by Toni Aleo
“Aiden!”
He whips his head toward me as he draws in his brows. I hear Stella ask, “Who’s that?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Stay in the car.” I stomp toward him as he shuts his sister’s door. “Yeah?”
I hold up the napkin. “What is this?”
He looks at the napkin and then at me, his brow still furrowed. “Shelli, it’s cold as hell—”
“Answer me!” He glares, looking every bit as frustrated as I feel. He then shrugs out of his jacket, and I snap, “I don’t want that.”
“I don’t care,” he says flatly. He steps to me, wrapping his jacket around my shoulders as his eyes bore into mine. He doesn’t step back like he should. His eyes stay locked with mine as he says, “It’s an apology.”
“You think you’re cute? This is not cute!”
He shrugs. “It’s a little cute.”
“Not cute!” I insist, and he shrugs. “You don’t have the balls to talk to me?”
“I didn’t know how to approach you.”
“Why?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“’Cause I don’t.”
“That’s dumb! I’m approachable!”
“Yeah, as approachable as a ravenous lioness,” he scoffs with that stupid little charming grin of his.
Oh, he infuriates me! “Again, not cute.”
“Hey, that was clever.”
“Ugh! Aiden, why are you apologizing?”
He narrows his eyes before he slips his tongue out to lick his lips. The simple motion drives me absolutely foolish, of course. “I don’t know of anyone ever asking why when someone apologizes.”
“Um, in this situation, it’s warranted! It seems real out of the blue, when not a couple hours ago, you didn’t look the least bit apologetic.”
He shrugs. “I don’t like how things went down.”
“Why? Because you saw me crying? I wasn’t crying over you,” I snap, and his gaze darkens.
“Never said you were.”
“Just seems funny that now you’re apologizing after you saw me crying.”
“You crying has nothing to do with this apology. I felt like shit when you walked away anyway.”
“But you had no problem saying I wasn’t being ladylike.”
“Because I was pissed, and you weren’t.”
“So?”
“So…” He shakes his head. “What do you want from me, Shelli? I’m trying to apologize—”
“I want it to be real. I want it to be truthful.”
His face twists in confusion, and I feel stupid. Why am I out here? He isn’t supposed to matter. “I am being truthful. I mean it. I thought about you all day. It was wrong how things went down. We both said things we shouldn’t have, and it escalated.”
“Whatever.”
“Can you just accept my apology? Please?” he asks firmly. “Listen, I suck at this kind of thing. I don’t apologize for things because I don’t usually feel guilty, but I feel wrong about earlier. I never should have spoken to you the way I did or made you feel less than your worth—”
I scoff, even if my heart is pounding like a motherfucker. “I know my worth, and you made me feel nothing!”
He blinks twice and then nods. “Good, I’m glad. I wasn’t out to hurt you. My anger got the best of me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Because your anger has been getting the best of you since you saw me at my house.”
He licks his lips once more, slowly nodding. “I don’t know how to talk to you because I’m still upset with how it all went down.”
“And you think I’m not?”
He shakes his head. “Shelli, seriously, you could ruin my life.”
“But I wouldn’t,” I stress. “Yes, it wasn’t ideal how we ended up in bed, but it’s done.”
“You’re right. But still, it’s sort of a mess, and I don’t want this hostility between us. Our lives, our families, are too intertwined for it to be like this.”
“Like you care,” I say, and I hate the emotion that’s taking over.
He narrows his eyes, and I can see the annoyance on his beautiful face. “I get it, I was a dick. But come on, cut me some slack here.”
“Why? I’m just another—”
His hand gripping my wrist stops me. “No. I do care. And, yeah, maybe at the time you were, but that all changed when I found out who I had slept with.”
“Because of my mom—”
“Yeah, and because of you.”
I look down at my hand in his hold as fire courses through my whole body. “Oh.”
“I’m really sorry.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just shrug. “It is what it is,” I say simply.
“No, it’s more.” I look away as his thumb moves to my palm, pressing gently. “On a totally different subject, and this goes against my better judgment, you look really hot tonight.”
