by Grey, S. R.
This totally sucks.
I need to get out of here, and fast.
I wiggle my discarded skirt back on, grab my purse, and hit the road.
I have a lot of thinking to do, like deciding if I should go out with Blake Cavaletti.
Is he worth taking the chance?
I feel like he is.
But one thing for sure, if I do go out with him, I absolutely cannot tell my brother.
No, Noel will flip.
Maybe I can just date Blake on the sly—see him whenever I want, even sleep with him, but not tell Noel.
He doesn’t need to know, right?
It could be over really fast.
Things sometimes fizzle out like that, even promising things like this.
Buttttt…if something were to develop, like way down the road, maybe, maybe then I’ll mention something to Noel.
For now, though, mum’s the word.
She’s Whose Sister?
Landen and I meet at the sandwich shop the team picked for us for our work meet and greet/lunch.
I order a grilled chicken salad, and Landen does the same, telling me he had a huge breakfast and that’s why he’s not eating anything too heavy.
Me, I want to save my appetite for dinner tonight with Noelle.
That is, if she’ll go with me.
I still have to ask.
I think she’ll say yes, though.
Why wouldn’t she?
Apart from her upset stomach, we had a fantastic time together.
When our salads arrive, Landen and I dig in.
Between bites, we talk about New York, our respective trades, and what we think about the Wolves as an organization.
“They’re fucking stellar so far,” Landen says. “They’ve been very welcoming. And from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, the Wolves are fully committed to winning.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that too. That’s really what it’s all about, right?” I set my fork down and swipe at my mouth with a napkin. “I am more than ready to lift Lord Stanley’s Cup.”
“Me too, bro,” Landen agrees. “Me fucking too.”
He peers off into the distance wistfully, probably imagining that very thing.
I know that I am.
Sighing, he says, “Hey, another cool thing we should be happy about is I think we’re playing on the same line.”
“Yeah”—I nod—“I heard that too. That should be fun.”
The next several minutes are spent finishing our meals.
Once I’m done, I push my plate aside and say, “So, do you know anyone else on the team?”
Wiping his mouth, Landen replies, “You mean besides you?”
I laugh. “Yeah, besides me.”
He thinks it over, then says, “No, not really. I mean, I know some of the guys in passing, having seen them at league functions and the like. But no one is what you’d call a friend. How about you? You know anyone?”
Leaning back, I say, “Yeah, there is one guy I’m friends with. His name is Noel Sandlund. I met him when we were over in Sweden earlier this summer.”
“That’s right. You played in the World Championships together, yeah?”
“We did,” I confirm. “We were both on Team USA.”
Landen nods. “That’s cool. I hear Noel’s a real stand-up guy.”
“He is,” I reply.
Landen then leans back in his chair and chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Just some crap I heard.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Rumor has it Noel is super protective of his twin sister. Don’t ever even think about going there. It’s a shame too, as she is one fine-ass woman. His twin is fucking gorgeous.”
“Huh.” My brow creases. “I didn’t even know Noel had a sister, let alone a twin.”
Landen makes a face. “I thought you said you two are friends?”
“We are.” I shrug. “But over in Sweden, it was like a whole different world. Everything back home felt far removed. Not to mention, we were laser-focused on hockey.”
“I could see where that would be the case.” Landen takes out his phone. “Still, you have to see a picture of this chick. You’re going to be shocked at how pretty she is.”
“I’m not surprised,” I reply. “Noel’s a good-looking guy. I’m sure his twin sister is cute.”
“Ha! Cute? You just wait.” Landen is scrolling through his phone, peering down at the screen. “Noel’s sister is more than fucking cute, man.” He stops scrolling. “Wait, here we go. I found a photo from when Noel took her to the hockey awards a couple of years ago.”
Landen turns his phone my way, and the second I see the image on the screen, I’m blurting out, “Fuck!”
It’s Noelle.
Noelle is Noel’s fucking sister!
And more than that, she’s his goddamn twin.
How did I not figure this out?
I should’ve put it together.
The names are so similar.
And there’s a definite resemblance.
Misunderstanding my stunned silence, Landen says, “Dude, I know. I had the same reaction first time I saw her. I told you she was hot.”
“That’s not it,” I reply, feeling like I’ve just been hit by a grenade. “I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous. But that’s not why I’m sitting here in total shock.”
Setting his phone down on the table, he asks, “Why do you look like that, then?”
Fuck, should I tell him?
Yeah, I have to share this with someone, and it sure as shit isn’t going to be Noel. Landen just told me he’s super protective of Noelle. I don’t need him to go from being my friend to being my enemy before the season even begins.
I’m here to help the Wolves, not make waves.
So, after blowing out a stuttered breath, I share the events of last night with Landen, including how Noelle and I didn’t discuss what we do for a living.
Sighing, I add, “My plan was to go home today and call her to ask her out to dinner. But now I’m not so sure that’s such a great idea.”
