Wylde

by Sawyer Bennett

  “What exactly is it?” I ask hesitantly, but I think I know what it is. I may not be a sports aficionado, but I do watch the news, which unfortunately does come with a few minutes of sports recaps each night.

  “Do you watch hockey at all?” Aaron asks. I twist my neck to look up at him. “It’s the Cup. The hockey championship trophy and each player on the winning team gets it for twenty-four hours. Erik chose to have it at his wedding.”

  My eyes go round as I realize why his friends Erik and Blue are rich. He’s a professional athlete.

  “Erik’s a member of the Vengeance?” I ask.

  Like I said, I watch the news so I very well know we have our own hockey team that came to town last year. Not that I’ve ever watched a game, but I know they are an incredible source of pride to our city.

  “He is,” Aaron replies, watching me carefully.

  Then it starts to dawn on me. “And the other guys you introduced me to?”

  “All players on the team,” he replies.

  And then I have an aha moment. “And you?”

  “First-line defenseman, at your service.”

  I don’t know what that means, but my heart immediately sinks. In the few moments since we arrived, I had been moderately charmed by Aaron and had thought this wouldn’t be such a bad date.

  But he’s a professional athlete, not a part-time jock as I’d thought.

  Famous.

  And with that comes a whole slew of complications I have absolutely no desire to be embroiled within.

  Whatever expression has just come unbidden to my face, Aaron sees it and immediately frowns. “You have something against hockey players?”

  “Not per se,” I reply truthfully. “I mean… I had a vibe you were a jock. I just didn’t realize you were a…”

  I struggle to find the right words. Aaron waits patiently.

  Shrugging, I say, “A jocky jock.”

  “That’s not even a thing,” he scoffs, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “It’s a thing,” I say assuredly.

  “But it’s a problem?” he presses, his hand reaching out to take mine again. “Because I can assure you that you’re safe with me.”

  I shake my head, plastering on a confident smile to put him at ease because I most certainly don’t want to talk about my anxieties. Internally, I’m incredibly uncomfortable right now, but I’m not about to let him know it. All I have to do is suffer through this evening and one more wedding next weekend, then I can safely put Aaron Wylde and his fame behind me.

  “No, it’s fine,” I assure him, but I’m not sure how truthful it sounds. “Just caught me by surprise.”

  ♦

  It’s turned into quite the party—this wedding reception—and while I don’t know much about professional sports teams, I can tell it goes far beyond just being a job for these people.

  They’re all legitimately close to each other, which is saying something given there’s twenty-three men on the active roster. Aaron shared that little tidbit with me when I kept meeting player after player and finally asked him how many there were.

  He’d laughed—telling me it was adorable how little I knew about the sport. He wasn’t surprised, though, telling me that I was not alone. There were lots of people who didn’t know a damn thing about hockey, but he was more than happy to teach me whatever I wanted to know.

  There was enough double-entendre in that statement I knew he was alluding to other things, and, admittedly, I had a brief moment of regret this was going nowhere because—outside of being famous, rich, and most likely egotistical to the core when drilled deep—he was singularly the most attractive man I’d ever been on a date with.

  Not just in the looks department, although his are unparalleled, but he’s clearly well-read as we actually spent some of the evening talking books. He’s funny as well, which is something I appreciate—no, require—in the opposite sex. I’ve learned through all kinds of pain and heartbreak that laughter is the key to leading a happy life when all else fails.

  So yeah, he’s hot, and interesting, and smart, but I just don’t think I’d ever be able to get past the fame issue. It’s definitely a deal-breaker for me, and I can’t believe my luck. I’m just a small-city girl, who spends her days with her nose stuffed in a book. When I had my one awful, horrendous, humiliating brush with fame—at one point believing it to have fully destroyed me—I never thought it would cross my doorstep again.

  What are the chances?

  Throughout the evening, I’m also introduced to Aaron’s teammates’ significant others. They’re all sweet and incredibly accepting of me. All are surprised to see Aaron with a date and seem incredibly pleased he brought one. Soon enough, I’d figured out Aaron must be the devoutly single dude everyone wants to find true love, but who is resistant to it. This became patently obvious when Tacker’s girlfriend, Nora, leaned into him as we were all standing around talking and whispered, “I really like her. Good for you.”

  I don’t think she meant for me to hear it, or maybe she did, but it was definitely clear I’m an anomaly in Aaron’s life.

  Which actually makes me feel a bit better over the fact I’m going to leave him in the dust after next weekend’s wedding.

  I do believe the reception would have gone on all night if it weren’t for the fact Erik and Blue are catching a late-night flight out for their honeymoon in Australia. Attendants started clearing off the tables and caterers packed away the food, offering little to-go boxes to guests who wanted them.

  It takes a while to say our goodbyes. As I’m receiving hugs from the women I’d met and whose names I will never remember for the long run but remember right now—Blue, Brooke, Pepper, Regan, and Nora—I have a moment’s regret I’ll never be friends with them. I can say they are all genuinely nice and welcoming. As Aaron promised, everyone seems down to earth and humble.

  I figure it’s an act, or maybe it isn’t. Not up to me to figure these people out. It’s enough to know they are in a certain class and I’m in a different one, meaning I don’t belong.

