by Amy Aislin
So, yeah. Good thing.
Too bad taking the edge off with his own hand late last night—twice—hadn’t done any good. He still wanted Tay like he wanted a higher paycheck—badly. Underneath him, on top of him, from behind, bent over the arm of the couch, sweat-slicked skin moving against sweat-slicked skin, teeth nipping, hands grasping, pants and groans and moans.
Hot and filthy sex. The kind that went on all night, left them sore but energized, ready to take on the damn world, ready for anything.
Blowing out a shaky breath, he sat to hide his semi from Calder, running two fingers under the collar of his T-shirt and pulling it away from his heated skin.
“Nothing to say?”
Dakota measured out the powdered sugar into a bowl and added premeasured butter. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“How about ‘Yes, Calder, you’re right, as always. I do want to jump his bones into kingdom come.’”
“It was nothing.”
“That was not nothing. The tension was so thick you might as well’ve been naked already.”
Dakota turned on the electric mixer. “I can’t hear you,” he yelled over the whirring, gesturing to one ear with his free hand.
The smirk on Calder’s face said he wasn’t fooled, the smug asshole.
Thing was, it really was nothing. They hadn’t kissed; they’d barely touched. Therefore, it was nothing.
Unbidden, an image of Tay sampling his scotch popped into his head, the way he’d placed his lips over the outline of Dakota’s on the glass, a pseudo-kiss. It had been hot as sin, and even now, Dakota’s heart raced.
It wasn’t as hot, however, as Tay’s blatant interest. There was no mistaking that Tay was attracted to him too. He’d made that abundantly clear in the way he smiled at Dakota, the banter and the flirting, that confident tilt of the lips that said I want you and I’m not gonna hide it. The way he fucking drank Dakota’s scotch, Jesus. There was nothing shy or bumbling about him. Dakota had always been attracted to confidence.
Shit. He was in a lot of trouble.
Turning off the mixer, he tested the icing’s consistency, then added the vanilla and the milk.
“Would it be so bad to let someone in?”
He turned the mixer back on. “Sorry, what?”
Calder rolled his eyes.
When Dakota next turned the machine off, Calder said, “Tell me about him.”
Dakota reached for the mixer again; Calder placed a hand over his. “We both know it’s done.”
Sighing, he separated the icing into three separate bowls to add flavor and food coloring. He left the fourth bowl aside to make cream cheese icing later, once his stick of cream cheese was sufficiently softened.
“Are you going to see him again?” Calder asked, breaking into a container of jujubes Dakota had pulled out but didn’t intend to use.
“I’m seeing him in a few hours,” Dakota deflected. “So are you. For family skate.”
“Don’t be dense,” Calder said around a jujube. “Are you worried ’cause of his age? He’s what? Early twenties?”
“Twenty-three. And no. The age gap doesn’t bother me. Tay’s not a kid.” Dakota knew how much dedication and perseverance and commitment went into playing professional hockey—he’d watched his brother do it. No one who didn’t have a good work ethic or who didn’t take themselves seriously made it to the NHL.
“So you are going to see him again.”
“I . . .” Yes? Please? Sighing, Dakota pulled the beaters out of the mixer and passed one to Calder, setting the other aside for Andy. “Probably not. I wouldn’t have time for dating anyway. Andy and this—” He waved at the contents of the table. “—take up all of my time. And with his schedule? He probably travels as much as Fiona.” His ex-wife was on a business trip as they spoke. “I’m not bringing someone into Andy’s life who won’t stick around.”
Calder licked one tine of the beater. “Who said anything about dating?”
Dakota looked up from where he’d been squishing his bar of cream cheese to test its softness. “Huh.”
Would Tay go for a no-strings-attached kind of thing? Probably. He was young. What twenty-three-year-old was looking for something permanent?
February sucked and nothing could convince Tay otherwise.
First, it was gloomy and wet and couldn’t decide if it wanted to be freeze-your-nipples-off cold or first-signs-of-spring warm.
Second, the looming trade deadline cast a pall over the entire team. Those without a no-trade or no-movement clause in their contract could be traded anytime; nobody wanted it to be them.
