My stomach hit the floor, and I stepped back immediately, retreating until my back hit the island. “Ivy? Are you okay? Did I…” Fuck. Did I just do something she didn’t want?
Had I read the signals wrong?
Was she speaking honestly while I’d only been continuing the kind of banter we’d had since the beginning?
Fuck my life, did she really loathe me?
Her hands shook as she braced herself on the counter, and pushed off, her feet landing gracefully on the hardwood floor. “I can’t. Oh. God. I can’t.”
“Shit. Ivy. I’m so. God, I’m sorry.” There weren’t enough words for what I was. I hadn’t asked, hadn’t cleared it with her, hadn’t protected her feelings. I’d just assumed she’d wanted what I did.
She fumbled around the base of the island, finally retrieving her shoes, then snatching her purse and phone off the counter. She shoved the shoes under her arm, not even taking the time to put them on, then damn-near ran for the front door.
“Ivy!” I called out, wanting to chase her, to apologize until my tongue fell out of my damned mouth. Needing to take back the last minutes. But she obviously didn’t want to be here, and I knew I’d only make it worse, so I stopped at the threshold of the entry hall. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated. Was there another phrase? Something I could say that was more meaningful?
I’d never taken something a woman wasn’t willing to give.
She stopped at the door, looking back as she opened it. Tears sparkled in her eyes, that same fire pinning me in place with that angry glare.
“What did you do, Connor?” She asked, fury apparent in every word. “What. Did. You. Do!” She shouted the last, and flew through the door, escaping what had obviously been something she’d never wanted. Something I’d forced on her.
Fuck. I was huge. I knew that. We were alone, and I was stronger, and even in a position of power if I thought about how much she loved Hannah.
And I’d kissed her. Followed her. Caged her. Pinned her. Put my hands on her.
She’d never said yes.
If she didn’t hate me before, she really did now.
And I more than deserved it.
Chapter 8
Ivy
“I’m such an idiot!” I paced the length of Pepper’s living room, unable to sit still with the heat coursing through my veins.
“No, you’re not,” Pepper scolded, her eyes trailing me from where she sat with her knees tucked under her on the couch.
“I so am.” I halted and pinched the bridge of my nose.
I could still feel Connor’s lips on mine, still taste him in my mouth. Electricity crackled under my skin with tiny aftershocks from the sheer mind-blowing revelation his kiss had been.
Hot and sweet.
Gentle and hungry.
Perfection.
The kiss to end all kisses.
And I wanted more.
“Walk me through it again?” Pepper asked, jerking me back to the present.
I sighed and sank into the cushions, turning my body to face her, shame and all.
“We were in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner—”
“Whoa,” Pepper cut me off. “You did his dishes?”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, we started talking—bantering like always—and then before I knew it…we were kissing.”
Pepper pressed her lips together to hide her smile.
“No,” I said, a dark chuckle on my lips. “You can’t look at me like that!”
“What?” She asked, the picture of innocence.
“You can’t, Pepper!” I huffed. “You have to tell me how stupid it was. How typically Ivy of me it was. Tell me that I couldn’t possibly be falling for Connor—a man I argue with almost as much as I fantasize about.” The last part slipped out in my word vomit, and I simply couldn’t hold anything back anymore. Especially not from Pepper. My sensible twin sister who would tell me to snap the ef out of it and end it before it started.
“I’m sorry, Ivy,” she said, reaching over to gently clutch my knee. “I can’t tell you any of that.”
“What?” I snapped.
She shrugged.
“Pepper,” I said. “I can’t do this again.”
“Connor is not Crosby.”
I flinched.
“He’s a good man,” she continued. “Sure, he has a past, just like every Shark…every person. But he’s decent and kind and funny. Why do you think he’s Eric’s best friend?”
It was my turn to shrug.
“Eric may be the first to help when it’s needed, but he’s slow to trust…like every superhero.” Pepper got that glow again, and I tried to not let it blind me. “And,” she said. “Connor is like his brother. Lukas too. And while Lukas is a totally insane lothario with a teddy-bear exterior, Connor is the solid foundation. The one both guys turn to when they need help with no questions asked. He’s never let them down, and he never will.”
“So,” I said. “What is your point? And why aren’t you telling me to run away? To leave the Sharks alone. That only an absolute idiot would get roped into another relationship with one.” My stomach sank with the words—somewhere between watching Hannah and spending too much time with Connor, I’d forgotten how I’d almost ruined Crosby’s career while he was breaking my heart. It didn’t sting anymore, though, and I knew that had everything to do with my fierce love for Hannah and my own ability to squash a broken heart in its tracks—after a few pints of salted caramel ice cream anyway.
What did you do, Connor?
My shocked words to him as I bolted from his house rang through my head once more. He’d ruined everything. It was one thing to have sexual tension that was never acknowledged, but now it was out there. He’d broken our back and forth, crossed a line we’d never come back from. And I hated myself for wanting more.
“My point,” Pepper said, cutting off my internal rant. “Is he’s not an asshole like Crosby. He doesn’t operate out of selfishness. So, he didn’t kiss you because you were there. He kissed you because he felt something.”
