Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3)

by Jewel E. Ann

  “Yeah.”

  “You ice-skate?”

  He chuckles, crossing his veiny arms over his expansive chest. “I played hockey for years. I like finding adult leagues that let me jump in and substitute when they need someone. There’s open skating today, and Morgan loves to skate. She’s more of a figure skater. No interest in hockey.”

  “I played hockey too.”

  “You?” His thick brows lurch up his forehead.

  “Um … yeah. Why the look? Girls can play hockey too.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I mean … I know. I’m from Wisconsin. I know a lot of girls who played hockey or just ice-skated a lot in general. I just …” His head continues to shake. “I’m not sure why I’m surprised by this.”

  I turn around and lift the back of my hair so he can see the nape of my neck.

  “Damn … you have a tattoo.” He moves closer, inspecting the crisscrossed hockey sticks tattooed where no one sees them unless my hair is pulled up.

  I used to wear it in a ponytail or a messy bun a lot … when it was longer like Black Beauty’s. I turn back toward him. “For your information, I have more than one tattoo.” I smirk.

  He wets his lips and gives me the sexiest smirk. I feel it tickle deep in my belly and a little lower as well.

  “Is that so?”

  Returning a shaky chuckle, I step back. It’s too hot to be so close. “Yeah. It’s so.”

  Dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and his gaze down my body, he releases a deep hum. “Can’t wait to see them.”

  Condoms. Condoms. CONDOMS!

  “They’re not visible when I’m clothed.”

  His gaze makes a lazy retreat to mine. “What about in your bra and panties?”

  Biting back my smile, I shake my head slowly.

  “Well … fuck …” he whispers.

  I feel those whispered words like his tongue dragging along the most intimate parts of my body.

  When I make an effort to take yet another step backward, my backside hits the counter. My hands rest on either side, and I clear my throat. “Gabe! Come down here, please.”

  Nate smirks. He knows I’m desperate to end this moment. There’s just no need for me to let my hormonal body suffer another second under his gaze—the one who likes to stare at my hair and other parts of my body.

  “Yeah?” Gabe and Morgan head directly toward the fridge to get two bottles of juice.

  “Gabe. Did your dad ever teach you to ice-skate?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not great at it.”

  “Oh, Dad! Let’s take Gabe and Gracelyn with us.” Morgan’s plea to Nate is filled with her usual enthusiasm.

  “Too late, Squirt. I already came up with that idea.”

  “Yes! Gabe, wait until you see my dad. He could have played in the NHL. He’s so good.”

  A cocky grin settles onto Nate’s face. I don’t exactly hate it.

  Gabe shrugs. “Gracelyn has hockey sticks tattooed on the back of her neck. She and my dad played too, but she’s probably as good as your dad.”

  I frown at Gabe. “You’ve never seen me play. How can you jump to that horrible conclusion?”

  Gabe smirks behind his bottle of juice.

  “Oh! Let me see your tattoo? I want a tattoo so badly, but Dad says I have to wait until he’s dead. I know that’s just code for eighteen.”

  I turn and push my hair up again. The shorter length just barely covers it.

  “That is so cool. See, Dad, not all people who get tattoos are crazy.”

  Nate finds his own frown, giving Morgan a firm scowl. “Go get ready.”

  “Go change your clothes, Guac. I’m going to change mine.”

  They run off, leaving me to deal with a guy who abhors technology and possibly tattoos.

  “Crazy, huh?” I push off the counter and plant myself right in front of him.

  Peering down at me, his lips twitch. “If you didn’t think they’re a little crazy, then yours wouldn’t be hidden.”

  I got them in my early twenties. And their placement has a lot to do with my mom not seeing them. I didn’t think they were crazy at the time; I just didn’t want her to go crazy. They’re intimate. Very few people have seen all three of them. Brandon saw them a week after I got the last one. The unveiling was very seductive and led to a long night where he showed no signs of a weak heart.