Finally, school hit its midterm peak. He’d bet good money that his professors and TAs had held a party before the start of the semester, toasting to how brilliant they were for scheduling their students’ midterm exams, assignments, and labs for the same ten-day period. Fuckers, all of them.
And due to the hands-on nature of his program, very few classes were offered via distance education. Which meant he stuck to two classes per semester, instead of the required four for full-time students, and made up the missed classes during the summer term.
It wasn’t ideal, and he tended to miss more than one class per semester. Hell, sometimes he missed a full week if the team was on the road. But he handed all of his assignments in on time and made an effort to give his professors and TAs a heads-up in advance if he’d miss class. He’d even sat in on tutorials via video conference.
His grades were suffering with the lack of in-person instruction, but . . . at least he was passing? He’d never been an A student anyway, and science especially had never come easy.
What didn’t suck about February? The sight of Dakota Cotton stepping onto the ice in dark blue jeans and a fitted black leather jacket open over a long-sleeved T-shirt a shade of gray that was almost black. It was very casual Friday, and that jacket lent him an air of mysterious bad boy. Wearing his kid-sized jersey that matched Tay’s—except Tay’s wasn’t signed—and a helmet, Andy held one of Dakota’s hands, tiny skates on his feet. On Andy’s other side was Calder.
Calder was attractive in his own right. The same height as Dakota, he was more ruggedly handsome to Dakota’s classic good looks. The cousins shared the same narrow face, high forehead, straight hairline, long nose, and angled jawline. The same ears too, as well as hair color. But where Dakota was just-stepped-out-of-a-magazine elegance, Calder was let’s-get-our-hands-dirty. Sexy in an outdoorsy, craggy-featured kind of way.
He did absolutely nothing for Tay.
Breaking away from a couple of his teammates who were preparing to separate the teenagers into groups for a scrimmage on one end of the rink, Tay skated over to Dakota. As he approached, Dakota’s gaze swept Tay up and down, eyes heating. His smile made Tay’s blood pump hotter.
So. He hadn’t imagined last night. Goodie.
With the both of them in skates, they were the same height, giving Tay a tickling thrill again at the knowledge. He’d dated strictly women since graduating high school, mostly for fear of being outed, partly because he hadn’t met a man in a long time who hit all of his buttons like Dakota did. Tall, check. Confident, check. Well-dressed, check, even though Tay hadn’t actually known that was a button for him until last night. Sense of humor, check. Willing to flirt with Tay in a coatroom, check.
That last one was purely for fun. Anyone willing to flirt in a coatroom got extra bonus points.
“Hi,” Tay said, matching Dakota’s smile.
“Hi, Tay.”
“Hi, Tay!” Andy piped in.
“Hey, little man.” Tay nodded a hello at Calder, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder and addressed Andy. “You ready to play some games?”
“Yeah!” He didn’t move. In fact, he was clenched so tight, legs braced and shoulders tensed up to his ears, that he’d fall over like a stiff board if Tay pushed him.
“He’s still learning to skate,” Dakota said.
Holding his hands out, palms up, Tay sa
id, “Want to hold my hands and I can pull you?”
“Um . . .” Andy looked at his dad, back to Tay. “Maybe Imma stay right here.”
“Right here, huh?” Tay mused, scratching his chin. “Right in front of the entrance? What if someone wants to go in or out?”
“I’m little. They can go around me.”
Throwing his head back, Tay laughed. He might’ve had a crush on Dakota, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up falling for Andy too.
“Why don’t we move over just a bit, okay?” Picking Andy up by the waist, Dakota moved him several feet to the left. Andy stood stiffly, arms balanced at his sides.
“Hang on, I have an idea.” At each end of the rink were skate trainers, essentially metal contraptions for kids to hang on to as they learned to skate. Tay grabbed the smallest one he could find and towed it back to where Dakota was gliding Andy forward by the waist. “Did you lose Calder?”
Dakota jerked his head to the side. “He found a friend.”
Tay searched the crowd of parents taking pictures of their kids with some of the players and found Calder in conversation with Lacroix nearby. “Cool. Here, Andy. This might help. Grab the railing here, and as you skate, this will help hold you up.”
