“Ainsley and Chooch are…” She seems to search for the right words. “Not together right now, but Avery invited her because she was here last time we did this and, you know…”
“Superstition,” I finish for her and roll my eyes. “He’s an idiot.”
Jessie shrugs but nods. Then she changes the subject. “So how are things with Sebastian? I take it you’re rethinking your ban on hockey players?”
I can’t help but smile a little, but before I can answer, the bathroom door opens and the exotic beauty, who now has mascara slipping down her cheeks, is standing between us. “Do yourself a favor and don’t fall into his trap.”
Her dark eyes bore into me and I’m startled, to say the least. Jessie isn’t as stunned and she says cautiously, “Ainsley…don’t.”
Ainsley glances at her with hard eyes. “What? You’d rather this girl get blindsided than know the truth?”
“What truth?” Jessie counters.
“You know why I called you Dawn? I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, which I’m sure is what everyone assumes,” Ainsley confesses. “It’s because he was dating a girl named Dawn recently and he acted like it was incredibly serious. And a few weeks before Dawn showed up, he had Andie on his arm and acted like she was the one.”
As I absorb this news I suddenly feel off-kilter. Like I’ve been lied to or I’m the butt of a joke. Jessie steps closer, her arms folded angrily over her chest, and her eyes are sharp with the same emotion. “Ainsley, if you weren’t such a bitch, maybe you’d still have a relationship of your own. And FYI, trying to fuck up Sebastian’s isn’t going to win you any favors with Chooch or anyone else.”
Jessie’s vicious words don’t seem to bother Ainsley. She lets a hard laugh escape her lips. “You think I was always a bitch? You don’t think I became this way because of this life?” She turns her focus back to me and continues to enlighten me. “Sebastian used to be a manwhore like the rest of them. Just like her precious Jordan. Before Jessie, Jordan fucked half of Seattle. Seb fucked the other half. Now he’s serial dating his way through whatever is left.”
Jessie rolls her eyes, but doesn’t contest the part about her fiancé. Wow. If that’s true, how is she okay with that? How does she trust that Jordan isn’t still increasing his numbers behind her back? And oh my God, is Seb really doing that? Am I just another number in his experiment with monogamy?
Ainsley pauses and something flickers behind her dark eyes as she wipes at the mascara streaks on her cheeks. “Maybe that’s the key…”
“Excuse me?” I can’t help but ask.
Her eyes land on me again but they’re bright with discovery. “Chooch and I have been together since we were fifteen. I’ve given up everything to be with him while he pursues his hockey career. And I’ve never been with anyone else, and he says he hasn’t either. Maybe that’s actually true…”
Jessie snorts in disbelief. “Maybe? It is true. Chooch was faithful to you, and you were a jealous bitch anyway.”
Ainsley turns to Jessie. “Maybe he needs to have a few flings and then he’ll come back to me. Like Jordan did with you.”
“That’s not what happened between Jordan and me,” Jessie fires back.
“Or maybe he’ll learn he doesn’t have to settle down. What happens on the road stays on the road,” I mutter, thinking of something I once heard one of my father’s teammates snidely say as my father chuckled and winked in response. “Maybe he’ll take you back, but he won’t be faithful. Do you want to live like that?”
Jessie looks at me with concern. “They’re not all like that.”
I don’t respond, but I know the look on my face says I don’t believe it…because I don’t think I do. Ainsley is clearly done with this fucked-up girl talk. She turns and walks back into the kitchen without a word to either of us.
Jessie and I watch her go, then look at each other. Jessie takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “That isn’t what happened between Jordan and me,” she starts calmly. “He didn’t dump me when we were kids so he could sow his wild oats.”
I don’t say anything, but I lift my eyebrows as if to say oh, really? Jessie smiles but it’s sad and her eyes take on a forlorn look. “I was the one who walked away from him. Because I was young and scared and I didn’t trust him. And my sister, Callie, had put it in my head that if I moved with Jordan instead of going to school in Arizona, I would be just like all those girls we hate.”
