by Elise Faber
Absolutely.
Anna tossed her phone onto the couch cushion then froze for one long moment, her heart thudding, her hands over her face.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” A groaning response to herself, but she was smiling, and if she’d actually acknowledged the floating feeling in her heart, she would have said that she was excited.
And hopeful.
And . . . really freaking underdressed.
“Shit!”
Anna jumped up and spun in a useless circle. She was wearing her oldest pajamas and even qualifying them as clothing was a stretch. The fabric was so thin near the seams that one wrong move would bring about their end. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t answer the door without putting on her robe, or else risk an arrest for public nudity.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
Yes, she was being dramatic.
But it was better to focus on a peep show and not the fact that she was meeting Blue.
Oh shit.
She had—she risked a peek at her cell—twenty-six minutes until she was supposed to meet Blue at the pier, and it was at least a twenty-minute Über ride.
What had she been thinking?
Not about how long it would take to make herself presentable, that was for sure.
Well, nothing to be done for it. She requested the ride before running for her bedroom.
Anna tore off her tank top and pants, letting them fall to the floor, then scrambled for a pair of jeans and a shirt that wouldn’t get her arrested. One minute to brush her tangled mat of hair and yank it up into a ponytail and another to slap on some mascara and lip gloss. A hurried grab for her purse, quickly locking up, before bolting down the stairs. She pushed out the front door of her building the same moment the car pulled up.
“Hi,” she said, breathless as she hopped into the back.
“How’s it going?” the driver asked and then didn’t give her a second to answer before proceeding to chat her ear off about his cousin’s niece’s daughter’s dance competition and how she was going to be featured on a new reality show for up-and-coming dancers.
Normally, the sheer volume of conversation would have driven her nuts—she preferred to scroll through her phone with the bare minimum of talking on her rides—but in this case, her driver was perfect.
She was ridiculously nervous, her palms sweaty, her heart pounding, and all but ready to test those “tuck and roll” skills she’d teased Blue about.
So the distraction was welcome.
And the twenty-minute drive felt like seconds.
“Here you are,” he said, pulling up to the curb. “You have a fun time.”
“Thanks.” She opened the door and pushed out, realizing that she hadn’t discussed with Blue where to meet. Her fingers were just reaching for her pocket, ready to extract her cell, when she felt a prickle on the back of her neck.
She spun around, and there he was.
All gorgeous and sexy as he leaned against a post near the entrance to the pier, way more attractive than he had any right to be in his blue jeans and navy tee. That man had a pair of thighs on him that made Anna’s mouth water, especially since the memory of him naked, those thighs flexing beneath her as he stroked into her was permanently imprinted on her brain.
She pulled at the collar of her shirt, needing a little air.
Blue came close. “It’s warm today in the city.”
“Uh-huh.”
Let him think that she was unused to the mid-seventy-degree weather. Better that than him realizing she was playing a repeat of their night like it was some mental porn flick.
Cute.
Bring me some fudge and a side of X-rated fucking, please.
“You okay?” He touched her arm.
Anna forced a smile. “I’m great. My brain is just a little mush from this test I’m studying for.”
“What class is it for?”
And just that easily, he relaxed her. Transforming her from a ball of nerves into a normal female who could hold a reasonable conversation. Plus, he’d also—at the same time as managing to get her to talk, listening to her story, laughing and commenting in the appropriate spots—somehow managed to lace her fingers with his and lead her to the boardwalk behind the line of popular shops.
By the time she’d whined her fill about tests and homework and the horrors of group projects, they were in a perfect position for sea lion viewing.
“Oh,” she sighed. “They’re adorable, aren’t they?”
“Beyond adorable.” He waggled his brows. “One might even say cute-tastic.”
“Who?” She made a face. “Who would say that?”
“A two-hundred-and-two-pound professional hockey player?”
She gaped. “You don’t weigh that much, do you?”
Blue gave her an affronted look and rubbed his hands across his stomach. “Don’t you dare judge me just because I have a Twinkie problem.”
“If Twinkies are known as the lean protein, whole grains, and greens diet Nutritionist Rebecca has you guys on.” She raised one brow. “Don’t forget that I’ve seen you naked. You don’t have an extra inch of fat anywhere on you.”
Indigo eyes heated. “Anywhere?”
Her cheeks were pink; she could feel it. “That’s not fat, and you know it.”
His smirk had her own lips tipping up in return. God, it felt good to laugh with someone.
“Is this the patented Anderson charm?”
More brow waggling. “It’s the patented Anderson something.”
She smacked him. “Well, take me and that patented Anderson something over to the fudge shop. I need chocolate and cookie dough.”
He grinned, lips moving, but his words were drowned out by a sudden cacophony of barking and splashing on the platforms below. Still, as they wove their way through tourists and shops alike, Anna thought that his words might have been something along the lines of, “Is that the way to your heart?”
If she’d had the chance to respond, she would have said, “Yes. But you’ll have to throw in some peanut butter, too.”
