The Devil You Know: Devington Devils Hockey Romance

by Daphne Slade

  Considering the wall of finely-tuned athleticism they are likely to meet, a burglar, even one kind enough to ring the doorbell would have to be stupid to start his business here. I dare anyone to go against this six-foot-two frame made of pure muscle from hours spent on the ice.

  What I’m met with is enough to leave any man flat on his ass.

  Grace has been to a few house parties of mine, and I live in the same group of apartments as Matt, so I’m not surprised she knows where I live.

  Now, I’m pleased I didn’t bother getting dressed before opening the door.

  For once, Grace is left speechless in my presence.

  Those eyes of hers drive me absolutely crazy. So big and brown she might as well be a Disney princess. They’re almost as heart-stopping as her mouth which creates a thousand-watt smile that can light up a room. One of these days, I’ll finally make it shine for yours truly.

  And that dress, that damn dress. It’s the one that makes her look like Audrey Hepburn, especially when her hair is up like this. The first time I saw her wear it to a party, I couldn’t stop staring. I’d like to think she wore it today just for me, but even I’m not that hopeful.

  She’s only about five foot six though she seems taller. This has her eyes perfectly level with my shoulders, still dripping with shower water. She stares at them the same way a rabbit might stare at a wolf who has just caught the scent. As if those eyes could get any more adorable.

  What the hell was Matt smoking?

  “Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty. Or is it Snow White? I keep forgetting.”

  “What the hell is this?” Grace says, quickly snapping out of her paralysis and shoving a brown box into my chest.

  “I see you got my helpful gift.”

  “I think you mean completely inappropriate gift?” she says, still holding the box to my chest. I have yet to take it.

  “So you opened it then,” I say with a grin. I can already tell she hasn’t. No way would she be this sedate if she had. Frankly, I was hoping for a little more in the way of a nuclear attack.

  How damn sexy would that be?

  “You’d just love that, wouldn’t you? Twist the screws on my humiliation a bit more.”

  “Nonsense,” I reply. “I really was doing you a favor. Some girls are made for pink. Others are made for something more, well, I’d tell you, but it would ruin the surprise.” I add a nice eyebrow arch to that, just to stoke the fires.

  Sure enough, they flare up, most notably in that gorgeous mouth of hers, which purses with anger.

  “Listen, I don’t know what your end game is, but I’m not one of your weekend trysts who is probably impressed by this sort of thing.”

  Okay, that one stings a bit.

  At least I know what she thinks of me.

  “Man, do a woman a solid and she flings it right back in your face.”

  She coughs out a laugh. “A solid? Is that what you call buying lingerie, or whatever is in this box, for another guy’s girlfriend?”

  I twist my lips with skepticism. “Are you sure girlfriend is still the correct term?”

  Her mouth drops open. “You know about the break with Matt?”

  Shit.

  “So…I’m guessing he didn’t tell you he told us,” I say cautiously.

  “Us?” Grace looks off to the side in embarrassment. “How many of you know?”

  Time to soften the blow. “Listen, Grace, the dynamics of a team are—we’re like brothers. We tell each other things like this.”

  “So all of you then.”

  The box sags against my chest.

  “Okay,” I say, bringing an arm around to guide her into my apartment before she sinks into a puddle on my doorstep. I’m both surprised and not surprised when she allows it.

  I set her down on the couch and stand there with my hands on my hips just above the towel to consider her.

  “You need a drink.”

  “I need a hole to fall into and disappear.”

  “Same difference.”

  Her eyes flash up to mine, filled with that anger and annoyance I love so much. They are momentarily distracted by the fact that I’m still wearing only a towel.

  I allow it for a good thirty seconds before giving her some relief. I might as well relish what little positive energy I can pry from her.

  “Stay here while I get dressed, then I’ll take you to a bar.”

  “I don’t need a drink,” she says, rising up and making damn sure to leave the box behind. “What I need is—”

  “You want Matt back.”

  That’s enough to get her to pause. She gives me a cautious look.

  So that’s the kicker. Damn him.

  “What do you care? This is partially your fault anyway.”

  I’m not sure what she means by that.

  I lean against the arched entryway to the small living room, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I just hate to see a good effort go to waste. Why do you think I bought you that?” I say, nodding toward the box on the couch.

  “Probably in the hopes that you’d once again catch me half-naked,” she retorts.

  “I’d be more than happy to beta test it for you. I’m practically an expert by now,” I say with a grin.

  Her nostrils flare and her mouth sets into a hard line. But those eyes, damn those eyes, are now wide with indignation. “Keep the box. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone to alpha, beta, and omega test it on.”

  “Tit for tat.”

  She pauses on her way to the front door and slowly spins to face me. “What?”

  “Have a drink with me. We’ll hash this out and you can thank me once you’re back with Matt.”

  “You’re cashing in your leverage for this? To help me get back together with Matt?”

  I shrug indifferently.

  Grace narrows her gaze. “Why?”

  I feel my smile growing, spurred on by the rush of victory that flows through my body. I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried. After pushing away from the wall, I saunter toward her until I’m only inches away.