  Aaron leads me out of the house into the warm, dry evening, and we meander over to the valet stand. He walks casually beside me, hands tucked into his pockets. “I assume you wouldn’t have any interest in going out for a drink somewhere?”

  I give him a small smile. Handing my ticket to the valet, I watch as he rushes off to get my car. “I’m tired. I think I’ll call it an evening.”

  “Going to tell me why you don’t like me being a professional athlete?” he asks, still correctly guessing about my discomfort, but not exactly the reasoning behind it.

  “Nope,” I reply, then try to sugarcoat it a bit so he leaves it alone. “I promise… it’s not a big deal.”

  “Still intend to honor our date next weekend?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I reply, but there’s enough aloofness in my tone he knows it will be our last date.

  “Hmmm,” he muses and before I know it, he’s leaning into me. “Then I’m not going to regret doing this at all.”

  It’s completely unexpected and given my reticence about Aaron and all he represents, it’s shocking how quickly I respond to his warm mouth on mine. It’s not a goodbye peck thanking me for a wonderful evening.

  It’s a penetrating kiss that tells me he could show me oh so much more if I’d give him a chance past next weekend.

  It’s over as soon as it starts, but the tingling of my lips leaves me a pointed reminder left by a sinful man I want to despise, but I really just can’t.

  As Aaron turns to walk back toward the house, I watch his retreating back, knowing he’s going to be on my mind for quite some time.

  CHAPTER 5

  Wylde

  “Dude… I don’t understand what you had in all these boxes,” I say as I break another one down, pulling the flaps out and flattening it.

  I’ve spent the morning at Kane’s condo, helping him clear out the mounds of cardboard he has left from his move. There have to be fifty
empty boxes, yet I don’t see what he had in them as everything is neatly put away. Nothing out of place.

  Kane snickers as he flattens a box out, adding to the pile we’ll carry down to my truck and then haul to the dump. “Word of advice… don’t open any of the closets in this place.”

  Now that makes more sense.

  “Duly noted.” Laughing, I grab another box. “But you got a great place here.”

  “Thanks, man. Lucked out really.”

  I’ll say. His condo is about the same size as mine in square feet, but his comes with an amazing outdoor balcony that overlooks downtown with a stunning view of the arena the Vengeance plays in, which is all glass and steel, sparkling in the late afternoon sunset.

  “So how did it go with the hot redhead after Erik and Blue’s wedding?” Kane asks, giving me a lecherous grin. “Did you score one for the team if you know what I mean?”

  I shake my head. “Yeah… I know what you mean and no, I didn’t score one for the team.”

  “What?” he exclaims with exaggerated surprise. “You mean the team’s playboy… the man himself who goes by nothing but the moniker Wylde… struck out?”

  “Can’t strike out if you don’t attempt to play,” I say with a wink. “Let’s just say she’s not the type of woman you hookup with.”

  Kane’s expression clouds with confusion. “Look, dude… I get we’ve only known each other for a few months and all, but I had the distinct impression not only from you, but also from pretty much everyone on this team, you don’t do anything but hookups. This girl that special?”

  I shrug. “I have no clue what she is other than intriguing. Maybe she’s just a challenge for all I know. I’m just rolling with it.”

  Kane regards me before giving me a smirk. “Famous last words.”

  “Look,” I say, holding my arms out. “I’m not looking for anything serious. This might not be a one-night stand, but it’s definitely not a relationship or anything. We’ve only been on one date.”

  “And you’re taking her to Dax and Regan’s wedding this weekend?” he prompts.

  “Yup,” I tell him.

  He seems to consider this. “And have you been with anyone else since you met her?”

  That question strikes me, sucking the cockiness right out of my expression. “Well… no.”

  “And why is that?” he drawls, looking superior and as if he has me all figured out.

  I roll my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I screw a different woman every night, Kane. In fact, I’ve been known to go two, sometimes three, whole days without fucking a woman.”

  “And yet, it’s been at least five days since you first met her and three days since the wedding?” he replies, and I wince at the way he’s just called me out.

  I play it off with a half shrug. “Just because I’m not interested in fucking someone else doesn’t mean I want this chick on a permanent basis.”

  Because I don’t.

  And yet… even as I just used the word “chick”—a term I’ve used in conjunction with women for years—I realize how inappropriate it is to think of Clarke in that way.

  She’s way more than just some “chick,” deserving far better than that from me. It’s a moment of growth for me, and I immediately feel the pressing need to correct that. “I didn’t mean to call her a chick.”

  Kane cocks an eyebrow.

  “What I mean,” I drawl, trying to explain this to him in a way even I might understand, “is she’s an intriguing woman whom I’m not only attracted to, but also actually interested in getting to know a bit better. That’s all.”

  He opens his mouth and I can tell by the expression on his face it’s to say something smart ass, but he’s distracted by his phone ringing. When he pulls it from his pocket, a smile lights up on his face.

  Ignoring me, he taps the screen to connect the call, but rather than putting it up to his ear, he focuses on the screen.

  Must be FaceTime.

