by Elise Faber
“Did you know—?” Rachel began.
Sebastian shook his head, wondering what else he’d missed out on knowing since he’d kept his distance over the last years.
Something else also occurred to him.
Something more grim and decidedly much more unpleasant.
How much of his resentment toward his family was truly because he’d been excluded?
And how much was because he’d just done a really good job at pushing them away?
NINETEEN
RACHEL
* * *
THE PACKAGE WAS WAITING on her desk Friday morning.
Just the symbol on the outside of the box made her breath catch. How could he have possibly known?
But she forgot all about wondering how he’d discovered her obsession when she untied the ribbon.
“Oh my,” she sighed.
Inside were two pairs of her favorite—and ridiculously expensive—pajamas. They were folded neatly and wrapped in silky silver tissue paper. She rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger, beyond touched.
Then her phone buzzed.
Do you like them?
She snatched it up.
Thank you. The pajamas are gorgeous.
A beat, then:
What about the rest? I wasn’t sure if you’d like the color . . .
The rest? Rachel lifted the pajamas from the box and gasped. The first thing she saw was a gorgeous purple robe. It wasn’t velvet, but the material was just as soft, and beneath that was . . . a set of lingerie.
An eye-catching amethyst color, the lace set was pretty much the most beautiful set of underwear she’d ever seen.
It was also transparent and—she held up the thong—lacking in material. Smiling, she replied with:
Have plans, do you?
A buzz.
I may have seen it and then pictured a few things.
Rachel snorted.
Little things?
He replied with a GIF of a toddler plunking her hands on her hips and frowning, and Rachel laughed out loud.
Sorry. Big things. Huge things—
Her phone buzzed mid-text.
Do you really like them?
The hint of insecurity made her heart pulse. She’d seen the way he’d put up a good front with his family, but it had to be really hard being the middle sibling of the Scott trio. Older brother is model gorgeous and a professional hockey player, before retiring and starting the most prestigious athlete management company in the States . . . and abroad for that matter. Quite literally, Devon’s company was named Prestige Media Group and represented more than a handful of the most popular athletes in the U.S. and abroad. And then there was Kelsey, also beautiful and young and brilliant. She’d called them all together because she’d managed to secure a government contract for her newest project and wanted to celebrate.
Add in Becca’s pregnancy news and well, it wasn’t surprising that Bas might be feeling the teeniest bit insecure.
Especially since it seemed as though he’d spent a lot of his early years in much the same pattern. His path had been normal—college, working his way through the ranks of a company—while his siblings’ paths had been nothing short of exceptional.
Which made it sound as though she thought Sebastian was boring or ordinary.
No, he was incredible.
And while he projected a cool confidence, Rachel wondered how much of that was armor to protect his vulnerable underbelly, to prove to himself and the rest of the world that he was fine on his own, dammit.
But instead of saying any of that, she made a mental promise to make it clear to Bas at some point that regardless of the rest of the world, she thought he was special.
He was everything.
He was hers.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
I love them. Thank you, Bas. So much.
His sent an “aw shucks” GIF and she replied with a heart one in turn, and pretty soon she was giggling as they played Gif War by sending increasingly ridiculous images to one another.
Five minutes later, she still hadn’t done any work.
But her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Yeah, Sebastian was pretty fucking extraordinary as far as she was concerned.
A WEEK LATER, she pushed open her apartment door then immediately stepped out of her heels.
“Thank God,” she muttered, kicking them to the side before bending to rub her aching toes. They might be expensive, but the hefty price tag did absolutely nothing for her comfort.
Torture devices, every one of them.
But she didn’t need the heels anymore. She was swapping her stilettos for sneakers, her tight business suit for a Gold jersey.
Of course, by the time she made it down to meet Bas, Devon, and Becca at the Gold Mine, she was going to be ridiculously late. Still, she’d never been to a game in a luxury box, and when Sebastian had texted her earlier that day to invite her, she jumped at the opportunity.
Those boxes had free food, right?
Which wasn’t the most important part. And also, boo, because she’d found out that, no, the food wasn’t free. However, she was feeling encouraged that Bas might have hit a turning point with his family.
Neither of them had discussed the dinner where his siblings had both shared huge news, but he had mentioned that he was going to try to see them more.
Rachel considered that a step in the right direction.
She was also glad that she hadn’t had to badger him into the decision.
She wanted Bas to be proud of himself, not constantly comparing his path with that of his siblings.
But if she had learned anything since leaving Iowa, it was that a person couldn’t find their self-worth in others. They could find friends, people to love who shored them up, who supported them when they faltered.
But that deep down worth?
That came from inside.
Yup, she’d learned that firsthand.
And so now, she’d do what she could to encourage Bas to discover his own.
Nodding at herself in the mirror, Rachel ran a quick brush through her hair and touched up her makeup. Windblown—wind-tornadoed—wasn’t the look she was going for.