“Oh wow, whiplash,” I say as our eyes meet.
“Yeah, I know,” he says softly, his thumb gliding up and down my palm. “As much as I know this can never happen, I can’t keep from telling the truth.”
“Oh?”
He grins, that heart-stopping, slap-your-momma kind of smile. “Truth is, you’re stunning, and you’re still talented as all hell. Like, wow.”
Now, against my better judgment, my lips curve. “Well, thanks.”
“So, you accept my apology?”
Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be mad. I move my wrist out of his hand. “I don’t want to wear your dick as a necklace any longer.”
“Hey, that’s progress.” He gives me a smirk.
“I guess, for us, it is.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I am sorry, though.”
“I hear you.”
He nods as he steps back. “I’ll see you around, Shelli.”
“Yeah.”
He turns without another word, walking toward the truck with such swagger. I watch as he gets in, and then I turn on my heels to head inside. When I cuddle deeper into his coat, I turn to run it back to him, but he’s already driving off.
With a wave and a sexy little smirk to boot.
That plan for getting over Aiden… Yeah, that’s gonna be a real bitch.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AIDEN
I SLAM my body into the Canucks’ defensemen, fighting for the puck. The bastard has it caught between his skate and the boards like a fucker. He knows if I get it, I’m scoring. I poke my stick at it, using my hip to push him, but he outweighs me and isn’t budging.
“Move, fucker!”
“Fuck you, you pussy!”
I use all my body weight to push him off just as Wes grabs the puck and passes it to Sinclair. I go to rush the net, when the guy I was just in the corner with shoves his stick in between my skates. As a result, I’m eating ice. I wait for the whistle, my bench waits for the whistle, but nothing.
“Son of a bitch! Ref, you blind?”
“Play on, Brooks!”
I hear the thunk of puck on pad, realizing Sinclair has shot. I scan the ice, seeing the puck where Wes just threw it up the boards to Reeves. He cradles it as he moves in, passing it to Sinclair, who returns it back. I skate around my man, trying to screen the goalie. I get jabbed in the back by the goalie a few times as we try relentlessly to score. Wes shoots, he hits the damn post, and when the puck hits my blade, I’m convinced this is a goal. Top shelf, yes, baby. Come to Daddy!
But the damn goalie gloves me.
“Fucking hell!”
“Not today, you fairy-looking bitch!”
I glare at the goalie. “I don’t look like a fairy! My beard grew in—try it!”
Asshole. That should have been a goal. I should have gone lower. Damn it. I skate to the bench while our next line comes on. As I go in through the door, Coach is yelling, “Good shot, BB. Great pressure. Keep shooting. You’ll find the back of the net.”
I could kill Ta
te—honestly. I thought BB would have fallen off by now, but nope. It’s been two weeks, and it’s stuck. Lovely for me. I lean on the boards as I watch our defense fight off their forwards. The Canucks came to play tonight. They’re up by one and giving us a run for our money. I squirt some Gatorade into my mouth as I take in lung-filling breaths. I feel as if I’m flying, and it’s been like that since my first game on Assassins’ ice. I love it here. The crowd is electrifying, the ice feels like home, and knowing my family is up in the box watching me is so overwhelming I almost can’t handle it.
But I am.
In the seven games we’ve played, I have nine assists, and I’ve scored three goals in just the last three games. None on home ice, though. I’m itching for a goal here. I want to be the reason the goal song plays and the lights go nuts. I want to hear the crowd yell for me like they did for my dad for so long. I want to hear the announcer call my name and number. It’s something I’ve been waiting for since I was a kid. But like Coach said, it’s coming. I can feel it. I’m one of those streaky players. When I get hot, I get hot. And right now, I’m hot.
