The Sweet Talker: A Surprise Baby Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey)

by Gina Azzi

  Is it pathetic that I want him to be a tiny bit jealous?

  I grin coyly and lift an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it hitting on me. He’s just flirtatious, is all.”

  “Flirtatious,” Noah repeats, an undercurrent to his tone.

  “You’re going to miss the best part,” I sidetrack him as the tank eases into the Charles River and turns into a boat. “Ta-da!” I throw my arms open wide.

  Noah smiles and wraps an arm casually around my shoulders. I face forward, listening to the tour guide. But I don’t miss the way Noah studies my profile for a long moment. Or that he doesn’t remove his arm from around my shoulder. Or that he looks at me with more heat than just a friend.

  After our boat tour, I take Noah to Cheers for lunch.

  “It’s a classic,” I explain as I order two pints for us.

  “You know, I can’t believe I’ve been living in this city for as long as I have and I’ve never been here.” He looks around the old bar and pub appreciatively.

  “You must have missed the long weekends Aunt Mary came to town to visit Austin before she and Uncle Joe moved here.”

  “I begged off them,” he admits, chuckling. “She used to take Austin and the girls on intense history tours.”

  “I know. I used to beg on them. I think I can credit Aunt Mary for my love of history.”

  Noah glances at me, his expression curious. “What was your childhood like?”

  I pick up my spoon to dig into my New England clam chowder but pause at his tone. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs sheepishly and shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “No, ask me.”

  “I just, I wonder what it was like growing up as an only child. I mean, your dad was on the road a lot and you mostly saw your cousins in the summer…”

  “It was okay,” I say slowly, thinking back to the long stretches of time when it was just me and mom. We were always close, always able to make any of Dad’s career changes work, fit seamlessly into our lives. But that was more her doing, her enthusiasm, than mine. “As far as childhoods go, mine was pretty wonderful. I mean, my mom is that mom. The one who volunteers as class mom and bakes homemade brownies for my ballet fundraising initiatives. It was lonely in the sense that I never had the great chaos that Claire grew up in. I didn’t have a ton of friends and our house was never full, although it definitely seemed that way when Dad was home.” I smile, recalling my Dad’s infectious energy. “I had a few close friends who had brothers and sisters. My best friend in Tampa, Aid, was always around, just down the street. My friend Rosa is one of six.”

  Noah whistles, popping a French fry into his mouth.

  “Sleepovers at her house were the best. Her older brothers always had friends around and they would let us stay up and drink beer or wine coolers with them.” I laugh, my mind conjuring up a handful of memories I forgot about. “Rosa and I were so straight-laced, such good students, focused, you know?” I glance at Noah and he’s staring at me like I’m telling some riveting tale instead of a bunch of random memories from high school. “Anyway, those nights were me stepping out of my comfort zone and they were fun. But I missed my dad. Mom missed him too.” I shrug. “It’s just, it’s not a life I want going forward. The nights on the road, the early mornings sitting in ice rinks, the sacrifices you have to make year after year, season after season… My mom put her whole life on hold every time Dad asked her to. And we were lucky because we stayed in Tampa for nine years. For most families, there’s even more uncertainty, more moves, just more giving of themselves and giving up their dreams…” I trail off, biting my lip and shooting Noah an apologetic look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No,” he cuts me off. “You’re being honest.”

  I take a mouthful of soup and moan. “Here.” I hold my spoon out to him. “Try this. It’s tradition.”

  “Tradition?”

  “Mom’s and mine.”

  He grumbles but I can tell he likes being in on it. He takes my spoon and dips it into the bowl, taking a mouthful. “This is so good,” he manages to say around the chowder.

  “See? I won’t steer you wrong, Scotch.”

  He smiles at me.

  “What was your childhood like?” I ask after a beat.

  He shrugs and his features shift, a shutter coming down over his eyes. “It was okay.”