  “Because this is going to be so much fun.”

  Chapter Six

  Grace

  I said yes, God help me.

  Every instinct inside of me tells me this is a bad idea. But Noah is Matt’s best friend. At the very least he’ll have some insight as to what’s making this new version of Matt tick.

  I’m back on the couch and my eyes fall to the box I meant to return. I feel my mouth turn down at what Noah said just before escaping to get dressed.

  What the hell did he mean by fun?

  I quickly avert my eyes away from the pink box with that black bow peeking through the opening of the outer box. I don’t need to wonder what’s inside. It’s bad enough having the mental image of Noah in nothing but a towel and dripping with shower water.

  Matt is fit, of course he is. He trains for hockey several times a week, and every day during the season. It’s one of the things I love about him, his commitment to success in every arena. Despite planning to go to medical school, he doesn’t slouch when it comes to the sport.

  My lips purse with pleasure as I think about how often I’ve been the beneficiary of everything hockey has turned Matt’s body into.

  My mouth twists with something else when I think about Noah, specifically the sight of him when he answered the door.

  Who the hell greets a stranger soaking wet in nothing but a towel?

  Especially with a body that looks like…that.

  If Matt is fit, Noah is….

  I mean, does the man have even an ounce of body fat? And then there is that longish hair of his, which fell into his eyes like tiny little curved daggers warning of the danger that lay behind those deceptively gorgeous irises.

  I close my eyes and take several deep breaths to at least add some fog to that mental image. The problem is, that doesn’t eliminate that clean, woodsy smell that permeates the air in his apartment. It takes m
e right back to a few nights ago when I was handcuffed to Matt’s bed, particularly when Noah knelt right next to me, his chest inches away from my face.

  “Focus, Grace. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

  “Speak of the devil and he doth appear.”

  My eyes snap open to find Noah standing in front of me in his standard outfit of a t-shirt and jeans. That troublesome mouth of his is curled into a smile that truly only the devil could execute.

  “Let’s go for that drink. I’ll drive. Don’t forget the box. You’re going to need it.”

  “At the bar?” I stare at him, wide-eyed. What kind of bar is he taking me to?

  “No,” he laughs. “Later on, when I take you home.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leans in, that devilish smile of his taunting me. “And drop you off safe and sound. Though I’m not opposed to tucking you into bed if called upon.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me get back together with Matt? Your best friend?”

  He just winks. “All part of the plan m’lady.”

  I stare after him as he pulls back up and heads toward the front door.

  Uncertainty begins to eat away at me.

  This can’t be good.

  But what alternative do I have?

  I sigh and grab the box to follow Noah out to his car. My eyes instinctively light up when I see it. It’s one of the few things I admire about him. The classic car is damn impressive. Even if he did probably buy it as a chick magnet, I have to give him points for picking something other than the cliché of a modern sports car, overcompensating SUV, or motorcycle.

  I’m surprised when he actually jogs around to the passenger side to manually unlock it first and open the door for me, like a perfect gentleman.

  Then he goes ahead and opens his mouth.

  “Your pumpkin awaits, Cinderella.”

  I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes it.

  “Thank you, Prince Charming,” I gush, batting my eyelashes.

  Noah just laughs like I’m playing along with the joke.

  I sink into the seat and roll my eyes. When he closes the door and jogs back around to his side, I feel a reluctant hitch form in my mouth that almost feels like a smile.

  It disappears when I remember how cruel he was to me freshman year.

  Obviously, this is just a continuation of that.

  But that’s fine, I can play ball—or puck, I suppose.

  If it helps get me back to the status quo of Matt as my boyfriend, then it will be worth it.

  I’ve never been inside Noah’s car so I take a moment to look around, and I’m impressed with what I see.

  The interior of the car is just as midnight black as the outside. The leather seats, chrome and metal dash, and even the floor are in mint condition. It might as well have just come off the factory floor. I have to respect his dedication to keeping this car so well maintained inside and out.

  The irony is, fifty years ago, this would have been the kind of car the bad boy would drive. The kind that a girl like me shouldn’t get into.

  In this day and age, it’s the vehicle of a responsible owner, one who makes damn sure everything is functioning as it should.

  “So what exactly is the plan here?” I ask.

  “Drinks first. I have a feeling you’re going to need the lubrication to accept what I have to offer.”

  “Classy as always, Noah.”

  He laughs and quickly raises his eyebrows by way of a response, then turns the ignition.

  The radio is set to an oldies station, which I find surprising. “Brown Eyed Girl” blares to life before Noah snaps the radio off, presumably for my benefit. I want to tell him I don’t mind, and in fact enjoy it, as loud as it was, but that would mean talking to him. He has a fine talent for turning anything I say into some kind of innuendo or fodder for a joke.

  Still, his preference in music is an interesting development. Not that it matters to me, of course.

  Despite Noah’s complete lack of maturity, I suppose I could see why so many girls on campus fall for him. That thought is emphasized by the way he grabs the stick shift and expertly pulls the car out of park. There’s definitely something about a man driving manual.

  I only know how to drive an automatic.

