by Jennie Marts
A flash of chestnut hair caught his eye. A guy in a black jacket grabbed his drinks and moved away from the bar, and Owen saw Gabby sitting in the chair behind him.
Her brother leaned on the bar next to her, and her attention was focused on him, her chin tilted to the side to hear him better. Justin must have said something funny because she tipped her head back and laughed, and the tension in Owen’s chest eased.
Then, as if being drawn by an invisible pull, she turned her head and saw him. Her face broke into a smile, and that was it. That was the moment he knew. Knew that this girl was something special. Something more.
The corners of his lips curved into a smile as he headed toward her. Everything else in the room fell away—the noise of the crowd, the sound of the music—everything except her. His hands itched to touch her, to feel her.
She stood as he approached, her smile beatific. And just for him. She opened her arms, and he grabbed her, pulling her to him in a hug that lifted her off her feet. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled her sweet feminine scent and spoke into her ear. “Hey, Angel.”
“Hey there.” She squeezed him back, as if genuinely happy to see him. No haughty indifference. No spoiled brat behavior. No games.
That’s what he liked about Gabby. She was real. No bullshit.
She didn’t play the stupid games that most of the women he knew did. The ones who acted hard to get, who acted like he had to prove something to win them over, when they both knew that she’d be flat on her back with her legs spread by the end of the night.
Gabby wasn’t like that. She wasn’t nice because she wanted something from him or because she was trying to prove she was better than anyone else. She was nice just to be nice. Because she had a big heart and didn’t have a stuck-up, vindictive bone in her body. And he didn’t realize how much he’d been missing that until this moment.
The moment that she smiled at him and held out her arms. The moment that the burdens of the game lifted from his shoulders just by holding her against him.
All of that other stuff fell away—the loss, Bane’s trade, all of the stuff that made him feel like a colossal screw-up—fell away when he held her in his arms, and she looked up at him. Looked at him like he meant something. Like he was something. Something more. And something that he wanted to be. Someone that he wanted to be.
He grinned down at her as he ran his hand down her back and settled it on her waist. “I like your jersey. It looks much better than that other guy’s that you’ve been wearing.”
“I’m not giving up my Bronco jersey, but I’ll agree to wear this one when that one’s in the wash.” She laughed. “Thank you for getting it for me. And for getting one for my brother, too. That was really sweet of you.”
“Happy to. I needed the only two fans I have left to show up and represent for the Bannisters.” Owen reached out his free hand to shake Justin’s. “Thanks for coming to the game.”
Justin shook his hand heartily. “Yeah. It was great. And thanks for the jersey. This is so cool. I’m a fan of both you and your brother.”
Too bad that jersey may end up being a limited edition. Who knew if Bane would get to don the Summit colors again?
“Sorry about the game, dude,” Justin said.
Owen shrugged. “Me, too.” He checked his watch. “Nate’s band should be starting up in a few minutes. How about I get this next round, and we’ll grab a table at the front. He nodded at the bartender and gestured to the beer in Justin’s hand. “Couple more. And whatever she’s having.”
Gabby held up her drink in a mock toast. “I’m driving so I’m having a Diet Coke.”
See? Nice.
And probably way too good for him. But right now, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except being here—here with her—listening to his brother play, watching her laugh and holding her hand.
***
Nate’s band was good. Really good.
Gabby got lost in the music, lost in the rhythm and the lyrics as Nate Bannister stood on the stage captivating the entire room. He looked enough like Owen and Bane to be able to tell they were brothers, but Nate’s hair was longer and he wasn’t quite as tall. He was probably still over six feet, and muscular, but not in the same way that his hockey-playing brothers were.
Nate was lean and still looked strong, but unlike Owen and Bane, who were solid muscle, their arms and legs thick from constantly working out.
Nate was different. His eyes were soulful, slightly hooded and looked like they held the secrets of the universe. Dreamy.
Like his music. Soulful and bluesy, a combination of alternative and grunge, with just a little southern rock. His music was different, but good. Amazing actually. One song had you dancing in place, the rhythm so catchy you had to move, and the next had your heart in a vise, the lyrics and the tempo holding you in their grip.
Nate played the guitar and sang, his voice a blend of deep whiskey and husky growls, and he had the whole place eating out of his hand.
After an hour and much to the displeasure of the crowd, the band announced that they were taking a quick break. Nate hopped off the stage and made his way to their table.
Owen grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug. “Hey, little brother.”
Nate clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, O. Thanks for coming, especially on a game night. I was at Mom and Dad’s earlier and caught most of it—sweet goal. You guys should have had it. That was just tough luck you didn’t win.”
Owen shrugged, but Gabby thought she caught the slight sting of disappointment in his eyes. “There’ll be another game.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to him. “I want you to meet Gabby. Gabby, this is Nate.”
Nate wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a quick hug. Geez, this was a whole family of huggers.
He grinned down at her. His eyes were the same shade of blue as his brother’s, and he had the same easy Bannister charm. “So you’re this angel he can’t stop talking about. Now I can see why.” He elbowed Owen in the ribs. “And she does smell amazing—like cake and flowers.”
