by Kate Meader
“Anyone sitting here?”
Sadie looked up to see Jenny coming down the row toward her, a large bag in tow. She’d thought about saving seats for the Isners before she realized that none of the other hockey moms wanted to sit near her anyway and the space remained wide open. Nothing subtle about the disapproval wafting her way either.
“Best seats in the house! No Nick today?”
“Oh, he’s down in the locker room giving a pep talk.” Jenny unloaded a giant tray of cupcakes and passed them over. “Here, get started on these.”
“Okay.” Next came a tupperware container of brownies, followed by a five-liter box of Franzia Pinot Grigio. Suddenly sports was much more appealing.
“White for you, if I remember correctly.”
“Uh, yeah. Wow, thanks!”
Jenny waved to a spot behind her and Sadie turned to see Elle and two other women entering from the other side of the row.
Elle sat on Sadie’s other side and let out a huge sigh of relief. “Damn, this baby is pissed at me.” She thumbed to the woman to her left, a redhead with perfect skin and pretty freckles. “Sadie, meet ace sports reporter, Jordan Cooke. And this is Mia Wallace. She plays pro hockey except they don’t pay her enough.”
“Hey there!” Jordan, the redhead offered an easy smile. “I heard your sister is a flyer.”
“Vadim showed me a video of her,” the other woman—Mia—said, reaching out to shake Sadie’s hand. “Amazing for her age. Vadim Petrov’s my brother.”
That name was familiar, but Sadie wasn’t sure why. Another hockey player, perhaps? This woman looked young, maybe early twenties.
Jenny passed plastic wine glasses along the row and a ginger ale for Elle. “You should have her on the podcast, Jordan. Get Isobel and Mia and do a next-gen women’s hockey episode.”
Jordan’s eyes went wide. “I love that idea!” To Sadie, she said, “I’m a sports reporter for Chicago Sports Network. I also have a hockey podcast.”
“I don’t know anything about hockey. Sorry. But I’m learning!”
Elle held her hand out for a fist bump. “Speaking my language. I know zilch as well, which really bugs Theodore. Fun times. How’s Lauren?”
“She’s nervous. And I chatter too much around her.” Sadie found herself nervous as well, mostly because Gunnar Bond had given her an orgasm and they’d parted on such weird terms.
“Jason was a mini-wreck this morning,” Jenny said. “They’re all like that.”
“I love that dress,” Elle said to Sadie, then to Jordan added, “Sadie designs all her own clothes.”
“Really?” Jordan snagged the wine box from Sadie. “Woman, do you make wedding dresses?”
“I haven’t but—”
Elle cut her off. “You’re getting married in three weeks. You already have a wedding dress.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of frou-frou, almost too much for a second wedding.”
Jenny scoffed. “It’s amazing! But Sadie, you should definitely make wedding dresses, just not for Jordan who already has one. Maybe in this vintage fifties style you’re wearing.”
“Yes!” Elle and Jordan agreed, and soon everyone was giving opinions on Sadie’s rockabilly dress, a black-and-white polka dot skirt with a green scooped-neck bodice and a wide black satin sash that forgave all manner of sins. One of the whisper-formation a couple of rows in front of them turned to glare because they were getting a little raucous. Mia asked outright what they were looking at, only to be shushed by Jordan, which everyone thought very funny. Sadie knocked back her wine, with not a care in the world. This was the most fun she’d had in months.
On the rink, a band of teeny-tiny children in the under-7 class, weighted down with pads and helmets, kept falling over. Everyone found this hilariously adorable.
Her phone pinged with a text from an unexpected source: Gunnar. Though in her contacts, she still had him labeled as LonelyHeart.
Lauren dropped something called Iggy (??) somewhere. She won’t play without it.
She fired back a quick, I’ll check the car.
“When do they go on?” Sadie asked Jenny.
Jenny checked her phone. “About fifteen minutes. Who’s LonelyHeart?”
“Um, no one. I’ll be right back.”
In the lobby, she found Gunnar, looking unreasonably handsome in sweats, but then gray had never looked better on a man. On her approach, he smiled the most gorgeous, heartbreaking grin that all Sadie could do was stupidly grin back.
“Hey,” he said, as if things hadn’t devolved into awkwardness yesterday and they were old friends, maybe what they might have been if they’d stayed the course and hadn’t ruined everything by meeting in real life.
“Hi,” she returned, the soul of wit.
“Thanks for checking. Lauren’s wigging out about it.”
Right, her sister. “Is she okay? She was nervous earlier and this can’t be helping.”
“She’s fine. Or will be.” He held the door for her and followed her outside.
She opened her mouth to tell him there was no need to accompany her but he was already walking. She had no choice but to lead the way toward the car.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Okay?”
“After yesterday.”
For a moment, she thought he was talking about the visit to her father before it dawned on her.
“Don’t worry, I’ve recovered from your superior orgasm delivery, Gunnar.” Best to frame it all as a grand joke. Without waiting for his response, she opened the back door and leaned in, scouring the seat and floor area for the bear formerly known as Benny. After a couple of seconds, she spotted something peeking out from beneath the seat’s overhang.
