First, I would never hurt Annabelle like that. There wasn’t an orgasm in this world that was worth losing her.
But second, I wasn’t even tempted. It was a revelation, but the models weren’t even appealing to me. They lacked Annabelle’s lush curves. Their smiles were plastic and even their laughs were fake.
Annabelle was genuine in every emotion. She was real in every way. She was the kind of woman to build a life with. The kind to stand by you in the sun and the storm.
I grinned as the models flanked me on either side because this was about to be ridiculously easy. There was no sexual tension, no sly glances, no arousal. I may as well have been taking pictures with my teammates.
And speak of the devil, Logan and Cannon stood off to the side, both looking rather impatient.
“That’s great,” the photographer praised the girls who posed. “Connell, let’s go a little more serious? Maybe a smolder?”
“You should be doing this,” I teased Logan, who had been born with the face for this shit.
“Hell no. Never happening.” Logan shook his head.
“Smolder faster, MacDhuibh. We have a game to get to, just in case you’ve forgotten.” Cannon ordered dryly.
“Mr. MacDhuibh, the magazine reporter is here for his interview, too,” Sherry said with a grimace. “I’m so sorry that we’re behind schedule.”
“Jesus, it’s not like he needs his brain for the shoot. Just have him answer the fucking questions now,” Cannon snapped.
Sherry took one look at the tattoos that crept up his neck and stepped back.
“That would be fine, Sherry. Would you mind bringing him in?” I asked.
Logan shook his head at Cannon. “Man, stop scaring off the women. No wonder you’re single.”
“Women who are scared off by some ink and a growl aren’t worth my time. And I’m not after a relationship like you and the Scot. I’m quite happy rotating my bed partners.”
A brunette cocked her eyebrow at Cannon with a smile.
He gave her a once-over and nodded.
I sighed and looked back at the camera for more instructions from the photographer. I didn’t really give a fuck that Cannon slept with whomever he wanted. What I cared about was the uneasy feeling that it was just a symptom of a much larger, self-destructive pattern. Cannon wasn’t just the fastest skater on our team—or the NHL—he was a friend. A friend who would bring everyone down around him if that lit fuse in his eyes ever reached detonation.
“Mr. MacDhuibh!” the reporter said with a smile, taking out his recorder. “She said you wanted to tackle the interview while you’re shooting?” He gave the models an appreciative glance.
“If that’s okay, Mr. Perry?” A girl draped herself across my chest, and the smell of hairspray engulfed me.
“Sure! Call me John.”
“John, call me Connell.”
We shared a grin, and he shook his head. “Man, that’s some job you have.”
“It pays the bills,” I said with a shrug.
“Connell, if you could turn to the side?” the photographer asked. “Yes, just like that. Desiree, lift your head a little, sweetheart? There, now look up at him.”
Her blue eyes met mine, and we held the pose.
“Okay, now Connell, I want you to really channel desire into this shot. Put your hand at her lower back.”
Her bare back, since she was only wearing a matching bra and panty set with matching garters and stockings. My hand splayed wide across her skin, and I wanted to apologize to her—not just for my hands, but for an industry that required she be in such gettup outside her bedroom.
“It’s okay,” she assured me, gripping the lapels of my suit.
“Do I look that uncomfortable?”
“Kind of.” She crinkled her nose. “I’m fine. You’re fine. And this is way more than I was wearing in the last Vickie’s shoot.”
“Right. Good to know.”
“Connell, you look a little…” The photographer faded off.
“Like you’re holding your sister,” Cannon suggested.
Awesome.
“You have a girlfriend, right?” Desiree asked, looking up at me with fake lust in her eyes.
“Aye.” One that would be anything but happy if she saw how I was holding this model.
“Just pretend I’m her. Close your eyes. Picture her, open them and keep that feeling. It’s one or two clicks at most.” She nodded supportively.
“Okay.” I closed my eyes and pictured Annabelle in that sundress, up on her kitchen counter. Annabelle naked above me in my shower with her head thrown back as I licked her to an orgasm. Annabelle riding astride me, her eyes glazed and her lips parted.
Then I opened my eyes and focused on the area just above the girl’s eyes so the blue color didn’t completely fuck me up when all I wanted was deep, soft brown.
I heard the clicks and prayed he got what he wanted.
“Perfect. Okay, reset,” the photographer ordered.
The girls walked away for a second, and John came over. “Man, that’s intense. You ever tap any of that? Off the record, of course.”
“No,” I replied as I was moved into the center of the backdrop by an assistant with a light meter.
“Right. Okay, so on the record?”
“Still the same answer.”
John shook his head. “No, I meant, are you ready to start the interview? You know the feel of our magazine—very stylish. Very masculine.”
“I’ve read it.”
“Good. This issue is on success in sports. Basically a look at what makes you tick, what makes the long hours worth it.”
“Fire away,” I said as the girls finished doing whatever they were doing.
He started off asking about our hours, the away game schedules, and our pay. He moved on to the cars, the houses, and the women.
