by G. K. Brady
“Better than the crickets the rare time you take a shot, asshole,” Wyatt groused.
These two jokers were the odd couple. Just as Quinn was debating which was Oscar and which was Felix, they got up to flirt with a bartender, leaving Quinn alone with Grimson.
Quinn began to ramble. “On the IR at playoffs again, Grims. That’s some bad luck. This year, a broken hand in the quarter finals. Last year … Oh shit.” Now Quinn had stepped in it. What was he thinking? He wasn’t. What an idiot!
Grims shot him a dagger-filled look. “What are you getting at, Hads?”
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled. “We weren’t supposed to know about the doping last year—”
“But you found out. How?”
Quinn cleared his throat. “Nicole passed it on to the other SOs.”
Grims’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck? First off, she’s not an SO. Not anymore. Second, when did she supposedly do this?”
“Right before the season started last October. At least, that’s when I heard about it.” Guilt and a modicum of sadness pulsed inside Quinn. Despite Grims’s epic mistake that could’ve tainted the entire team, he liked the guy. He was a fearless, no-nonsense D-man you wanted at your back when you went into battle. A fierce, quiet warrior—no flash, more show than tell—and damn effective. He might be out of the lineup with his broken hand, but his presence in the locker room brought a rock-solid steadiness the team fed off of.
Grims leaned back hard and blew out a breath. “She dumps me because she was ‘so embarrassed’”—this he said in a falsetto—“I got caught. Like it tarnished her reputation somehow. But instead of keeping it to herself, she comes back and tells everyone? That’s bullshit!”
“Sorry, man. I thought you knew.”
“No, and had I known—”
“Hi!” A cute blond in pigtails, short shorts, a tight T-shirt, and knee socks—the establishment’s uniform—bounced on the balls of her feet at their table. “Your waitress just clocked out, and I’m taking over her shift. Can I get you anything?” She looked from Grims to Quinn and stopped. “Quinn? Oh my God! I was hoping I’d run into you!”
Quinn glanced up, took in her big blue eyes and the rack filling her T-shirt, and recognition dawned. One of his Canadian hookups from last year. “Oh hey, Whitney. Haven’t seen you in a while,” he drawled. “How’ve you been?”
She did the hip jut thing with the parked fist, looked him up and down, and smiled wolfishly. His neck heated, and he felt like a bug on display. A piece of meat in a butcher’s case being evaluated for consumption. He squirmed inside.
Back in the day, he’d have pulled out the big guns and flashed her a dimpled smile, and he’d have had at least one hand on her by now. One singular purpose, spurred by one body part. Everything had been one-dimensional. Now the thought made him recoil. His old life? No, thanks. The memory simply deepened the pang for Sarah.
They exchanged a few words, ending with her letting him know she’d be happy to stop by his room when her shift was over so they could “catch up.” She was, she pointed out helpfully, in the bubble too. He deflected, introducing her to Grimson. Maybe she’d turn her attention on him. Dude looked like he could use a good time, especially after finding out his ex had dumped on him—twice. But Whitney wasn’t going for it, so Quinn asked her to close out his tab. Hanging in his room alone was gaining appeal.
Grims watched her swaying ass as she strutted away from the table, the shorts not fully covering her cheeks. He grinned. “That has to be a first, Hads. Can’t say as I’ve ever seen you turn away a choice opportunity.”
“Not interested tonight.” Or ever. “Feel free, though.”
Grimson shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m done with the ‘fairer’ sex for now. Not worth the aggravation. I’m going to focus on upping my game. On getting this hand healed, on getting better, on getting stronger. There’s a chance I could be back in the lineup if we go much deeper in the playoffs, and I want to be ready.”
“That’d be sweet. We could use you.” Quinn tipped his bottle back and finished his brew just as Nelson came rushing back into the restaurant, an idiotic look plastered on his face.
Grims gave him a barely there chin jerk. “What’s with the jackass grin, Nelson?” The rapport between the two had landed in the shitter after Nelson busted Grimson doping. Though they put on a show of having kissed and made up in front of the team, their differences were palpable, and their relationship skidded across thin ice.
