The agent from the pet sitting service told me the owners would be home to meet me and show me around the place, so I climb the front steps. Catching sight of the sign that reads Come inside porch to find doorbell, I push through the screen door and step inside the porch, and that’s when I come face to furry face with a handsome, orange-striped cat sitting on a porch swing and looking up at me with interest. I go to give it a quick pat.
“You’re a sweetheart,” I murmur into the kitty’s long fur. “I could definitely take care of you.”
The enclosed screen makes more sense now—it’s a perfect space for a cat to hang out.
Before I can press the doorbell, I hear the door to the house open, and I straighten up. The wooden door opens outward, and it stands between me and the owner of the house, so I take the few steps around.
And…I suck back my gasp at who’s standing in the doorway.
Holy. Shit.
For the first time in ten years, I stare up into the deep green eyes of Hunter Storm.
I immediately start shaking. I don’t know if he notices. He seems a little preoccupied staring at my breasts.
He’s so…masculine. His eyes are greener than I remember. His dark, wavy hair’s a little more tamed except for one lock that still falls over his forehead. His jaw is set and shadowed with a neatly-trimmed beard.
And Jesus, he’s built. I get that he’s a professional athlete, but wow…he’s grown up nice. He’s all man now.
I watch the muscles in Hunter’s forearm flex as he braces his arm against the door. The urging to touch him is too strong, too scary. But God, how I want to.
I almost picked up the phone to call him a thousand times over the last ten years—when I blew my first audition and was sitting on the steps of my dorm room at NYU, crying my eyes out; when I broke up with three guys in a week because none of them made me feel a millionth of what I felt when I was with him; when I found out backstage I had to replace the lead of Seasonal Bliss and was certain I was going to throw up from terror. And of course, the last time I almost called him when my world was falling apart.
I always hung up before he answered. And now, he’s standing right in front of me.
Holy. Shit.
Chapter 3
Hunter
I open the door to let Theo inside.
Then someone steps around the corner into the doorway.
I suck in my breath as my world tips on its axis like it hasn’t done in ten years.
Winter Princess Allen.
Her mouth drops open, and we stare at each other in silence.
“You’re supposed to be my new boss,” she finally says, immediately reaching for the spaghetti straps of her tank top, straps that have fallen off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin underneath.
I don’t speak or move at first. I just take her in for a long minute—
Same chest-length black hair that I used to bury my fingers in, bewitching red pout that could swear like a sailor, and almond-shaped blue eyes that saw right through me like nobody else ever could.
Her pink frilly skirt is short enough that I can see the scar on her mid-thigh she got when she slipped in the lake and cut herself on a rock. The thin fabric of her top hides absolutely nothing, and her nipples are poking against the fabric, practically daring me to touch them. Her feet are in open-toed sandals, as usual, and her toenails are painted pink. Cotton candy pink, I think she used to correct me.
Winter looks as startled to see me as I am her.
“How’d you know where I live?” I say in an accusing tone.
She furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t know where you live. I’m here for the couple needing a pet sitter. Shit. Did I get the address wrong?”
She starts flipping through her phone.
Crap. I reach out and catch her wrist. “Don’t bother. This is the right place.”
Her eyes widen.
“You’re the couple with the cat? The agency said the man travels a lot.”
I gesture to the New Orleans Fire sweatshirt I’m wearing. “Road trip next week.”
She sighs. “Oh Lord.”
Oh Lord is right. I raise an eyebrow at her. “So you want a tour of the place?”
She looks at me like I’m nuts. “Right. Like you and I could live together peaceably. No, I’ll just be on my way. My parents will be thrilled to see me, anyway. You know my father—always convinced the square is filled with murderers.”
But after seeing her again for the first time in years, I’m not about to let her go that easily.
“You already came all this way.” I step out onto the porch, and she inhales. “Do you want to come in? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to control yourself if you get too close to me?”
She covers with a forced smile. “Did you know I was coming home?”
My short laugh cuts through the bullshit, and she blushes. No man could make Winter blush but me. No one else could get through that layer of superiority her mother trained her in so well.
“Yeah, and I made sure to hire you. Because we ended things so well the last time.” I try to say it jokingly, but the pain between us lingers.
One thing Winter and I always know how to do is fight. Ever since we were kids, we would get each other going. When we were young, those fights ended in making up with ice cream cones by the lake, and when we got older…let’s just say a good fight between Winter and me finished in an even hotter make-out session.
She bites her lip like she knows what I’m thinking.
I watch her gather herself, put on her polite face, and nod. “Pardon my manners. I left Manhattan before dawn, so I didn’t get a proper night’s sleep.”
But I can’t let go of the thought nagging at me. “So why are you home, Winter? I figured a big Broadway star like you would be too busy these days to visit Louisiana. You just decided to come home for a while?”
She hesitates, and I can tell she’s debating whether to tell a white lie or go for the truth.
When she exhales heavily and purses her lips, I know she’s about to tell me the truth cloaked in some kind of a white lie.