I rubbed my palms over my face. “You can’t think that,” I said. “We literally fight all the time.”
Though, to be fair, somewhere in the last few weeks our fights had changed. Shifted from pure snark and annoyance to something I actually looked forward to. Connor was one hell of a sparring partner and never gave me an inch. I loved the way he challenged me, pushed me, and had this total acceptance that I would come back at him full force.
His wild matches my wild.
Oh shit.
I liked him.
When the hell had that happened?
It was one thing to lust after the man—he was a Greek God who could fly on the ice and glide in the water—but to actually like him?
I groaned and buried my face into the cushions.
Pepper stroked my hair as I wailed into the couch.
“Bad time?” Eric’s voice was muffled from all the fabric around me, and I darted back, terrified Connor would be at his side like they so often were.
Lucky for me, the only company Eric had was a bag which looked like it was filled with four pints of ice cream.
“Perfect timing,” Pepper side, sliding off the couch and into his arms within the span of a blink. Like the pair couldn’t stand to be a foot apart for more than five seconds.
It was annoyingly beautiful.
My sister deserved it.
That glow. Those stars in her eyes. That totally not for public kiss Eric planted on her lips.
I cringed and hid my face again.
Eric chuckled, and Pepper thanked him for the goods.
“Be right back,” she said, taking the bag from him and heading to the kitchen.
The room was silent for about ten seconds.
“So…” Eric said, dragging out the word. “How’s work going?” He asked, innocently.
I tilted my head. “It’s okay,” I said. “I know you tell each other everything.”
He raked
his hand through his long red hair, sighing. “Well, Connor said—”
“You spoke to Connor!” I cut him off.
He jolted. “Yeah, isn’t that who you were talking about?”
“No! I meant you and Pepper tell each other everything.” I huffed. “But it’s good to know you and Connor do, too.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s been like thirty-minutes since I ran—left his place.”
Eric shrugged. “Family.”
Right. Pepper had just explained how close they were—like I hadn’t known—but still. I didn’t figure Connor would call Eric over this.
“What did he say?” I whispered.
Eric parted his lips. “Well—”
“Ice cream!” Pepper cut him off, sweeping into the room with a tray, two pints and two spoons atop it. She set it on the coffee table before us and winked at Eric. “Sorry, Iron Man,” she said. “Girl time.”
He raised his palms and backed away slowly. “Don’t need to tell me twice,” he said, pointing up the stairs. “Holler if you need me.”
And then he was gone, taking whatever Connor had said with him.
Just as well. I suppose I didn’t really want to know what Connor made of the situation. Of me letting him in—letting him part my lips with his tongue and claim my mouth one second and then bolting out his front door the next.
I stabbed my spoon into the creamy goodness and took a huge bite.
“Better?” Pepper asked, nibbling at her own.
I nodded. “Might need something stronger.”
She laughed. “I thought that, but know you have an early day tomorrow.”
“Right. Work.” The thing that was supposed to have my full focus. Supposed to help prevent things like this from happening. I ate a few more bites, feeling more wretched the longer we sat in silence.
I’d fallen hard for Crosby because he’d said all the right things.
And Connor…he’d hated me for it. For what it’d done to the team and what it had made me do to Eric and my sister.
They’d forgiven me…well, maybe not Crosby but I wasn’t worried about him since he’d lied to me the entire time we were together.
But had Connor? Somewhere between the banter and me helping Hannah, we’d found a common ground. Hell, we’d even had moments of connection that I’d never felt before. Like when he stunned me with his sweet gift of his jersey. Or when we’d sat in his giant marble tub while house shopping—me sharing my silly dreams of the puppy I’d never own.
But what did that make us? Friends? No…we fought all the time. Lovers? How could we be that when I’d bolted during a kiss?
“God,” I said aloud, unable to make sense of the thoughts rushing my mind. “Pepper…” I swallowed hard, shifting on the couch because my stomach was in knots. “Do you think I’m a slut?”
Pepper spit the bite she’d just taken back into her pint. “What?”
I stared at my ice cream, unable to look her in the eye. “With Crosby…and then now Connor—”
“First off,” she cut me off, sitting her pint down. “You never slept with Crosby, and he played you and hurt you and he’s the asshole. Two, even if you had slept with him and Connor, you are not a slut.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m serious, Ivy. Don’t you dare think that. You aren’t married. You are young and gorgeous and single. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. The only reason I tried to warn you off of Crosby was because I knew how he truly was because you can tell everything about a man by how he behaves in the locker room. And I can’t warn you off Connor because he’s just too damn good.”
I sighed.
“Plus,” she continued. “I love how he calls you on your bull shit.”
I gaped at her, and she chuckled.
“You’re not a slut,” she said. “I hate that you’d even think such an awful thing.”
“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted. “I didn’t see him coming. I love Hannah, and I don’t want to lose her…but how do I be around him now?”
Pepper reached for her pint again. “You have to talk about it.”