Ten minutes, a new suit, and what felt like thousands of pictures later, I grew impatient.
“Here’s the thing,” I told him as the models moved poses again. “Those questions might have really applied to me when I was in Miami, but the Reapers are a very...different atmosphere. Sure, we all have the nice cars and the great salaries. We’re all lucky to do what we love for a living. But it’s a much more family-centered team. Most of us live in the same neighborhood, and you don’t see the same...flash that I have on other teams.”
“And the women?” he asked as the girls flanked me for a group shot.
“I’m in a committed relationship with a woman I love and respect very much. A woman that I actually met because I’m a jackass, not because I’m a hockey player.”
“And does she care that you have six Victoria’s Secret models hanging off you right now?” He scanned the models with a grin.
“I’m sure it’s not her favorite part of dating me,” I answered truthfully. “But she trusts me with good reason. And from what I’ve seen, these lovely women are highly professional.”
It wasn’t like we were having an orgy in front of the camera for fuck’s sake.
“Right, but you have pretty much every man’s dream job, and you spend your days like this—next to the women every woman in America wants to be, and every American man wants to fuck. Are you telling me that you don’t...indulge?”
“I’m sorry?” My jaw locked.
“You guys are on the road so much, you must—”
Yeah, that was enough.
“Are you serious? First off, let’s remember that I’m not American. Yeah, okay,” I said in a mocking tone. “What, like we’re all the same, right? Us NHL players. We all fuck around on the road because our relationships are only to keep our beds warm at home and raise our kids, and hey, it’s not cheating if you’re in a different area code. Isn’t that the saying? I mean, what bampot could possibly resist all the beautiful women throwing themselves at us, right?” I glared at him.
“Something like that,” he said with a nod.
“Something like...ye can fuck right off,” I snap
ped. “You write for a highly respected men’s magazine,” I said, stepping away from the girls. “So have a little more respect for your audience. No, I don’t cheat on my girlfriend. I only indulge in her. It does count as cheating if you’re in a different area code, and I don’t know a single Reaper who fucks around on his woman. We all have the self control to walk away from available pussy because our women mean the entire world to us.”
I turned to the models who all stood gawking. “Not that you ladies aren’t lovely, but I happen to be madly in love with the woman I have waiting for me at home.”
“Totally get it,” Desiree said with a nod.
The brunette was already eyeing Cannon.
“So if we’re done here?” I asked John.
“Yeah...okay. Thank you for your time. You were my last interview, so the digital article will be up tomorrow and the print will be out in a few weeks.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Sarcasm practically dripped from my tone.
“Thanks. Uh, we still okay to use a couple of the shots?” he asked the photographer.
“Yeah, Armani is cool with it as long as you mention that it’s from this shoot. I’ll send you a few shots tonight.”
John muttered his thanks and walked out.
The models behind me clapped. “That was awesome!” Desiree laughed.
“Okay, ladies, last shot!” The photographer ordered. “Connell we need you to walk forward and girls you fall to the back. Yep, like that.”
I stood in front of the camera with a delighted smirk on my face because I’d meant every word I’d said to that misogynistic prick.
The photographer started snapping, and then said, “Now!”
The girls opened fire, and I was hit with streams of cold, water...no...champagne? I laughed hard as they sprayed me down. The pranker had been good and pranked.
“And we’re done!” The photographer announced.
An assistant—Vanessa—rushed at me with a soft towel, and I wiped the champagne off my face before drying my hair. “Sorry about that. We thought it might be more genuine if you didn’t know it was going to happen.”
“Quite alright,” I assured her as I dripped champagne onto the floor.
“She’s lucky, you know,” she said quietly, looking up at me without the blatant invitation she’d broadcast earlier.
“She?” I asked, ridding myself of my soaked jacket.
“Your girlfriend. We do shoots like this a lot and...well, she’s just really lucky.” She took the towel and the jacket from me.
“I assure you, I’m the lucky one.”
“And we will be the lucky ones if you get your ass out of that suit because we have a game!” Cannon shouted.
“Right. We have a game,” I agreed with a grin.
And in a couple of days, I’d get to go home to Annabelle. It took exactly five minutes to get into the suit I’d actually wear over to the arena, and two of those were to shower the liquor off me.
“Why the hell are you still grinning like an idiot?” Cannon asked as we rode the elevator to the lobby.
“Just happy, I guess. The love of a good woman will do that for you, right, Logan?”
“True,” he said, his eyes falling to his phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey, babe,” he said as his phone lit up with the facetime call.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cannon muttered.
“Hey! Can you see me?” Blair waved.
“Give me a second, we’re in the elevator.”
The doors dinged, and Logan walked out ahead of us.
“Did you hear me? I got a Birkin bag!” She lifted some kind of satchel to the screen.
“That’s nice,” Logan said as we made our way through the lobby. “You having fun shopping in Atlanta?”
“Yeah, it’s great! I still can’t believe you sent me with your credit card!”
At that, Cannon and I shared a look. He gave her his fucking credit card?
“No problem.”