She was almost ready to leave when she thought of the box of pretty things Bas had bought for her.
They’d spent a few nights together over the last week, but it had mostly been squeezing in a dinner here or a movie there and she hadn’t had the chance to really dress up for him.
Or, undress, if she was being truthful
The one time she’d been able to seduce him aside, he’d been sticking very firmly to his slow and steady wooing process.
It was working.
Plus, the crafty bugger had managed to keep them in public places.
Probably because he knew that the moment they were in the privacy of one of their apartments, Rachel would strip herself naked and launch herself at him again.
She was beyond pent up.
Le sigh.
So, the sexy lingerie had been staying in the box.
But . . . she bit her lip.
She was late already, how would five minutes more hurt?
As quickly as she could, she stripped down and swapped her underthings for the gorgeous amethyst lace. And, fuck, if they weren’t a perfect fit.
The deep V of the bra somehow enhanced her boobs—what pathetically little of them she had, anyway—and the panties . . . well, they were practically nonexistent, but they still managed to make her lower half look both flat and curvy in all the appropriate places.
And her ass?
She smirked as she turned to view her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Oh yeah, Bas was going to like that. A whole hell of a lot.
Jeans and sneakers went back on, followed by her long-sleeved tee and her jersey. Just wearing the lingerie made her feel different. Hell, even her clothes fit differently, and she was getting definite naughty vibes when skin that wasn
’t normally exposed to the elements, so to speak, met the slight rough of denim. Even her breasts were a little va-va-voom under the jersey.
Yup, Bas was definitely going to be happy with her surprise.
Grabbing her purse and cell off the counter, she hurried to the front door.
She was so excited to meet Sebastian that she didn’t notice her heels.
She’d kicked them off immediately upon entering her apartment, leaving them to lie haphazardly near her front door.
But by the time she stepped into the hall, they’d been straightened—a pair of twin soldiers perched neatly on her shoe rack.
TWENTY
SEBASTIAN
* * *
DEVON AND BECCA were sickeningly in love.
It was disgusting.
Truly revolting.
Bas only hoped that he and Rachel would be the same way.
This was the first time that Bas had been in Devon’s box, and he had to admit that he hadn’t even thought about coming with or asking for tickets until Samantha, the reporter, had joked about it and Rachel had mentioned that she’d liked hockey.
He liked hockey himself, had always rooted for Devon from the comfort of his own home or when dragged to the arena by his family. But he’d never asked his brother for tickets because . . .
He sighed.
Because it was strings. Another way he couldn’t compete.
Juvenile.
As in, he’d been a juvenile.
He’d never begrudged his brother his success. Or his sister for that matter, but he’d always felt this sense of disappointment from his family.
Why wasn’t he special? Why didn’t he live up to the Scott legacy?
Which was, frankly, ridiculous. His dad ran a feed store. His mom stayed at home. They were normal middle-class Americans. So where in the fuck had this pressure to be great come from?
From himself.
He sighed again.
From being competitive and distant when his siblings had never been.
Becca stood up and slipped out of the suite, breezily saying something about stretching her legs.
But Bas quickly realized it had been a ploy.
Because Devon stood up and came to lean against the railing next to him. “Sigh one more time, and I’m siccing Kelsey on you.”
Bas shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Thanks again for letting us tag along tonight.”
Devon bumped his shoulder. “Anytime, dude.”
Ugh. Sebastian had been such an asshole.
He sighed. Again.
And just that quickly Devon pulled out his phone and threateningly opened up FaceTime.
Bas threw up his hands. “I relent. I swear, no more sighing.”
“Good.” Devon pocketed his cell. “So why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“I—” Bas stifled another sigh just in time. “I guess I spent my whole life feeling like an outsider in our family, but only just recently realized that all of that distance was of my own making.”
Silence, then Devon rubbed his hand over his face. “Look,” he said. “I was in your boat before. I didn’t make an effort—” Bas opened his mouth, but Devon cut him off. “Sorry. Effort isn’t the right word. I just mean I was really good at keeping people at a distance. I mean, hockey was a great excuse. Gone half the year, training for most of my off time. Then starting a new business.”
“Yeah,” Bas agreed.
“But I also realized that I spent a good part of my life being lonely.”
Bas’s gaze flashed to Devon’s. “What?”
“I know.” His brother grinned like the goofball he was. “With all my adoring fans, it’s hard to imagine that I could be lonely.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “So, what did you do?”
A shrug. “I met Becca. She was alone, and I guess just being with her made me realize how lucky I was. I only had one sister, one mom, one dad, one . . .” He sighed. “Something else.”
“Brother, you idiot,” Bas said, but he was smiling.
“Oh yeah, one of those.” Devon’s expression went serious. “I’m glad you’re here tonight, dude. I felt like I kept reaching out to you and . . .”