“Told you so.” Owen winked and drew her back against his side.
“Your band is great,” Gabby said, feeling like a pinball bouncing around in a machine, and trying to get the focus off how she smelled. Did he really talk about her all the time? She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep her hands from shaking. “I’m really enjoying it.”
Nate chuckled. “Thanks. We just lost our backup singer, so we’ve been kind of winging it tonight. Do you sing? Maybe you and O could come up and give me a hand.”
She raised an eyebrow at Owen. “You sing? I thought you said you could just barely play the guitar.”
“Just barely? This guy is a master,” Nate said. “He used to fill in on guitar and vocals with the band. But that was before he got all famous doing this little hockey gig.”
She grinned up at Owen. “You’re just full of surprises.”
“Yeah, I’m a real man of mystery. Thanks, bro.” Owen punched his brother good-naturedly in the arm. “Maybe you could invite her over later to show her some embarrassing baby pictures. Or better yet, we could bring out some old pictures from high school, and she could check out your mullet.”
“It wasn’t a mullet. It was rocker hair.” Nate laughed. “And speaking of rocking it, I’d better get back.”
“It was great meeting you, Nate.”
“You, too. Either of you have any requests?”
She shook her head. “I’ve loved everything you’ve played so far.”
“I like this girl. She’s easy to please.”
“Yeah, well I saw her first, so don’t be getting any ideas,” Owen said. “Why don’t you play something slow so I can ask my girl to dance?”
“You got it, bro.” Nate pushed through the crowd and climbed onto the stage. The crowd cheered as he picked up his guitar and started a new song.
My girl. Owen had said he wanted to ask his girl to dance. It wa
s silly. It probably meant nothing. But it made the butterflies already twirling in Gabby’s stomach spin and flutter, crashing into each other in frenzied elation. She couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face.
Owen sat back on the stool at a tall round table, and pulled Gabby into the circle of his legs. “I was afraid of this.” He leaned forward and spoke into her ear so she could hear him above the music.
She loved the feeling of being so close to him, surrounded by his strong legs, and her hands ached to touch him. Leaning against his thigh, she brushed her fingers against his solid chest as she leaned in to talk to him. “Afraid of what?”
“Afraid if I brought you here and introduced you to my little brother and you heard him play, you’d fall in love with him and forget all about me.”
She jostled against him, her hip grazing his denim-clad thigh, and sending a shot of warm desire running up her back. “He is pretty cute,” she teased.
He cupped her neck, pulling her ear closer to his mouth. His breath was warm against her skin. “Just remember, he doesn’t have any of my stellar cupcake-making skills.”
“You do have some pretty good skills.”
He chuckled and ran the back of his fingers down her throat. “I thought you were interested in some of my other skills.”
The feel of his fingers skimming her skin sent shivers of pleasure through her, and her eyes threatened to close in bliss. She tipped her chin up, her lips now dangerously close to his. “Oh yeah? Which skills did you have in mind?”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing hers.
Her breath caught. Her nerves alert in anticipation. He hadn’t kissed her, really kissed her since the night of the party. And she hadn’t been able to get that night out of her mind.
“My dancing skills.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips, just enough to leave her wanting more.
This man was going to kill her.
Could you actually die from lust? From the ache of wanting to touch and taste and feel another person?
He stood, wrapped an arm around her waist, and led her onto the crowded dance floor.
Not that she noticed anyone else. Or anything else. All of her focus was on him—fitting her body tightly against him, his leg settling between hers, the feel of his stubbled cheek against hers as he swayed with her to the music.
The band was playing a slow song and as they hit the final verse, all the band members stopped playing. Except for Nate. The room took on a surreal feeling as Nate’s voice, clear and rich, sang the final verse, his only accompaniment his guitar.
Owen’s arms encircled her waist and she leaned her head against his chest. Tipping her head, she smiled up at him. He grinned back, then leaned down and kissed her.
Not the light grazing kiss of a few minutes ago, but a real kiss—one filled with longing and desire. His lips crushed hers, sending her a clear message of want and need.
She pressed against him, her fingers digging into his hair as she met his passion with her own.
He pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes steely and intense. “You want to get out of here?”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind flooded with images of being alone with him, of ripping off their clothes, of being naked and beneath him. She nodded, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Yes.”
“What about your brother?”
What brother? She peered around the room and caught sight of Justin leaning on the bar, capturing the rapt attention of a pretty brunette. “He’ll be fine. I’ll text him that we’re leaving, and he’ll either get a ride home later or take a cab.”
That must have been all Owen needed to hear. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, his height and build easily parting the way. She followed behind him, admiring his great butt and trying not to drool in anticipation of what was to come.
Chapter Twelve
Holy crap. Gabby looked around the foyer of the beautiful home. “Is this really your house?”
The house had the great room design, and a living room with a huge stone fireplace covered one side and a modern kitchen with cherry wood cabinets filled the other.
