“But Bower—”
“Won’t be back until what, January? If that?” Scott shook his head. “This is all on you, kid. You up to it?”
Hunt squared his shoulders. Inhaled. Then inclined his head. “Damn right, I am.”
“Good.” Scott stopped in front of the Tim Horton’s, shoving the door open. “We better hurry.”
“Timmy’s?” Hunt scrunched up his face. “Dude, I don’t do coffee and donuts.”
“Dude!” Scott repeated in a mocking tone. This kid was too much. “They serve fucking salads. Suck it up.”
They ordered, found a table, then ate in companionable silence. Hunt checked his phone a few times when it buzzed, clicking ignore. He polished off two salads with chicken strips and no dressing.
Crazy rookie.
Scott finished his panini, then downed the last of his iced cappuccino. He gestured to Hunt with the empty cup. “It was cool, hanging out with you. Wanna go for a beer sometime after camp?”
Hunt considered for a moment, looking embarrassed when he answered. “Demyan, you’re—you’re a great guy.” He paused. “But I’m straight.”
After he’d managed to stop laughing, Scott slapped Hunt’s shoulder. “I won’t hold it against you, sport. Straight guys drink, don’t they?”
“Yeah . . . but . . .” Hunt groaned as his phone buzzed again. “It’s my dad. He’s gonna flip if I keep ignoring his calls.” He stood. “Catch you back at the forum?”
“Sure thing.” Scott waved Hunt off, then looked down at his chocolate-glazed donut. Hell, he loved snacking on sweet stuff, but he’d gained seven pounds in the off-season despite all the workouts. He wasn’t going to start stocking his fridge with greens, but cutting back on junk food might help.
A hand with long, graceful fingers, manicured nails painted a subtle pink, appeared in front of him, stealing his donut. His head shot up and the sight of Becky smiling at him was like a punch in the gut with a fistful of lust.
“I was privy to your test results. I figured it would be charitable of me to remove temptations.” She took a big bite of the donut and made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, this is good.”
“You’re horrible.” He chuckled as she took the seat across from him, licking chocolate glaze from her lips. The gesture was damn sexy, but his blood cooled as he thought of Zach. Of how shitty Becky had treated him. Sitting around joking with her just felt wrong. He moved to stand. “I’ll let you finish that.”
“Scott, please don’t go.” Becky set the rest of the donut on a napkin by a tray holding four cups of coffee. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I . . . uh . . . saw you with Dave Hunt on my way here. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard everything you said to him. He needed that.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Scott didn’t want to care what she thought. She’d hurt Zach, and the worst thing was that at the sight of her, he’d almost forgotten all about how bad it had been. She looked so fucking beautiful in her white suit, her rich mahogany hair pulled away from her face in a fancy bun. He usually liked his women fast and loose, but this was Becky. She’d managed to do more than get under his skin. Try cracking his ribs open to reach straight into his heart. But Zach was there too. So Scott kept his tone carefully neutral. “I do what I’ve gotta do.”
Becky sat back, her gaze fixed steady on his face. “You’re mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I’d be mad at you if you treated Zach the way I have.”
“How’s that?”
“Damn it, Scott!” Becky’s eyes glistened as she pushed away from the table and stood. “Never mind. You don’t want to talk to me, fine. But just say so. I can’t handle you being all cold. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to say what I did—”
Whoa. What? “To me? What did you say to me that you need to be sorry about?”
“You’re not a snack. That’s what I wanted you to be. Because I’m afraid of the competition. You’re so much easier for him to love.”
“When is love ever easy? Should it be?” Scott had to clamp his lips shut to keep any more shocked words from coming out. Becky considered him competition? Was she crazy? “If anyone should feel threatened, it’s me. All you have to do is tell Zach how sorry you really are. That you’ll be his good little sub. That you were scared and that I’m a problem for the two of you.” His throat tightened. He took her hands in his. “He’ll choose you. No fucking doubt about it.”
