“Told you I could do a hundred pushups in two minutes.” Maverick pops up to his feet. His face is red from exertion, but he’s grinning big.
“Only one hundred and one?” Ash scoffs with a playful glint in his eyes. “Lohan here does that every morning before he gets out of bed.
“How would he do them before he gets out of bed?” Tyler asks, brows scrunched in confusion.
“It was a joke, rookie.” Ash claps him on the shoulder. “All right, everyone. I think Lohan has a few things he wants to say.”
I push forward and kneel down in the same spot Maverick was occupying. “Two minutes. Tell me when.”
A beat of silence follows my request. They were expecting a pep talk, but the last thing I want to do right now is give some heartfelt speech on keeping our heads straight while mine is on a Scarlett-driven loop.
“Uhh. Yeah,” Tyler lifts the stopwatch. “Go.”
Every rep, every burn of my muscles fades away and all I see is Scarlett standing next to my car in that black dress looking uncertain and nervous. All that for some guy who probably doesn’t even realize how fucking lucky he is to be in her presence.
And if he does? Fuck, that’s even worse.
Is she having fun? Did they decide to skip dinner and go back to his place? The unknown is a total mind fuck.
Tyler’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Time.”
I do one more and sit back on my heels. My chest heaves and my pulse races, but I don’t know if it’s because of the pushups or Scarlett.
“Damn, Lohan.” Maverick bows his head and lifts and drops his hands twice before he says, “I’m not worthy.”
I stand awkwardly. “How many?”
If they were counting aloud, I didn’t hear them.
Laughing, Ash wraps an arm around my neck. “One hundred and nineteen.”
“Nice speech,” someone yells, and the guys laugh.
“The message was loud and clear: be epic this weekend.” Ash drags me into the kitchen and tries to hand me a beer.
I wave him off. “No. I’m good.”
With a shake of his head, he says, “You don’t seem good. What the hell happened to you in the last hour?”
“I kissed her again.”
“Who?”
“Who the hell do you think?”
“Ah, dream girl.” He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “And? Is she at your place waiting?”
“And nothing.” I rough a hand through my hair. “I dropped her off on a date with some other dude.”
“You did what now?”
I give him the quick version of tonight’s events concluding with, “It can’t happen.”
“Go.” He points to the door.
“Did you not hear me? It can’t happen.”
“I heard what you said.”
“And you’re still kicking me out?”
“Hell yes. It’s for your own good.”
“What happened to team bonding to get our heads straight?”
“Yours is the only one twisted right now, so go figure it out. There’s no way you’re flying to Vegas tomorrow ready to play hockey while simultaneously wondering if your dream girl went home with some other dude.”
A deep growl vibrates in my throat. I flex my jaw and look around. The mood is fairly chill now, and it seems like things probably won’t get out of hand.
“Get the hell out of here,” he says. “I’ll get everyone else out in the next hour so they’re rested.”
I take two steps toward the door. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I don’t want to be here. “Thanks, man.”
“Good luck,” he calls after me.
The drive back to the restaurant takes an eternity. I don’t have a plan, but at minimum I have to make sure she gets home safely.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that asshole.
I park across the street and jog toward the entrance. Scarlett is exiting as I approach and my heart rate kicks up. She’s alone, so I guess that’s something.
Pausing on the sidewalk, I wait for her to look my way. When she does, my entire body clenches with panic at her icy stare. She isn’t happy to see me. Not that I blame her.
“What are you doing here?”
I take another step toward her. “I wanted to make sure you had a ride.”
She glances over her shoulder back into the restaurant. “You can’t be here.”
“How are you getting home?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I close the remaining distance between us and slide my hand around the back of her neck. “I want you to be my business.”
Her pulse thrums under my touch.
“Are you going home with him?”
She tries to glare but even so her body melts into my touch. Slowly her head shakes side to side. “He’s in the bathroom. We’re just going to share an Uber.”
“Not anymore.” I take her hand and lead her to my car. She doesn’t resist or speak until I open the passenger side door.
“This really isn’t necessary.”
I drop my forehead to hers and skim my lips over hers. “Then get in because you want to. Because you can’t stop thinking about me and because there’s nowhere else you want to be.”
I force my feet back and give her room. She stares at me through hooded eyes. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips and finally she moves into the car.
I don’t waste any time once I’m inside, pulling her to me and capturing her mouth.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. “I don’t date athletes. Especially ones that play for my dad.”
The excitement with which she kisses me makes it hard to care about words that don’t alter the here and now.
Dropping my hand to her thigh, I slide it up and under the hem of her dress. She whimpers as my fingers brush the delicate material between her legs.
She shifts to give me better access and loops her arms around my neck.
“You’re drenched, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “This for me?”
Her nod is nearly imperceptible, but when I circle my thumb against her clit, she cries out with relief. I tug until the material gives way and dip two fingers inside of her. She clings to me, nipping at my bottom lip and scraping her blunt nails along my back. The things she mutters are mostly nonsense, but they affirm me. She feels this too. It might be madness, but we’re in it together.