And somehow the fact that she even considered an answer, joking or not—because she did really love peanut butter—didn’t terrify her.
It should have terrified her.
But Anna found that with Blue’s fingers laced through hers, warm and firm and secure, she wasn’t scared.
In fact, for the first time in forever, she was hopeful.
Fourteen
Blue
He was as giddy as a teenager on his first date.
And he kind of was.
On his first date, that was.
Because strolling hand in hand through a tourist trap, sharing an ice cream cone after having downed a volume of fudge that would make Nutritionist Rebecca red with rage, had never been Blue’s idea of a good time.
But with Anna? It was everything.
She made him laugh, teasing him, busting his balls a bit, even got misty-eyed when a little girl ran right in front of them, yelling, “Daddy!” and was swept into her father’s arms for a big hug. So much range, he thought. Which wasn’t the right description, but he just didn’t know how he could have ever thought that she’d been cold and distant.
She felt so much, if you only knew how to see it.
He squeezed her hand, smiling down at her as he wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”
A sniff, but she leaned closer, her shoulder snuggling beneath his arm so their sides pressed together, rising on tiptoe so she could whisper in his ear. “Tell anyone and I’ll stab you with your own skate.”
He burst out laughing. “Come on, Killer. Let’s get some food that’s not just refined sugar before Nutritionist Rebecca puts me on an all-kale diet.”
“Speaking of the team,” she said. “Max mentioned that the roster is looking really good this season.”
“It is.” Under the guise of bypassing a large crowd of camera-toting tourist
s, Blue tugged Anna a little closer. “We have a nice mix of new talent and experience. Plus, I’ve never seen Brit play better. She’s really grown into a great goalie.”
“When’s your first game?”
He shrugged. “A couple of weeks. Preseason this weekend and a few more dotted in between.”
“You guys don’t play in those, right?” She tugged him across a street. “The restaurant is over here.”
Blue followed. “The team will play, of course, but it is mostly rookies and training camp guys who’ll fill the roster. Most of the main guys will take the rest before a long season.” A shrug. “I’ll try to hit one or two before the season officially starts, and depending on what Coach wants to do. It helps me find my legs.”
“Makes sense. You guys have been practicing, but that’s not the same as a game.”
“Exactly.” He pointed up at the sign, paint chipping, metal brackets almost rusted off. “So this is your place? The windows alone look like they’ll give me tetanus.”
She tsked. “There’s that chicken rearing its ugly head again.”
“You say chicken, I say smart enough to avoid food poisoning.”
“Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.”
“Hilarious,” he said, releasing her so he could pull open the door. “Come on, then. My poisoning awaits.”
Anna surprised him by brushing a kiss across his cheek as she moved past him. “But it will be delicious poison.”
Famous last words.
He got his wish to play in a preseason game the following week against the Flames.
It was a friendly match, with only a few glimpses of the intensity found in a regular game, but Blue relished the opportunity to get back on the ice, especially in front of a hometown crowd.
There was nothing like Gold fans, and the Gold Mine had become known as one of the loudest arenas in the NHL.
Even in the preseason, that was true, and Blue came off the ice that night on an adrenaline high that would have normally sent him straight to the bar to fuck off the extra energy.
Tonight, he could barely contain himself through the post-game talk, his Mandy-mandated—their trainer and sports medicine extraordinaire—cool-down routine, and the prescribed large glass of chocolate milk from Nutritionist Rebecca. The milk, especially with chocolate, had seemed crazy to him at first, but apparently it was scientific fact that the “magically delicious” substance was the best thing to drink after extreme physical exertion . . . or in his case, after a professional hockey game.
“Muscle fuel,” Nutritionist Rebecca had called it.
Blue was just happy that he didn’t have to drink those gross green shakes any longer.
Especially when it came to chugging it so he could get out of there—milk was infinitely more palatable than chunky, putrid green smoothies. He took one last gulp to finish off the glass then set it in the sink and took off for the showers.
“Blue?”
He turned to see Mandy, her baby asleep on one shoulder, and quickly closed the distance between them to carefully hug her. “I thought you were supposed to be on maternity leave for a little while longer.”
A shrug. “The season’s starting. I need to make sure the crew is in check.”
“As if that was ever a concern,” he teased.
She smiled, swaying slightly from side to side when little Madeline began to fuss. “It’s true. They’re doing great.”
“But you couldn’t stay away.”
“That much is true. I love my job.” Her eyes warmed. “And you guys are okay, too, I guess.”
He patted Madeline gently on the back. “I’m going to shower and get out of here,” he murmured. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Yup.”
He turned for the locker room.
“Oh, Blue?”
“Hmm?” he asked, striving for patience now when all he wanted to do was text Anna and see if she’d finished enough homework and would be free for dinner.
They’d eaten that evening a week before, laughing through soup-filled bread—she’d been right about it being beyond delicious—before he’d walked her to an Über and hugged her goodbye.