“Okay.” Andy still didn’t move.
Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Dakota dropped onto his knees behind Andy. While Tay held the trainer steady, Dakota guided Andy’s mittened hands onto the rubber grip on the top. “There you go. How’s that?”
“’Kay,” Andy said, shoulders loosening a little. “Imma stay like this now.”
Dakota’s eyebrows rose. “The whole point is to skate.”
“No thank you, Daddy.”
Turning a laugh into a cough, Dakota stood and inched closer to Tay. “Got any bright ideas?” he murmured.
Tay shrugged. “Sometimes kids just aren’t ready to learn to skate.”
“Daddy, I wanna shoot pucks like that girl o’er there.”
That girl was several years older than Andy, maybe nine or ten, and she appeared to know exactly what she was doing as she shot a pile of pucks at the unmanned net.
“Sure.” Dakota nodded once. “How are we going to get there?”
Andy draped his torso over the trainer and pushed off the ice with his skates, traveling a couple of feet nearer to the net. “I’m doin’ it all by myself, Dad.”
“I see that.”
Tay held out a hand for a fist bump. “Good job, little man.” The girl was gone, so by the time they arrived at the net, it was just the three of them, everyone else too busy playing games or signing things or taking pictures. Over by the boards, a bunch of equipment had been laid out. Helmets, pads, and hockey sticks in various sizes, as well as pucks and additional skate trainers. Tay grabbed three sticks and used one to gather the pucks from inside the net, setting them in a neat row in front of Andy. He passed the smallest hockey stick to Andy, who took it with a little “Ooh” and a shiver of excitement. Still clinging to the trainer with one hand, though.
“Thanks,” Dakota said when Tay handed him a stick. “I haven’t played since high school and it was just recreationally. Let’s see if I remember how to shoot a puck.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” Tay said with a wink. “On ice. And your pedals are skinny blades that don’t get any traction.”
Dakota’s laugh wormed its way into Tay’s belly, and they spent a few too-long seconds grinning at each other over the top of Andy’s head.
“How d’ I do it, Tay?” asked Andy, drawing Tay’s gaze away from Dakota’s dark gray one.
“Make sure you’re steady on your feet so I can take the trainer away.” Tay waited for Andy to find his balance with help from Dakota, then moved the trainer aside. “Now you want to hold your stick here and here.” He demonstrated on his own stick. “Bend your knees. Good. And then you just . . .” Giving a puck a love tap, he sent it into the net six feet away. “Now you try.”
Andy copied Tay almost exactly, tongue stuck between his teeth. He barely nudged the puck, moving it only a few inches.
“Nice.” Tay pulled the puck back. “Do exactly that again, but hit the puck a bit harder.”
“A bit harder,” Andy mumbled under his breath. “I can do it.”
Dakota squeezed his shoulders. “We know you can, buddy.”
Andy’s next shot made it between the goalposts. Just barely. His mouth perked into an O of surprise. “I won-ed, Daddy.” He turned to Tay. “I wanna go again.”
“Go for it.” With his stick, Tay pointed at the pucks lined in a row. “Look at all your pucks. You better get started.” While Andy was busy, Tay turned to Dakota. “Let’s see what you got.”
“Don’t judge if I fail,” Dakota warned, pointing a finger at him.
Tay mock gasped. As genuinely as he could, he said, “I make no promises.”
Dakota was shaking his head at him. In the next moment, he whipped a slap shot into the back of the net.
“Oh ho!” Tay crowed. “Look at you.”
“Yeah.” Dakota blew on his nails. “I still got it.”
“Wow, Daddy!” In his excitement, Andy hopped, unbalancing himself and landing on his butt. He was on his knees in an instant, clapping. “Again!”
Dakota skated backward, gaze over his shoulder so he didn’t hit anyone, and stopped just beyond the face-off circle. Seemed like he was giving himself a bigger challenge.