I would give up blow jobs for the rest of my life in exchange for watching Scarlett on the brink of bliss. To be clear, I’d like both, but if I have to give up one, it’s an easy choice.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers as her orgasm wracks her body and leaves her limp against me. A phone rings, hers or mine I’m not sure. Don’t care.
I take her mouth in a soft kiss as my heart hammers with adrenaline.
“That was…” she trails off. “Oh my gosh.”
I push back the strands of hair that have fallen forward, blocking her face. “You’re beautiful.”
“My dad,” she says.
Caressing her neck and sweeping two fingers along her delicate skin, I let the smallest bit of the outside world in with my acknowledgment. “I know.”
Fuck, I don’t have an answer for that, but I know it’s going to be messy.
She pulls back. “No. My dad is calling. That’s his ringtone.”
Her purse is on the floorboard, and she leans down to retrieve it. She casts an apprehensive glance my way. “I should answer. He never calls.”
I nod and sit back in my seat. Coach’s voice is distant and hard to understand, but it still hits me and coats my insides with guilt.
I roll the window down an inch to get some air to my lungs. Scarlett isn’t saying much back, but her bowed head and fingers rubbing at her forehead tell me it isn’t good news.
Dammit. What are we going to do?
She sits back and drops her phone to her lap.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
&n
bsp; A soft, brittle laugh leaves her lips and she looks over at me through dark lashes. “Looks like I’m traveling with the team this weekend.”
15
I THINK I HAD A TINY ORGASM
SCARLETT
The next morning, I ride with Dad to the arena. I have a small suitcase packed for the weekend. The team has an early practice, so I’m working half the day, and then we leave this afternoon for three exhibition games in three different cities.
The beginning of the season is always hectic. I hate that that knowledge makes me question if Leo really would have texted eventually. I know from Rhyse and from my dad just how consuming pre-season activities are with media, practices, and events. Plus, being here the past week, I’ve had a glimpse into Leo’s schedule.
I still maintain he could have texted, but I get it in a way I didn’t before.
In the break room, my coffee is waiting for me, like it’s been all week, and my stupid heart flutters in my chest. I can’t believe I have to spend the entire weekend traveling with the team. I can’t let anything else happen with Leo, but that’s easier said than done when he’s around.
Dad stops by my office after practice. “Busy?”
“No. I think I have everything ready. Anna took care of most of the travel arrangements before she left.”
“Good.” He motions with his head. “Come with me.”
In the back parking lot, an area has been roped off and people stand in a long line that leads to tables where the players are signing autographs. A local radio station is here playing music, and Wenzel, the Wildcat mascot, is doing cartwheels and high-fiving kids in line. Some of the ice girls are here too in their bright green sequined shorts.
“What is this?” I ask as Dad holds the door open for me.
“One of the pre-game events the Foundation does for members of the Wildcat Leaderboard Club.”
I arch a brow.
“The top tier season ticket holders. Throughout the season, there are a number of events they get exclusive access to, including seeing us off before our first game of the season.”
“Are you nervous?”
He nods as Blythe power walks up to us.
“Hey, Coach,” she says, “the DJ wants to do a quick interview with you.”
“I’m ready,” he says.
“Hi, Scarlett.” Blythe moves that excited and serious stare to me.
“Hey.” I wave.
“We need extra hands at the player table to snap photos and keep the line going. Any chance you can help?” She looks to me hopefully.
“Yeah, I can help.” My stomach dips as I spot Leo at one end of the table. He smiles at the kid in front of him and then stands and kneels for a photo.
“Have fun,” Dad says and shoots me that proud-father smile. That smile is the reason I’m giving up a weekend and traveling with the team. I should have said no, especially after what happened last night in Leo’s car. What is it about that car? But I love that my dad wants to share this with me.
“Great,” Blythe says. She walks me toward the players. I try to head to the opposite end of the table as Leo, but she points right at him. “Leo stands for every photo, so why don’t you help him and see if you can move things along a little faster. We have to wrap it up and get them on the plane in a few hours.”
“Got it.”
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
He looks up as I draw near. Twin girls with mini-matching Lohan jerseys stand in front of his table, looking at him like he is the dreamiest guy they’ve ever seen. Yeah, I know that look because I gave it to him once. Fine, more than once. And just last night. Groan. How am I going to be around him all weekend and not blush crimson red every time we’re in the same space?
“Can we have a picture with you?” one of them asks. Brown eyes widen with hope.
Leo answers enthusiastically, “Of course.”
The dad of the twins gives Leo an appreciative smile as he holds up his phone. Leo squats down, and the girls crowd in on either side of him.
“Would you like me to take one with all of you?” I ask the dad.
“That’d be great.” He hands over his phone and stands behind his daughters and Leo.