“Just heard from Lily, and she’ll be here tomorrow before lunch.”
“Who flies from Denver to Edmonton in the morning?” asked Quinn.
“The Gulfstream I just hired. Otherwise, it would have taken her four cities and over a day to get here.”
“Jeez, dude. Desperate much? You still can’t see her for four days,” Quinn quipped. “That must have set you back a fair piece.”
“Not that bad. And the sooner she gets here, the sooner she’ll be out of quarantine. Besides, she thinks I’m a hero.” Nelson’s grin broadened—so did his chest. Quinn couldn’t blame him. After months of celibacy, he was glad to see someone getting lucky soon.
Grims looked poised to make a snide comment, so Quinn jumped in. “Daisy coming too?”
“No, she’s staying with family. But Sarah’s tagging along.”
Quinn’s back went ramrod straight so fast that Grimson shot him a questioning look. Forgetting he’d already drained it, Quinn put the beer bottle to his lips to coat his suddenly dry throat. Now Grims arched a covert eyebrow.
“Where, ah, where’s she staying?” Quinn managed.
“Not with Lily and me, that’s for damn sure.” Nelson’s tone was emphatic. “She and Lily will quarantine together, and Sarah will stay in that room after Lily moves in with me.”
Whitney reappeared with Quinn’s bill and a pen. “You can charge it to your room.” While Nelson and Grimson watched, she leaned in so close he could smell her perfume and feel her tits pressed against his shoulder. She pointed to a line on the tab. “Just write your room number right there, and I’ll see you later.” With a sly wink, she sashayed away.
Ignoring his teammates’ guffaws, he waited until she was gone, pulled out his wallet, and left cash. No way was he letting Whitney know his room number. The only woman he wanted showing up at his door would be here tomorrow. All he had to do was convince her they belonged together—an undertaking far more daunting than getting the winning score past a goalie who was playing out of his mind. He had four days to figure out how.
Hours later, Quinn lay in bed, staring up at a dark ceiling. Exhausted as he was, he should have been sawing logs, but he couldn’t settle down while Sarah traipsed through his brain. What would he say when he saw her? Was she coming to see him? He could only hope. Wouldn’t she have texted to let him know, though? Should he tell Nelson and risk upsetting the applecart when the team was playing so well? Was there anything to tell anymore? The thoughts tossed and turned and got wadded in his head.
He’d been relieved to get on the road after spending weeks in the behemoth mansion alone. Unlike here, where everywhere he looked it was all about hockey and his buddies and bubble living, the house had been filled with echoes of Sarah. He’d found himself in the solarium, looking at the 3-D puzzles with longing, picturing himself alongside her as they built them. Or stepping into her bedroom and surrounding himself with her fragrance that still lingered on the linens and pillows.
She’d left her engineering magazines behind, and he’d riffled through those without seeing a damn thing. He’d pulled his stuff out of the mirrored closet and put it elsewhere so he didn’t have to set foot in there again and imagine their bodies reflected in bright silver. In the kitchen or family room, he pictured her there, and the space was suddenly imbued with a warmth he’d never known he wanted before meeting her. Not only did he want it, but he craved it.
And tomorrow she would be here.
Chapter 39
Voila!
Four days
in the hotel room had felt like fourteen, but finally, the wait was over. As Sarah and Lily emerged from the elevator on the main level, Gage greeted them. Correction: he greeted Lily with an embarrassing PDA and acknowledged Sarah’s presence.
As she waited for her brother to end his liplock on his fiancée and come up for air, Sarah glanced around casually, her radar on high alert for a tall, dark, exquisitely cut man with eyes like hot fudge sauce and a dimpled smile that turned her knees to mush. But Quinn was nowhere in sight. Probably didn’t even know she was there. She certainly hadn’t told him. And why hadn’t she? In case he didn’t want to see her or she saw him with someone else, at least she could make a quick exit with some dignity intact.
The longer she stood there, the more her stomach knotted. She reassured herself it was a big place; she probably wouldn’t even run into Quinn. During games, in the WAGs suite high above the ice—with a mask on—he’d never know she was there.
Yeah, right.