Bas winced. “Stonewalled?” Devon nodded. “Shit. I’m sorry. I know it’s not important now, but I guess as a kid I always felt like dad went to your stuff and mom to Kelsey’s and I was just lost in the shuffle a lot of the time.”
“I could see that,” Devon said, surprising him. “Hockey was every weekend and multiple weeknights for year after year. I lived at the rink. And Kelsey, well at least, hockey had a season. Her engineering stuff never stopped.”
“It’s ridiculous to be upset about this as an adult,” Bas argued. “Mom and dad did the best they could. I shouldn’t—”
Devon cut him off by plunking a hand on his shoulder. “So, this may be a newsflash for you, bro, but you are allowed to have feelings.” A squeeze. “Some even say they make you human.”
“Being human sucks, sometimes,” Bas grumbled.
“Seriously. And don’t forget getter older,” Devon said. “Hell, I’m getting pudgy around the middle just looking at those ravioli.”
The ravioli in question had been demolished so quickly by the three of them that they’d ordered another plate to arrive when Rachel showed up. But also, pudgy was a relative term, considering the fact that Devon was in as good of shape now as he’d been when he was playing.
“You’ve got a fucking six-pack.”
Devon dipped his finger into the sauce remaining on the plate and brought it to his mouth. “Used to be an eight-pack.”
If Devon weren’t his brother, Bas might be tempted to hate him.
There was a knock at the door and Pascal, Devon’s bodyguard, poked his head in. “A Rachel Morris has arrived—”
Becca shoved past him, Rachel in tow. “Look who I found lurking around.”
“Hey, Dev,” Bas said as they walked over to their women. “Can you do me a favor?”
Devon glanced down at him. “Anything.”
One word, but Bas knew he meant it.
“Don’t stop reaching out, okay?” He shrugged then recalled a joke they’d had from way back, when Devon had first been figuring out how to curse.
Because all professional athletes needed to know how to curse.
The trouble was that Devon’s curse word knowledge had been limited to a single word.
“I’ll attempt to get my fucking head out of my fucking ass,” he said.
Devon hooted as they reached Rachel and Becca. “I’d totally forgotten about that.”
“Just doing my part,” Bas replied and chuckled when Devon punched him on the shoulder.
“You doing your part was the problem, if I remember.” A grin. “Babe,” he said and laced his arms with Becca’s. “I’ve got to tell you this story. I think Sebastian must have been six when I got it in my head that I needed to learn how to use all the curse words . . .”
Bas wasn’t sure how his brother finished the story—or rather how much he exaggerated Bas’s expansion of Devon’s curse word repertoire. He’d added the fucking part to round out Devon’s head and ass statement, something that had made his family laugh hysterically for years after the event.
He mentally shrugged. He’d always been an observer and as such, had learned many a useful thing.
“Hi,” he said.
Except for suave greetings, apparently.
But Rachel didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I missed you.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” He mock-glared. “Finally.”
Her cheeks went slightly rosy. “It’s been a crazy week, but I made it in the end.”
Fingers brushed along her jaw. “Thanks for coming, sweetheart.”
“Are you kidding?” She gestured to the space around them. “Look at this. It’s incredible, and you’ve totally spoiled me for the cheap seat
s now.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I never knew it could be like this.”
“Well you both do now,” Devon said, coming over and herding them so they could see the ice. The third period would be starting in just a few minutes. “And Rachel, once you succumb to the power of the ravioli, you’ll never watch a Gold game any other way.”
“Ravioli?” Rachel asked.
“It’s ah-mazing good,” Becca said then winked conspiratorially. “We ate the first plate, but another should be up soon.”
“I’m starving.” Rachel lifted her elbows to the sides, as if pretending to get ready to tackle someone. “Am I going to have to fight the pregnant lady for it?” The playfulness in her tone, the giggles, and subsequent fake-trash talk she exchanged with Becca just cemented to Bas that his woman was the stuff of legend.
Fuck, but I love you, he thought.
It wasn’t until the three other people in the suite whirled to face him that Sebastian realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Uhh,” Becca said, taking one look at Rachel’s pale face and what was probably a horrified expression on his face. “I—we need to go get . . . something.” Then she grabbed Devon’s arm and all but dragged him from the box.
He barely heard them leave, his focus was so fixed on Rachel.
She was breathing . . . rapidly and too shallow.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t—”
She lifted a hand, half curled in on herself. But though her words were interspersed with gasping breaths, her words were fierce. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t . . . you . . . fucking take . . . it back.”
Bas knelt in front of her. “I couldn’t take it back,” he said, going for gentle though his pulse was pounding and cold sweat dripped down his spine. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she wanted to end things before they really got going? What if this was too much too soon and she ran? “I couldn’t take it back, sweetheart, because I love you so fucking deeply that I’d have to tear out my own heart and stomp on it to have any hope to stop loving you.”