She glanced at my swollen knuckles where bruises were already blossoming but made no comment. The breeze picked up, rustling the fields of hops surrounding the brewery and carrying with it the scent of fried food. Barking erupted behind me, starting up a chorus of howls.
After a moment, Hazel cleared her throat and said, “Today’s event was meant to help our older animal population.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I’d offered to volunteer, but she’d assured me that between her, Penny, and Donna, everything was under control.
“Right, well, rescue dogs over the age of seven are often considered unadoptable, since most families prefer pets that will be a part of their lives for many years, but I thought that this bunch would have better odds because—”
“Because of the shelter’s recent positive press?” I finished for her, my concern growing.
Hazel nodded, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “But as you can see, we’ve had a less-than-enthusiastic turnout.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty dead here.”
“I know it’s your day off, but I was hoping you’d . . .” Hazel bit her lip and looked away. When she met my gaze again, her eyes were glassy. I wanted to pull her into my arms, comfort her, but I refrained. She was clearly embarrassed about contacting me, and I didn’t want to push. “I was hoping you’d be willing to spread the word about the event on your social media, maybe even contact the press the way you did with the pet supply delivery?”
“So, basically you’re conceding that you need me,” I teased.
Hazel huffed and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face. “Are you really going to make me admit it out loud?”
“There’s a lot I’d like to hear come out of your mouth, Hazel Grant, but we can start with this,” I said, stepping into her space. Her breath caught in her throat, her pupils dilating, and my desire to touch her, kiss her, only intensified.
“Okay, fine, I need you,” she said, warmth flooding her cheeks. I grinned—Hazel had zero poker face.
“Hazel, I don’t know your tastes, but when it involves Lalonde, be careful what you wish for,” Tony shouted from where he was kneeling in the grass beside an open crate with Sausage and Beans cradled in his arms, both dachshunds manically licking his chin.
What a sucker. At least Hazel could rest assured that these two dogs had found themselves a new home.
“Tell you what,” I said, turning back toward her. “I’ll do you one better than simply posting about the meet and greet on my social media.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Just watch and be amazed as your one and only FIGJAM works his magic.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, but a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. “Did you really just refer to yourself as FIGJAM, and in the third person no less?”
Winking, I hopped off the porch and walked over to Tony, explaining the plan to him. He put Sausage and Beans back in their crate and said, “She’s gonna fall in love with you for this.”
“You think?” I asked.
He snorted. “I’ll contact Olson and Fitzpatrick.”
I nodded. That meant persuading Stonestreet to come was my job. We hadn’t talked since the gala, but Gwen had said he’d gotten over our argument. I was about to discover if that was true. I called Logan’s cell, and he picked up on the third ring.
“Chris?” he said, the sound of clanking plates and loud conversation muffling his voice.
I covered my ear so I could hear him over the wind whistling through the trees and asked, “You busy?”
“Just left the broadcasting studio. Now doing the rounds at the steak house,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Feel like making a quick pit stop at a dog adoption event on your way home?”
Gwen had been right as usual, because thirty minutes later, Logan pulled into the lot with Dustin and Ben arriving soon after. I led the guys around to the beer garden, grinning at how Donna’s jaw dropped and the way Penny practically tripped over her own feet at the sight of us. Hazel stood motionless on the porch.
“So, how ’bout it, Grant? Think a bunch of Blizzards players can bring in the crowd you need?” I asked, spreading my arms wide. “We’ve all already posted about the event on our Facebook and Twitter accounts. Press should be here shortly.”
“I . . . I . . .” she started, at a loss for words.
Yeah, Hazel was definitely considering kissing me, and I was sure going to enjoy it later.
* * *
The last rays of sun disappeared behind the mountains as the final adoptee, a nine-year-old schnauzer named Ginger, curled into a ball in the back seat of her new owners’ Jeep. Hazel waved good-bye to the young couple as they drove away, and together we watched their taillights grow smaller as they vanished down the road.
Hazel turned and walked to the pile of equipment stacked behind the bumper of her Chevy Malibu. “I still can’t believe you not only convinced half the Blizzards’ offensive line to show up in support of the event, but each of you gave away signed jerseys to every person who adopted a pet.”
I scratched my jaw and smiled. “It’s about time we used our powers for good instead of evil.”
Shaking her head, Hazel popped open her trunk and loaded some supplies. “Because of you, every difficult-to-place elderly dog found a home. I’m pretty sure you’re actually a superhero in disguise.”
“Please keep up with the flattery. You know my self-esteem is fragile.” I was kidding, of course, but damn if her praise didn’t make me feel all tingly inside. “But really, me and the guys are always happy to help. Hell, Tony practically cried when you offered to let him keep Sausage and Beans.”
Hazel laughed. “Well, the dogs had clearly formed an attachment to him. Not to mention, Tony threatened to steal them if I didn’t concede.”
“Fair point. He’s already talking about smuggling the dachshunds into his carry-on luggage during away games. Should make for interesting TSA security screenings.” I grabbed one of the empty crates and began breaking it down.
She touched my arm, halting my movements. “What happened to your hand?”
I glanced down at my swollen, bruised knuckles. “Bad day at the office.”
