by Meghan Quinn
I want him . . . bad.
“Then I’ll see you tonight. Text me your address?”
“Of course.” I swallow hard as he passes his thumb over my cheek once more.
I can see it in his eyes, the indecision. Is this the moment he wants, the perfect timing for a kiss? God, what is he waiting for?
“It doesn’t have to be a big moment, you know. You can just kiss me.” My lungs feel heavy, my legs tingling with need, my hands shaking as they grip him, clinging desperately to him, not wanting any distance between us.
Leaning down, I hold my breath, my stomach flipping with somersaults just as his lips press against my . . . forehead. He lingers for a second before pulling away and stuffing his hands in his back pockets, his chest pulling at the threadbare shirt stretched across his thick muscles.
“I’ll see you tonight, Adalyn.” He winks and takes off toward the cottage, making me more sexually frustrated than I’ve ever been in my life.
Deflated, turned on, and irritated, I get in my car, start the engine, and stare out the front window. Is this what it’s like to be with a man who doesn’t want me only for my body? If so, it’s the most sexually frustrating . . . yet exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced.
Now to get ready for tonight. I need to make it impossible for Hayden to NOT kiss me.
Damn it, I’m going to get that kiss tonight, and it all starts with a very thorough shower, shave, and then a much-needed shopping session.
“That dress is so hot on you,” Emma, my best friend, says as she flips through a magazine on my bed.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. “But do I want to wear a dress? Should I do something more casual? We’re just going to be here, would it be weird if I answer the door wearing a dress?”
Emma folds the magazine shut and leans forward, hands poised on her lap. “Let me ask you this. Are you doing your hair and makeup?”
“Of course, but I was going to go with a natural look with my makeup, not too much since it’s going to be late.”
Shrugging her shoulders and casually picking up the magazine again, she says, “If it were me, I would wear a dress and make it impossible for him not to stare at me. Works with Tucker every time, then again, he usually sees me in scrubs, so when I get dressed up, his eyes pop out of their sockets.”
“I don’t know.” I pull on the hem of the dress that reaches mid-thigh. “Maybe something more subtle. This is a little slutty.”
“Do the pink sundress. It’s more casual but still pretty and looks great against your tan skin. It’s going to pop, plus it gives you great cleavage.” Tossing the pink dress at me from the pile that’s formed on my bed, she says, “Put it on. Trust me, it’s the winner.”
Since there is no modesty between Emma and me, I take off the slutty-looking dress and put on the pink one. I adjust my bra in the cups of the dress and look in the mirror. Emma is right. It’s casual but pretty and gives me great lines.
“And if you wear your hair down in loose waves, add a touch of makeup, he’s going to be begging to kiss you.”
Before we started trying on dresses, I filled Emma in on my little kissing problem with Hayden. To say she was giddy over our budding relationship is an understatement. It took her at least five minutes to stop squealing over everything I said, and now that she’s calmed down, she’s bound and determined to help me get that kiss.
“He’s different than any guy I’ve ever been with. I could answer the door naked, and I’m pretty sure he still wouldn’t kiss me. I can tell he’s physically attracted to me, that doesn’t go unnoticed, but I’m shocked by his restraint. For some reason, I thought athletes were horn dogs, you know, all that adrenaline and masculinity pumping through them.”
“I think Hayden is exactly what you need.” Emma peers at me, true honesty in her eyes, the kind of honesty only a best friend can give. “Ever since I met you, you’ve been one and done with men, never really continuing past a first date.”
“Because none of them were worth it.” I shrug casually.
“Or maybe because you didn’t care enough to give the guys a second chance. But Hayden is different. I can tell you really do care about him.”
I fiddle with the right strap of my dress, adjusting the length. Up and down, up and down. “Maybe it’s because he’s one of the first guys ever to treat me the way my brothers always said I should be treated.”
Realization hits me as the words come out of my mouth.
It’s true.
From as early as I can remember, my brothers have told me countless times how I need to be treated like a lady, how the guy I date needs to be open and honest. How he needs to respect me not only for my body but for my mind too.
Hayden is physically attracted to me, yes, but when I’ve given him the opportunity to push further, he hasn’t taken it. And when he speaks of my job, of my education, he’s in awe, like I have the hardest job he’s ever heard of. It makes me feel . . . valued.
He makes me feel accomplished.
He makes me feel like I’m more than a pair of legs, like I’m a good human being.
And that’s what my brothers want, for me to be appreciated for who I am. Not only what I look like.
“I think you’re right.” Emma gets up from my bed and stands behind me, both hands on my shoulders. She looks into the mirror, staring at my reflection. “He’s a good guy, Addie. I’m really happy for you.”
But . . .
“He’s not here forever.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll work it out, but for now enjoy yourself, enjoy him.”
“I don’t want to get hurt.”
“I don’t want that either, so take one step at a time. If he’s smart enough, he’ll know that when it’s time to go back to Philly, he’ll make whatever is going on between you two work.”
“You think so?” I bite on my lip, feeling so unsure.