“Ugh.”
“I know. It sucks. But you can’t pretend it never happened.”
“Why not?”
A flush dusted her cheeks. “It’ll build until one or both of you combust.”
I stared at her, realization clicking in my brain. So that’s how it had happened with Eric. She’d never given me the full story on when or how they’d come to be. Only that once she’d fallen for him that was it and nothing else mattered.
“What do you want, Ivy?” she asked, no judgment or demand in her tone. Thank God for her. I would be a wreck if I didn’t have my sister.
Good question, too.
For weeks, I’d imagined what Connor would feel like against me. What he’d do to me with that sharp tongue of his. And now that fantasy had crossed into reality—even the PG version—I was at a loss.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fair,” she said.
“I do know that even if I did want something more with him—which I don’t know if I do—I couldn’t…we couldn’t…”
She arched a brow at me.
“Well, look what happened with Crosby. Dad kicked him off the team. And then Dad forced that ultimatum on you with Eric. I wouldn’t want that to happen to Connor. Not when he’s trying to gain custody of Hannah and all the things he’s going through. He needs this job. Hockey is his life.”
“Dad lifted the ban on players,” Pepper said. “He’s promised to stay out of our romantic lives. So, sorry to say, you can’t use that as an excuse.”
“Great.” I huffed. “Thanks a lot.”
She laughed. “I’m here to tell it to you straight, Ivy. Always have been.”
“I know.” I set my pint down and wrapped my arms around her. “I love you.”
“Ditto,” she said, squeezing me back. “Word of advice?” She asked when I’d pulled back.
“Might as well,” I waved her on.
“Talk to him. You’re Ivy Harris. Queen of the bold and Princess of the wild. You don’t hide from this. You’re such a light in Hannah’s life, and you owe it to her not to run away because of a kiss.”
“Ouch.”
“You know what I mean. If the kiss meant something, explore it. If it didn’t…then who cares?”
It did mean something.
I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.
And it scared the hell out of me.
Thank God for lightweight concealer and highlighters or else I’d be sporting dark purple circles under my eyes and some seriously luster-lacking skin today.
I’d stayed up half the night with Pepper, watching more of her deliciously distracting superhero movies in a way to avoid talking about Connor and the kiss for one second more. We’d also consumed two pints of ice cream and one bottle of red, so I had a splitting headache. And I had a good two hours before I could even contemplate throwing in the celebrity-story-towel and go home to sleep everything off.
“Harris,” Shelby said my name like she was already disappointed in me despite not seeing me the entire day.
I glanced up to find my editor practically hovering over my desk, her nails and lips matching in a perfect color of dusty-blue today. Damn, she always looked fabulous. How did she manage to score all the stories and look so freaking polished? Maybe someday, if we ever became friends, she’d teach me all her makeup-ninja secrets.
“I want to help you,” she said like she’d read my mind, and with my sleep deprivation, I half expected her to start telling me where she scored all her colorful goods. “Your festival piece was decent.”
I raised my brows, waiting for the but.
“But…”
There it was.
“It was lacking a bit of punch.”
I opened my mouth, but she continued on.
“I enjoyed the light angle. The focus on celebs who are genuinely doing good. It’s refreshing. Different from th
e norm. But it can’t always be cupcakes and rainbows.”
Hannah and I would beg to differ.
I bit back a smile that cropped up whenever I thought about that kid.
It was easy to drop the grin when thinking of her immediately led to thinking of Connor and then I was nothing but a heart-racing mess, barely hearing what my editor was saying.
“…and you can’t find the goods unless you place yourself in their path.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m not following.”
She sighed a sigh to end all sighs. “Club Thirty-Five,” she said. “Heard of it?”
“Been there.” I nodded. With Crosby and the Sharks for Halloween. The memory didn’t hold the bite it once had.
“Good. It’s a celebrity hot spot. The staff are used to it and leave them alone, plus the clientele rarely accosts them either.”
“Okay.”
“Spend time there,” she continued. “Run into people. Mingle but don’t be obvious. Find. The. Stories.”
“All right,” I said, the idea of clubbing it every night actually sounded tiring which was the first sign I was seriously sleep deprived. I lived for the nightlife, for the fast paced adventure that only happened when you hit up a place with no agenda.
Except, if I went tonight, I’d have an agenda.
It would be work.
My spirits brightened at the thought of finding a story there.
“I’ll go tonight,” I said when Shelby hadn’t moved.
“Good. Weeknights are hot since a lot of local celebs like to blow off steam.” She glanced toward Zach, who as usual sat quietly in his chair, listening but never adding to the conversation. Not where Shelby was concerned. Poor kid was terrified of her. “And you know the drill,” she said to him. “Follow her.” She pointed to me. “Whenever she goes out, you better be there. Just in case.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He nodded, and Shelby flashed him a satisfied smile before spinning on her Prada heels and clicking away.
“You’ve been to Club Thirty-Five?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How did you get in?” His eyes widened. “Dumb question. You’re Ivy Harris. Your Dad—”
“I went with—”
Skater Page 10