“What happened?” she asked again, her eyes traveling over me as if she was reading a book. There was something discerning and welcoming in the depths of green that somehow always pulled the truth out of me.
“My agent called earlier . . .” I recounted the whole exchange, telling Hazel about the hearing. “But obviously I’m going to fight whatever punishment is handed down.”
“That’s one option,” she said, then hesitated. “But maybe it’s time you accepted real responsibility.”
Real responsibility?
“So you disagree with me opposing the commissioner’s decision if the outcome is a suspension, even though I haven’t done anything illegal?”
Hazel shrugged. “I mean, fighting the ruling is certainly what everyone expects you to do—”
“Well, yeah,” I cut her off. “There’s a difference between owning your actions and allowing someone to treat you like a punching bag for the sake of proving a point. And I refuse to be made an example.”
“Okay.”
That was it? Okay? How was it possible for a simple four-letter word to be loaded with so much resignation, so much disappointment?
“If it’s okay, then why do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice?” I asked. Why couldn’t she see my side in this?
“I just think it’s time you finally learned that consequences apply to all of us, even the invincible Chris Lalonde.” She reached for the crate in my hand. “Anyway, you don’t have to collapse all of these for me.” Conversation over. Subject changed. Just like that.
I moved the crate away from her grasp. “Hazel.”
“What?”
“I’m not leaving you alone to deal with all this.” I finished flattening the crate before adding it to the stack.
“Real
ly, it’s fine. You’ve more than earned your paycheck today.” Hazel picked up the box containing food and water bowls and dropped it onto the back seat of her car, avoiding my gaze the same way she’d avoided an argument moments ago. “And besides, I know you only came today because you felt obligated.”
“Obligated?” I shook my head. “Have you considered that me spending time at the shelter isn’t about that anymore?”
She looked at me, biting her lip. “Then what’s it about?”
“You really can be insufferable sometimes.” I captured Hazel’s wrist and drew her into me. Her cheeks were red and wind chapped, and she was close enough that I could smell the scent of smoke from the fire pit in her hair.
“I thought you specialized in insufferable,” she said, her eyes flicking to my lips, and I wondered if she was imagining all the ways I wanted to drag them across her skin, all the places I wanted to taste, stroke, touch.
“Among other things.” I slid my hand around to the nape of her neck, cradling her head in my palm, and leaned in, brushing my lips against hers. Teasing, promising, enticing. “Want to discover my other talents—”
“Hey, you two, are you celebrating with us or what?” Tony called, his voice echoing through the quiet parking lot.
I was going to throttle him for the interruption. I peered over at where Tony hovered in the entrance to the taproom, his tall, bulky form a dark silhouette against the blinding yellow light that showcased a sleeping Sausage and Beans draped over his massive forearms.
“God, he’s a mood killer,” I groaned.
Hazel sighed. “Go join the others for a beer. Penny and Donna can get rowdy when left to their own devices. I can handle the rest.”
“You two need help?” Tony asked above the loud, jovial noises now pouring out from the opened doorway and into the cool night air.
“Would you just go away already?” I yelled, then before Hazel could escape my grasp, I pulled her flush against me and kissed her, no longer willing to taunt or tempt. The time for playing games had passed. Now it was all-out war. Conquer. Claim. Consume.
I pinned her against the car, kissing her so thoroughly that Tony let loose a long, sharp whistle followed by a “My bad, bro,” before retreating back inside the taproom, plunging us into silence.
Tilting my face back just enough to give Hazel a bit of breathing space, I stared down at her, delighting in the furious flush climbing her neck, the way her eyes glinted with desire, how her chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. Most of all, I loved the way her fingernails dug little crescent moons into my forearms.
“So, you want to head in, have a few rounds with everyone, or . . .”
“Or?” she asked, her voice a high, thready thing that reminded me of a bird’s warble.
“Or we could clean up here, then go somewhere that’s not the parking lot of a brewery, and I could kiss you again. Like right here.” I pressed my lips against her forehead. “Or here.” I trailed my mouth along her jaw, enjoying the way her head automatically tipped to the side to grant me better access. “Or . . .” I slid my palm down her spine, resting it just above the curve of her ass, not wanting to push too far. “So what do you say?”
“Or. I definitely choose or,” she said with a breathy laugh.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hazel
My stomach was a tangle of nerves as I unlocked the front door to my house and led Chris inside. I still couldn’t believe I’d invited him over, but here he was, standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops in my living room and looking at me as though I was his favorite dessert. I forced myself not to fidget under the weight of his gaze.
I’d spent more time than I’d care to admit staring at Chris—as he cleaned the kennels at the shelter, as he hauled boxes of supplies to the storage area, even as he ran downfield, biceps pushing at the seams of his uniform, his ass and quads flexing with every lunge. But none of that could have prepared me for the sight of him now, his strength on full display in the most basic, primal way despite the clothes concealing his body. He was all broad shoulders and corded muscles and long, lean torso that tapered in at the waist.
And if Chris didn’t speak or move or touch me soon, the heavy ache seeping through my veins would consume me until I became a quivering puddle of need on the floor. It’d been years since I’d brought a man home, longer since that a man had meant anything significant to me. Now here I was, falling hard and fast and reckless, desperate for Chris to join me in the plunge.