Emma gives me a get real look. “Adalyn, he’s one of the few high-profile hockey players out there we rarely hear about. He’s not in the tabloids with women hanging off him at every event. And you’ve figured out by now that Racer, as much as he is a lunatic at times, he’s good people. And by association, Hayden is too. I mean, he went around to hospitals in the area looking for you. That was so damn sweet. And, I’m pretty sure it means he’s going to put in the effort where you’re concerned.” She presses her fingers into my brow, dissolving the tension in my forehead. “Now stop worrying. You have a cake to make.”
Shit, I do. And it has to be perfect.
Like how Hayden seems to be. Perfect.
Chapter Nine
HAYDEN
“Can you stop dancing for the love of God and finish this damn thing?” I beg of Racer who won’t stop dancing to the playlist he created “just for this occasion.”
Huffing, he steps up next to me and starts hammering the two-by-fours into place. “You’re telling me you can listen to ‘Get your Freak On’ by Missy Elliot and not want to bust a move? Dude, she’s a lyrical master.”
“As much as I appreciate the beat, I have things to do tonight.”
Racer cocks his head back. “Things to do? What could you possibly be doing at”—he checks his watch—“eight at night? Don’t you go to bed early? Am I not your only friend here?”
Shit, I don’t want to tell Racer about Adalyn, because I know he’ll flip out. In his mind, he’s my only friend here.
“Early morning stuff,” I mumble.
“Early morning stuff, huh?” Racer pounds a few nails and then says, “Sounds to me like you have a late-night booty call you’re not telling me about. Am I right?”
I can feel all color drain from my face so I quickly look away, hiding my panic. “Nah,” I clear my throat, “just some training I have to do tomorrow morning. You know, basic training shit.”
Racer is silent. I can feel his stare. His studying gaze waiting for me to falter, waiting for me to show my true colors.
“Who are you training with?”
“Huh?”
Racer lifts another board and hands it to me. I put it in place just as he leans forward, getting in my space. “Who are you training with tomorrow?” He enunciates every word.
“Uh, you know . . . Franklin.”
There is no Franklin.
Where Franklin came from, I have no clue.
He doesn’t even sound like a real person.
Who names their kid Franklin anymore?
I would have been better off with saying something like Blaze. Blaze is more believable, not . . . Franklin.
“Franklin?” Racer deadpans.
“Yup.” I chuckle. “Good old Franklin. Killer on the ice, that guy. Has some of the best cuts I’ve ever seen.”
“And what’s Franklin’s last name?”
“Dolittle.” I nod, hating myself but trying to convince Racer that this Franklin Dolittle fella is real.
“Dolittle. You’re going to go train with a guy tomorrow by the name of Franklin Dolittle.”
“Yup, funny right?”
Suspiciously glaring at me, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and starts typing. Leaning forward to catch what he’s doing, I ask, “What are you typing there?”
“Looking up this expert on the ice, Franklin Dolittle.”
Without even thinking, I swat the phone out of his hand, sending it careening into a pile of wood on the floor.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Uh . . . sorry. Spasm.” I shake out my arm and then give it a couple stretches across my body. “No need to look him up, ’cause he’s aloof. Stays off the Internet, keeps to himself. He’s only known in the underground hockey world. It’s kind of like a black market of sorts but for hockey.”
Jesus, I’m really digging myself a hole here.
Note to self: you’re not good at lying.
At least you’re not good at creating believable lies.
“Dude, you did not have a spasm.”
“You don’t know that.” I whip my arm around in a windmill like motion. “This old thing spasms all the time.”
Hands on his hips, looking me dead in the eyes, Racer says, “Stop fucking with me. What are you doing tonight?”
Shit.
Think . . . think . . . fuck, I got it.
Shrugging, trying to act embarrassed, I say, “Ugh, fine, you got me. I’m, uh, I’m taking a water aerobics class tonight. It’s to help with my muscles. It’s with a bunch of older ladies, and it’s at eight forty-five. It’s a, uh, black-light party class. We bring glow sticks and everything.”
This is a real thing. My mom spent a good ten minutes on the phone with me the other day telling me about it. She was so damn excited it was hard not to get caught up in her enthusiasm.
Racer studies me and shakes his head. “You’re not fucking going to some glow-stick swim party. I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t know. I actually really like black lights and glow sticks. There’s nothing more exciting than a neon parade of sticks while dancing in the water. Don’t make me feel bad about my extracurricular activities, dude.”
“Okay.” Racer sets down his hammer, goes to the woodpile and pockets his phone. “Come on, I don’t want you to be late.”
Ehhh . . .
I don’t make a move.
I barely bat an eyelash.
I can see he’s brewing something in his head, because he’s acting way too cool right now.
“Are we finished?” I gesture toward the pile of wood we still have to frame out.
Racer picks up his car keys and jingles them in his hand. “Yeah, I’m good for the night, thanks for the help. Let’s get out of here.”
“Racer, man, you’re freaking me out a bit.”
“Why? You have a class to get to. I don’t want to hold you back from your glow stick fun. Come on”—he nods toward the door—“let’s get out of here.”
Cautiously, I follow him out and wait for him to lock up the bridal shop he’s been remodeling for some extra cash.
We walk to our vehicles, and I can’t help but wonder what his game is. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying a little later. I can skip the class tonight.”
