by Kendall Ryan
“It was a routine appointment,” I say, cutting him off. “I go every year, and this is the first time there’s ever been an issue. I have a lot of freckles, in case you didn’t notice. It’s good to get them checked on.”
“Your freckles are cute,” he mumbles distractedly.
“Regardless, I’m okay, and now you know.”
He draws in another breath, but this time, he sounds relieved. “I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry for panicking.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me tonight.” I wiggle my toes under the blanket, watching the fuzzy pink material shift. “I’ll be firmly planted on my couch with a lot of snacks and bad TV.”
I can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Not Annie, I hope.”
That makes me smile. “Not Annie. I save that for special occasions.”
“What’s more special than having a mole shaved off? I’ll be right over.”
“You don’t have—” I say, but Landon’s already ended the call. Damn it!
I don’t want him making such a big deal of this. I’m older than him, thirty now, which means I have weird moles, and boobs that are two inches lower than I’d prefer, and my stomach is soft and squishy, and my thighs are . . . well, let’s not get started on my thighs. The point is, there are weird things happening with my body all the time. If he makes a big commotion about every one of them, he’ll be having a full-blown freak-out once a week.
I manage to pull myself off the couch and trudge to my bedroom, where I dab a little concealer under my eyes and spray my roots with dry shampoo. I don’t need to look like a supermodel—I couldn’t even if I tried—but if I don’t want Landon being overdramatic about my situation, I should probably look like I have it a little bit together. Downstairs, I rearrange the pillows on my couch, eyeing the dishes I’ve yet to put away. It’s too late to worry about them now. My doorbell is already chiming.
When I tug open the door, I can hardly see the man I was expecting behind the enormous bouquet of pink roses he’s holding in front of his chest.
“Hi there, gorgeous.”
“You . . . you bought me flowers?”
Landon peers down at me, smiling. “Of course I did. Now, can I come in, or should I just leave the flowers and the cupcake and go?”
My ears perk up at the mention of a cupcake, but I tap my chin and jut out my lower lip, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can let you in under one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You watch Annie with me.”
He lowers the bouquet, giving me a full look at his gorgeous smile, one adorable dimple proudly on display. “Deal.”
Inside, Landon slips out of his black sneakers without untying them, then follows me to the kitchen, where I point him toward the vase on the top shelf.
I can’t reach it on my own. Short-girl problems.
While I hold the bouquet, I shamelessly stand back and watch his arms flex as he reaches, his shoulders testing the stretch of his T-shirt’s sleeves. I’m actually sort of sad when he grabs the vase and the show is over.
Note to self: Put more things on the highest shelf and ask him to reach for them.
While I snip the stems and arrange the flowers, Landon digs into the brown grocery bag, pulling out a small white box with a chocolate cupcake inside.
“Oh, thank God it’s chocolate.” I sigh, my mouth already watering.
“Not just chocolate.” His smile stretches from ear to ear. “It’s a chocolate lava cupcake. I figured that’s kind of our thing now.”
My jaw drops open at least an inch. “They make those?”
He nods, pride flashing in his bright blue eyes as he unboxes the chocolate treat. I get out a plate and two forks, letting him do the honors of splitting it and enjoying the satisfaction of watching the chocolate spill out. He let me do it last time, after all.
“You really didn’t have to do any of this.” I gesture to the cupcake, the flowers, and of course, to him. He dropped everything and raced over here without me even asking, all because he wanted to make sure I was okay.
He lifts a shoulder. “I wanted to. And it’s not exactly a sacrifice for me to get to spend the night on the couch with you.”
“You say that now,” I tease. “But that’s because I haven’t put on the movie yet.”
Grabbing the vase of flowers, I move them to the coffee table so we can enjoy them from the couch, and Landon follows behind with our cupcake plate and forks.
“Do you want wine?” he asks.
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” I say, sinking into my usual spot on the couch.
Landon smiles, then turns back to the kitchen, reappearing with a bottle of cabernet in hand. “You think I didn’t come prepared?”
I grin, moving to get up and help him uncork it, but he holds out a hand to stop me.
“I’ve got it. You get comfy. I’ll find what I need.”
I settle a bit deeper into my groove in the cushions. “If you insist.”
Once we’re snuggled up under the blanket with wine in hand, I reach for the remote and press PLAY. The familiar intro music sends chills up my arms, and I do a little happy dance in my seat.
Landon laughs, winding one arm around my waist and tugging me closer to him. “You’re not going to sing along, are you?”
I shoot him a devious grin. “Would that annoy you?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes,” I say with a firm nod. “Yes, I will.”
The movie isn’t long, but it goes by even quicker when I’m looking over at Landon every other minute, watching for his reaction. He holds me a little extra tight during the sad songs, and when I give a rousing rendition of “Tomorrow,” he applauds at the end, laughing like crazy. To top it all, when Annie finds out the truth about the people claiming to be her parents, I swear I see tears forming in his eyes.
“Damn flowers,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I think I’m allergic.”