Owen pulled off his coat and dropped it on the floor. The clattering of toe-nails sounded on the hard work floor and a huge, block-headed yellow Labrador retriever rounded the corner and plowed excitedly into Owen.
He laughed and rubbed the dog’s neck as its whole body shook with joy. “Yes, this is my house. But I have no idea whose dog this is.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because he seems to know you pretty well.”
“Oh wait, I do recognize this big lug. This is Fred.”
Gabby reached out her hand, and the big dog licked her fingers. “Hi, Fred.”
“This guy really is my number one fan. Aren’t you, boy?” He crossed the room and opened the door into the backyard. The dog shot out, and he pulled the door shut. “I only wish that I could live up to that dog’s remarkable opinion of me.”
She chuckled. “I feel the same way about my dog.”
He gestured to the kitchen. “You want something to drink? A glass of wine?” He opened a cabinet and pulled down two wine goblets, then gave her a look, his expression clear. “You can have a drink now. You won’t be driving anywhere else tonight.”
Gulp. She swallowed, and her inner vixen woke up and purred. “Sure. I’ll have a glass.”
She watched him open the wine and pour two glasses, admiring the muscled lines of his body and the efficient way that he worked.
Flames of passion licked at her stomach every time he looked at her, the desire evident in his eyes. “Don’t forget about the exhibition game tomorrow. I’d really like you to be there. It starts at two, and it would mean a lot to me if you came.”
“Sure. Yeah, of course.” At this point, she’d go anywhere, do anything he asked. As long as he kept looking at her like that, she was his for the taking.
He handed her a glass, and she took a sip. Hell, she wanted to take a gulp. To swig it down and let it give her the courage to crawl across the counter and climb his perfect body.
Instead, she looked around the room as Owen turned on the fireplace.
The décor was a cross between elegant and man-cave, with lots of hard wood tones accented with blues and burgundies. Overstuffed sofas and a couple of recliners clustered around an oak coffee table and a big-screen television covered half the wall. The kitchen had modern appliances, but still had a homey feel.
A few pieces of antique hockey equipment accented the room and a foosball table sat between the kitchen and living room in place of the traditional dining room table. The big chairs, the giant TV and the foosball table all added to the man-cave feel. Albeit, a tasteful man-cave.
It was evident that Owen had a lot of money. Her entire apartment would fit in the space of his living room and kitchen. And some of his appliances looked like they cost more than her car. Considering she drove a late model Toyota sedan, she was fairly certain the fancy coffee pot sitting on the counter cost more at the department store than she had spent to purchase her vehicle.
She took another swig of wine.
What was she thinking? She was totally out of her element here. She was used to a bologna and macaroni and cheese lifestyle, and this was more like caviar and champagne. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that snazzy, but it was definitely filet mignon and high-end microbrews. And still more than she’d ever known.
“Your house is beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?”
“Not hardly. My mom helped with a lot of it, she has really good taste and a flair for decorating. But some of the touches are mine.” He nodded at the foosball table and let out a low chuckle. “We almost came to blows over having the foosball table instead of a dining room table.”
Gabby smiled. “It is a little unconventional. And seems hard to sit down at to eat a nice meal.”
“That’s what restaurants are for.” He grinned and pointed toward the fireplace. “I need to do a little Chri
stmas decorating—at least put up a tree. I just haven’t had time to do it. I was thinking I’d try to get to it this weekend.” He cocked his head at her. “What do you think about coming with me? I’d buy you dinner if you helped me pick out a tree and get it decorated.”
Putting up a Christmas tree sounded so domestic—and totally romantic. She could almost smell the scent of pine as she imagined the fireplace crackling and the Christmas music playing as they strung tinsel and lights on a huge tree.
At least that’s how they made it seem in the movies. At her house, putting up the tree usually ended in too much spiked eggnog and a fight over not having enough money to put presents under it.
Although she did have one good recollection of putting up a tree. She swallowed at the emotion that came with the flood of memories.
She’d been in high school, and she and her mom had found a great deal on a fake tree and a box of ornaments at a thrift store. They’d brought it back to the apartment and had it up and decorated before Ron got home from work. She remembered her mom had found a station on the radio that played Christmas music, and she’d made Gabby hot chocolate as they laughed and decorated the little tree together. It was one of her favorite memories of spending time with her mother.
She smiled at Owen, feeling warm and nostalgic. “Sure, I’d love to help you get a Christmas tree.”
“Great. It’s a date.” He winked at her before crossing the room and opening the back door.
Fred bounded in, sprinting to her to request another head scratch. She willingly consented and rubbed his big blocky head.
It’s a date. She had another date with Owen. Her heart raced in excitement and fear. She really liked this guy. She wanted to go on another date with him, but she was afraid she liked him too much. She was getting in way over her head.
She tried to take another sip of wine, but was surprised to see her glass was empty. Uh oh. Must have been doing more sipping than she’d thought.
“Hut,” Owen commanded, and the dog ran to him then crossed to a sheepskin dog-bed in front of the counter. He circled the bed then plopped down in the center, his big pink tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.