Since I joined the Assassins, we’re six, one, and one. I am stoked for those numbers. Elli is pretty pleased, and that makes me happy. I want to keep my boss happy. Especially when I can’t stop thinking about her daughter. I made the mistake of going on Shelli’s Instagram, which Asher had told me about. Big mistake. I’ve been up countless nights, whacking off because she’s so damn hot. She’s possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I want her so damn bad. Which is so damn bad. So bad. But I can’t control my lust for her, which is why I have done everything in my power to keep clear of her.
But if she doesn’t stop posting pictures of herself working out in those barely there shorts, I might lose my damn mind.
“One!”
Ah, my line. I jump over the boards as I rush to where the puck was thrown into their zone. I go center ice, waiting for them to bring the puck in. The defensemen tries to pass it up the middle, but Wes is there, catching it on his blade. I rush forward as he does the same, catching the Canuck on a change. He passes it to our linemate, Hoenes, who takes it in. I rush the goal, and we have a two-on-one. The defensemen lays out so that Hoenes can’t pass to Wes. But he can pass it to me.
When he does, I’m ready, and I shoot it so damn hard, I fall to my knee, waiting for that red light.
When it lights up, my heart stops.
Goal.
The crowd goes wild as my teammates come and wrap their arms around me. Emotion takes over, and I feel it in my throat as I hug my teammates hard. When we break apart, I look around as I skate to the bench to slap hands with the rest of my teammates. Everyone cheers me on, and when I round the corner, Sinclair is there with a puck.
“First goal at home as an Assassin.”
I take it from him and grin. “Thanks, man.”
I go over the boards and hand it off to Ryan Justice, my trainer. “I’ll put it up.”
I nod as I lean on the boards, and I swear I can hear my mom screaming. But then it’s all drowned out when the announcer’s voice fills the arena.
“An Assassins goal!! Scored at 12:52, by number twenty-three, Aiden Brooooooooooookkkkkksssss!! That’s his twenty-ninth goal of the season but his first as your Nashvilllllllllllllllle Assssssssaaaaaaaaasssin!”
Yeah, I’ll never get used to that.
“DUDE, there is this waitress here—holy mother of sweet baby Jesus, she is gorgeous.”
I didn’t know that most of the guys go to Brooks House after all the home games until Wes asked me to go. I also didn’t know they all eat for free. Seems like something my mom would do. She doesn’t let them drink for free because she’s no fool.
Since I love the penne here, that’s what I got, but Wes went with the lasagna to go with the tall beer he ordered. He isn’t a wine drinker—in fact, I’ve noticed that most of my teammates aren’t, so I’m the only one with a glass. We’re all excited, celebrating our win, and I’m having a good time. It’s my first night out with the guys since joining the team.
Problem is, it’s hard to pay attention when Shelli Adler is singing.
Boon Hoenes leans over me and nods. “So hot. The one with the long brown hair, right? Brown eyes?”
Wes shakes his head. “No, you mean chocolate-cake eyes. I mean, they’re such a rich brown, it’s unfair. She’s stunning.”
Willy nods. “Yeah, she is. But isn’t she like eighteen? In high school?”
Wes grins. “Hey, she’s legal.”
My brow perks. “What’s her name?”
“Stella,” Wes says dreamily. “Stella fucking gorgeous face.”
I snort along with the guys as I shake my head. “That’s my little sister.”
Laughter comes to a complete stop as everyone looks from Wes to me. I just grin at him. But then Wes gets up. “Excuse me, I’m gonna go jump off a bridge.”
I grab him by the shirt and pull him back down as everyone laughs.
“Dude, I didn’t know.”
I grin over at him. “It’s cool, but she’s young. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Oh, I thought you were older.”
“No, I’m just mature. Bad childhood.”
“Got it,” I say with a nod. “Still, stay away from her.”
“Ten-four,” he says with a salute, and we share a grin. “She is really gorgeous, though.”
I only nod in agreement as my gaze drifts back where Shelli is singing some Taylor Swift song. The only reason I know that is because it’s all Emery listens to. I happen to think Shelli sings the song better, but I may be biased. She’s striking. Her hair is up in a bun, but little tendrils fall down the sides of her face. Her neck is on full display, and I want so much to suck her skin right beneath her ear.