“Don’t do that, Scott. Don’t try to make how he feels about you into something that can be thrown away.” She hunched her shoulders and stared at the table. “It’s real.”
He sat back and let out a bitter laugh. He knew how this would end. If she wanted Zach back, she’d have him. “He has to decide between us.”
“Does he?”
“Not from my end.” Scott placed his hands on the table, palms down. He wouldn’t fight her on this. He knew how she felt about Zach. How Zach felt about her. He wouldn’t complicate things by sticking himself in the middle. “I get it. Zach is everything you need, so long as he can let me go. I can make him.” He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. It killed him just to say the words. “I will, because it’s what’s best. For both of you.”
Becky stood and picked up the coffee tray. “I have to go, but you need to think about what you’re saying. I pushed you toward Zach because I knew there was something between you two. He gave in only because he knows there’s something between you and I. I made a mess of everything, but that changes nothing.”
Scott frowned. “How do you figure?”
“Scott, you’re not a snack. It was despicable for me to put that label on you. You’ve worked so hard to make yourself into a better player. A better person. And I undermined that.” She turned her hand to hold his. “I’m disgusted with myself for what I said to you. But I’m asking . . . I’m begging for another chance. I have no idea how this is going to work. But . . .”
“You want it to?”
Her grip tightened on the edges of the cardboard tray. She gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”
“Good enough for me.” The pressure on his chest diminished. He didn’t have to let Zach go. And he had a shot with a woman he couldn’t forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was like a goal in overtime of game seven of the first round in the playoffs. Enough to stop his heart and get him thinking about the impossible. The unbelievable. But even after that goal, there were still a ton of challenges to face. To overcome. And he, Becky, and Zach would be dealing with no less. “You need to tell him all this. It won’t be easy.”
“I know.” Becky pulled herself up straight, looking like she could take on the hardest check from the biggest man in the league and not even spill the coffees she held. “I left him a note. I hope you’re there when he reads it. He’ll need someone who gets what’s going on. Someone who can support him whether or not he decides to put up with me being a head case.”
“You’re not a head case, Becky. You’re a mom and you married an asshole.”
Scott suddenly understood why this sweet woman struggled so much with a relationship that should be so perfect. And the understanding came like a wrecking ball crashing right into the center of his chest. If Becky felt like she had to make a choice, Casey would always come first. Which was good. That precious little girl had all the love she needed. And it didn’t cost her a thing. Shouldn’t. Because Casey was a good kid. Not like he’d been.
But this wasn’t about him.
“Casey’s birthday is in October, right?” His tongue ran over his teeth. “I got her something.”
Becky stared at him. “You did? Why?”
No way could he explain how he’d spent the past few weeks making Casey’s gift. That he’d gotten the idea when he’d helped move the furniture into the freshly painted room. But he spoke before his brain kicked in. “Because she’s special. She’s yours. She’s a Bower and Landon . . . Landon fucking rocks. I
know he doesn’t like me, but he’s the man. Don’t you dare tell him I said that!”
She laughed. “I won’t. But it means a lot to me that you think so much of my family. Scott . . . you’re more than I expected. More than I could have hoped.”
“All right, so . . .” Scot held the door open for her as they left Tim Horton’s. “Whatever Zach decides . . . can I drop her gift off the night before her birthday? It’s kinda big and I wanted it to be a surprise first thing, you know?”
“That’s fine.” Becky held the coffee tray with one hand and touched his forearm. “But . . . no expectations. You won’t be coming over for—”
“Christ, Becky. I’m not using your daughter’s birthday as an excuse to fuck you.”
“I know that!” Becky held his wrist, forcing him to stay by her side. “It’s only . . . until he decides otherwise, Zach is my Dom. His rules. If . . . or when anything happens between us, I need to be sure he’s okay with it.”