  Holding the phone out a bit, his smile turns even brighter when the call fully connects and he can see the person calling. “Hey, Noodle,” he exclaims, sheer happiness in his tone. “About damn time you called.”

  Noodle?

  “Whatever,” a distinctly young and female voice chides back with a laugh. “You could have called me anytime.”

  Now I’m curious. I walk around the coffee table where we’d been stacking the cardboard boxes to peek shamelessly over Kane’s shoulder.

  Holy shit.

  Noodle is an absolute hottie. Caramel-brown hair that gets lighter as it falls down away from her face, parted down the middle and hanging over both shoulders, suntanned skin, and blue eyes. I can’t see much of the background as she’s holding her phone close to her face, but what a face it is.

  Kane throws his thumb over his shoulder, knowing I’m right behind him. “That’s my teammate, Wylde.”

  Smiling, I wave from over his shoulder. “Hi, Noodle.”

  She snorts, white teeth flashing. “It’s actually Mollie. Nice to meet you.”

  “Back at you,” I say, then add on with a wink, “Noodle.”

  I move away to give them face-to-face privacy but have no intention of leaving the room. Grabbing another box to deconstruct, I hear Mollie say, “For Christ’s sake, Kane… will you stop calling me Noodle? It’s the most ridiculous thing ever.”

  I wonder who this woman is. Kane doesn’t have a sister, just two younger brothers back home in California.

  He also doesn’t have a serious girlfriend, as we’ve had those conversations over the last couple months since he joined the team.

  Whoever she is, she’s important because his reaction to her just couldn’t be tamed.

  The conversation is short and easy to follow, the extent of which she’s going to be traveling through Arizona in October and wants to visit for a few weeks. They make tentative plans, talk about mutual friends, and he warns her to be careful in her travels.

  When he hangs up not five minutes after the call started, I look over the current box in my hand. “Noodle?”

  There’s a sappy smile that comes to his face. “Yeah… nickname she earned in college one night after she got too drunk at a party and passed out. I had to carry her three blocks back to her apartment, and she was limp as a noodle. And so was born her nickname.”

  “Aaah,” I say in understanding. “Old college flame.”

  “Nope,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Best friend from college.”

  “Your best friend from college is a woman?” I ask in disbelief. Not that men and women can’t be friends. Or best friends for that matter. It’s just not common, so it’s shocking.

  “Best friend period,” he corrects. “That number-one spot has remained hers.”

  I stand there, absolutely still, even more jolted by his proclamation. I try to reconcile that… two extremely attractive people being only friends.

  It’s just weird.

  “And you and she never…” I let the implication hang there.

  A slow smile curves his mouth. “Once… in college. There was alcohol and a bad breakup with her boyfriend. It was a bad choice, and we went back to the friend’s only category after.”

  Taking a step backward, I sit on his couch. I can feel the frown heavy on my face. “I don’t get it.”

  He bends over, picking up a box. “What don’t you get?”

  “Just… she’s gorgeous. You’re okay looking for a dude, and you’re a professional athlete. People like you two belong in a category other than friends.”

  “Not true,” he counters.

  Nope. Not buying it. “You mean to tell me that you’re not attracted to her in the slightest?”

  He shakes his head, but there’s enough of a hesitation there that it confirms all I need to know. “Not interested in her like that.”

  “That’s good to know,” I drawl, pushing up from the couch again. “Maybe I’ll take a crack at her when she comes to visit in October.”


  Fury blazes in Kane’s eyes, and I can see the struggle on his face as he tries to quell it. “Don’t make me kick your ass,” he warns in a low voice.

  “I knew it,” I exclaim, pointing an accusing finger. “You’ve got it bad for her.”

  “I do not,” he snaps back. “She’s just a friend.”

  “Best friend,” I say, correcting his attempt to put her in an unimportant category. “Seriously… what’s the deal? You two clearly care for each other.”

  Kane sighs, dropping the box he was holding and raking his fingers through his hair. “Look… it doesn’t matter. We were clearly never meant to be anything but friends—the best of—because here we both are, leading separate lives.”

  “So change it,” I suggest.

  “That ship has sailed,” he replies glumly. “She’s a travel blogger… a nomad. She travels around North and South America in a converted, tricked-out van with her dog, Samson. Her home is on wheels, and she goes where her whims take her. She’s not the settling-down type, and I’m not into long-distance relationships.”

  “But—”

  Kane holds his hand up. “Best friends work for us, okay?”

  It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I feel bad for the dude. He clearly has it bad for his Noodle, but if what he says is true about her and her nomadic lifestyle, then I don’t see how they can be together unless Kane wanted to leave hockey and travel with her. He still has a lot of career left ahead of him, so I don’t see that happening.

  On top of that, I have no clue if this woman feels anything for him in return. It could be a moot issue.

  Which makes me think about Clarke.

  And the way Kane has pointed out that since meeting the woman, I’ve not shown a single bit of interest in tapping a piece of random ass. I can’t figure out why not, because I sure as fuck like sex.

  Like having it a lot.

  And yet, it’s only Clarke I’m interested in right now and while I’d give anything to get her into my bed, that’s kind of a secondary goal right now.

  Why is that?