I blink. Her smile grows sheepish and she adds, “Silver Bay is full of girls who want to ride potential NHLers right out of town. And I may have been young, but I watched my mom get screwed over by a hockey player and I let all that fear and anger cloud my reality. I left him the first chance I got, before I ever even gave us a chance, over something he didn’t even do.”
I am speechless. And confused. I don’t know what to think. I mean…yeah, her story is easing the anger and panic Ainsley’s words about Seb’s past had started, but should they? She and Jordan aren’t Sebastian and me. Just because they have a happy ending doesn’t mean…
“I cost us a ton of time together and I try not to dwell on that because it would kill me if I did, but I never forget it either.” She leans forward and hugs me. It’s unexpected, and I bristle. Even though I know she’s just being nice—and honest—I’m feeling more and more dread and panic grow inside me.
What the hell am I doing? I know better than this. I never wanted to be part of this world. I worked my whole life to avoid this world. I suddenly want to be anywhere but here. I pull out of Jessie’s embrace and turn away. “I want to go. Thank you for the invite and the talk, but I just…I need to go. I need to think.”
“I’ll go get Seb.”
“No. I’ll cab it. It’s fine. Tell him I’ll call him later.”
“Shayne.”
“Bye,” I mumble as I open their front door.
I’m not even halfway down Jessie and Jordan’s winding driveway when I hear his heavy footsteps behind me. His arm wraps around my bicep, warm and oddly comforting, and he turns me toward him. He steps right into me, so our hips are grazing and our chests are against each other. This man really has no sense of personal space, and as usual it’s making me dizzy and hot.
“I’m not mad,” I blurt out. “I just don’t want to be here to help that asshole with his silly superstition and I need to think. I need to clear my head.”
“Of what?”
“Of you,” I reply honestly.
I bravely pull my gaze up to look into those unbelievable blue eyes. He’s staring back at me through those dark glasses with such a heated gaze. I can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, like it’s some act, or if he really, truly wants me so much that it just emanates from him. I want it to be the latter so badly it scares me. He’s a fucking hockey player with a past that exemplifies all my fears.
“I’m not just in your head,” he replies in a rough whisper. “I’m deeper than that. I’m in your veins. I’m in your blood. You can fight against it all you want, but I know you know it’s a losing battle.”
I pull my lips into my mouth, mostly to keep them from connecting with his, which are precariously close to mine. “We have to see where this goes,” he continues, his breath warm and inviting against my cheek. “Tu sais ça.”
“What?”
“You know that.”
“How is it that something as simple as those three words sounds like you’re asking me to take my clothes off?” I mutter back softly, trying to be my usual flippant self but feeling a little light-headed. “French is such a deceiving language.”
He smirks at that. It’s deep and playful and does even more to the space between my legs than his native tongue does. “I always want you to take your clothes off, no matter what language I’m speaking.”
He makes me feel so sexy and desirable and…did Dawn feel this way too? Andie? “When did you break up with Dawn?”
He pauses and pulls back the slightest little bit. “Are you going to
let me take you on that date I’ve planned or are you just going to go home alone?”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“I’ll answer your question if you get in my car and let me drive us to the date I planned,” he replies firmly.
I sigh. I can always jump out of the car at a stoplight or make him drive me home if I don’t like where this conversation goes, I think. So I shrug and turn toward his SUV. He follows beside me, his wide hand pressed to my lower back, just a fraction of an inch above my ass, and I find myself wishing he’d let it slide lower.
He opens my door, then gets in on the other side. As he starts to pull away from the curb I can’t help but ask. “What about chili night?”
“Fuck chili night and fuck Avery Westwood,” he grumbles. I can tell there is more to this than just his captain’s silly superstitions. I wonder what happened after I left the kitchen.
“So when did you break up with Dawn?”
“Before I met you,” he replies casually, but his brow is knitted behind his glasses and his full lips are almost pulled down in a frown.
“Okay. How long before you met me?”