“There you are!” She snatched at it and turned. Gunnar’s eyes quickly darted away from where they had been previously engaged. Her rear.
“Find it?”
“Yes.” She turned the bear—Iggy—over in her hand. A little ragged, the fabric heart she’d sewn on faded to a dull pink, it conjured up memories of another lifetime. Sadie’s mom had bought it for her at Disneyland. It was the last time they went on vacation together as a family. The last time she remembered being happy with her father.
She marveled that Lauren had it after all these years, but especially that Zoe had let her keep it. Something shifted in her chest, a collision of competing memories. Sadie had crept into Lauren’s room and left it in her cot before she packed up her Toyota Civic—the same beater she had now—and drove cross-country to LA two days after her high school graduation. With school over, her father had made it clear that his minimum parental responsibilities were at an end.
But Zoe had given Sadie money for the trip, to get her started. Just a few dollars, she’d said. How had Sadie forgotten that?
“Must be important,” Gunnar said, calling her back to the present.
“It used to be mine.”
“Family heirloom.”
“Something like that.” With ridiculously bad timing, a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He curved a hand behind her head, his thumb extending to catch another tear.
“I’m—I’m not upset about—” How could she explain? Her father and sister hated her. She felt like she was spinning her wheels, unable to get her life firing on all cylinders. To top it all off, she’d gone and ruined this burgeoning connection with LonelyHeart, the one person she thought she could rely on. There was no squeezing the toothpaste back into that tube. “Everything’s upside down. I can’t seem to get a grip on what’s important.”
He nodded, waited.
“Lauren’s not happy with me. I’m here but I haven’t always been. I’m the enemy and she won’t forgive me.” Neither did Sadie think she should. All those years and she’d made no effort to reach out to her sister because she hated Zoe and her father too much. She shook her head, not wanting to get into the specifics, but something about his solid strength standing in front of her loosened t
he knot behind her breastbone. “Sorry. That’s not what you’re here for.”
“You’d tell me if we were texting.”
She might, but that was over now. They couldn’t go back to that.
“What do you wish you could say to her, if she wasn’t a raging preteen who hates your guts?” He asked it gently, and that care unlocked something in her chest.
“That I’m sorry I let my bitterness toward her mom and dad get in the way to being a good sister. I’d tell her that I wished I hadn’t been so stubborn. That I wished I wasn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge. That I wished I was a different person.”
His face fell. “Don’t ever wish you were a different person, only that you might handle things differently.”
That held a ring of truth. “I worry that I spent thirteen years holding on to that resentment because maybe I like it. Maybe it defines me. And now I’m making Lauren bend to my will because it’s all about me.” She turned to him, matching his intent gaze. “Regret is the worst emotion.”
“Not the worst.”
That was thoughtless of her. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to get it right with you.”
He cupped her chin. “I should apologize for what happened yesterday,” he said, lowering his voice to a level that made her anxious to move closer. To place her cheek on his pec.
He regretted what happened, and who could blame him? She’d behaved atrociously in the aftermath.
“I might have overreacted.”
“No, not at all. It’s been a strange few days, don’t you think?” His eyes darkened to black smoke. “This energy between us—it’s more than I’m used to.”
“More what?”
He held her gaze, unblinking, unyielding. “Emotion, I suppose. The last few years—well, I don’t have to tell you.” Yes, you do. Please.
He didn’t. “I haven’t been attracted to anyone since my wife died. I haven’t wanted to even think about that, but with you, it’s burning through my veins. A buzz of need that’s almost … painful.”
She couldn’t breathe. These words, their naked honesty toppled her.
“Which version of me are you attracted to? Because you don’t think much of the one you dislike.”
“Are we back to this? You know, when it comes to sex, I’ve had offers—”
“Congratulations.”
“What I’m trying to say—badly—is that it would be easier if I could fuck some woman who hits on me in a bar, if I could get my rocks off that way. I would love if the easy option worked for me. Instead …”
“Instead what?”
He looked pained. “Instead it’s you. And you are the opposite of easy. But this last week, I—I can’t get you out of my head. My body goes haywire when I see you. When I’m near you. It’s like a live current running through it.”
Like her body was going bonkers here and now.
His eyes burned the brightest blue. “Thing is, I can’t offer you dating or romance. I can’t offer you anything more permanent. But I will tell you this: I’m on fire for you.”
Swoon. Except … “Even though you’re not a fan? Of me.” The words sounded small and pathetic.
He considered her, like he was gearing up for something important.
“Sadie, I think you’re funny and smart and gorgeous and doing an amazing thing in upending your life to take care of your sister. We got off on the wrong foot and that’s my fault. I totally own it, and I totally own that I’ve been attracted to you from the start. Add in our weird history and it seems crazy that we wouldn’t do something with this energy between us. It’ll burn out soon because sex can’t be the glue of anything … real. If you’re looking for something more permanent, I can’t do that.”
It had to be the longest speech she’d ever heard from him, and there was so much to unpack. She placed both hands on his chest, needing to both steady herself and determine if he was real. “Are you proposing some no-strings-sex thing with me?”