I snuggle up a little closer to him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Whatever you say.”
Once the movie is over and the credits are rolling, I push back from him just enough to look him in the eye. “Well?”
“Awful movie. Absolutely horrible,” he says with conviction. But that tone can’t disguise the flush that’s still lingering on his cheeks and the sappy smile he wore when I sang along.
“Uh-huh.” I give him a knowing look, crooking one finger to beckon him closer. “Get over here, tough guy. I know it got to you.”
He’s mindful of my shoulder as he pulls me into him again, pressing a kiss against my temple. “I didn’t bring it up for the whole movie, so I have to ask now. How’s your shoulder?”
I roll my eyes. “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll have the results in a week.”
“And you’ll call me as soon as you know.”
“Sure.”
“And you’ll tell me if anything pops up like this again so I can drive you.”
“Yes, sir.” I scoff, giving him a sharp salute.
His eyes narrow into serious slits. “Don’t tease me. Let me worry about you.”
“You don’t have to, you know? I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“I know that. I like that you’re a strong woman, believe me. It’s one of the things that attracted me to you, and something I definitely want in a partner.”
I chew on my lower lip, weighing his words.
“I travel a lot during the year when the season starts. So a relationship with someone needy or codependent would never work for me. I want an equal. A strong woman who’s going to miss me, sure, but who can take care of herself when I’m away. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you too, Aubree. I do. Let me.”
“I’ll try.” The words feel tight in my throat.
God, where did this man come from? I’ve been on my own for so long, telling myself I don’t need anyone else. But now he’s here, so strong and solid, and he smells so
good, and there’s just something about him—his words, his soothing presence—that I can’t deny.
He’s growing on me.
Like a suspicious mole.
10
* * *
Asking for a Friend
Landon
“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” Justin asks as I settle into the back corner of the booth, which, as everyone knows is the absolute worst seat, and the reason it’s been reserved for me as the rookie on the team. Whoever occupies it is completely out of luck if he needs to get out to, say, use the restroom or make a private phone call, since he’d have to climb over four hockey players to do so.
“I’m down with whatever,” I say.
I’m out with the guys from my team tonight. While they still like to give me a hard time about being the rookie, I’m grateful for the friendships I’ve formed. Teddy, Owen, and Asher helped me move into my new apartment last month, and when it was my birthday, the entire crew took me out and got me good and drunk. So if it makes them feel better to stick me in the corner, I’ll deal with it.
When the bright-eyed, bubbly server swings by—a young woman with an Australian accent whose nametag reads RACHEL—we order a couple of pitchers of beer. She lingers at our table for a few moments too long, her gaze jumping from the blue of my eyes, to Justin’s broody smirk, then over to Teddy’s mischievous grin. It seems the sight of us has rendered her momentarily speechless.
She does a double-take, her eyes making another greedy pass. As she takes in Asher’s blond hair and easy smile, her lips part. Then her gaze drifts to Owen’s broad chest, and she makes a small helpless noise of surprise.
I’ve seen this type of reaction before when we’re all out together—women have checked us out, sure—but there’s usually a hint of subtlety to it. This poor girl’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head, and she doesn’t seem even remotely capable of carrying out her job duties. She’s still staring at Owen’s bulky arms, which are now crossed in front of his chest.
I’ve seen him command this type of female attention before—many times, in fact—but this is the first time I’ve seen it bother him. Maybe it’s because he’s engaged to be married soon, or maybe because he just really wants a beer. Either way, his smile has faded.
I clear my throat, pulling her attention over to me again. “He’s taken, sweetheart,” I murmur gently.
Her face falls, and she stammers out an apology. “So sorry. I was staring, wasn’t I? I’ll be right back with those pitchers.” She hustles away with a flourish, and the guys around me chuckle.
“Speaking of being taken,” Justin says, raising his eyebrows and looking in my direction. “You still off the market, Covey, or did you and Aubree get that shit taken care of?”
“Uh, we’re still married, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Owen scoffs, laughing. “Dude, but why? Surely there were easier ways to get into her panties than putting a ring on it.”
Teddy chuckles into his fist.
“Yeah, what’s the story?” Asher asks, his brows pushed together as he studies me. “How complicated is the annulment process? You don’t have to go back to the great state of Nevada, do you?”
I’m not sure how much to share with them. On one hand, it’s private, my personal business with Aubree, and I don’t particularly feel like airing it. But on the other hand, these guys are my bros, the only family I have in this city, and they’re bound to find out sooner or later anyway.
“Spill it, rookie,” Justin says, eyeing me from across the table.
I shift uncomfortably. “I might want to, I don’t know, see where this goes between me and Aubree.”
“Wait. Hold the fuck up. What are you saying?” Owen asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re going to stay married?”
“I don’t know, but yeah. I guess what I’m saying is before I agree to a divorce, shouldn’t I at least date my wife?”