  “Hmm…” my focus locks on his lips “…maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “What are they? A puck? Hearts? An infinity symbol with the name of your first love?”

  “You’ll never know. I’m going to change my clothes … maybe stare at my secret tattoos for a while.” I brush past him.

  “Fine,” he says, following me toward the stairs. “While I wait for everyone to get ready, I might go stare at my naked self in the mirror too.” He pushes open the door.

  At the last second, halfway up the stairs, I glance over my shoulder.

  “There it is.” He grins as if he was waiting for me to turn around.

  “Go before your head doesn’t fit through the doorway.” I continue up the stairs.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Come on, Guac. I’ll hold your hand.” Morgan grabs his hand. I’m not sure he needs her help, but he doesn’t pull away. Maybe he likes her more than he cares to admit.

  I finish lacing up my skates and stand while Nate follows right behind me. “Show me your moves, Elvis.” He stops at the threshold to the ice and waits for me to go first.

  “In all fairness, it’s been several years since I’ve been on the ice.” I tug my pink sweatshirt down, feeling a little self-conscious in my black leggings.

  Nate seems to like them. Whenever I look at him, he’s checking out my legs.

  “Stop with the excuses.” He nods for me to go.

  I roll my eyes and take off. There are only four other people here besides us. A man and a woman with their two girls who look a few years younger than Gabe and Morgan. They’re racing along the ice and spinning in circles like they came out of the womb doing toe jumps and salchows. The mom hangs out by the wall like she’s not too steady on skates while the dad glides with confidence, holding up his phone to record the girls.

  Thankfully, I feel confident even with the time lapse. Gabe has escaped Morgan’s hold on him, staying a few feet behind her as she skates forward and backward, talking his ear off.

  “How’s the ankle?” Nate catches up to me.

  I give him the side-eye and shrug. “It’s fine.”

  “Race you, Dad.” Morgan zooms up beside Nate.

  “One … two … go!” he yells before sprinting to the other side of the rink.

  “You didn’t say three! Cheater!” She chases after him. He slows up at the last minute to let her win.

  I turn and wait for Gabe. “So your dad did teach you to skate.”

  “Some. I like Rollerblading better.”

  “I like it too. We should do it together sometime.”

  Another shrug. “Okay.”

  “Lift me, Dad!” Morgan skates toward Nate, and he grabs her waist, lifting her above his head while skating backward. She stretches her arms and legs out in a long line.

  “That’s pretty cool,” Gabe mumbles.

  “Can you lift me up?” I ask.

  He snorts and shakes his head. “If you want to kill both of us.”

  “Did you see me, Guac?” Morgan rushes over toward us after Nate puts her down.

  “Yeah. I saw.” He totally downplays his reaction to her.

  “He gasped and said it was pretty cool.” I wink at Morgan.

  Her face lights up. Gabe shakes his head. “I did not.” He gives me a death glare before they skate off in the other direction.

  “I’ve been asked to get them soft pretzels,” Nate says as he rests his hand on the small of my back. “Come with me?”

  “Only if you’re buying me one too.”

  “That’s it … isn’t it?”

  As we step o
ff the ice and sit to take off our skates, I give him a quick glance. “What’s it?”

  “It’s not an infinity tattoo you have on your right butt cheek. It’s a pretzel.”

  I laugh. “Yes. With extra salt.”

  “I knew it.” He shoves his feet into his loosely laced sneakers and holds out his hand.

  I take it and let him pull me to my feet—way too close to his chest. A slight pause turns into a good ten seconds of just staring at each other. I make the responsible choice to nod my head toward the refreshment stand. “Pretzels.”

  Nate has a way of grinning at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. God … I hope not.

  “Four pretzels with salt,” Nate orders and pays.

  While we wait for the teenaged boy to get the pretzels for us, we stroll around by the cases filled with skates and other equipment to purchase.

  “I saved forever to buy my first pair of new skates.” Nate shakes his head. “My parents didn’t have a lot of money, so I burned through so many pairs of hand-me-downs from friends who seemed to get a new pair of skates every six months. I still remember how incredible it felt to stick my feet into a brand-new pair of skates.”