“No one wants to know if I’m okay with it?” Scott cut his laugh short when Becky stared at the sidewalk. She wasn’t playing around. He might not completely understand the dynamics in the whole lifestyle thing, but he accepted it. “Zach’s call. Got it.”
He walked with Becky to the elevator in the forum, leaving her to go up to the offices while he went down to the rink. He managed to focus on the instructions from the trainers and the coaches until training was done and all the men were back in the locker room. Zach lingered on the ice as the coaches went over plans for the season, open to suggestions from Zach and Mason, both who’d spent a lot of time with the players in the off-season.
But the game and everything else became meaningless when he saw Zach take the envelope out of his locker. Zach spent a long time reading it over before setting it on the bench by the towel he’d used to dry his hair. He dressed in the black jeans and the plain black T-shirt he’d worn to training. His breath, his tone, was slow and measured as he faced Scott.
“Would you mind hanging around for a bit? I need to . . .” Zach raked his short fingernails over the close-shaved brown hair on his scalp. “I need to see her. And I need you around when we’re done.”
You won’t be done. Ever. Scott had to believe that. Because Zach would always be missing something if he let Becky go. And Scott wasn’t about to let that happen. “I ain’t going anywhere.”
“So you know what I have to do?”
“Yeah, I do.” Scott framed Zach’s jaw with his hand, pressing their lips together, fucking grateful that everyone else was gone so he didn’t have to hold back. “But I don’t think you know. Not yet. Hear her out.”
“I will. But I want you to understand something.” Zach curved his hand around the back of Scott’s neck, holding his gaze until Scott could feel the intensity of it deep down in his core. “You are not an option.”
“Zach—”
“You’re not an option. When I told you I love you, I meant it. Nothing she says or does will change that.” Zach closed his eyes and sighed. “I have no idea what that means for the three of us. If you asked me to leave her . . . I couldn’t. The same goes for her asking me to leave you. I’m torn. It’s not fair to either of you, but it is what it is.”
“Zach. Shut up.” Scott kissed Zach again, harder. Longer. Until he knew the man didn’t have enough air in his lungs to talk any more stupid shit. He’d get exactly what he wanted. If Scott could get past him and Becky trying to make sense of things in a conventional way. Sometimes life didn’t fit into a neat little box. He could deal with that better than either of them. “You two chat. But don’t decide anything. Because that’s where I come in. I’ve got this.”
“Really?” Zach arched a brow, his gaze intent. “How so?”
Hell, don’t ask. I’m winging it. Scott shrugged, feigning that he had it all figured out, hoping that he wasn’t too far off. “Trust me.”
“I do, Scott,” Zach said. “I shouldn’t, but I have to trust someone.”
This is not good. Scott watched Zach text Becky, his jaw hard as he shook his head at whatever reply she sent. Zach called her, pacing away from Scott as he spoke.
“You don’t need to leave work early to speak to me. I’ll come to your office.” He paused, his brow creasing slightly. “Is there any reason either of us would be shouting? Whatever the outcome, this will be a civil conversation.” He nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Zach dropped his phone into his sports bag. He picked the bag up by the strap and handed it to Scott. Then he made a rough sound in his throat, pulling Scott close, his lips sliding over Scott’s in a soft kiss.
“Swear you’ll talk to me before taking off again.” Zach drew in a sharp inhale. “Hell, wake me up in the mornings you’re at my place, no matter how early it is. I can’t keep doing this—can’t keep wondering what I’ve done wrong.”
“I swear it.” Scott grabbed Zach’s shoulder before he could back away. He stared at the man until Zach met his eyes. “Hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Good.” Scott let him go. Then he grinned. “Now go schedule our first threesome. I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”
Zach’s eyes widened as he choked back a laugh. “You’re too much. Who says there’ll be a threesome?”
