by Toni Aleo
I watch as she heads to the bar, sitting down and crossing those thick legs of hers. The small sliver of skin from before is now a nice expanse of milky white thigh and almost a little ass. She even has freckles along her legs and dimples. I’m turned on by cellulite. Some men may be disgusted, but I want to lick those dimples. Her. I want to lick her.
When I feel Aiden’s and Wes’s gazes, I look between the both of them. “She hates me.”
Aiden groans, and Wes rolls his eyes. “She does not,” Aiden says before taking a forkful of pasta. “She doesn’t hate anyone. She’s easygoing,” he says with his mouth full.
“And if she did hate you, who cares? She doesn’t sign your paycheck. She just coaches us. Why does this matter?” Wes asks, and then he sets me with a knowing look. “Maybe because you like her?” He waggles his brows at me.
“You don’t have to deny it. We’re all friends here.”
I glare at Willy. “I don’t. Tell me you guys don’t get the vibe she doesn’t like me!”
Willy throws down a twenty to cover his drinks and tip and then gets up. “I’m done here. I will not listen to Hoenesy complain about Coach all night. Not when I got a sweet, sexy lady waiting for me at home.”
Aiden throws down some money before swallowing the last of his glass of wine. “Shelli just texted. She wants me home, which means I’m out. I don’t mind the complaining. I think it’s cute,” he teases, and the jackass laughs as he heads out.
And then there were two. I look at Wes, and he shakes his head. “You’re so sensitive.”
“I have nothing to be sensitive about.”
“Exactly. So why are you worried if she likes you or not?”
Shit. He’s got me there. “I’m not. I don’t care.”
“Sure, you don’t,” he laughs before finishing off his beer. “Hell, if you’re wondering, go ask her. She’s just sitting there all by herself. I heard she’s very single. Maybe ready to mingle?” he asks with another damn waggle of his brows. “I’m leaving.”
“Where’re you going?” I ask, trying to stall him.
“A date. Remember those? They go well, you make it to bed with a sweet woman, and life is fanfuckingtastic? Maybe try it.” He then cocks his head toward Posey. “Maybe with her. I think she might like you.”
“For real? Why do you think that?”
He grins as he gets up, throwing money on the table. “I don’t. I just wanted to see how you’d react. I got my answer.”
Son of a bitch. I want to throw a breadstick at him, but he’s allergic to gluten and I’d rather not kill him tonight. I already feel bad he has to drink fake beer. It’s basically piss water. I move my fingertips along my real beer. I still have half of my drink and half a plate of food left to eat. I lick my lips and glance over to where Posey is sitting. She has a glass of wine in her hand as she leans back in the chair, swinging her leg. She looks so classic. Like she belongs in a twenties bar with all kinds of men begging her to swing dance with them. Hell, I’d probably be one of them.
If you’re wondering, go ask her.
Should I? I watch her for another second and notice that her cheeks are filling with color. It must be from the wine. I’m insane to think anything other than professional thoughts about her, but it’s hard. Before I know it, I have my beer and my plate in my hands and am walking over to the bar where she is. When I’m almost to her, she looks over at me, her brows rising as I stop beside her. “You waiting on someone?”
She looks around. “Me?”
“Yeah, who else? There is literally no one here but you.”
She looks over to the table where I was sitting. “Where did everyone go?”
“Home, but I still have food left.” I get tired of waiting for her to answer me, so I set down my food and beer and sit down. “I’m gonna sit with you.”
She scrunches up her face. “Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you don’t like me, and I want to know why.”
Wow. Guess we’re not beating around the bush, huh, Boon?
No reaction. She’s stone-faced as she eyes me slowly. She brings her glass to her lips and says, “I like you just fine. You’re a great player, very talented, and a good team member.”
So generic. “I mean as a person.”
Her brows come in. “As a person?”
“Yeah, I think you don’t like me. Did I offend you?”
“No…” she says slowly before dropping her wrist against her knee so that her glass hangs in her fingers. I find her position extremely sexy. “I don’t feel one way or another about you. You’re a player on our team. Who you are doesn’t affect me.”
“Wow, that’s really rude.”
“Or indifferent. That’s what I was going for, at least.”
“Came off rude.”
She smiles. “If I say it with a smile, does it come off indifferent?”
“No, but at least it doesn’t sting as bad.”
She seems taken aback, but she doesn’t apologize. “So, you want me to feel a certain way about you?”
Well, shit. “No,” I say quickly. “It’s not that at all. I just want to know why you pound me for a purposeful pass but then don’t give me the credit when I do exactly what you wanted.”
“When?” she asks, and she actually looks confused.
“Tonight!”
She chuckles lightly. “You mean that sloppy pass that ended in a sloppy goal? That was not full of purpose. That was full of luck.”
I am utterly speechless. I just blink as I stare into her blue depths. They aren’t as light as they were earlier, more of a darker color now. It’s as if she is giving me a smoldering look. Surely not, though, since she feels not one way or another about me. “I worked my ass off for that pass.”
She nods. “Absolutely, you did. But it wasn’t purposeful. You got lucky, which is why I didn’t compliment you on it. Mac made a goal out of shit, so he was praised.”