Jesus.
I swallow hard as I admire her short little dress. It’s a bold red that makes her skin look delicious. Her black, red-soled shoes are high and dangerous, but it’s her voice that has me in knots. She’s so talented.
“The only thing I don’t like about this place…” Boon says, and I glance over at him. He’s a funny dude. Real big, but fast. I thought he’d be a defensemen, but he’s actually one hell of a shot. He’s taller than me, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He has an insane beard, with a jagged scar running along his cheek and brow. He got into a nasty fight when he was younger, and that’s the result. He’s a cool guy, and we click. Our line—he, Wes, and I—is doing big things. “There aren’t enough single girls here. There’s just a whole bunch of couples.”
“Hey, some of the waitresses… Never mind,” Wes starts, and I laugh.
“We can head out, hit up a club or two,” I suggest, and everyone nods.
“Yeah, I gotta call Caitlin. I told her I wasn’t going to be out late, but I’m not ready to head back. Maybe she’ll want to come out,” Willy says as he gets up and takes out his phone.
Boon looks over at me. “Can we dump him as a friend? He’s boring when it comes to partying.”
I laugh as Wes sets Boon with a look. “Hey, Willy is awesome. He’s just in love. You know how that is.”
Boon shrugs. “Yeah, turns you into an idiot. It’s all about the girl. What they want. You don’t matter. It’s fucking annoying.”
Wes scoffs. “Says the guy who just got out of a three-year relationship.”
“Hey, I learned the error of my ways and got out.”
“She left you,” Wes says dryly. “You cried for a month.”
Boon shoots him a murderous look. “I don’t cry.”
Wes snorts. “Fine, you leaked from your eyes in a very manly way.”
Boon nods. “Thank you.”
“Why did she leave you?” I ask, and he looks to me.
Boon’s face sort of changes, and he shrugs. “She wasn’t happy. Didn’t like the life. She wanted me home, and I couldn’t be there. I wanted to play. She asked me to choose, and I went with my first love. Ho
ckey.”
“Don’t blame you.”
“But that’s an asshole move. She never should have asked,” Wes says then with a furrow of his brow. “This is our dream. Our life. No one should ask us to give it up.”
We all nod in agreement as I take a sip of my wine. My gaze, of course, ends up on Shelli as she finishes the song. She loves hockey as much as I do. She’d never ask me to give… What the hell am I thinking?
I start coughing from the wine going down the wrong pipe. Shit, I’m going to die. I put the glass down as Wes slaps my back. “Told ya. Wine is dangerous. Stick to beer.”
Boon tips his glass to me as I hack up my lung. “Yeah, leave the classy side and slum with us.”
Laughing and coughing don’t mix, and soon I’m in a fit. Everyone is looking at me funny, but all I hear are sirens in my head. Why the hell did I think that? What the hell is wrong with me? I hate Asher. This is his fault. I don’t know what is going on, but Shelli is more dangerous than I thought. I know this. I’ve got to remember this!
“Hey, guys. Great game tonight.”
I look up to see Shelli standing there in all her beautiful glory, and I’m still coughing a bit. Her jacket is over her arm, along with a jar full of money. From beside me, Wes flashes her a winning grin. “Thanks, Shelli. Did you watch?”
She nods with a “come on” look. “Of course. I messed up three songs ’cause I cheered when y’all scored.” God, her country drawl is so damn sexy. Her eyes fall on me. “Great goal from the slot.”
My throat is dry. “Thanks,” I rasp, and her eyes flash with something treacherous. I feel it all in my gut, and I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I need to remember.
This. Can’t. Happen.
No matter how much I want to lift that skirt of hers and bury my face between her legs.
It. Can. Not. Happen.
Willy comes up beside her, wrapping an arm around her as he squeezes her tightly. “Great set. I love that Elton John song.”
“Thanks,” she gushes, and I love the pink of her cheeks.
“Hey, so Caitlin said it’s cool. She isn’t going to meet us. She’s not feeling up to it.”