After these words leave my mouth, there’s nothing but silence—dead-to-the-world, no-one’s-even-breathing silence. And, yeah, I know what I’ve just told them is a little crazy. But with the slack-jawed, wide-eyed looks the guys are giving me, you’d think I just told them I’m an alien on a deep space mission sent to anally probe them.
Then Owen opens his mouth to say, “Plot twist!” and laughs under his breath.
After several more beats of uncomfortable silence, Justin says, “That’s just fucking cr—”
But I hold up one hand, stopping him as I bark out, “You know what? It’s not a big deal, and I’m not looking for opinions.”
“Hey, you don’t owe us an explanation,” Asher says with a trace of sympathy, palms up.
“And Aubree is a cool girl,” Teddy adds, nodding.
I nod once, grunting.
Fuck, why is this so awkward? And of course my choice of seating makes it impossible to escape. I just have to sit here and endure their loud stares and stony silence. Fantastic.
Our waitress chooses this moment to appear beside our table. She’s bright pink when she returns with two pitchers of IPA and half a dozen glasses.
“Thank you, Rachel.” I smile at her, and she lets out a choked gasp. This poor girl’s discomfort shouldn’t distract me from my own, but . . . well, it does. And I’ll take whatever distraction I can get.
I let out a slow exhale and accept the glass of beer Asher’s just poured me.
“We could slip her Grant’s number,” Teddy says with a snicker as she scurries away again.
“Yeah, and he’d kick all our asses,” Asher says.
“Fact,” I say, agreeing.
Our team captain, Grant, is the one person on the team I can’t seem to figure out. He rarely ventures out with us, and when he does, he’s a grumpy bastard. Go figure. I certainly don’t want to get on the dude’s bad side.
“You should’ve seen him at rookie camp last year. I thought he was going to murder Morgan,” Justin says, launching into a story that involves a prank that went south.
Since the conversation has turned to hockey, and off my love life, I take a large gulp of beer, hoping it quenches whatever this weird tight feeling is inside my chest.
By the time I make it back to my place, I’m no more settled than I was sitting in that damn booth, enduring the awkward stares of my teammates. But Teddy was right, Aubree is a cool girl—and she’s also sweet and funny and unbelievably freaking gorgeous.
This just makes sense, right? Dating until we can figure out this thing between us? Or maybe that’s just another lie I tell myself, like I’m only staying for one beer. I had three, for the record.
I go through my bedtime routine on autopilot. Removing my contacts. Brushing my teeth. Stripping out of my jeans and T-shirt and throwing them in the hamper inside my closet. But by the time I fall into bed, I’m nowhere near ready for sleep, because my mind is still spinning on what-ifs.
Everything is jacked right now. From my empty bed to my naked ring finger, to the ridiculous luxury SUV that taunts me from the parking garage every day. Yes, I like Aubree a lot, but who the hell knows what will happen? She says she’s trying, but she’s holding herself back. She wasn’t even going to tell me about her little surgical procedure. I’m really not sure what to make of that.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling as I release a slow sigh. I consider jerking off, wondering if maybe that will relax me. But somehow, I know it won’t satisfy the ache inside me.
11
* * *
Once a Pro, Always a Pro
Aubree
“You have to at least give me a hint.”
It’s Friday night, and I’m riding beside Landon in his car, scanning my surroundings for any hints of our destination.
“No way.” He shakes his head, his resolve firm. “You’ve made it this long without knowing. What’s a few more minutes?”
His masculine, woodsy scent fills the small space between us, and I inhale deeply, nervous excitement bubbling
inside me.
“One clue.” I beg shamelessly, batting my eyelashes at him.
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and when we stop at a red light, his blue eyes fix on mine. “Why are you so interested? You’ve barely agreed to date me . . .”
“That’s not true, is it?”
His smile is strained. “I don’t know. You tell me, Aubree.”
The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart stutter. The last time we were together at my place, he was so sweet. And when I called him to tell him the biopsy results from the mole I had removed came back as nothing, he was elated. It was cute.
“I’m here because I want to be,” I say, darting another glance his way.
His thumb moves across his lower lip, and he gazes out at the road again. “Good. That’s a start, I suppose.”
I keep my expression neutral, hoping he doesn’t know about the nerves that dance down my spine. Being near him makes me feel off-kilter. When we’re apart, it’s easy to tell myself I don’t feel anything for him. But in his presence, that’s just not possible. He affects me, plain and simple.
I smile, pretending I’ve not been split into a million fragmented pieces. My own feelings aren’t something I’m used to struggling with. But on the matter of my hot new husband, they totally are.
“Fine.” He sounds annoyed, but his slight smile tells me otherwise. “Here’s your clue. Since you still seem hung up on our age difference, I thought we should do something to make us both feel young again.”
We roll to a stop at a red light, and I scan the bars and restaurants around us. “Are we doing tequila shots and karaoke?” I ask, sizing up the karaoke bar on our right. “Because that pretty much sums up my college experience.”
Landon chuckles, speeding past the bar the second the light turns green. “I said it’ll make us feel young, not nauseous. Think a little bit younger.”