If she didn’t come across as genuine, I would just assume she’s a bitch. But for some reason, she feels she’s right.
She’s not.
“I felt all the purpose.”
She grins. “Well, I didn’t. You’ll get there.”
I just keep blinking. Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Why didn’t you congratulate my goal? You did Brooks and Mac.”
Her brows rise again, but she grins. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes. I truly believe you don’t like me.”
“So, you want me to kiss your ass? Tell you at every turn how good of a player you are? Will that make you feel better?”
“No.”
“Is it because I’m a female that you need me to gush over you? I didn’t take you as the kind of man who needs reassurance, Hoenes.”
I stand six-seven, but at this moment, I feel about a foot. “I don’t.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I didn’t want us to start off on the wrong foot.”
Her eyes burn into mine, and inch by inch, I catch on fire. She slowly licks her lips, and I swear on everything holy she is undressing me with those crystal-blue depths. Problem is, I can’t read her for shit. Which is unreal because I’m great at reading women. I always know when they want me. I can read body language like a book, but with Posey, I think the book is in French—and not the kind of French I like.
Hell, if that doesn’t turn me on even more.
In a low voice, she says, “We started off on something, but I don’t feel it’s the wrong foot, Hoenes.”
I swallow hard as I look toward my beer. I take in a few deep breaths, but I really don’t know what else to say since my foot is in my mouth. “I think I’m gonna go.”
“Okay,” she says, and when I glance over at her, she is looking over the top of her glass at me. I thought maybe she’d try to stop me. Or maybe I want her to stop me. Instead, she says, “See you bright and early.”
I stand up and down my beer. When I set down the glass, I meet her gaze once mo
re. “Be careful going home.”
Her lips tilt up a bit. “I will. Thank you.”
The only reason I walk off is because if I don’t, I am going to kiss her.
Since she doesn’t feel one way or another about me, that may very well end with my other foot in my mouth.
And probably a spot on the bench.
Chapter Seven
Posey
Well.
That was interesting.
I watch as Boon walks away from me. In his dark green suit, he looks like a millionaire rather than a hockey player. The suit is tight on his shoulders and thighs, but suits are usually tight there for hockey players. I know this from watching my dad have his suits tailored my whole life and from the issues my brothers have. I’m so used to seeing Boon on the ice that being under his gaze with his sexy groomed beard and nicely brushed hair, I find myself out of breath. He’s an extremely handsome man, even with the jagged scar along his cheek that has me questioning how he got it. I want to ask, but it isn’t my place. I don’t know him like that, but I don’t even notice the scar when the gold in his hazel eyes is distracting me.
I’ve only been around him for a day, and I’m realizing I might be developing a small crush. I’ve always thought he was a gorgeous man. I follow him on Instagram, and at events, he’s always so kind to the kids. His fiancée is beautiful—extremely thin, brown eyes, blond hair, and prim, like Shelli. They make a beautiful, cover-model couple, but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire him from afar. How can I not? Boon is not only talented on the ice during a 5-on-5, he’s gorgeous both on and off the ice.
I watch him as he heads out of the restaurant. Even once he’s outside, I keep looking as he walks across the parking lot, shaking his head. I’m not entirely sure what just happened, but my body is still vibrating. He’s just so damn big. I find myself attracted to men who are bigger than me since I’m a rather large girl. But Boon, he’s a mountain compared to me. I bet when he hugs, he crushes you. I bet it’s wonderful to be trapped in those arms. His fiancée is a lucky lady for sure.
I shake my head. Who am I kidding? Someone like him wouldn’t be attracted to someone like me. Look at his fiancée; she’s so small, she probably makes him feel all manly and burly. I’m not like that at all, which is probably why he thinks I don’t like him. Why Maxim never liked me. Men want damsels in distress, and I want a man to be rough with me since I’ll be rough right on back. Not that I’ve truly had the chance to do so, but I feel that’s how I would be.
Honestly, I don’t even know what I am thinking. It isn’t as if he is interested; he was just jealous I was complimenting his teammates and not him. Male athletes can be so insecure. He probably has an issue with being coached by a female too. I really need to ignore the attraction I feel for him; it’ll get me nowhere. Just as it did with Maxim. Ugh. He’s the last person I want to think of right now. I’d rather fantasize over Boon than think of Maxim. In all reality, I shouldn’t be thinking of any guys. I obviously suck in the guy department. I should just hang with myself. I’m a cool chick. I entertain myself just fine.
When is Ally getting here?
Right on cue, I turn to see the cousin of my heart coming through the door. She waves happily as she heads toward me. Her light brown hair is up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing her volleyball gear since she came straight from practice. When she called saying she was on her way here, I almost turned her down since I’m dead on my feet, but a glass of wine and a large order of fries is the perfect nightcap after tonight’s win. Man, I’m so proud of our team. They worked their asses off, and seeing my play in motion after I coached it sent my confidence through the roof. It was pretty fantastic. Especially watching Boon’s very purposeful pass.