He’d wanted to kiss her goodbye but hadn’t earned that right, and so he’d needed to be content with texting her daily and the possibility of meeting up soon for another meal.
Tonight.
Hence the hurrying through his responsibilities so he could get to his cell.
“You might not want to dash out of the arena as fast as you ran from the PT suite,” Mandy said.
A frown drew his brows together. “Why?”
Had he forgotten about some team event?
“You may want to head up to the Family Suite after your shower.” Her mouth twitched with amusement even as his heart pulsed with pain. But because Anna was probably the only person in the world who understood why the notion of the Family Suite wasn’t exactly a positive for him, he was careful to keep the terseness out of his tone.
“Why’s that?”
“There’s a gorgeous blonde waiting for you up there.”
His brows drew down in concern. He hadn’t authorized anyone—
“A gorgeous blonde who bid a lot of your own money to save you from a predatory date auction.”
It hadn’t taken long for the news of his deception to get around the locker room.
Only fractionally faster than it had taken for the teasing to follow.
Blue’s pulse jumped, his smile slipping out despite his efforts to the opposite. “I’ll have you know it was beyond predatory.”
“Carnivorous?” Mandy tilted her head to the side. “Man-eating?”
“Hush you.” But he closed the distance between them and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”
“Treat her kindly, Blue,” she murmured. “She’s one of the nice ones.”
He let the truth of his feelings show in his eyes. “I know.”
She nodded. “Good.” A beat. “So don’t fuck it up.”
“Language,” he said with a chuckle.
“If Maddy’s first word is fuck, it’ll be Blane’s fault.”
“Sure, it will.” And with one more pat to baby Madeline’s back, Blue hauled ass to the showers.
Anna was here.
This time he would not fuck up.
Fifteen
Anna
Why had she come?
Brayden.
Or at least that was the convenient excuse she’d crafted.
Except Brayden had gone with Max and Angie, and she’d stayed and Blue hadn’t texted her back, and now the wives and girlfriends were all staring at her with curious expressions on their faces and—
The door opened.
Her breath left her in a whoosh as Blue strode into the room. He was sexier than ever—because hello, suit and tie and well-fitting slacks—but add in shower-damp hair and some scruff, and her pussy was about to take out a billboard proclaiming its availability.
It remembered how good it had been.
Hell, she hadn’t been able to forget that night with Blue.
Hence her problem with the man in question.
If problem could be defined as the man being sweet and kind and charming. He’d texted every day, even sent a delivery of food to her apartment when she’d had to turn him down for dinner because of an exam.
And now he was here, walking toward her with a warm smile that did all sorts of things to her stomach.
Kiss me, she thought and was disappointed when he didn’t.
Anna knew it was probably for the best, that he was trying to be respectful, to prove to her that he’d meant what he’d said when he’d apologized. But her hormones wanted nothing to do with respect or apologies . . . unless either of those came with an eight-inch cock that was deep inside her, determined to bring her a copious amount of orgasms.
Fingers brushing the side of her throat, a stubble-rough mouth touching the skin below her jaw, a whisper that had her shivering. “What are you thinking?”
“How much I want you to fuck me again,” she whispered back.
Blue reared back, eyes darkened with pleasure, even as humor crossed his expression. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
Her body drifted toward his. “Why not?”
The movement wasn’t a conscious thought so much as they were like two magnets with opposite dipoles that were attracted to one another. Get them close enough and they’d slam together.
Either that or she’d fallen asleep with her math book over her face again and this was all a cruel dream.
“Killing me,” he murmured, tongue flicking out to graze the shell of her ear.
“Blue.”
Breathless, but she ignored the fact that she sounded like a ninny. Such was the power of Blue, and she’d do best by accepting that rather than fighting it, especially when that acceptance brought orgasms.
“Pizza!” he declared, lacing their fingers together and tugging her toward the door. “Let’s go get pizza.”
“I don’t think she wants pizza,” one of the wives, Anna thought it might have been Monique because the cackle that followed sounded like the former model. “She wants a good fu—”
The flash of movement caught her gaze, and she saw that Sara, Mike Stewart’s wife and a former champion figure skater, had risen on tiptoe to clamp a hand over the much-taller Monique’s mouth. “Go,” she mouthed. “I can’t hold her much longer.”
Anna snorted and mouthed back, “Thank you,” all while letting Blue lead her from the room.
“So pizza?” he repeated. “I know a really good place around the corner. They make their crusts from scratch. Never frozen and no canned—”
She reached up a hand, pressing one finger to Blue’s lips. “I’m going to ignore the pizza commercial”—she gasped when he nipped at the digit. “Trouble,” she murmured, “I was trying to ask if you can give me a ride home.”
“Done.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Any time.” He held the elevator door for her then led her through the underground maze beneath the arena that led to the players’ parking lot.
She smiled up at him. “And you can pick up one of those not frozen, not canned pizzas on the way, so long as I don’t have to be the one to break it to Nutritionist Rebecca.”