  I smile. “I bet you also remember how it felt to endure blisters while breaking in those new skates.”

  “That might be true too.” He chuckles as his hand brushes mine. His index finger clasps mine, and we just stand side by side peering at skates.

  “Here you go,” the kid from the counter calls.

  He curls his finger tighter around mine like he doesn’t want me to pull away as he leads me back to the counter.

  I’m on a man ban, yet I feel oddly disappointed when he does release my finger so we can each carry two pretzels toward an empty table—they are all empty since the couple and their two girls left.

  “Morgan!” Nate holds up a pretzel.

  I glance at my watch. “Do you realize they close in fifteen minutes?”

  “I do.” His lips contort like he’s fighting a grin, but his gaze stays on Morgan and Gabe heading our way. “Eat up,” he says to the kids and winks at me before disappearing around the corner toward the entrance.

  “Where’s he going?” Morgan asks with her mouth full.

  I shrug, taking a slow bite of the warm pretzel.

  A few minutes later, Nate returns. “Let’s do this, Elvis.” He’s carrying two sticks and a stack of pucks.

  “Do what?” I furrow my brow.

  “See who has the best shot.” He nods toward the rink and the guy placing a goal at one end and several cones in a line.

  “Yes! I bet my dad will win.”

  I frown at Morgan. She giggles, picking salt off her pretzel.

  Nate continues past me. “Chop, chop, Elvis.”

  I roll my eyes and take one last bite of pretzel before following Nate. We put our skates back on and step onto the ice.

  “Three shots each. You have to weave between those six cones and make your shot before the line.”

  “What does the winner get?” I stop a few yards before the first cone.

  “If you win, I’ll send you to the spa for a day.”

  A spa day perks me up a bit. “And if you win?”

  He smirks, shifting his gaze for a brief second to the kids eating pretzels. “I get to see your other tattoos.”

  I release a nervous laugh. “Um …”

  “What’s wrong? Are you worried I’m the better hockey player?”

  I shouldn’t have agreed to cut his hair. Just like I shouldn’t agree to this little competition, but I’m terrible at not doing what I shouldn’t do.

  “Deal.”

  Nate’s grin reaches his ears. “Fantastic. Ladies first.” He drops three pucks near my feet.

  I roll my neck a few times and hold my stick out, twisting my torso side to side a few times. “I could use a spa day. It better include a mani-pedi too.”

  “Anything your heart desires.” He winks.

  I glide the puck in and out of the cones and land my first shot in the net by an inch at best.

  Nate says nothing when I return to the start of the cones wearing a cocky grin.

  My speed picks up along with my confidence as I take the second puck through the cones and shoot my second shot right in the middle. “I want a hot stone massage … at least ninety minutes.” I toss him a wink as I skate in circles around him twice.

  “Watch it … I feel a choke coming on.”

  “Never.” I go full speed with the last puck, and it bounces off the crossbar.

  “So close.” Nate greets me with a devilish smirk.

  “It’s not over.” I feign confidence.

  “Oh … it’s over, Elvis.” Nate putzes his way around the cones and uses one hand to take his shot.

  Goal.

  “Luck,” I say, holding my head high.

  “Luck, huh?” He stickhandles the puck like a drunk guy before making another one-handed shot.

  Goal.

  “Do you want me to rub up against you … maybe my luck will rub off on you for next time.”

  “What happens if there’s a tie?” I tap my stick on the ice.

  “Tie goes to you.”

  “No. I don’t like that.” I twist my lips. “It’s a wash. No spa day. No tattoos.”

  “Sounds boring …” He skates backward, expertly maneuvering the puck through the cones without breaking eye contact with me. Then … because I’ve been a bit down on my luck anyway … he keeps his back to the goal and shoots.

  Son of a bitch.

