“Hey, I got an idea,” I say, struck with sudden inspiration that’s probably foolish, but there’s no taking it back now. “Why don’t you come with me to Brooke and Bishop’s wedding Monday?”
This wedding isn’t news to her. We’ve discussed it, and she knows I’m going to St. John where Brooke and Bishop have rented out an entire resort. I’ve already informed her I’ll be gone for five days. At one point, she’d even told me she was jealous. It’s how I found out she doesn’t get to travel much. In fact, she hasn’t taken a vacation in a couple of years.
“Oh, that sounds so awesome, but there’s no way—” she starts, without even giving it serious thought.
It’s why I cut her off with a kiss, rolling her to her back. When her legs spread, I settle in between them, peering down with a stern look. “You could use some time away, Clarke. You’re the hardest working person I know. You only take off one day a week. And let’s be honest, you don’t even really take that day off since you admitted you work from home on your books on those days.”
“It’s hard running a business alone. There’s no way I can be away from the store for that long. Nina can only give me part-time hours—”
“Veronica would gladly step in, and you know it,” I admonish.
Clarke doesn’t snap a comeback because she knows I’m right. Veronica would gladly mind the store, and she’s capable of watching it well.
“Clarke,” I murmur, tilting my head and giving her a small smile. “You said you wish you could be more spontaneous, and what could be more spontaneous than agreeing to jet off to a tropical island with me for a week? We’ll relax on the sand, make love for hours on end, eat all the best foods, and, hey… drink all the fruity cocktails, too.”
“It sounds divine,” she breathes out dreamily.
“You deserve a vacation,” I continue. “I’ve already got a room there all to myself, so it won’t cost you anything. I’ll cover your plane ticket—”
“I’ll buy my own plane ticket,” she pipes up primly. It’s then I realize…she just committed.
“Yes,” I exclaim in triumph.
“Wait… I didn’t say I was going.”
“Yes, you did. You said you’d buy your own plane ticket. I’m all for equality, but I’m buying meals and a few skimpy bikinis for you to wear.”
“But I didn’t say—”
I shut her up with my mouth on hers. When I come up for air, she’s in a daze, because our kissing is just that good.
“Say you’ll come with me,” I murmur. “I don’t want to be away from you next week.”
I can see her melt, her smile turning gooey and her legs lifting to wrap around my waist. She reaches up, tugs at a lock of my hair, and whispers, “It’s a good thing you’re charming and cute. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going.”
“It’s the promise of orgasms that changed your mind, admit it,” I counter.
She doesn’t respond, but merely slips her hands behind my neck and draws my lips down to hers.
CHAPTER 16
Wylde
I have to give it to Brooke and Bishop. They picked an amazing spot for a destination wedding. The resort is remote and exclusive, spread out over a jutting peninsula off the main island of St. John and on the edge of the Virgin Islands National Park.
Bishop described the place as low key and unplugged, noting there is Wi-Fi, but it’s spotty and only accessible from higher ground. There are no TVs in any of the rooms, but plenty of hammocks to lounge in scattered around the one-hundred-acre property.
As a member of a championship hockey team, Bishop can afford the luxury. As such, he paid an exorbitant fee to reserve the resort for the entire week for their wedding party and friends who would be making the trip. Given the size of our team, coaching staff, and support personnel who were invited—including the entire administrative and marketing departments since Brooke worked there herself—my understanding is this wedding managed to fill the entire place almost to capacity.
Despite such extravagances, I’d been amused when Bishop told me that beyond picking this place for their destination wedding, they’d made very few other choices. They’d left it to the expert staff to plan the food and wedding festivities, including choices for the cake, flowers, and decorations for the seaside ceremony that would take place on a cliff overlooking the brilliant aqua waters of Caneel Bay.
The main building where we check-in is bright and airy, with all the doors and windows open to let in the island breeze. There are potted palms and tropical arrangements placed all around to give the interior that lush jungle feel.