I stare at Leo through the phone. He’s dressed casually in a black jacket with his number embroidered on the right side of his chest in green and the Wildcat logo on the left. It dips low enough to reveal the black T-shirt underneath and molds over his shoulders and biceps, showing off his pro-athlete physique.
One I’ve seen and felt.
His hat is pulled down, not quite as low as he wore it the night at the bar, but enough that it’s putting a shadow over his face.
My cheeks flush as I realize this nice family is still waiting for me as I ogle Leo. I take three and then hand the phone back.
Leo immediately sits back down at the table for the next person in line. It’s a single guy who thrusts a jersey in front of him, and Leo chats him up while he signs.
I ask the guy if he wants me to take a picture, but he shakes his head and holds out the phone as he leans over the table to snap a selfie with Leo. We have a tiny break in the line. The next group is a large one, and they’re still with Ash, one table away.
Leo’s smile dims in the absence of fans, and he adjusts his hat. We ended things last night a bit awkwardly, with me telling him it couldn’t happen again, then letting him drive me home but making him drop me off a house down in case my dad was up. I might have kissed him again before I got out of the car, too.
What a mess.
He’s looking anywhere but at me when he asks, “How was your date last night?”
I don’t know if he’s really asking or trying to remind me that he fingered me in his car right after said date. Instead of answering, I step closer and quietly say, “You should turn your hat around.”
“What?” His brows pinch together, and he pins his hazel eyes on me.
“Turn your hat backward. That way in the photos, they’ll be able to see your face.”
He nods slowly, grips the bill of his hat, and twists it backward. I didn’t realize what I was asking for. Holy hell. Leo in a hat is sexy; Leo without a hat is even sexier, but Leo in a backward hat… I think I had a tiny orgasm.
The big group of girls finishes with Ash and starts our way. I step out of their path, which, thanks to the number of people now crowded in front of him, pushes me behind the table.
They each take a selfie with him, then several group photos. Leo takes it all in with a smile, even when one girl begs him to sign her stomach. I’m glad when they move along.
And so it continues. He’s humble and polite and either a really good actor or genuinely excited to interact with fans.
He spends almost ten minutes with an old man who won’t stop talking, and even as I intervene, giving Leo an out and trying to move things along for the people patiently waiting their turn, Leo refuses to walk away until the man pats him on the back and wishes him a good season.
We’re playing catch up for the next half-hour. The end of the line is in view, and I shift on my feet, wishing I’d worn different shoes today. Leo, who doesn’t miss anything, glances at me, and a smile pulls at his lips. He signs a foam finger, takes a photo, and then pauses on his way to his chair.
“Sit,” he says and motions to his seat.
“I’m fine.”
“We have a few minutes. That’s Ash’s girlfriend and her friends.” He pulls the chair out. “Sit.”
My pride would really like for me to insist on standing, but my toes are pleading for mercy.
I sit, take off my heels, and let out a groan. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He fidgets with a Sharpie.
If I’m going to be on a four-day road trip with him, I need to clear the air and make sure it won’t be awkward. Or less awkward, anyway.
No matter how much I want to dislike him or be angry at him for not telling me who he was that first night, or for kissing me and then leaving and
then coming back and kissing me again, one thing is clear – Leo is a nice guy. It would be so much easier to forget about him if he wasn’t.
I decide to give him a peace offering. “He had food stuck in his teeth for an hour.”
“What?” Leo cocks his head to the side to look at me.
“My date last night. I couldn’t decide if I should tell him or not. Normally, I would, but first date, you know? I debated for too long, and I got really uncomfortable and nervous. I couldn’t even look at him. For thirty minutes, I probably didn’t hear anything he said.”
Leo laughs. It starts light and grows into a hearty, rich sound that breaks the uneasiness between us.
“That isn’t even the worst part,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the rest.
“We sat at the bar after dinner, chatting and drinking. At one point, he leaned in like he was going to kiss me, and that’s when I finally decided to tell him. I held up my hand like this and cringed.” I reenact it, making a cross with my fingers like I’m warding off a dark spirit. “He recoiled back, and before I could explain, he’d paid our bill and called us an Uber.”
Leo is full-out laughing now, head thrown back.
“I don’t think I’ll be hearing from him again.” Not that I really want to. We didn’t really seem to connect, food-in-teeth disaster aside.
Movement beside us catches my eye. The line is moving again, so I stand and step into my shoes. Leo moves closer and takes my hand as I wobble.
His touch sends goosebumps racing up my arm. After I’m steady with my feet squeezed back into my heels, neither of us moves. It feels like there are a lot of unsaid things hanging between us, but neither of us speaks as I hold tight to his hand.
“Leo!” Someone calls to him, and I pull away and let out a long breath.
For the rest of the line, I keep my distance and take a dozen more photos of Leo with fans.
When the final person is through, Blythe thanks the guys, and Assistant Coach Peters lets them know they need to be at the plane in two hours.
“Busy day,” I say as we head back into the building.
“Yeah.”
The awkwardness has crept back in, and I don’t know what to say.
Wildcat Page 10