Gage had knocked himself out, hiring a private jet to fly them to Edmonton and a limo to drive them to the hotel when they’d touched down. But he’d booked the room in Lily’s name, so he was now escorting them to the front desk to get the room transferred over to Sarah.
While Lily reconciled the charges on the hotel folio, Gage watched her with hawkeyed interest. A flush colored his cheeks, and the stupid grin he’d been sporting grew wider. While he studied Lily, Sarah studied him, really studied him, and suddenly saw him as the man he was, not the little brother he’d been her whole life. Four years divided them, but those edges had blurred. For as long as she could remember, it had been him and her winding their way through their family minefield, standing up to their overbearing mother, taking care of their loving grandmother. Together. He’d relied on her when he’d been younger, but somewhere along the way their roles had become interchangeable. And lately, she’d leaned on his strong shoulders, thinking of him more as a peer or a big brother. Four years.
Quinn was only five years younger—not such a stretch. Before her eyes, he’d transformed from a selfish pleasure-seeker into a loving son, a loyal and generous human being, and a blade-sharp sparring partner who could take and fire back barbs with elegant ease. Bonus: being a smoking hot, adventurous lover didn’t hurt either. His devilry and a libido that matched her own were the spicy cherry on top. Most of all, he’d become her hero, replacing her brother in the number one spot.
God, for the chance to lay eyes on him and tell him, in person, how much she missed him, that she’d screwed up. But first she needed to walk the walk; she had a bomb to drop.
Gage stood by while Sarah signed paperwork and got a new room key. It was obvious how ready he was to ditch her and hustle Lily upstairs for some private time. “Gage, before you two take off and I don’t see you for days, there’s something I need to tell you.” His eyebrows arched.
Lily patted his arm. “Why don’t you give me your key, Professor, and I’ll let myself in? I’m sure the bellboy got my bag transferred over by now. While you two talk, I’ll settle in and freshen up.” She gave him a smoldering look.
“Uh, sure.” After he’d gotten a good eyeful of Lily walking away, he turned to Sarah. “Our choices are limited, Sar. There’s a designated rooftop hangout for the team, or a ballroom where we take our meals, play ping-pong, poker, whatever.”
“Where would be the most private?”
“Rooftop, I think.”
As they made their way up, Sarah kept her head on a swivel. Yes, she wanted to see Quinn, but not before she finished with Gage. By the time they found an out-of-the-way table under an umbrella, Sarah’s stomach was kinked so tight she wasn’t sure she’d ever get the knots loosened.
Gage handed her a bottle of water she hadn’t seen him snag. “So what’s on your mind, Sar-Bear?”
She twisted off the cap and took a long drink. “I need to come clean with you, but I don’t want you getting mad or taking it out on anyone. Promise?”
His eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Promise.”
She drew in a lung-filling breath. “When I first got to Denver and told you about Wolf, you said something like we can’t help who we fall for, remember?”
He gave her a cautious nod. “Vaguely. Don’t tell me you’re going back to that douche.”
“No, never. But I have fallen for someone. A rather unexpected someone.” She waited, but he merely blinked. “We didn’t mean to, but Quinn and I—”
“What?” Gage’s mouth swung open, and his eyes turned to hard, cold flint. “I thought you two hated each other!” he hissed.
She shrugged. “We did. But the more time we spent together, the more we found out about each other. Turns out we have a lot more in common than we ever knew.”
“No way,” he growled. “He’s a womanizer who’s going to destroy your heart. Just last night, a waitress invited herself to his room right in front of us.”
Sarah steeled her spine. “And did she go to his room?”
“I don’t know, but he didn’t say no.”
Sarah’s stomach wobbled. So did her heart. “Well, don’t worry. We’re not really together. I sort of broke it off before you guys started training camp.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“I don’t like keeping secrets from you, and I didn’t want you getting blindsided in case you heard it elsewhere.” Another cool sip to soothe her parched throat.
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Why did you break it off?”
“I wanted to see if we felt the same when we weren’t forced to shelter together.”
Gage hmphed. “Sar, he’s all wrong for you.”