Landen shakes his head. “Shit. This is a tough situation, no doubt about it. But it’s not like you banged her last night.”
Laughing, I admit, “I wanted to. And she did too. We would’ve had sex for sure had she not gotten sick.”
“Fuck, I still would’ve hit that,” Landen murmurs.
I give him an are-you-for-real look, and he says, “Sorry, man.”
I’m not surprised at his comment; I’ve heard he’s a player.
It’s really none of my business, though.
Shrugging, I say, “It’s all right. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m confused, I guess, on how to navigate this development.”
Landen crosses his arms across his wide chest. “Let me help you figure it out, all right? You like this Noelle, huh?”
I nod.
“I mean beyond her bang-able potential,” he clarifies.
I roll my eyes at him. “Yes, yes, I like her. And not just because I want to fuck her, though there is that. More importantly, I feel like we connected, meaning I’d really like to get to know her better. From what we shared last night, she seems really cool.”
Landen tells me, “Then I say go for it.”
I nod. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I like to live like that anyway. Seize the moment and all that jazz, you know?”
He agrees, but then he wisely warns, “Maybe just don’t tell her brother.”
Great.
Like this doesn’t have the makings of a complete disaster.
We Have So Got This
After I’m done paying my tuition for the upcoming semester, I return to my townhouse. I stopped in earlier, just briefly to shower and change and grab a light breakfast, but now I finally have some time to relax.
Then again, maybe not, seeing as my phone is ringing.
“Who could that be?” I mutter as I dig around in my purse f
or the damn thing. “I hate actual calls. Everyone knows I respond better to texts.”
It’s true.
My friends are all aware of that fact.
So who could this be?
I look at the screen.
Ah, it’s Blake.
That explains things.
I start smiling like crazy.
Suddenly, I love phone calls.
As my thumb hovers over Answer, I think about how it’s probably time to come clean that I know who he is.
Oh, and I should probably let him know who my brother is.
Yeah, that might be wise.
This way he can prepare an adequate defense for when Noel finds out.
You know, way down the road.
I’m all set to be honest, but when I answer and the first words out of his mouth are “And how are you feeling today, Ms. Sandlund?” I realize Blake is fully aware of who my brother is.
Swallowing hard, I squeak out, “Uh, how’d you find out my last name?”
Blake chuckles. “It wasn’t hard, seeing as you share that same last name with one of the Wolves’ best hockey players.”
He’s being a bit of a smartass.
Ha, little does he know he’s met his match with me.
Smugly, I volley back, “Speaking of hockey players, it seems you’re one yourself, Mr. Cavaletti, former New York Ranger and now my brother’s teammate.”
“Ah,” he says quietly, “sounds like someone’s done a little homework of their own.”
“Not exactly,” I admit. “I have to confess—I went through your mail. All those Wolves letters on your dresser were begging to be checked out.”
“Shit, I forgot about those.”
“Clearly.” Coughing, I add, “You could have freaking told me last night who you are!”
I swear I feel him bristling over the line as he gruffly retorts, “As I recall, Ms. Sandlund, you were the one who said no job talk. Remember?”
Oops, he has me there.
“Uhhh, yes, there was that.”
He’s not done yet. “I was simply abiding by your rules, Noelle.”
Smug bastard.
Sighing, I admit, “It is kind of my fault I didn’t figure it out. The hockey sticks in your garage should’ve been a dead giveaway. And your favorite movie is that stupid Slap Shot film.”
“Hey!” he protests. “I’ll have you know that movie is a hockey classic. It is not stupid.”
Ignoring his commentary, I lament, “I can’t believe I missed the obvious clues. It must have been all that damn Chablis throwing me off.”
Turning much more understanding, Blake says, “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. I missed the clues too, and I didn’t even have any Chablis. Jesus, I don’t know how I didn’t pick up on the resemblance.”
I can’t resist retorting, “Probably because you were too focused on my tits and ass.”
Blake laughs, clearly unashamed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Oh my God, this man.
At least he’s honest.
Well, now he is.
Pretending to be outraged—because let’s face it, he could use a good dressing down—I admonish, “Blake, I can’t believe you just said that!”
He’s not fazed. “Why’s that, Noelle? I can’t be honest with you now?”
I sigh. “No, that’s not it.” I cover my face with my hand, take a deep breath, and ask, “So what do we do from here?”
“What do you want to do?” he asks. “Because I know what I want to do.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“I want to keep seeing you. In fact, I think we should start by going out to dinner tonight.”
I laugh. “Seriously? You want to go to dinner tonight?”
“Yes. Why wait? I like you. I like you a lot. And not just for your great tits and ass, though there are those to consider.”
“Blake…”
He sighs, then says, “In all seriousness, Noelle, I think you’re an incredible person. I like how we talked so late into the night. I like how we get along, and I like how we can joke with each other. All that makes me really want to get to know you better.”
I’m shocked by his honesty, but also rather pleased.
So much so that all I can mutter is an amazed, “Wow.”