I watch him as he concentrates on the road. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, hard, but he doesn’t respond. I’m thinking he’s not going to reply at all and the silence between us is growing thick. Finally he answers. “You think the answer is going to change how you feel about me?”
“Maybe.”
He lets out a hard huff of air through his nose at that and pushes his glasses up even though they weren’t sliding down his nose to begin with. Must be a nervous habit. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. Or what I feel for you.”
He still doesn’t answer the question and I glance out the windshield to assess where we are and how far I am from my neighborhood. Can I walk from here or do I need to call a cab? We’re down by the waterfront, near Pike Place Market. He slows to a stop at a red light, and he must know I’m about to bolt because his right hand leaves the steering wheel and lands on my upper thigh, clutching it firmly.
“You already know the answer or you wouldn’t be asking,” he says quietly as his fingers spread over my jeans, his pinky finger moving up, very close to the center of my body. Very close. “And you’re still here. Because it doesn’t change how you feel. It’s not making you any less drawn to me. Hearing me say it won’t change anything either.”
“I don’t know when. Ainsley just said—”
“Of course Ainsley is to blame for this.” Seb groans as he pulls forward as the light turns green, his hand still pressed to my inner thigh. “I’m so thankful that Chooch is finally ridding our lives of her.”
“So you’re all for just giving up and walking out on a serious relationship?”
“Don’t twist this around, Shay,” he warns as he pulls into a parking lot that borders the pier. He lets go of my thigh to pay the attendant and my leg suddenly feels cold. “I believe in long-term relationships. I want one. I just don’t believe in staying with someone who is a vicious bitch and makes you miserable.”
I say nothing as I watch him slip his wallet back into his jeans and maneuver the car into a parking spot. He jumps out and has my door open before I can even undo my seat belt. He wants to take my hand, like I’m some damsel who needs help getting out of the car. I swat his outstretched hand away and jump down of my own accord. Undaunted, he grabs my hand anyway and steers me to the back of the truck. Leaning down close to my ear, he whispers, “Always so feisty” before he opens the trunk and pulls out a canvas bag. I try to glimpse what’s inside, but he yanks it from my view and gives me a wink.
An internal debate wars inside me. He was with Dawn probably within days of taking me on the dryer. Hockey player or not, any guy who jumped that quickly from one relationship to another would make me want to avoid him. Was I supposed to be rebound sex? I guess even if that was the first intention, it didn’t exactly turn out that way, since I’m letting him lead me toward the pier, which is dark and looks abandoned. Even the big Ferris wheel at the end, a tourist trap, isn’t lit up.
Just as the realization passes through my brain, the wheel comes to life, the neon lines outlining it, glowing a bright, dazzling blue like his eyes. A guy is standing at the base of the wheel, where tourists usually line up for rides. He smiles at Sebastian and suddenly my step falters.
“We’re a little early, Mike,” Sebastian says, stepping forward and letting go of my hand to shake his. “Hope that’s not a problem.”
“You paid for the whole night.” The guy shrugs. “Not a problem at all.”
“What’s happening?” I ask in a rushed breath that I swear is nothing but adrenaline. Oh my God, did he reserve the Ferris wheel all night? For us?
“We’re going on a little ride,” he replies and puts the tote bag over his shoulder. “I want to excite you.”
The guy opens the gate to allow us onto the wheel and Sebastian steps forward, but I don’t move. I’m scared of heights. Not terrified or phobic, but scared enough that I avoid them as much as I can. He looks back at me, curious.
“Please do not let Ainsley’s poisoned mind ruin this.”
I swallow and shake my head. Before I can explain the truth, he blinks, and a challenging smile starts to part his lips. He gets it. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“Heights are not my thing.”
He chuckles; it’s low and rough and tickles me deep in my gut. “You said one-night stands weren’t your thing, and yet you enjoyed the hell out of it.” He winks and, fuck, I want to slap him and kiss him again—at the exact same time. “You should give this a try too. I dare you.”
