by Ciz, Alley
“Pick your poison.” Vince gestured to the games around them.
“Poison? Isn’t that what you usually say when asking someone what they want to drink, not what game they want to play?” They shed their coats, Vince hanging them on a hook on the wall.
“It is.” His arm went around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they made their way over to the open air hockey table she indicated, the smell of fresh soap and pine making her heady. “But you may get venomous when I kick your ass.”
“Oh, so sure of yourself, Muffin.” He let out a snort. “How do you know I’m not an air hockey savant?”
“Are you?” One black brow lifted.
“No.” Her palm wrapped around the nub of the striker, her fingers curling under the protective plastic ridge on the sides. “But doesn’t mean I’m going to let you win.”
Feeding quarters into the game, the air blew out of the tiny holes along the surface of the table, the plastic disk dropped down, and the battle was on. The first game Vince crushed her, throwing his arms up in victory, running around the table in celebration in a very unsportsmanlike manner.
She was rolling her eyes at his ridiculous celebration when he hooked an arm around her middle, pulling her in for a quick but thorough kiss.
While they played, they talked. It amazed her that they still had things to learn about each other after hanging out almost every day.
It was a night of random facts.
He and Jase were the reigning hot dog eating champions in the group’s Fourth of July competition, and she knew the episode names for all two hundred and thirty-six episodes of Friends.
They jumped right in to game two but were interrupted periodically by people stopping by for an autograph or a selfie with Vince.
“I’m sorry.” He was adorable, grabbing the back of his neck, looking down and toeing the floor with his gray sneaker. She should be focused on his apology but she was distracted by the popping biceps against the seam of his shirt.
“Huh?” she asked in a lust-dazed stupor.
“I said I was sorry about all the interruptions. When I planned tonight, I was thinking more of how low-key this place is, but forgot about how I sometimes get recognized more when I have an upcoming fight.”
He wasn’t bragging. If he had been, she would have been turned off, but he spoke as if stating a simple fact.
“It was actually fun to watch you interact with most of them. You’re really good with people.” With his personable demeanor, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to see he was a natural with his fans.
“Thanks.” Again he grabbed the back of his neck as he gave her a sheepish grin. “It doesn’t get old. I’ll never forget the first time I was recognized, it was so fucking cool.”
“Tell me about it?”
“It was here.” He pushed in the quarters needed to start their third game. “We were sitting over there.” He pointed to a section of pub tables across the room. “I had graduated a few months before and started doing the fighting thing full-time.”
He dropped the plastic disc on the table and sent it sailing in her direction, using the conversation to distract her from defending.
She huffed as she retrieved it from the slot on her side of the table. Not wanting to give up any more gimmes, she held onto it while motioning for him to continue.
“It was Ryan’s first season with the Blizzards. We were all here to watch one of his away games.” His eyes got a faraway look in them as he got lost in the memory. “So this guy—Eddie was his name—comes up to us, looking so green I thought he was going to puke.”
“Nerves?” She couldn’t hold back a giggle at the picture he painted.
“Yup.” He flashed that damn smirk as he nodded. “To be fair, we were here with like half the Titan hockey team, so we made for an intimidating group.”
She could understand that. But within five minutes of a person talking to any of them, all those feelings melted away. They were quickly becoming the family she never felt she had.
“So, my man Eddie goes, Are you Vince Steele and I’m like yes, all questioning and skeptical like.”
“You mean you were sarcastic? Gah, that’s so hard to believe.”
“You’re one to talk you know that right, Cupcake?”
Why do I like it when he calls me that so much?
After staring moony-eyed at each other too long, he gestured for her to drop the disc.
“What happened after you tried to kill Eddie with sarcasm?”
“Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle.” Vince stretched his hand across the table.
It was this, his goofiness and ability to not take things too seriously that made the crushing weight of her family, their expectations, their demands lift.
“But let’s see…oh, yeah.” He snapped his fingers with the memory. “So Eddie is still standing there, staring, not saying a word. And I’m like, Spit it out, bro, I don’t bite.” He braced himself on the edge of the table, those drool-worthy forearms flexing. “But, for you, Cupcake.” He leveled her with a searing look. “I can’t make the same promise.”
Sweet reindeer games, that smile spells trouble.
“Eventually, Eddie told us how he recognized me from one of my undercard fights—fucking surreal.”
“Did you offer to give him an autograph?”
“No.” His response surprised her. It didn’t fit with the humble man he’d been all night. “Wait—I mean I did give him an autograph. But the first thing I did was hug him. Almost took him to the ground I was so enthusiastic.”
Now that was the Vince she knew.
The focus shifted back to their game where he kicked her butt again.
“I still say you cheat.” She pouted as he looped his arms around her middle, crossed his hands at the wrists, resting them on the top curve of her ass.
“How’s that, Cupcake?”
“You’re best friends with a hockey player. He must have rubbed off on you or something.”
There were the tiniest flecks of blue that sparkled in his eyes when he laughed. His deep chuckle rumbled through where their bodies touched.