“What else is there gonna be?” Scott shrugged, but his lips turned up a little at the edges as he thought about holding Becky. Kissing her. Waking up to her all grumpy pre-coffee, wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts. Zach probably thought he was eager to get in her pants—okay, he was—but there was more to it. All that other stuff he hadn’t cared about before Becky and Zach. He cleared his throat. “She won’t do anything with me unless you approve. Easy enough if you’re there.”
“Granted, but your relationship with her won’t revolve around me.” Zach arched a brow when Scott opened his mouth, shaking his head, confused. “Did you think I was going to have you around as a spare, Scott? You’re not going to be an addition to my toy bag, you’re going to be the other man in her life. Which means romance and your own spot in the doghouse when you piss her off.”
“Oh joy. I get a share of all the fun stuff?” Scott gave Zach a dry smile. “I can’t wait.”
Snorting, Zach headed out of the dressing room. “You’re going to love every second and we both know it.”
Damn right, I will. Scott pictured Becky stealing his donut. Her sweet smile and throaty laughter. Yeah, he’d love the good and the bad. Love just knowing she’d belong to him too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The office was nice and bright, the walls a crisp white with an ultra-modern glass and metal desk cutting the room in half, a white bookshelf built into the wall on one side, huge windows on the other. A potted Lady Palm sat in one corner and several ferns perched on the window sill.
Nothing about the room even hinted at the sport. No, that wasn’t true. There was one picture on the bookshelf of Landon as a teen on the ice in his Bulldogs uniform among about a dozen school photos of Casey. But the office could easily belong to a lawyer. An accountant.
I thought she loved the game. What else was I wrong about?
Zach waited patiently by the closed door as Becky held up her finger, finishing up the phone call she’d been on when he came in, her eyes on her desktop screen. The air conditioning chilled his damp skin as he observed her, but he ignored the cold. Actually, he felt a little numb. She’d only glanced up at him once, and she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes as she mouthed, “One second.”
How had this happened? How had things gone so wrong between them? The sinking sensation that had sucked him under after their last scene pulled at him, but he wrenched himself free. No matter how often he mentally went over that scene, he couldn’t find anything he’d done that would have made her want to get away from him. Until she told him what had driven her, he wouldn’t speculate.
Becky hung up the phone, glanced at him again, then stared at her desk. “Can you please sit down?”
> He was so tempted to say “No.” He’d rather stand. But his need to make her comfortable, to make it easier for her to open up to him, prevailed. He pulled out one of the leather and metal chairs angled in front of the desk and sat.
Then he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “What’s going on, Becky?”
“I . . . I ran. I was confused and I should have talked to you.” She turned her head to the side, still not looking at him, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Why though? What did I do?” He sat up a bit, hands on his knees, forcing himself not to stand and start pacing. Let her explain, Pearce. “You asked to speak with me. I’m listening.”
She winced. “I’m not sure how to tell you this. It’s . . . I guess it started when I saw Casey with my brother. God, the way she looks at him with Amia, it just breaks my heart. Part of me knows that the only father she’ll ever really have is whatever man I’m with. And I have to be so careful about who I choose.” Her brow furrowed. “You’re amazing with her, but I can’t help but feel it’s too soon to expect you to take on that role in her life.”
He had a hard time not dwelling on the “it started when”—which implied before their last scene, but he managed. He knew how important Casey was to her. That was never an issue. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Did you feel like I was pressuring you? I’ve tried to be careful when I’m around her. To be no different than any other player she might spend time with. If I’ve overstepped—”
“You haven’t. Zach, you’ve been perfect.” Becky finally met his eyes and shook her head. “That’s the problem.”
Zach blinked. “What?”
She put her hands over her face, groaning with frustration. “It’s not you. It’s me . . . ugh. That came out wrong. I love you, and it was so easy to see our future together. But then I had to consider how that would work out for Casey. I got over the game being an issue. It’s your job. It’s part of you. Casey watched almost every Cobra game last season, and I think she’d understand you not being around because you’re playing. But . . .”
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