“I hurt my vocal cords performing,” she says in a voice so sad I nearly reach for her. “My manager sent me home. So, no more Broadway auditions until the fall.”
I’m not sure which of the above was a lie, or maybe she simply omitted something. Either way, she didn’t give me the whole story. But I’m not about to call her out on it right now. She’s clearly in some kind of pain, and the last thing she needs is me being a dick.
“I’m sorry,” I say gruffly.
“Thank you.”
Ten seconds of us assessing each other in silence.
Yep. The chemistry’s still there. Winter Allen can still rev me up like no other woman. And she’s still off-limits—she was never meant to stay with me. She had her Broadway dreams to pursue, and hell if I was going to be the asshole to hold her back.
And I had my own dreams. Since we were kids, my three brothers and I were laser-focused on ice hockey. Sounds absolutely nuts to have a hockey dream in a southern city that, honest to God, didn’t always have an ice hockey rink, but we caught hockey fever from watching the college and pro games on TV with our dad. He made sure we could go to camps every summer, and we travelled to Baton Rouge to play in a local club league that’s since defunct.
Somehow, all four of us made the pros.
But my other dream—the one that involved Winter—apparently wasn’t meant to be.
It’s not like she and I ever even dated. We were…undefined. We weren’t quite friends, and we weren’t quite lovers—we were everything and nothing to each other, all at once.
So, I supported her Broadway dreams, and she supported my hockey ones. She’d leave town frequently to study in Manhattan, and I’d be gone in the summers for weeks at a time, practicing hockey. Somehow, our dual obsessive natures matched up. Our chemistry was nuclear, and no one could get my attention like she could.
But we were to
o singularly focused on our goals to have room for a real relationship. And when Winter moved to New York right after high school graduation as planned, to attend college and major in performing arts with her eye on Broadway, I stuck with my plan to attend college locally and throw all my energy into getting drafted.
She and I drifted apart like people do when they don’t see each other for years. To get through it, I put up a wall and firmly shut the door on keeping in touch.
But I was young and stubborn then. Now I’m twenty-eight and slightly less obstinate.
“I’ve kept tabs on you, you know.”
Winter’s lips part. “You have?”
I can’t believe I just revealed my hand, but no sense in holding back now. “I have.” I look her right in the eyes when I say, “I’m fucking proud of you, Princess. You’ve done good.”
The polite expression on her face eases, and she says, “Thank you, Hunt. That means a lot. And just so you know—I watch as many of your games as I can on TV. No matter whether you’ve been in Denver or New Orleans, I cheer for your team.”
This surprises me. Winter always supported me unconditionally, but we ended in a fight…probably the only way we could say goodbye without it killing either of us.
“You cheered for the Denver Alphas?” I tease her. “I cheered for you, Hunt. Wherever you were playing. I’m so proud of you, too.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, desperate to get rid of the emotion suddenly clogging it. “So you applied for this pet sitting job to avoid living at the Allen Jail?”
She breaks form at my joke, and a beautiful smile fills her face. That one dimple on her left cheek was always my undoing.
“Pretty much. But the rest of my time in New Orleans?” She holds up her hands. “Still figuring it out.”
Something doesn’t add up.
“What about your lead role in Seasonal Bliss? That must have opened a lot of doors, huh?”
She shifts from one foot to the other and looks past me out the window.
“Um…I’ve had issues auditioning. I’ve screwed up my last few.”
I’m stumped. How could Winter be blowing her big break? She always relished the pressure; the bigger the spotlight, the brighter she shined.
But she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Well, pet sitting is a fun gig too. Could teach you a few things in case you ever have to act alongside a cat.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Right.”
I inhale.
I could stand here and talk to Winter forever. She’s mesmerizing and fascinating and as complex and beautiful as she always was. But I can’t look for something in a woman who’s only here for six months max.
I open the door wide. “Come on. I’ll show you around the house. No one knows better than I do the torture you’re gonna be in for if you live with your parents while you’re here.”
Her mouth opens and then closes. I can practically see the wheels churning in her mind.
“The city’s crowded, Winter. And not everyone who advertises for a pet sitter should be trusted.”
She inhales so sharply I hear it catch in her throat.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she stammers. “Fine. But I don’t think you and I are good housemates material.”
“Maybe not, but the chances of finding a safe place for rent this short notice is nil. Plus, you get a twofer—me and Theo here.” I gesture to the cat, who’s watching us both closely.
“What about your…” She almost seems to force the next word out. “Wife? Or is it girlfriend? And your…” Another pause before she says in nearly a whisper, “Baby?”
I cock my head. “I’m not following. It’s just me here, Win. That’s why I need someone to look after Theo when I’m away.”
She exhales. “The agency told me you had a family—and I know she mentioned a baby.”
I hold up my hands. “I ain’t got no baby, darlin’. Don’t you think Charly would have mentioned that to you?”
She shakes her head. “Outside of hockey, I ask her not to relay any personal information about you.”