“Oh, honey. I can gua-ran-damn-tee that neither Jase nor any of the other puck heads have rubbed off on me.”
“Eww.” She thunked her head against his chest. His rock-hard, can I lick one of your toffee colored nipples chest. “So not what I meant.”
“I know. Besides…” He bent to speak in her ear. His warm breath sent a fresh bolt of electricity down her spine. “I’d much rather rub against you, seeing as it was so much fun the first time.”
Her entire body flushed at the memory.
“Come on, Cupcake. Let’s see if you’re any better at darts than you are at air hockey.”
VINCE STOPPED to grab a set of darts from behind the bar, before rejoining Holly in the alcove by the boards. With her back to him, he took a moment to admire the way her legs looked encased in her leather leggings, a little disappointed her shirt got in the way of him paying proper respect to her spectacular ass.
Only a few hours into their date, everything he had been feeling had been confirmed and solidified. It might be a cliche and it made him feel like one of Maddey’s romance heroes in real life, but he was falling hard and fast for the pretty baker.
Turned out, finding a woman he wanted to bring home for family dinner wasn’t the hard part. No, it was actually convincing her they were meant to be.
Good thing he never backed down from a challenge.
Ever.
“All right, Cupcake.” He spoke as he came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her body to bring her back flush to his front. He was so much larger that when he spread his hand, it covered her entire stomach. “Let’s see how good your aim is.”
Over the course of their time together, he had gradually ramped up the amount of physical contact they had. With her history, he knew he pushed her limits, but she never shied away.
She tipped her head back onto his chest, her cognac and pu
rple hair fanning out as she tried to meet his eyes over her shoulder.
She was so fucking beautiful he could look at her all night without saying a word.
“You’re a real charmer, Muffin. Did you know that?”
God, the mouth on her. It was witty and delicious and looked like it was made to be wrapped around a dick. His dick in particular. That precise fantasy practically played on a loop while he had daily dates with Handgela since he found her hiding out in the EP kitchen.
“You’re really gonna hurt my street cred calling me Muffin, babe.”
“Would you rather I call you Stud?” Her lips pursed at the end of the question, and every good intention he had of waiting until the end of the night to really lay one on her flew out the window.
His hand coasted up her body, his palm brushing against her erect nipples on the way to cupping the side of her face. His thumb hooked across her chin, while his other four fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, keeping her in place for his mouth to drop onto hers.
She sighed at the contact, her tongue brushing along his. Everything else around him faded out of focus as he got lost in the tartness he could taste left over from the lime in her club soda. She had chosen to abstain since he didn’t drink during camp.
He was on the verge of tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to their building like a caveman to have his wicked way. Knowing they had already skipped ahead a few rounds in their relationship a few weeks ago, he pulled away before acting on those animalistic urges. He couldn’t take her to bed until he knew she was on the same page as him. Because he was in—all in.
Between the last few hours of their date, as well as the time they'd spent recently, he had learned a lot about her. But there was still this niggling sense she was holding something back.
Something big.
Though she told stories of her and Kyle growing up, she barely mentioned the five years since they separated for college—Kyle to Princeton and her to The Institute of Culinary Education.
There was a burning desire to know all of her secrets, but he didn’t want to spoil the best date he had ever been on by probing. It was a conversation meant for a later date.
They broke apart, both their breaths labored as she looked at him with the same dazed expression he was sure he wore. Not once had he experienced this raging inferno of desire for a woman, especially after just a kiss. If he burned any hotter, he’d combust on the spot.
Like a bucket of cold water, someone behind him asked if he was in fact Vince Steele. Externally he smiled and was pleasant while internally he cursed himself for coming to The Ring. Jimmy hosted fight nights whenever the UFC had a fight, he should have known there was a good chance he'd be recognized with all the promotion both the UFC and ATS had him doing to generate buzz.
It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize to Holly again, but she waved him off before he could speak, offering to take the picture so the guy and all his buddies could be in the shot.
“I appreciate the support, guys,” he said as she handed back the phone. “Now you have a good night. It’s time for me to school my girl in darts.”
“YOUR GIRL?” HOLLY arched a brow as a shit-eating grin, dimple and all, spread across Vince’s too handsome face.
“Oh, Cupcake. You know it’s true. You’ve been mine since the day you saved me from my sister’s pregnancy cravings. Even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
She swooned when he said things like that. He was so…confident. She shouldn’t want him. The last thing she needed was yet another person telling her what to do.
But that was the thing about Vince. Whenever he went full-on alpha on her, she felt wanted, protected—never controlled.
And worse, he wasn’t wrong. She was having so much fun on the date that she was starting to forget why she ever tried getting out of it.
Luckily, she did have experience playing darts. They settled on playing Cricket, a game focused on closing out the numbers fifteen through twenty on the board, as well as the bullseye, by hitting them three times. A player could finish a number faster by landing their dart in the double or triple lines circling the numbers on the board.
For most of the game, they were evenly matched…until Vince started playing dirty.
She lined up her next shot. She only had to hit the bullseye and the number eighteen, and the game would be hers. Then she felt the heat of Vince’s body behind her, not too close, only the barest brush of fabric as he leaned down to speak against the nape of her neck.