  “Okay…”

  “Wasn’t like yours. My mom wasn’t that mom. My dad was an alcoholic. Our house wasn’t the kind of house I would invite friends over to. For the most part, it was just me and East until we met Austin and started spending loads of time, weeks in the summer really, at Mary and Joe’s.”

  I nod, remembering how the Scotch brothers were always around.

  “It’s lucky you and East had each other.”

  “Yeah, East and hockey are the only two constants in my life,” he admits, picking up his pint and taking a long pull. “And now, only hockey really. It’s the only thing I feel like I can commit myself to and not be disappointed. We’re going all the way this season; I won’t settle for anything less. Besides, when East gets out of rehab, he’ll be coming home. I need to make sure he has something to look forward to, something to work toward. I won’t let him down again.”

  I bite my lower lip, understanding all the words he’s not saying. Like how hockey is his lifeline. How he’s scared for his brother and for the team. How he feels like things are spiraling out of his control and if he can just manage his performance on the ice, if he can just play his best, he’ll still have hockey. “I get it,” I say softly.

  “Do you?” he asks, his face severe but his tone quiet.

  I nod. “I do. Hockey has never let you down.”

  “No,” he agrees. “Not yet at least.”

  I pick up my pint glass and hold it up to him. “To your best season yet.”

  His eyes sweep over my face as he clinks his glass against mine. “Cheers at Cheers, Indy.”

  I snort. “Who’s being a nerd now?”

  Noah laughs and takes a swig of his beer.

  Our conversation transitions to lighter topics and I find myself enjoying his company, excited to learn more about him, happy to just be in this moment, without worrying what comes next.

  12

  Noah

  “Thank you for today, Little Indy,” I say as we stop in front of my brownstone.

  “Anytime, Noah. Thanks for being a good sport.”

  I chuckle, tipping my head to the front door. My hands are stuffed in my pockets as the breeze picks up, and as much as I want to stay and chat with Indy, I don’t want us to freeze while we do it. “Want to come in?”

  She hesitates and a ripple of dejection swims in my stomach, which is ridiculous because we just spent the entire day together.

  Before I can tell her not to sweat it she dips her head and says, “Okay.”

  “I’ve got coffee,” I joke, knowing caffeine is her weakness.

  She laughs and follows me into my house, tossing her purse down on the kitchen island. “I’ll never say no to a coffee.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I pop a pod into the Nespresso machine and turn, bracing my elbows on the kitchen island.

  Indy slides onto a barstool and grins at me. “I had fun today.”

  “Me too,” I agree. “Being with you is…easy. Not complicated.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Yeah.” I wonder why she would think it isn’t a good thing.

  She shrugs. “You looked annoyed when you said it.”

  I shake my head even though she’s probably right. It’s strange to me, how I can hang with a woman and have it be so natural. Without the usual expectations and pressures that hang around me like a noose with most of my interactions with women. Even with Courtney, I felt like I was walking on eggshells sometimes. “Milk or cream?” I ask, picking up her coffee mug.

  “Cream please.”

  I fix her coffee and place it down in front of her.

>   “You excited for the season opener?” She takes a sip of coffee and groans appreciatively. I feel that groan everywhere. Her eyes flutter closed and a small, satisfied smile crosses her mouth and my hands clench into fists.

  Things may be easy with Indy Merrick but they can’t be this casual.

  My hands yearn to reach out and glide over her smooth skin. My mouth waters at the thought of getting another taste of her. Jesus, how is she this tempting sitting in my kitchen on a Sunday drinking coffee? Why can’t I shake my hunger for her?

  “Noah?” she asks, peering at me in concern.

  I clear my throat. What the fuck were we talking about? The game. “Yeah, yeah, I’m excited for it.”

  Her eyebrows dip down over her nose. “You okay?”

  I sigh, raking a hand over my head. Do I tell her? Just lay it all out? Why the fuck not? I’ve never been known to mince words before. “I lied to you.”