When he continued to simply gaze at me, I cleared my throat and asked, “Do you want some water or—”
“Hazel, stop,” he said, shaking his head. “You didn’t overthink this in the parking lot, so don’t overthink it now.”
Chris crossed the distance between us, threading his fingers into my hair and pressing his mouth against mine, firmer than before. His kisses were slow, with just a hint of tongue, but they quickly turned frantic, his teeth dragging along my bottom lip. Blood rushed in my ears, and my heart fluttered like a trapped bird in my chest.
His hands wandered over my body, sliding down the length of my spine, over the curve of my hips and lower, gripping my butt. I gasped, my fingers curling and gathering the soft fabric of his sweater into my fists. He smiled against my lips then pulled away, trailing his mouth down the column of my neck, licking and sucking, coaxing my pulse to new heights and stealing a moan from my throat. The stubble covering his cheek made goose bumps prick up along my skin in a delighted shiver of anticipation.
Chris bent down and removed my shoes and socks, kissing each foot as he did, before discarding his own. And then he was guiding me through my house like he knew exactly where to go, even though he’d never been here before. A beat later, we were in my bedroom, my legs bumping against the edge of my mattress. Before I could process what was happening, Chris released his grasp on me. A devastatingly wicked grin stretched across his face.
“What?” I asked, relishing in the way the moonlight streaming in through the windows cast shadows across his face and illuminated him in a silver glow.
“Just taking you all in.” He shrugged, like every second he stood there without his callused, capable hands on me wasn’t another second of desperate longing threatening to devour me. Like he didn’t know how much I wanted to feel the weight of his body pressed against mine, feel him moving inside me, until everything faded away and it was just the two of us connected.
“I’m still clothed, Lalonde,” I said. I could see the shape of his length, hard and straining against his jeans, and my entire body clenched.
“Not for long.” He slipped his fingers beneath my blouse, his knuckles grazing the small of my back, below my belly button, across my ribs. The warm ache still seeping through me coiled low in my stomach. He clutched the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, torturously slow, exposing my pale skin and bra one excruciating inch at a time.
“Faster,” I gasped, my voice raspy. How had he already managed to so thoroughly undo me?
“Relax, Grant, I finally got you here. Let me enjoy it,” he said, dropping my blouse at my feet. Chris cupped my breasts through my bra’s delicate lace, his thumbs sweeping across my nipples, every stroke igniting a series of fireworks along my flesh.
I gripped his biceps to steady myself, the muscles taut and unforgiving, and murmured, “I thought you were incapable of slow.”
Chris skimmed his nose along my jaw until his lips brushed my ear. “On the field, but not with you. And especially not right now.” He unclasped my bra with an easy flick of his fingers, the flimsy fabric joining my shirt on the floor.
“This should go, too.” I grabbed the bottom of his sweater and tugged it over his head in one quick movement, lacking his patience. My eyes drank in the miles of tanned, smooth skin. That darn billboard on the highway should be ripped down—it wasn’t even close to an accurate depiction of the real thing.
My fingers roamed over the solid expanse of Chris’s pecs, his sculpted a
bs, the delicious V framing the sinewy muscle that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. God, it wasn’t fair for someone to look this good, this . . . untouchable. And yet Chris was here with me, giving me his undivided attention.
Without taking my gaze off him, I unbuckled his belt and slipped the leather strap out of the loops, flinging it behind me. As I reached for the fly on his jeans, Chris captured my wrists and said, “Not yet.”
He ducked his head to my nipple, tracing the peak with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, then did the same with the other side. I inhaled a sharp breath and wove my fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots. A groan escaped from deep in Chris’s throat, low and guttural, the sound sending a jolt of pure lust through me.
Chris reclaimed my lips, kissing me harder, and undid my pants, sliding the fabric over my hips with practiced ease. My underwear soon followed, leaving me completely naked. He leaned back, his dark, hooded eyes raking over my breasts, then dropping lower. I felt myself flush under the searing intensity of his stare.
Before the instinct to cover myself bubbled up, he moved his hand between my legs, his fingers traveling a slow, agonizing path up my thigh, stopping short of touching me where I was wet and yearning for him. I swore I was going to combust from his taunting.
“Chris,” I said, part wish, part plea, popping the button on his jeans and clumsily shoving the denim off his hips, grateful when gravity took over and the pants fell to the floor without further assistance. “Please . . .”
I swallowed, my throat scratchy and dry, my knees trembling. I sat on the edge of the mattress, running my shaking fingers down his chest and stomach, memorizing every groove and ridge and plane. When my fingers followed the trail of hair that vanished beneath his boxer briefs, Chris went stock-still, a curse escaping from between his clenched teeth.
“Hazel,” he said. “Don’t tease . . .”
The roughness of his voice crashed into me like a shipwreck, flooding me with a sense of calm and rightness. I looked up at where he was staring down at me, his expression serious, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he balled his fists at his sides. Chris wanted me as desperately as I wanted him, but he was holding himself back.
Rescuing the Receiver Page 15