“It’s true,” he states. “Everything I said I meant.”
“Well, I like you too, Blake.” I blow out a breath. “You’re different, but in a really good way.”
“So go out to dinner with me tonight, yeah?”
I groan. “I want to, but what about my brother? He’s not going to be happy about this.”
“He doesn’t need to know, Noelle.”
“I thought that too, but he’ll find out eventually. It’s inevitable.”
“So we’ll deal with it then.”
I give in, mainly because I really, really want to. “All right. Let’s do it. Let’s go out tonight.”
“Awesome,” Blake says. “No backing out, though, right?”
“Nope, no backing out. I’m not going to change my mind. Dinner is definitely on.”
“Good. So what time should I pick you up?”
“Is six okay for you?”
“Perfect. Text me your address, and I’ll make reservations someplace nice.”
“Great. I’ll text it to you as soon as we disconnect.”
Holy shit, this is really happening—I am going out on a date with Blake Cavaletti.
Noel, be damned.
I don’t know where we’re going for dinner specifically, because I didn’t think to ask when Blake and I were on the phone. But he did make mention of “reservations” and “someplace nice,” so I decide to go all out.
In order to look hopefully as hot and sexy as possible, I choose a black velvet minidress with long sleeves and a mock turtleneck, pair it with over-the-knee high heel boots, and blow out my hair to full volume. I don’t put it up like last night. I just let the blonde tresses flow down my back.
I think I look pretty good, so I’m not entirely surprised at Blake’s reaction when I open the door to my townhouse once he arrives.
“Wow,” he says, his deep brown eyes scanning me up and down appreciatively. “I can see why Noel is so overprotective of you.”
I smile. “I take it that means you like my outfit?”
“Like it?” He laughs. “I love it. But I like the woman wearing it a lot more.”
“Wow, thanks.” Blushing, I step aside. “Come on in. I’ll give you the quick tour. And trust me, it’ll be fast. My humble abode doesn’t compare to your giant house.”
Shaking his head and chuckling, Blake comes in.
While he’s busy glancing around at the living room, checking things out, I take a moment to check him out.
That face, that bod, that ass…
He looks super suave tonight in black dress slacks, shiny ebony shoes, and an ecru dress shirt and red tie.
After he’s done assessing my living room—and my perusal of him is complete, hee hee—I show him around, starting with the first floor.
“Here we have the kitchen, a small dining area, and, of course, the room you came into originally—the living room.”
Nodding as he takes everything in, he says, “This is very nice. The decorating suits you.”
“Actually, most everything is from IKEA,” I confess.
“Interesting. You and Noel really are into Sweden, huh?”
I shrug. “A little. Probably because of our Swedish ancestry, it appeals to us.”
“That makes sense. And by the way, you and Noel do look really Scandinavian.”
I laugh. “The blonde hair and blue eyes give us away, huh?”
Blake nods. “Plus, you’re both pretty tall.”
“Yes, there is that too.”
“Annnd,” he goes on, a sly grin in place, “people from Sweden tend to be particularly attractive. You certainly live up to that.”
My cheeks warm as I murmur, “Why
thank you, Blake.”
We continue with the tour, me leading him up the spiral staircase to show him the three bedrooms upstairs.
“The one to the left is a guest room,” I say once we’re at the top. “And straight ahead is my office. Or, really, I guess you could call it a study space.”
“Study space?” He raises a brow. “Are you a student?”
Shit, I forgot that he doesn’t know that.
“Yes.” I nod. “I’m finishing up my MBA at UNLV.”
“Ah, I see. So the work clothes were a ruse?”
“No, not at all.” I shake my head. “I’m working an internship this summer. I came straight from there yesterday. That’s why I still had on my work clothes.”
“Well, they were very attractive,” Blake tells me.
Smacking his arm—hey, any excuse to touch him, right?—I say, “You are such a flirt, Cavaletti.”
He raises a brow. “Should I stop?”
“Hell no. I like it.”
Turning to my right, I say, “So, to finish up with the tour, this is my bedroom.”
I open the door and Blake peers in, smiling as he takes in my rose-print comforter, salmon-colored floral drapes, and hot pink throw pillows.
“So here’s where all that pink resides, huh?” he says, chuckling. “You did mention that it’s your favorite color. I wondered where it’d show up.”
“Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered that.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans back against the wall. “I remember everything about last night, Noelle. Including how your lips felt on my neck, right before I was about to lean down and kiss you.”
“God, and then I got sick.” I close my eyes, leaning against the wall across from him. “Talk about royally screwing up a moment.”
“There can be other moments,” he states softly.
I dare to open my eyes, only to find his are boring into mine, his dark browns smoldering with desire.
“Can there be?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“When?”
He takes a step toward me. “How about right now?”
I let out a little mewl, an assent, and he’s on me, his lips capturing mine in a kiss long overdue.
It’s so good, kissing Blake, better than I expected. It’s a hot, wet, pure delight.
And it makes me want so much more.