Beside me, Clarke couldn’t look any more out of place. I think she’s somewhat in shock over the luxury being bestowed upon her. She was agog we flew first class—her first time ever—and the opulence of this resort has her a bit quiet right now.
We wait in a short line at the reception desk to check-in, right behind Pepper and Legend. They’re both on FaceTime with Legend’s parents, who flew into Phoenix for the week to watch their granddaughter, Charlie. I don’t know Charlie’s exact date of birth, but she has to be about six months old by now. Over Legend’s shoulder, I can see her cute baby cheeks on the screen of the phone as he and Pepper coo and make baby talk.
The single guy with no interest in thinking about kids at this point in his life would think they’re beyond foolish acting, but the man who knows exactly how precious that kid is would never begrudge them one ounce of baby talk. Legend had, unbeknownst to him, gotten a woman, who turned out to be a little nutso in the head, pregnant. She dropped the baby—that would be Charlie—off on his doorstep with a note saying she couldn’t take care of an infant anymore, which is how Legend became a father.
Later, Pepper became her mother, the adoption being formally finalized just last month after Charlie’s birth mother signed away her parental rights. Of course, the woman’s in prison for trying to kill Pepper, but that’s a whole other story.
I lean down to put my mouth close to Clarke’s ear. “What do you want to do after we check-in?” I ask, leaning in a tiny bit closer so I can brush my lips against her neck. She has her hair up in a ponytail, and I can’t resist the bare skin there. Clarke jumps slightly, turning her head to smirk. I give her a wink. “We could test out the resiliency of the mattress in our room?”
She snorts, crosses her arms over her chest as if irritated, and takes a firm step away from me.
She can play offended all she wants, but I know she likes that idea very much. Granted, while she worked her ass off over the past three days to get the store in good-enough shape to entrust the keys to her best friend, Clarke’s downtime was spent flat on her back and underneath me. I honestly have never had so much sex in such a short period of time, but I swear it’s like the fucking dam has broken. I cannot contain the raging lust for this woman that she’s set free.
“Or,” I suggest, shuffling closer and putting my arm around her waist. “We could hit the beach. Just relax for the afternoon. Maybe drink a few fruity cocktails.”
Clarke giggles, nestling into my side. She angles her face slightly, speaking from the side of her mouth in a low murmur, “I like the testing-the-mattress idea best.”
“That’s my girl,” I praise, pressing my lips to the top of her flame-colored head.
I hear the chorus of female laughter long before the group comes into view. Clarke and I turn that way, seeing Willow, Regan, and Brooke strolling through the lobby. They’ve clearly settled in nicely, all three wearing summery dresses that show a lot of bare shoulders and legs. Each carries a frothy-looking drink with an umbrella in it.
Regan’s eyes land on Clarke and me, and she smiles broadly in welcome. “Oh my God,” Regan exclaims as they redirect over our way, focused only on Clarke. She looks inquisitive. “How in the world did this guy talk you into coming so last minute?”
Clarke blushes, remembering exactly how I convinced her, but she merely shrugs while playing it off. “Oh, a free vacation to a tropical island.
Wasn’t much of a choice, right?”
Willow and Brooke move in, each lady pulling Clarke into a warm hug of welcome.
“Listen,” Regan says, reaching out and taking Clarke by the wrist. “We have a spa appointment booked in about forty-five minutes. I know we can get you added. Come spend the afternoon getting pampered with us.”
I glare at Regan, and she must feel the weight of it. She shoots me a smirk before giving her attention back to Clarke to entice her further. “Manis, pedis, facials, and massages. An afternoon of pure indulgence.”
Yup… going to kill Regan, as she’s going way overboard. I had sent a text to the guys the day after Clarke agreed to come with me, asking if they’d ask their women to pay some attention to Clarke so she would feel included instead of like an outsider. It’s a request I probably didn’t have to make as the Vengeance women are all sweet, kind, and overly generous with their time and concern.