Ouch. “Well, I’m not a daddy. The agency must have gotten their information mixed up. I told them my brother moved out of here because he had a baby and got married. In that order.”
Her eyes soften. “Which brother?”
“Liam. Max and Jared are still playing hockey for the Montana Wild Kings.”
“That’s right. Well, congratulations to Liam.” Winter reaches over to pet Theo. “So he and Cathy stayed together, huh?”
“Yeah. When Cathy got pregnant, and then she gave birth and they tied the knot, this place just felt too small for them. Didn’t want his little brother hanging around anymore while he changed diapers, I guess.”
“Did you change any diapers?”
“Of course. I changed plenty of Lulu’s diapers. She’s my goddaughter and my favorite person in the world.”
Winter’s pretty pink lips part. “That’s sweet, Hunt.”
I touch Winter’s sandaled foot with my bare one. “So you’ll move in and take care of Theo here? You get your own suite.”
She stares up at me. “Won’t this kind of…suck? You and I haven’t exactly been close lately. I can explain to the agency that I’m the one who turned the job down, and I’m sure they can find you someone else who’s qualified.”
I swallow hard. “I want you, Winter.” Always have.
Our eyes lock. Whether or not she sees what’s surely written all over my face—that nothing’s changed since we were kids—I don’t know.
Until she says gently, “You still can’t live alone, Hunt?”
I look past her at Theo. “I’ve got Theo.”
“You thought he’d be enough to kill the memories?” she asks in a strangled tone like she’s reliving my father’s murder as much as I am.
I force myself to meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
She nods. “I get it. Okay. I’ll give it a try.”
I take Winter’s hand in mine and lead her into the house.
“Will sure suck for me,” I joke, “to have to see your Princess face every morning across the breakfast table.”
She laughs.
Her hand still fits in mine. I should let it go, but I don’t. Instead, I hold onto her all the way down the hallway and into the living room.
And she doesn’t pull away.
We break apart awkwardly when she spins around to look at my place.
“The balcony must have a great view.”
“You can use it whenever you like,” I say.
“I can’t believe this is yours.” She holds my gaze. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.” My voice comes out gruff.
I show her through the rest of the house, trying not to sound like an ass when I point out the bathroom and kitchen I remodeled after Liam and I bought the place.
“This is amazing, Hunt.” She stops in the middle of the kitchen. “It feels so warm.”
I swallow, and the frustration of how well she fits in my house bubbles up in my throat and threatens to come out.
Instead, I turn on my heel and lead her up the short flight of stairs. “And here’s the guest suite. You’ve got your own bathroom.”
She exclaims over the soaking tub and then wanders into the bedroom. She takes in the king-sized bed against the back wall and flanked by two windows. The walls are a pale green, and the only flaw in the space is a large dent in the door.
Winter looks right at it.
I start stammering something about Liam and his stupid temper, but she cuts me off with a smile.
“Let me guess—you two went at it one night after a few beers, and somebody missed a punch?”
The heat prickles the back of my neck and threatens to rise up into my face. “I’d never miss on a punch—you think I’d give up a chance to hit my brother?”
She throws back her head and laughs.
And I re
lax. I lean back against the door jam and smile at her. Those blue eyes of hers fix on mine like lasers until—
“So how did Cathy enjoy living here?” she asks, breaking the silence. “Can a woman handle this place, or will I run screaming back to my parents’ house after the first night?”
“Darling, no woman runs screaming from me,” I say slowly. “Although, you’ve always been the exception to that rule, haven’t you?”
Her face flushes red, and she steps closer to me. She grabs two of the belt loops on my jeans and pulls me flush to her.
“I never ran from you, Hunter.” Her breath is hot and smells like lemons.
“Pretty sure we both ran,” I mutter as my hands go around her back and slide underneath her top.
I nearly lose my shit when my fingers land on the hot, soft, smooth skin of her back. The heat between her legs hits my sudden erection, and I swallow a groan. I rub my thumbs in circles over the small of her back, and she presses into me further.
“Are you seeing someone?” she asks in nearly a whisper. “Is there a woman I should know about who’ll be staying here every night?”
Her blue eyes are flecked with violet, but the purple shade darkens to black as we stare at each other.
“No woman,” I say in a rough voice. “You know I’m not into commitment.”
I slowly drag one of my hands around her side. When I reach her stomach, she jumps backward so fast she bangs her head against the nearby lamp.
I widen my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She averts her gaze and reaches into her purse. When she produces her phone, I know she’s intent on getting out of here before we finish this conversation. Well, that’s not going to happen.
“Winter.” I follow her out into the hallway. “Hey.”
She calls for a cab before catching her lower lip between her teeth. I get a glimpse of the haunted look in her eyes before she ducks her head and charges for the front door.
“So I’ll bring my stuff by tomorrow morning, okay?” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll leave my suitcase here.”
“Hey. Spoiled Southern Princess. Talk to me.” I’m desperate to get her to slow down, and I use the name that pisses her off more than any other.
Easy Puck Page 2