  She rears back like I startled her and I curse myself for being such an idiot. “About what?”

  “I don’t want to be just friends, Indiana. I may be crazy presumptuous right now but the other night…” I trail off, gauging her reaction.

  “The other night what?” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.

  “The other night was better than great. It was, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you, in my bed, and I want you there again.”

  Indy stares at me in shock for a full second and I want to throat punch myself just to distract my thoughts from the wary expression crossing her face. Did I mess everything up? Indy clears her throat and says the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard, “I felt it too.”

  “You did?” I reach forward and tuck some of her hair behind her ear, my hand cupping her face. God, her skin is so smooth. So soft.

  She nods.

  “I don’t want to be just friends, Indy.”

  “You said that already.”

  I smile. “I know. But I don’t want to lead you on either.”

  “You’re not. I get what you’re saying. Today was fun, it was easy and chill. But if we hang out and have some fun and things happen…”

  “If things happen…” I repeat, desperate for her to finish that thought. Does she want things to happen? Does she want to do this, things, with me, knowing it won’t lead to anything real?

  “If things happen and we both know the score, then what’s the harm in that?” she asks finally and excitement bursts in my veins like Pop Rocks. She wants this, me, as much as I’m craving her.

  I lean over the island and turn her face so she’s staring right at me. I need her to understand my next words and be okay with them before I drag her to me and kiss her senseless. “No harm, babe. Just promise me, you’ll be straight with me if things get too…complicated.”

  “Same goes for you,” she says simply and I can tell she means it. Jesus, who is this woman? I’ve yet to meet a woman so sure of a casual, fun, hook-up with me and yet, Indy has surprised me at every turn.

  I place a hand over my heart and don’t miss the way her eyes zero in on the movement, how the tip of her tongue peeks out between her lips. “Same goes for me,” I promise.

  “Cool.” Indy grins. When she looks at me, I don’t see indecision or uncertainty in her eyes. I see a woman who truly understands the score and wants the same thing that I want: some fun, some genuine conversation, and some smoking hot sex.

  “Would now be too early to get naked?” I ask, keeping my voice light in case I have to turn my question into a joke. But I’m not fucking joking.

  Indy places down her coffee mug and stands. In one stroke, she tugs her sweater off and stands before me, all creamy skin and delicious curves, clad in a black lace bra. “Not too early.”

  I growl, walking toward her. She grins, backing away toward the stairs. Before we begin to climb them to my bedroom she pauses and glances at me over her shoulder. “I should tell you, Noah, that I don’t usually do this type of thing.”

  “What type of thing?” I ask even though I know the answer.

  “Casual.”

  Some of my excitement evaporates. Is this going to be too difficult for her to commit to? The fact that there is no commitment. “Okay…”

  “But with you”—she shakes her head, her eyes gleaming—“I don’t know. It’s almost a relief that we have a history, a friendship, so that I can be myself with you and know that you’re not taking it the wrong way.”

  Relief washes through me at her words. “Just be straight with me, Indy.”

  She blushes, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip. When she meets my gaze again, the heat in hers is undeniable. Her nipples harden, tempting me through the lacy cups of her bra. Jesus, I want her in my bed. Now. Five minutes ago.

  “I want you, Noah Scotch. I want you to set my body on fire and make me feel all the things I’ve been missing out on.”

  At the truth in her words, at the plea in her tone, I growl and swoop her into my arms. Carrying her up the stairs, I love the sound of her breathless giggle. I love the feel of her silky hair sliding across my arms.

  “I got you, Indy.” I toss her in the center of my bed.

  She smirks at me as I yank my shirt off and pop the button on my jeans. I stride toward her and wrap my hands around her ankles, tugging until she’s spread out beneath me. I peel off her leggings and groan at the sight of her black silk thong that leaves so very little to the imagination. “You always wear underwear like this?”