Still, Regan’s now interfering with my plans to spend an indulgent afternoon of my own with Clarke in our room. And these resort rooms are off the hook, each with their own private balconies and a half-indoor/half-outdoor lap pool and hot tub. Water is going to be our new best friend in our sexcapades.
Clarke tips her face my way, eyebrows raised in question. I doubt she’s ever treated herself to a facial or a massage. Not that she’s broke—though she’s frugal because she needs to be while owning her own business—but mainly because she rarely takes the time to do nice things for herself.
I bend slightly, putting my hand around the nape of her neck. “You should go relax with the girls. We have five days to test out that mattress.”
Clarke’s face clouds with worry, a bit of embarrassment tinging her cheeks. She murmurs so only I can hear her, “Do you know how much something like this costs?”
Fuck.
Clarke is a proud woman and it took a lot of damn browbeating to get her to accept my offer to come here without an agreement that she would cover some of her expenses. For example, she didn’t want to pay for first-class. However, I already had my ticket purchased, and I wasn’t about to ride in coach. We compromised, and she let me pay the difference in costs.
I take her by the elbow, glancing over her head at Regan, Willow, and Brooke before leading Clarke a few steps away. I need to nip this shit in the bud so Clarke can just have a good time instead of second-guessing everything.
“My contract with the Vengeance is a four-year deal worth thirty-two million dollars,” I say bluntly.
Clarke goes pale, her mouth dropping open.
I pull her a little farther away, dipping my face closer to hers. “Listen… I get you work hard for what you have, and I also get that what you and I have going on is very new. But I want you to have a great time this week, and I’d like to treat you to this trip. I make so much freaking money it would be the equivalent of a regular Joe buying you a dozen roses for the hell of it. It’s a drop in the bucket.”
She just stares, face blank and unaffected by my words. I worry I’ve offended her, so I rush to ask, “Was that pretentious? Because I didn’t mean it that way. I just want to make you feel special, I want you to have an amazing week, and I want you to do it without one single worry in your pretty head.”
Clarke glances over her shoulder at the waiting women, then back. Her hand comes to my chest, and she tips her head back so her eyes meet mine. There’s a soft smile on her lips. “I think what you just said was incredibly sexy, not pretentious at all. And that’s me, trying to let go of my past and realize you are you, and not like anyone else I’ve ever known. So, I will accept their invitation and your generous offer, and I will make it up to you this evening where we will not only attempt to test the mattress, but we will also endeavor to break the bed.”
I’m sure if Clarke and I end up becoming a permanent thing—that lasts the test of time like some of my other teammates have been fortunate enough to find—I know I’ll look back on this moment, and those words she just gave me, and realize this is probably the beginning of when I really began to fall for her.
“Sounds like a plan,” I murmur before giving her a deep kiss filled with the promise of better things to come. It’s apparently such a good kiss—perhaps not the type to be made in public—that I’m vaguely aware of the ladies nearby giggling.
I let Clarke up from the power of my mouth, loving that dazed expression she often gets when I kiss her, and make a show of turning her toward the women. Giving her a pat on her ass, I push her toward them. “Might as well get going. Start hanging out with them now. Those drinks look great.”
Clarke grins over her shoulder, then moves off to join what looks like a hell of a lot of trouble. Brooke loops her arm through Clarke’s. They all take off through the lobby, disappearing through a side door.
“Are you ready to check-in, sir?” I hear from the reception desk, realizing it’s my turn. Snickers from behind me have me pivoting, and I see some of the young pups there. Two of the rookies—Vance Gather and Trace LaForge—appear incredibly amused.
“Shut up,” I growl.
CHAPTER 17
Clarke
I feel out of place, yet, I don’t.
The glass of champagne in my hand will be my start toward making me feel more comfortable, but the part that’s freaking me out the most is being in an alien environment. I’m naked under a plush, white robe while my feet are being scrubbed, pumiced, and polished. We’re in a large room with subtle lighting and eight pedicure chairs complete with bubbling feet basins and massagers in the backs.