“Yes.”
Again, his honesty sliced through her, rapier-sharp. He wanted her. For sex. That was nice, wasn’t it? Who didn’t want to be acknowledged as attractive to someone, especially someone as sexy as Gunnar Bond?
But she’d had something else with the guy on the other end of those texts. A real connection, that glue he mentioned. Gunnar wanted to put that aside and indulge in something visceral, a meeting of bodies, not minds. Don’t even think of indulging your pesky feelings, you crazy woman.
She could get really hurt here.
But she could also see that he needed her, and God knows it felt good to be needed.
“I don’t usually embark on hookups with a bunch of rules in place.” Or hookups at all.
“Not asking you to sign anything, Sadie. But I think you liked what I did to you yesterday. I think you liked how I touched and kissed you. I think you liked my fingers inside you and how wet I made you.” He leaned in, his breath a heated whisper against her lips. “And I know you liked how hard I made you come.”
“Well, everyone likes orgasms.” A meme for the ages!
His smile was wry. “They do. So if we keep it within those lines and don’t stray outside them, then maybe we can enjoy more of them.”
Another week, maybe two. That’s how long it would take her to wrap up the house, let Lauren finish her next hockey camp session, and return to her life in LA. The offer of a pro hockey player’s hard body for her personal use was undeniably tempting. Neither would there be enough time for her do something stupid like fall for him.
What it meant for the texting, she had no idea. Or she suspected that was already fading into their history. It had already changed, and not necessarily for the better. She might want LonelyHeart, but for now she was getting Gunnar.
He still had his hand on her hip, his presence all up in her space. She could feel his heat, his vitality, his burning need. The want in his eyes matched the throb between her legs and the desire raging through her veins.
She pressed a hand to his chest, ostensibly to push him away so she could think without the scent of him invading her nostrils and curling like sex smoke into her chest. But that didn’t work. It merely highlighted his undeniable maleness and how sexy he was.
He inclined his head. “Just a little taste. Let me show you how good it could be.”
She moaned, and he took. His lips on hers were fire and magic. She threw her arms around his neck and cleaved her body to his, needing to assure herself this sensual connection between them wasn’t a figment of her overwrought imagination.
She had to touch him everywhere. She grabbed his ass because she’d had that number one on her list for a while and she hadn’t had a chance to yesterday. He returned the favor but upped the stakes by slipping beneath her skirt and clamping tight on her left butt cheek. His mouth slanted, his tongue slipped in and tangled with hers. Together they groaned at how good it felt. How honest this desire made them.
She fell back against the back seat—or maybe he gently shoved her—and within heated seconds, his hands were roaming along her inner thighs and her panties were half-way down her legs.
“Gunnar,” she gasped.
His eyes darkened with lust. “Take ’em off, Sadie,” he ordered, but before she could respond, he’d hunkered down, pulling her underwear with him rather efficiently. He even lifted her foot, one at a time, and like a sheep, she let him.
He stood and stared, something like disbelief in those shocking blue eyes.
“We need to get back,” he murmured.
“We do?” She tightened her grip on—oh, Iggy. Cover your eyes, you poor thing. “We need to get back!”
His smile knocked her over. “That’s what I said.”
“But—but you just took off my panties …” She lowered her voice and hissed, “in a public place in broad daylight. I’m going to need those.”
He popped them in his pocket. “Think I’m going to need them more.” Then he steered her to the side, closed the car door, and took cha
rge of Iggy. “You should lock the car.”
“Gunnar, you can’t hold on to my panties. That’s—you can’t.”
“Lock the car, Sadie.”
She did, then followed him as he started heading back to the rink.
“Gunnar, could you—?” Good Lord, his legs were long. “Could you wait up?”
He pivoted suddenly and she bumped into him. Strong, wicked fingers curled around one of her arms and held her still.
“Be careful with Iggy’s heart,” she whispered.
“Excuse me?”
She touched the fabric heart on the bear’s chest. “I need to mend it, but for now, be careful with it.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you after the game.”
“I haven’t agreed to any of this.”
“Your lips agreed, the wetness between your thighs agreed, and the way your eyes are shining at me … are you saying you don’t want this? Tell the truth.”
So direct. Of course she wanted it, but that was the problem. She might want it too much and he might not want it—or her—enough. Could she manage her emotions as efficiently as he did?
Because that’s the vibe he was giving off. Efficiency. Biological imperatives. Hearts of stone.
“If it’s the only way to get my panties back,” she grumbled.
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “It is.” Then he dropped a light kiss on her lips and steered her inside.
24
Sadie was nervous.
She had a host of reasons. Her sister was on the ice surrounded by rough boys with sharp weapons on their feet and clubs in their hands. As for the puck, wow was it fast and likely lethal. Why were children allowed to play this again?
Team L’il Rebels (Sadie’s nickname for them, which—shocker—didn’t seem to be catching) were playing well, and even Sadie could tell that Lauren was amazing. So quick and deft, and every time she bumped against someone, Sadie’s heart stuttered and stopped. As if knowing she couldn’t be there to comfort her—not that Lauren would want it—he was there instead.