I may have told him otherwise, but it’s to make him work harder. I’m still not convinced he needs to be on special teams, but Jakob thinks differently. I need more convincing, and for that to happen, I can’t let my attraction get in the way. It’ll blind me. Just as it did with Maxim. I thought he was a good player, but come to find out, he wasn’t and has already been sent down to the lower farm team. He really doesn’t have the work ethic. It’s sad. He could have been so much, and I could have added greatly to his life.
“Well, hello, gorgeous! Aren’t you super-duper sexy.”
I wave her off as my cheeks fill with heat. Ally falls into the seat beside me and leans in for a hug. I hug her tightly, and as we part, she asks, “Did you do this? Or Shelli?”
“I did, actually. Surprising, huh?”
“It is. I didn’t know you knew how to contour your face.”
I grin. “I watched YouTube for an hour. It was brutal.”
“I bet,” she laughs as she orders a glass of wine for herself. “But you look incredible.”
“Thanks.”
She beams. “So, I’m glad you could meet me. Taco called.”
I want to roll my eyes, let my head fall back, and moan very loudly, but I refrain. My cousin’s shittastic ex is a constant topic. She can’t seem to kick him, and I don’t get it. He’s a cheating bastard who doesn’t deserve her. She’s wonderful. So talented and gorgeous and amazing. Why settle for shit? “Ally—”
“No, you’ll be proud!” she says with a clap of her hands. “I told him not to call me anymore. I blocked him and deleted him from Instagram.”
“I am proud!” I gush before wrapping my arms around her neck. “You deserve so much more.”
She nods. “I know. I figured I’d do what you did, and I feel so much better.”
When I blocked Maxim, it wasn’t because he was harassing me or anything like that. Mainly, I was embarrassed and couldn’t face him. Plus, I’m still a little butthurt. He shattered my heart. I know I may have romanticized our relationship, but it was for good reason. He made me feel special, and he told me I was pretty at every turn. That doesn’t happen to me much with guys, so of course I felt a certain kind of way. I shared a bed with him, my ass rested against his thigh a lot, and man, I wanted something to happen. For three years, I was dumb, but not anymore. I am going to be wiser from now on. Or at least, I’m gonna try.
“I’m so glad.”
“You’re still not talking to him?”
I shake my head. “No. Not at all. I said what I had to.”
“Good,” she says as she picks up her glass and takes a long sip. She lets out a sigh. “I swear Aunt Fallon makes the best wine.”
I nod in agreement. “She does. By the way, Asher texted me. I can’t believe he’s coming home!”
When her whole face lights up, my heart stops. As much as Ally claims they are just best friends, I always want to make it more. They are so perfect together, she and Asher. I know we all grew up together and it’s easy for us to get along, but they take it to another level. Asher took her to homecomings and to their proms. I have such a hard time believing it’s innocent. I want to squish them together and make them get married and have babies. They’d make the sweetest babies. Little brown-haired cuties.
“I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.” She beams at me, but then she furrows her brow. “I sort of want to kick his ex’s ass, though.”
I scoff. “And I know he wants to kick Taco’s.”
She rolls her eyes. “Everyone wants to kick Taco’s ass.”
I nod; she isn’t wrong. “What is his real name?”
“Trey,” she says with a little gleam to her eyes. “He is dumb with the whole Taco thing. I didn’t get it, but ya know, I was infatuated.”
“Infatuated? I thought you loved him.”
She shakes her head as she leans into the bar, her eyes on me. “If I had, I would be more hurt. I’m actually good, kind of free.”
Huh. I sort of feel like that. I miss Maxim, but I think I miss the loneliness he kept at bay.
“I think I cried more over Asher leaving than I did when Taco left.”
“Because Asher is your soul mate.”
She snorts. “No! He’
s my bestie.”
I shake my head. She’s delusional. “I don’t miss Maxim, but I am lonely.”
She leans on her hand. “Didn’t Shelli tell you to hook up with someone? Do that. You’ll stop feeling lonely when you’re being bent over something.”
I turn beet red. “Ally!”
“Seriously. Isn’t there someone you’ve found hot lately? Aren’t those Assassins kind of cute?”
Boon Hoenes’s face is flashing like a neon sign in my head. “I mean, they’re not bad to look at, but that’s highly inappropriate since I’m a coach and all.”
She gives me a dry look with her palm up at me. “Is a rule against fraternizing in the handbook?”
“I didn’t get a handbook.”
She throws up her hands. “Then fair game, baby. Find yourself a player and have him use his stick in all the right ways.”
“Allison, I am appalled,” I tease, but really, I’m completely jealous of her love life. Before she was with Taco, she was with whoever she wanted, and she enjoyed herself. She’s stunning, though, so it’s easy for her. It’s not like that for me. No one ever wants just me. I’m only a stepping stone to someone better.
She gives me a look. “Posey.”
I look away, but I could look to the moon and she could still read me. That’s the problem with knowing someone your whole life and actually liking them. “What?”
“Posey Rose.”
I look back at her. “What?” I repeat as her eyes search mine. “Don’t middle-name me.”
She ignores my deflection. “Really?”
“Really, what?” I ask incredulously.
“Still?”
“What? What are you asking?” I ask, because surely she won’t ask.