He fucking dares me? What are we? Infants. “You’re a little shit.”
“A little shit you can trust,” he counters and takes my hand, tugging my whole body with him as he walks through the gate and into one of the enclosed buckets. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For some insane reason, I let him pull me in with him. My knees are shaking and it feels like my blood is rushing much too quickly through my body. I really don’t like heights. He pulls me down gently onto the seat beside him and lets his lips graze my cheek softly. I hear him breathe in heavily as he nuzzles my hair fleetingly and it makes me shudder. He positions his bag on the floor between his feet and gives Mike a one-minute sign with his hand.
The seat is hard and cold and I stare at Sebastian as he digs around in the tote bag, and I try not to panic. He pulls out a large, soft, gray cashmere throw blanket and begins to drape it over both of us. I smooth my half over my lap. It’s as soft as a cloud. Seb digs back in his bag and comes out with a thermos and two metal camping mugs. He hands me one of the mugs as he unscrews the lid on the thermos. Steam curls up from it and he beckons for me to hold out my mug. As he pours the steaming liquid into my mug, the scent of chocolate fills my nostrils. And something else…something with a sharper scent.
He gives me a deep, almost dark smile and whispers. “Bailey’s and hot chocolate. It’ll keep you warm and calm your nerves.”
With the thermos stored back in the bag and both our mugs filled, he turns to Mike and nods. Mike walks over to the controls. I feel a rush of fear. “Sebastian, I don’t know about this…”
His eyes lock with mine and he smiles, but it’s smug. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my full name.”
Is it?
He leans closer; his lips brush my jaw. “You should say it next time you come.”
The wheel lurches forward and I let out a squeak of panic. He slides closer so our bodies are pressed to each other and his arm is around my shoulders. I feel instantly warmer and instantly calmer. Not totally relaxed but much better than a second ago. We both take a sip of our hot chocolate. It’s delicious. And the Bailey’s leaves a soothing warm trail down my throat on its way to my belly.
I keep my eyes on him, refusing to look out at our surroundings, which I’m sure are inching farther and far
ther away as the wheel chugs upward. He notices my intense, focused stare and grins his sexy, panty-wetting grin. “You’re honestly scared, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I argue, and his grin deepens because it’s ridiculous. Fear is plastered all over my face, I know it. “I just am not a big fan of heights.”
His grin is cocky and slightly arrogant. “I found something that throws you off balance. I like it.”
“I’m not off balance, Frenchie,” I retort to prove I’m just fine. Which I am so not. As I realize there is nothing in my peripheral vision but inky, black sky—the lights from the peer and the parking lot are gone—I press my hands harder against the warm mug to keep them from shaking.
“Look at the view,” he demands quietly, turning his face to scan the horizon. “It’s very pretty.”
“So are you,” I argue. “So I’ll keep my eyes where they are.”
His deep belly laugh fills the chilly air and causes the bucket we’re in to shake. My heart lurches and tightens in fear. I reach out and grab his knee. “Stop!”
He laughs harder, and I grip his knee so tightly it hurts my fingers. He uses his arm around my shoulders to pull me closer and nuzzles his face against my neck. I know he’s technically clean-shaven but it’s rough and gives me a delicious tickle anyway. My fear dims ever so slightly. “You must be terrified if you’re willing to hand me a compliment to keep from facing your fear.”
His words are dripping with such smug egotism I’m surprised they aren’t making a puddle at our feet. My competitive side roars to life, which also helps quell my fear. I am not going to let him feel like he’s got something over me here. “It’s got to be the lack of light. You look much better in the dark.”
He didn’t see that zinger coming and it shows as his cocky little grin slips, but then he laughs again and the bucket we’re in—now a million feet above the ground—rocks again. I make a weird little sound—like a gurgle of fear—and clutch his leg again, this time much higher than his knee. His laughter stops instantly. “Ma belle, if your hand gets any higher you’re going to death grip something that will ruin the night for both of us.”
Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4) Page 20