Never in his life had Tay been turned on by watching his teammates play or practice. Watching Dakota set up a shot? Knees slightly flexed, torso held straight? Drawing his stick back, his leather jacket pulling tight across the shoulders? Concentration lines furrowing his brow, pink lips set in a determined line? Tay was much more turned on than the situation warranted, but fuck. Why did Dakota have to be so damn sexy?
Dakota’s next shot joined the first. The grin that lit up his face did way more than warm Tay’s belly.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Cunningham. There are kids present.
Speaking of kids . . .
“What do you think, And—?” Dakota cut himself off when he noticed Andy making snow angels on the ice. “Yeah, that looks about right.”
Chuckling, Tay left Andy to his new game and went over to Dakota. “Told you it was like riding a bike. Looks like your high school skills didn’t fail you.”
“It could’ve gone worse,” Dakota joked. “High school was a long time ago. You’re much closer to it than I am.”
“Maybe so, but my high school years are a blur of hockey and homework.” Unable to help himself—they were on the ice, after all, one of Tay’s favorite places—he reached for one of Andy’s discarded pucks with his stick and moved several feet away from Dakota before sending it to him. “Actually, now that I think about it, that’s pretty much what it’s like now too.” Nothing much had changed except that he made more money and people had to pay to watch one of his games.
“Really?” Dakota caught the puck, stickhandling it briefly as if to test his old skills. “You’re in school right now?”
The puck came back Tay’s way. “Mm-hmm. Two years into a specialist program in paramedicine.” He’d started late; after high school, he’d been seriously done with studying for a while. “It’s a joint program between the University of Toronto and Centennial College.”
Dakota’s eyebrows flew up as the puck sailed his way again. “Paramedicine, huh? What makes it a specialist program?”
“Not sure. It’s just what U of T calls it. Maybe because it’s a four-year degree? Other colleges offer a paramedic diploma in two years.”
“Why not do one of those then?”
Because he’d never hear the end of it from his sisters.
The kid can’t cut it in a four-year degree. Especially not at U of T. Even the smartest students fail out of there and Tay’s never been strong in academics.
Actual conversation he’d accidentally overheard between his sisters during family brunch at his parents’ a couple y
ears ago while the two of them had been washing dishes, and Mom and Dad had been relaxing with their coffees in the living room. The words had curdled in his stomach, seeping upwards into his heart until all he felt was shame and unworthiness. He still remembered how his neck had burned as he’d slunk off to the bathroom, quietly locking the door behind him, and gave himself a mental pep talk that basically amounted to Get over yourself. You’re a professional hockey player. How many people can say that?
Well.
He had not gotten over himself, but he couldn’t exactly tell Dakota that he’d chosen the four-year degree to prove something to his siblings. Instead, he pointed to his left and deflected. “Andy seems to be having a good time.”
Currently, he was licking ice off his mittens through his helmet.
Dakota grimaced. “Buddy, are you hungry? There’s a food table over there.”
Andy followed Dakota’s gesturing hand to the snack table allllll the way on the other side of the rink. “I want chicken fingers an’ fries.”
“There’s a surprise,” Dakota muttered.
“Can we go home now, Daddy?”
But you just got here! Tay bit his lip to swallow the words. Guess four-year-olds didn’t have long attention spans.
“You don’t want to play with the other kids?”
“Looks like Grey and Stanton are about to start a game of Smarties hockey,” Tay said. At center ice, his teammates had gathered a bunch of the littler kids, Andy’s age and up to five or six, decked out in borrowed helmets and pads and wielding small hockey sticks.
The word “Smarties” piqued Andy’s interest. “What’s that?”
“Do you see Mitch Greyson and Rory Stanton over there? The curly-haired guy and the one in thick glasses?”
Andy turned to scowl at him. “I know who they are.”
“Sorry.” Grinning, Tay held up one hand in apology. Of course Andy knew who Grey and Stanton were. If he could say Chernyshevsky without stumbling, he could probably recite the entire team’s roster. “See how they’re taking boxes of Smarties out of bags? They’re going to use them as pucks and toss them around the ice. Then the kids pass them to their friends and at the end of the game, they pick them up.” To Dakota, he added, “It’s non-competitive and teaches kids to bend over and stand up again while on skates.”