  I allow my brain to do with that what it will—for only a moment.

  My eyes slide to the left, observing Noah in my periphery. He didn’t bother shaving before getting dressed so there’s a dark layer of fuzz covering the hollow of his cheeks and the strong lines of his jaw, adding a dangerous edge to his good looks.

  Why am I trusting him like this?

  Despite the blackmail-ish taint to all of this, he isn’t a completely terrible guy. Really, my only issue with Noah since that horrible first year has been the way he goes through women the way a vending machine goes through dollar bills. At every party he’d be huddled in a corner with a different coed, sometimes several in the same night.

  The weekends at Evan Huntington’s lake house were the worst. Noah would show up with some busty, leggy airhead who inevitably had me rolling my eyes.

  Okay, that’s mean and frankly not even true. All of his plus-ones were pretty intelligent. In fact, most were smarter than I would have assumed for someone like Noah. Especially for nothing more than a simple fling of weekend sex and fun—emphasis on the former based on the sounds I heard coming from Noah’s room during the occasional late-night bathroom visits that had me passing by his door.

  Not that I was eavesdropping or anything.

  I was especially surprised to see him show up one weekend with Jenny Tanner who I know scored one of the highest grades in organic chemistry, a notoriously difficult class. She also happens to be a perfect doppelgänger for Candice Swanepoel, as if the world wasn’t unfair enough. What the hell she was doing with the likes of Noah Donahue was beyond me.

  Then again, I kind of get it.

  My mind races back to that first week of school, before I found out what an asshole Noah was.

  I remember the way my heart skipped a beat when he smiled at me that first day in class like he was thrilled I’d finally noticed him. Then, I think about what happened after that and a sour taste fills my mouth.

  I straighten up in my seat and stare ahead, shaking away those memories. It’s time for me to focus on the future, the one where Matt and I both attend Harvard Medical School and live out our perfect, successful lives together.

  As per Arlington tradition.

  I’ll have the one drink and listen to whatever ridiculous suggestion Noah has to offer, then I’m gone. Heaven help me if he of all people is the one who manages to pull the sword out of the stone and save this relationship.

  We end up at The Den of Iniquity, a name in keeping with the theme of the university it’s attached to. I’ve never actually been here but I’ve heard the place can get pretty crazy on the weekends, especially during away hockey games. It’s still afternoon, so the lot is only half full.

  Noah turns off the ignition and hops out. I’ve just barely reached for the door handle when I see him jog around to open it for me.

  What kind of game is he playing with all of this?

  With a slight furrow in my brow, I study him as I step out, waiting for some smart-ass remark. This time, all I get is a smile, annoyingly similar to that one from the first day of class.

  I wordlessly follow Noah inside wondering what his plan is and why he’s being so damn chivalrous all of a sudden.

  Instead of leading me to the bar, he makes his way to one of the tables for two. I want to remind him that I agreed to one drink and one drink only, but something keeps me from saying it aloud.

  No sooner have we sat down than a girl with an admirable figure approaches. It’s hard not to miss in the painted-on jeans and clinging baby tee she’s wearing. I can’t fault her for it. If I looked that good and worked for tips, I’d be wearing the same thing.

  She’s exceptionally pretty
in a wide-eyed wonder sort of way. As with all members of the female sex that I inadvertently compare myself to, my eyes land on her perfect cupid’s-bow lips. I subconsciously brush the back of my fingers across my mouth as though wiping my own larger-than-life version out of existence.

  “Well, hello again,” she says, big baby blues shooting hopeful sparks Noah’s way.

  That wicked grin of his makes an appearance and he points a finger gun at her. “Heidi, right?”

  She giggles with pleasure in response, enthusiastically nodding her head.

  Good grief.

  At least the two champagne-colored braids lying against her generous chest make sense based on her name. Men no doubt gobble that nod to Bavaria right up.

  My eyes reflexively fall toward my own far more meager offerings hidden underneath this black dress.

  “I didn’t think you’d remember me,” she practically sings, all attention on Noah. “I haven’t seen you since last year.”

  “How could I forget the girl who makes the best shots at Devington?”

  Oh for heaven’s sake, is this how he picks up women?

  Apparently it is since the giggling intensifies. “How about I get you a shot of Devil’s Kiss…on me of course.”

  I don’t need an interpreter for that one.

  Boy, we’re feeling mighty bitchy today, aren’t we, Grace?

  Well, I did, for all intents and purposes, just get dumped so I’m feeling a little bit raw.

  “Definitely tempting,” Noah replies with an expression on his face that makes me wonder if the shot was named after him. “But I think a kiss from you would have me here all night.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she teases, cocking both her head and her hip to the side.

  At some point drinks will presumably be ordered.

  In the meantime, I should probably start taking notes, being that I’m back on the market again. For now.

  After all, Noah’s aren’t the only pair of eyes on Heidi.

  “If only classes didn’t start tomorrow, I’d happily drown in Devil’s Kisses from you,” Noah says with a rueful shrug.

  Heidi gives a pretty, exaggerated pout with her perfectly perfect mouth.