The chairs are laid out four on each side of the room. Willow, Pepper, Regan, and Nora sit opposite me with Brooke to my left and Blue—who flew straight here from her honeymoon in Australia—to my right. She’s currently recounting her terror at going snorkeling with Eric, afraid a shark would eat her but committing to the adventure anyway because he’d really wanted to do it. I found out she’s pregnant, which is why she’s the only one sipping guava juice instead of champagne.
The women themselves cause a conundrum in me. They are all warm and inclusive, making me feel welcome. But they’re also a tight-knit group—women who have all clearly bonded over the last year their significant others have played hockey together. I’m grateful to be included, yet I feel like such an outsider at the same time.
“How did you and Erik meet?” I ask Blue.
She shifts slightly in her seat, shooting me a devilish smirk. “Actually… he and I hooked up years ago, then reconnected last year on the team plane. I’m a flight attendant.”
“Second-chance romance,” I reply, noting one of my favorite tropes to read.
“Hardly,” Blue snorts. “He didn’t even remember our time together. It was insulting.”
I stare, my mouth agape, and wonder how she found it within herself to ever move past that. But before I can be so nosy as to ask, Pepper chimes in. “Insulting is trying to get a rise out of your hot neighbor by planting dozens of plastic pink flamingos in his lawn, but not even getting a flinch.”
The girls laugh. I chuckle, envisioning that. I’m going to assume Pepper had the hots for Legend, but maybe he was playing a little hard to get. Aaron had actually told me a little bit about the circumstances surrounding their daughter, Charlie, and how she came to be with them. Sounds like a truly romantic story of overcoming adversity and danger to find love, with a cute baby thrown in.
I wonder if all these women have stories like that. I mean… it’s no easy feat to meet a professional athlete, fall in love with one, and get them to return the sentiment.
I look to my left at the beautiful woman who’s going to be marrying her love this week. “How did you and Bishop meet?”
“In a bar,” she replies with a sly grin. “When we hooked up, I had no clue he was a Vengeance player.”
All the other women laugh again, and I realize I’m missing something. My confusion must show because Brooke explains. “My dad’s the coach. He caught Bishop and me in a compromising position.�
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“You’re kidding,” I say, a bark of laughter escaping me.
“Nope,” she replies, her eyes burning with humor. “And I blurted out he was my fiancé, so we did the whole fake-engagement thing for a while.”
“That’s hilarious,” I reply, shaking my head in amazement. I gesture across the room at Regan and Nora, who sit side by side. “What about you two?”
Nora takes the lead, telling me that she was Tacker’s therapist. That seems pretty saucy as I’m sure there are ethics in place about that, but I’m a sucker for love winning.
Regan’s story hits me in the feels, too. “I have a really rare blood disease, for which the cost of treatment is astronomical. Dax married me to give me health insurance, but we’d known each other our entire lives.”
I can’t help the sigh that comes out, and the women all just sort of nod… understanding they’re each a walking romance book. It’s at this point I realize something about myself. Each of their stories affect me—touching that part deep inside I thought had been killed long ago. The notion that love is real, and it can even still resemble something along the lines of fairy tales.
“Willow’s story is the best of all,” Regan announces, giving a tiny hiccup. I think she’s on her way to getting drunk. Apparently, these women had quite a few fruity cocktails before I even arrived.
Willow snorts, settling back in her chair and holding up her champagne glass. “I don’t know about that, but I will agree right here and now that my man is the most annoying of all.”
I have to wonder what it’s like to be married to the owner of the Arizona Vengeance. Aaron completely flummoxed me earlier by telling me how much he made with this team, but I imagine Dominik Carlson’s wealth has got to be in the billions. Aaron told me Dominik also owns a professional basketball team.
“Oh yes,” Regan drawls, making a strenuous roll of her eyes at Willow. “Your man is so annoying. I mean… he leaves during the playoffs to fly halfway across the world to rescue you from terrorists. I don’t know how you ever put up with him.”
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