“Don’t miss, Hol.” A butterfly-soft kiss. “I only have one number to close out and I win.”
“Ye-Yeah…but you need all three hits of seventeen to win,” she stuttered out as her eyelids lowered, luxuriating in the brief touch of his sinful lips.
“Oh, baby.” His mouth tracked up to her ear. “One thing you should know about me.” His hips moved in to cradle her. “Multiples are my specialty.” A familiar bulge pressed into the cleft of her ass. “I can hit doubles and triples with you all night.”
It was officially Niagara Falls in her panties.
“You talk a big game.” She swallowed down the cupcake-sized ball of lust in her throat. “But it makes me wonder…is that all it is…talk?”
He made tsking noises with his tongue.
“Oh, Cupcake.” His chuckle was pure swagger. “The millisecond you admit you're mine as much as I am yours, it’s on.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Holly crooned along with Rascal Flatts as they sang about being home for Christmas while putting the finishing touches on the last of the Thanksgiving orders. The cookie turkeys, pilgrim hats, pumpkins, and fall leaves had become a fixture inside the kitchen.
Vince continued his daily visits as well as her self-defense lessons. The only change to their relationship since their date was the nights they hung out together. He teased her mercilessly, whispering dirty promises of what he would do to her once she agreed to be his girlfriend.
The funny thing was, if he just asked her to be his girlfriend instead of telling her, she would accept. Like with their date, he’d yet to figure it out.
She was supposed to be keeping her distance, focusing on figuring out who she was as an individual—then maybe her future—but she couldn’t stay away. He was the Santa to her Mrs. Claus, the top hat to her Frosty, bringing a sense of magic to her life she didn’t think existed outside of the romance novels she loved.
“Mmm,” Vince said into the curve of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Since their date, he took this position more than the one by the door. “Smells so good. You have no idea how bad I want to eat one of your cookies.”
“Now…when you say cookie”—she picked up one of the turkeys and waved it near his nose—“do you mean one of these or do you mean my cookie?”
“Fuck, Cupcake.” His teeth bit into the skin of her shoulder. “I get so hard when you talk dirty to me.” To prove his point, he ground the rolling pin in his pants against her, making her moan in appreciation. He was an expert level tease.
He had drawn a metaphorical line in the icing on anything past second base, but damn if the guy wasn’t playing jump rope with it when he teased her.
“Vince.” His name was a breathy plea as her head tipped back onto his chest. The paintbrush she used for detailing clattered onto the counter.
“Oh my god. You guys really do have kitchen sex back here.” Maddey’s voice melted the sexual tension around them like a snowman in Hawaii. “Just try and keep it off the scones I love, and we’ll be okay.”
“Maddey!” she screeched. Of course they had never been caught actually having sex, but she lost count of the number of times they’d been caught canoodling.
“Madz.” Vince chuckled. He thought it was hilarious when people caught them. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I needed someplace private for my Skype call.” She pointed to the open laptop in her hands as the telltale ring sound
ed from it. The biggest smile Holly had ever seen bloomed across Maddey’s face. “What’s up, losers?”
“Tink!” a chorus of deep male voices bellowed from the speakers.
“Ohmygodthisissoawesome.” Maddey’s words bled together in excitement. “I never get to talk to all of you at the same time.”
Holly pointed to a clear spot on the counter for Maddey to set her Mac on, kicking over a stool to sit on. As she did, she caught sight of three good-looking guys dressed in desert uniforms.
“Seriously, what the hell do you guys put in the water in this state? I don’t think I’ve met one person you guys know or are related to that isn’t hot,” she observed as all three sets of eyes on the screen tracked to where she stood inside the camera’s sight lines.
“Well, hello, beautiful,” a guy with brown hair and green eyes said to her. He had to be one of Maddey’s brothers because he looked a lot like Justin.
Was that a growl? She whipped around to face Vince as he stalked to her. His gray eyes were stormy as someone tried to move in on his territory. Boys could be so dumb at times.
"Guys, this is Holly. Holly, these are my brothers, Tyler and Connor, and our friend Dex," Maddey said.
“Back off, Con,” Vince said to the guy on the screen, wrapping his arms around her. “This one’s taken.”
“Vin. Dude. Shouldn’t you be training so you can kick some major ass next month?”
“Guy’s gotta eat. You know Gem is just as strict as my dad is. Can’t be slacking on nutrition.”
“Nope. No way.” Maddey waggled a finger back and forth in a no-no gesture. “You are not bogarting my phone call with my brothers. Uh-uh.” She shooed him with her hands. “Go away. Go back to sexing up your girlfriend. I never get them all in one place and I’m taking full advantage.”
For once, Vince didn’t take the opening, instead keeping them so they could be part of the conversation. Maddey rolled her eyes but turned back to her computer screen, shit-eating grin still in place.
“So when do you idiots get leave again?”
Holly had a feeling her friend had more than platonic feelings for Dex. It was a hunch based on some of her books.