  Nate doesn’t turn. Not one single glance back. He skates toward me knowing damn well he made the shot. “Time to go, kids.” He breezes by me, nabbing my stick.

  *

  My two unseen tattoos create this wedge between us. On the way home, we don’t speak to each other, just the kids. I feel his occasional sideways glance on me during the drive, but I close my eyes and ignore it, opting to focus on the breeze washing over me in his very cool convertible.

  “Can Gabe come over for dinner?” Morgan asks the second we climb out of the car.

  “Sure. I have fish we can grill. You guys good with fish?” Nate asks, his attention split equally between me and Gabe.

  “I like fish.” Gabe follows Morgan to the door.

  “What about you?” Nate smiles, letting his eyes make their usual slow inspection of my hair before his gaze inches down my body.

  I glance at my watch. “I actually have something I need to do. Rain check?”

  He glances at the sky. “Rain’s not predicted, but I’ll take one.”

  “Great. So … thanks for feeding Gabe.” I dig the key fob to the Land Rover out of my purse.

  “I take it I’ve been thoroughly vetted? You’re good with leaving Gabe with me.”

  “I don’t trust you, but I trust Morgan.” I give him a tight smile before turning and walking through the grass toward the SUV. “Send him home after dinner. I have a feeling he was up most of the night at his sleepover.”

  “Good mothering.”

  I glance at him as I climb in the Land Rover. Nate’s smile is genuine, and I think his compliment might be too.

  “Thanks.” I start to shut the door then stop. “Nate?”

  He stops his retreat to the house and turns.

  “I’m not prying. And I hope it’s not crossing a line to ask you this, but what color was your wife’s hair when she was pregnant with Morgan?”

  He squints, saying nothing for several seconds. “Uh … brunette. Why?”

  “No reason. Night.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nathaniel

  The following afternoon, I work on my book from my bed while Morgan knits in her room. She’s an expert knitter. Little do Gabe, Mr. Hans, and Gracelyn know … they’re getting knitted gifts before we head home in August, and Hunter’s getting something too.

  I angle myself away from plain sight when I see Gabe head toward the deck. A few seconds later, um … okay. I assumed th
e person sneaking under the deck would be Gracelyn, but it’s not. I move closer to the window but stay off to the side. The woman strips and shoves her clothes into a plastic bag before surveying the area to see if the coast is clear. Who is this …?

  “Whoa …” I whisper. It’s Gracelyn after all, but with red hair. Like Ed Sheeran red hair, which is actually more orange looking. She curls it behind her ear on one side and dashes up the stairs.

  “I’m going to Gabe’s!” Clearly I’m not the only one focused on their arrival.

  “Why don’t you play outside for a while? It’s nice.”

  “Ugh … fine. I’ll tell him we have to be outside … but only for an hour. I was outside most of the morning with Hunter and you know it.”

  “When did you start making the rules?” I yell downstairs, knowing she’s already halfway out the door.

  Click.

  I pretend she didn’t hear me, but I have a feeling she ignored me. She really needs to go back to nine and stay there forever. After capping my pen, I make my way downstairs. If I’m honest, I want them to play outside because I know it will bring my new redheaded neighbor out as well.

  The screen door creaks as I ease it open and peek around the corner. On cue … the three kids run onto the beach with a Frisbee and a volleyball. Gracelyn takes a seat on the porch swing, wearing a short blue sundress that looks incredible with her new hair color.

  As I approach the porch, she smiles. It’s a little more reserved than the smile I’m used to getting from her. “Love the new color.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure you do.” She averts her gaze to the kids as I take a seat on the swing next to her.

  “I take it you don’t like it.”

  She shrugs. “It’s fine.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  Angling her body to face me, she gives me that same tight smile. It’s weird, like she’s waiting for me to answer the very question I just asked.

  “I take it everything is not okay?” I say slowly.

  “Wow … look at you spending less time looking at my hair right now … my newly colored hair … in favor of meeting my gaze.” She points her index and middle fingers at her eyes.

  “I just said I like your hair.”