“Hell no, there is no way I’m letting you skip your class, especially when I’m going with you.”
Fuck, I knew it. I knew he was hiding something.
“You don’t have a membership.”
He shrugs, “I’ll ask for a guest pass. I’m sure they’ll be more than accommodating for Hayden Holmes.”
“You don’t have a bathing suit.”
He shakes his finger at me. “Funny thing, I always have one in my truck in case I come across a lake I want to jump in.”
“Dinner. You can’t swim on an empty stomach.” Can you see I’m grasping here?
“Isn’t that reversed? You should never swim on a full stomach.”
I drag my hand down my face, exhausted. “Fine, I’m not going to a fucking glow-stick water class.”
Racer crosses his arms over his chest. “Then where are you going?”
There is no way of getting around this, not one I can think off the top of my head. Besides all my “lies” have been pitiful, so I might as well go with the truth so I can get out of here faster.
“I’m going to Adalyn’s house, okay?”
Pretty sure Racer wasn’t expecting that answer because his face falls in shock before turning brutally sharp with anger. His jaw ticks, his eyes narrow, and the veins in his neck start to twitch.
Okay, maybe the truth wasn’t a good idea, after all.
“Did I not tell you to stay the fuck away from her? What the hell are you doing?” He takes a step forward, but I stand my ground. I’m a few inches taller than he is and have about twenty more pounds of muscles wrapped around my body.
“I’m sorry, but I like her.” I run my hand through my hair. “I like her a lot.”
“For how long?”
“Since I met her at your house. I went to each hospital in town and looked for her. Once I found her, I didn’t let her out of my sight. I’ve taken her lunch, made her dinner, and treated her like a goddamn queen. And before you even ask, no, I haven’t slept with her, and I have no plan of doing so anytime soon. I haven’t even kissed her. I know she’s fragile, I know this is new to her, and I know she’s been hurt before. I have no intention of hurting her. When I say I like her, I mean it. I want to see where this goes.”
Studying me, Racer’s eyes bouncing back and forth, he grinds his teeth together, still not happy, but the crease in his brow lessens. “I don’t like it.”
“Didn’t ask you to like it, didn’t even ask for your approval, because either way, I’m still going to pursue her.”
“She’s my friend, Hayden, my good friend.”
“I understand.” I squeeze Racer’s shoulder. “But I’m your good friend too. Trust me. You know me, you know the kind of person I am. I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to purposely hurt someone, or get what I want and then leave. I’m honest and trustworthy. I will treat her well, I promise you that.”
Moving his jaw back and forth, he sighs and lowers his head. “Fuck, you’re right. If I had to choose someone for her, I guess it would be you . . . unfortunately.”
“Don’t be too excited about it,” I joke.
“She’s been hurt before.”
“I know.” I pat Racer on the back. “She told me. She told me everything.”
“She did?” Racer looks surprised.
“Yeah, she did.”
Nodding slowly, he understands the importance of Adalyn opening up to me. He gets it. “And you’re going over there tonight to . . .”
“Eat cake.” Racer suggestively raises his eyebrow at me. Rolling my eyes, I clarify. “Like, actual cake. Chocolate cake to be exact.”
“Gah, chocolate cake. That sounds really good. Can I come too?”
“Are you mental? Of course you can’t come.” I make my way to my car. “Thre
e’s a crowd, man. Sorry.”
Hopping in my car, I wave goodbye through the windshield and make a quick pit stop at the cottage for a one-minute shower, and to pack my overnight bag. Then I’m back in my car on route to Adalyn’s place, which thankfully isn’t too far away.
The conversation with Racer went a lot smoother than I expected. I can’t tamp down the euphoric elation I’m feeling, or the giant smile I’m sporting. That is until I pull up to Adalyn’s house and see Racer’s rusty old pickup parked right outside.
What. The. Fuck.
Trying not to barge through the door with a serious chip on my shoulder, I take a calming breath and rap my knuckles on the wood. I run my hand through the short strands of my still-damp hair as the door opens. Adalyn’s eyes are wide as she shakes her head and goes to shut the door on me, telepathically telling me now is not a good time.
Clearly Racer hasn’t told her about our little conversation. The asshole. I bet he’s sitting on her couch right now, eating my goddamn cake.
Before she can shut the door on me, I press my hand against the wood and push open.
Under her breath, she says, “What are you doing? Racer is here.”
“I know.” I push through the door and walk into her living where Racer is perched on the armrest, a smug smile on his face and a plate of cake in hand.
That motherfucker.
“Hayden, what a pleasant surprise. What on earth could you be doing here at Adalyn’s house?”
“What the hell did you not understand about the phrase three’s a crowd?” I make my way toward him as he quickly shovels the cake in his mouth.
Talking with his mouth full, he says, “You must have known I’d show up. You say cake and I’m there, man. Sorry I’m not sorry.”
I snatch the plate from him as he takes his last bite and point toward the door. “Say good night to Adalyn and leave.”
“What is going on here?” Adalyn asks, stepping into the living room, looking so goddamn beautiful in a pink dress that the anger roaring through me starts to dissipate.