“Babe, you don’t get it. They don’t just give these out. You can’t even buy them unless you’re someone.” Good God, the woman sounded like she’d just been given the Holy Grail.
“That’s...really great,” Logan assured her in a placating tone.
“They weren’t going to give one to me, but I happened to open my instagram page while I was at the Hermes store and left it just...sitting there with a picture of you, and then the sales consultant noticed.”
“Okay?” Logan’s voice shifted a little as we walked outside where the bus waited.
Fuck, we were ten minutes late.
“So then she recognized you and when she realized we’re together, she let me buy one! It was only like thirty-five, too!” She grinned.
“Thirty-five hundred? I don’t know much about bags. Is that good?”
Coach stood outside the bus with crossed arms, looking anything but pleased.
“What? No, thirty-five thousand. You said I didn’t have a limit, right? I mean, I’ll take it back if you want me to, but...I’ll never get another one. It would be so… But I’ll take it back if that’s what you want, babe.”
“No. It’s fine. You’re right, I said there wasn’t a limit. I’m just happy you’re happy. But I have to get on the bus now, babe. Game tonight, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right! Go win!” She made a kissing noise that I was more than happy to get away from as we got on the bus.
“Glad you decided that the game was as important as your photo shoot, Connell.” Coach lifted a brow at me.
“Yeah, sorry about that one,” I cringed.
“Get in your seats. All of you. Logan, get off the damned phone!”
I sat in the first empty seat I found, which was next to Sawyer. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Annabelle as we drove toward the rink.
Connell: Thank you for being you.
Annabelle: LOL. Who else would I be?
I thought about that call. About the way Blaire was blatantly using Logan’s celebrity. At least she made him happy, though. Right?
Connell: I just love you.
Annabelle: I love you, my Scotsman.
Annabelle: Play hard tonight. And remember that I’ll still do you if you lose.
I scoffed a laugh.
Connell: Good to know.
Annabelle: Now get home to me, would you?
Connell: Working on it, lass.
I put my phone away with a smile. “Is it harder now with away games, knowing that you have Echo?” I asked the kid to my left.
Like the four years between us made me old or something.
“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. “But it makes going home even better knowing she’s there.”
“That’s the truth.” I’d never looked forward to going home so much in my life.
“She’s crazy about you,” Sawyer told me with a solemn look. “Annabelle.”
“Thank God, because I’m crazy about her.”
“Good. Because if something happens and you end up hurting her…” he shook his head.
“I know, you’ll be honor bound to kick my ass. Don’t worry, I’ll let you get a few good punches in. But really, you don’t have to worry. I love her. There’s zero chance in this world I’d do anything to hurt Annabelle.”
“Thank God, because it wouldn't be me kicking your ass, it would be Echo.”
“That is a truly frightening thought.”
“She is a truly frightening woman,” he admitted with a smirk.
“Here’s to loving best friends.”
“May they never team up against us.”
I laughed. “Now that would be terrifying.”
“You two are giving me hives,” Cannon muttered from across the aisle.
“Just wait until it’s you,” Sawyer said with a tip of his head.
Cannon shot us a look and buried his face in whatever his book of the day was.
Truth was, I’d had the same reaction to that sentiment months ago...before Annabelle. And now I co
uldn't imagine my life without her. She was a lightning strike that set my world on fire and changed everything.
Personally, I couldn’t wait to watch that smug, sulking ass fall in love.
God help the girl.
16
Annabelle
“Love the reserve, Ms. Clarke!”
I paused my shopping cart in the cereal aisle, turning to smile at George Tankard, the general manager of Sweet Water grocery.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it, George,” I said.
“My grandkids visited from Florida last weekend,” he said. “I took them and they loved it. Said I have to take them every time they visit!”
“That’s wonderful.” My heart soared, pride filling my chest. The reserve was a wide success, already bringing in tourists from Charleston and beyond. I’d texted Connell yesterday with our first set of numbers, and he’d sent me a silly selfie to celebrate. The goofy photo was now the lock screen on my phone. It made me stupid-grin every time I saw it.
“I’ve got to check the stock in the back,” George said. “But let me know if you need anything special ordered.”
“Not this week, George,” I said. “But thank you so much for the offer.”
He nodded, and hustled past me. Sweet Water’s lone grocery store was well stocked but there were times I’d had to drive to Charleston to get a special item. George hated the idea and had offered to special order items for me ever since. City Clerk had its perks, or more likely, the small-town kindness of Sweet Water was to blame. Mercy, I loved this community.
I bit back my smile as I hunted for my favorite honey-flakes cereal. I was full of love these days. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been happier, and I had been the youngest city clerk to ever be elected to Sweet Water. This feeling inside me now? It squashed that, a feat I once thought impossible.
I had thought many things were impossible before Connell crashed into my life.
Like sex being something I craved on a daily basis.
I laughed, recalling our conversation at the bar months ago. When I’d argued that I could always do it better myself, so why waste time with the emotional drama of a man? What little I’d known then.
Connell had known, of course.
Connell (Carolina Reapers Book 3) Page 15