She wasn’t sure she agreed, but curiosity drove her to ask, “How is he all wrong?”
“The waitress last night is how! That’s who Quinn is.”
No, he’s more than that. A need to defend Quinn welled inside her, and she locked out the possibility he’d reverted to his romping ways. God, she was a sap! “Whatever else he is, Quinn’s funny and kind and generous. Oh, and very smart. Even you said he was a good guy who’d do anything—”
She let out an audible gasp, and Gage turned in his seat. The subject of their conversation was making a beeline for them, decked in flip-flops, shorts, a T-shirt that hugged his chiseled torso, and a backward ball cap that seemed to be restraining his long-again locks. Dave Grimson, the team captain who resembled a deranged mountain man, trailed behind.
Though his expression was unreadable, Quinn’s eyes were focused solely on her. In that moment, he could have made her believe no one or nothing else existed.
Gage broke that focus when he stood abruptly and squared himself in Quinn’s path. “Did you take that waitress back to your room last night?”
Sarah dropped her forehead in her palm. Can I just die now? When she dared a peek, Quinn look confused, darting his eyes between her and Gage.
Dave stepped up and tapped Gage’s arm. “Time out, man. What’s eating you?”
“I want to know if he took that waitress up on her offer.” Though he directed the answer at Dave, Gage’s seething gaze didn’t waver from Quinn.
Quinn opened his mouth to speak, but Dave took over with practiced calm. “You’re jumping to conclusions again, Nelson. You didn’t see the whole exchange. Yeah, she wanted to get friendly with our boy, but it was strictly a one-way street. If you remember, he paid in cash and got the hell out of there. I never saw him give her his room number. In fact, he told me to chase her.”
“And did you?” Gage spurted.
Dave crossed his beefy arms. His beard was so long it practically brushed the tops of his forearms. “Exactly why is that any of your fucking business?” he snorted.
Sarah tugged on Gage’s shirt. “Gage, I don’t think—”
Dave glanced at her, then landed his gaze back on Gage. “No, I didn’t. To my knowledge, she didn’t sleep with anyone on the team—unless you hooked up with her.”
“Hell no!”
Dave
pointed a finger in his face. “So stop making up shit about your teammates.” Then he gave Gage a chin lift, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Chillax, Boy Scout.”
Dave sent Sarah a wink. “Nice to see you, Sarah.” And with that, he walked off, leaving the three of them in charged, awkward silence.
Quinn swiveled his head to Sarah and locked on her wide eyes. She took his breath away, and he gawked at her for a beat. Glossy dark hair brushed behind her perfect ears, tiny diamond twinkling on her pert nose, full mouth hinting at a smile. She was wearing a blue sundress that brought out the color of her eyes and showed off her curves and shapely legs. His mouth had gone dry, and he couldn’t swallow.
Damn Nelson! Why’d he bring up Whitney? Until this moment, she’d been relegated to a nonexistent blip in Quinn’s memory bank. When he’d seen Sarah, he’d let himself believe he had a chance, that she’d traveled all the way here to tell him she’d changed her mind. Nelson had just turned any chance into a climb up fucking Mount Everest. In Quinn’s peripheral vision, his asshole best friend stood stony and rigid.
“Hey, Sparky,” Sarah said with a lightness not reflected in her diamond-brilliant eyes.
“Hi, Sunshine.” He congratulated himself on his own fake-casual air. Could she hear his heart slamming against his rib cage?
Didn’t matter because Nelson snarled, “Wanna tell me what’s going on, Hadley?” Deep vertical creases between his knitted brows broadcast his irritation.
“I told him,” Sarah blurted. “About us.”
A tap dance broke out in Quinn’s gut, and he restrained a smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. As you can see, he’s not happy about it.” She gave Quinn a conspiratorial smirk.
He pulled himself a little taller and faced Nelson. “Doesn’t matter whether you’re happy or not, Nelson. I’m crazy about your sister, and I sure as hell hope she feels the same way.” He darted her a look and was rewarded with a head bob that made his heart race faster.
“I thought you two hated each other,” Nelson practically whined. “I expected to deal with a dead body after one of you murdered the other.”