  “I like the way they look.” She offers a non-answer that intrigues me as much as it irritates me. Do other guys see her like this? No, she told me she doesn’t do casual. Still…the thought of her with another guy bothers me even though it shouldn’t. Even though I don’t want it to.

  But I let that flicker of annoyance take hold as I crawl up Indy’s body and fuse my mouth with hers. I let my irritation of thinking about her with other men fuel my actions as I claim her in the middle of a Sunday afternoon in the center of my bed until we’re both breathless. Until our bodies hum with adrenaline and quake with need.

  Until I slide inside of her and swear. She moans loudly, her fingernails digging into my forearms as I bring her to the peak of a mountain and jump off the damn cliff after her.

  As we come down from our mutual bliss, I stare into Indiana’s eyes and almost fucking drown.

  Not that I’d tell her that. Not that I’d even admit it to myself.

  And that, is my first major mistake where Indiana Merrick is concerned.

  13

  Indy

  “Are you like, his sex slave?” Claire whispers way too loudly for Sunday night’s family dinner.

  I kick her under the table and she winces.

  Two seats over, Austin turns toward us and we both drop our heads.

  “Sorry,” Claire whispers again. “I’m just so curious. And desperate for information because I haven’t gotten laid in way too long.”

  “Claire,” I hiss.

  She shrugs unapologetically. “After the way he stared at you at Taps after the Hawks won their season opener, you can’t blame me for asking. All the WAGs are wondering about you two, you know.”

  “Seriously?” I wrinkle my nose, hating the thought that Noah and I and our mutual, non-committed, fun fling is feeding gossip fodder.

  “You can hardly blame them, Indy.” Claire turns toward me. “One, Scotch didn’t let you out of his sight the entire evening. Two, he hasn’t been that way with anyone since Courtney.”

  “This is nothing like him and Courtney,” I say, wanting to clarify that Noah and I aren’t serious. At all.

  “Duh.” My cousin snorts. “You’re a million times better than Courtney.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I point out but Claire shrugs.

  “What are you girls giggling about?” Uncle Joe asks from the head of the table. Claire quickly scoops half a chicken thigh into her mouth so all eyes turn toward me.

  I kick Claire again under the table and she coughs aroun
d her full mouth.

  “Nothing,” I say to the skeptical looks of our parents and Austin. “Just that Claire is on the job and apartment hunt.”

  “Really, love?” Aunt Mary asks, her eyes zeroing in on her daughter. “You know there’s no rush, right? You can stay here as long as you like.”

  This time, the toe of Claire’s boot finds my shin and I wince at the weight she put behind it.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Claire says lightly. “Indy and I were just discussing options, that’s all. Rielle might have a friend looking for a roommate too.”

  “How is Rielle? She hasn’t been here in ages,” Aunt Mary remarks.

  Claire huffs. “I know. She works all the time. Indy and I are going to grab coffee with her and catch up this week.”

  “Well, you know we’d miss having you here if this thing with Rielle’s friend works out,” Uncle Joe adds, laying on another layer of guilt.

  Austin snorts under his breath and I drop my head to keep from laughing out loud.

  It’s no secret that Claire is desperate to move out of my aunt and uncle’s home. Mostly because they still treat her like a little kid and Claire has a big personality. The kind of personality that doesn’t want to be reined in by anyone, especially not her dad.

  “I know.” She grins at her dad and shoots mine a pleading look for help.

  Dad covers up his laughter by coughing into his hand, and changes the subject. “Looks like Mike is off to a great season.”

  “Oh, he’s playing so much more now that he’s in New York,” Aunt Mary agrees, clasping her hands together. “I thought it was going to be such a tough transition but Vanny loves the city and the two of them are happy there. I really hope they have a baby soon.”

  “Mary,” Uncle Joe cautions.

  “What?” she asks him, gesturing to the table. “I’m just confiding in family.”

  “Here we go,” Austin mutters. As the parents launch into a conversation about grandkids, Austin looks at Claire and me. “You girls are staying out of trouble?”