a really long time since anyone’s—”

“How long?”

The truth made me feel vulnerable – like an awkward, out of practice loser. “Well, Kyler’s five, so …”

His breath hitched. “Holy Christ, really?”

“Yeah. Seriously, I’m not as great as you seem to think.”

“What do you sound like?”

I turned away, my face falling toward my lap so my hair would conceal my flushed skin. “I sound like nothing because I’ve only been screwed against lockers and we had to be quiet so no one would hear.”

“Don’t be embarrassed with me, Dell. Whoever that guy is, he’s a fucking idiot for not treating you right.”

“It was—”

“Let me see you,” he insisted. I tucked my hair behind my ear, exposing myself to his view.