Page 13 of Bombshells
He’d sat down, too, but at a respectful distance, his serious blue eyes nowhere near my cleavage. “Your father thought it would be a good idea.”
“Hmm?” I’d asked, distracted by my own agenda. Kiss me you fool. Why won’t you just lay me out on this bed and make love to me? Finally?
“The lock,” he’d said, giving me a frown and putting the soda on the bedside table. “Your father worries about you, too. You know…” He’d turned and climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees, making my heart leap. But it turned out he’d only been looking out the window. “Merde. You are only on the third floor. And these burglar bars are loose. Someone might climb the fire escape. I will tighten them.”
That had been forty minutes ago. He’s already made a trip to the hardware store for just the right kind of screw.
Although the right kind of screw, in my opinion, is not something you can get at the hardware store.
It’s no use, anyway. We have a big team meeting in a half hour—the Bruisers and the Bombshells together. So if I’m going to convince Bryce to ravish me, it’s going to have to be another day.
Having given up, I left him to his screwdrivers and came out here to stretch my sore muscles on the rug and listen to my teammates’ chatter. We’ve known each other for four days, but they’ve been intense ones. I’ve moved to a new city, and I’ve had my first two grueling practices with my new team.
I’m tired, but happy. Playing hockey as a professional? There is no better job in the world. And I like these women. Fiona is just as bubbly and confident as a team captain should be.
And Charli is... not. She’s angry, although she hasn’t told us why. But she’s also smart, with a biting wit that frequently makes me cackle.
The buzzer rings on the wall, and I startle because I’m not used to the sound of it yet.
Fiona pops off the couch. “I’ll get it!” She spends a moment on the handset and then presses the button to admit someone.
“Who is it?” Charli demands.
“A couple of Bryce’s friends,” she says. “He asked them to stop by before we all go to the meeting.”
“It better not be that one who called me a doll.” Charli tosses her red hair. “I still can’t believe that. Two hours—that’s how long we’d been in the building before one of the self-important millionaires revealed his sexist attitude.”
“They’ll adjust,” Fiona says with a shrug.
“Will they?” Charli points a finger toward my bedroom, where Bryce is still performing his unsolicited home repair.
There’s a knock on our door, and this time I get up to answer it. The first thing I see when I open the door is a pair of bright, turquoise eyes. They’re smiling at me.
And then they take a slow trip down to my cleavage, before rising back upward.
My cheeks flush, even though I wore this top for that exact reason. “Hello there,” I say, just as I notice the object in his hands. It’s a toilet seat. “Gosh, is that for me?”
“It is, and aren’t you lucky?” I’d forgotten that his voice has a slightly husky texture. I feel it right in the center of my chest. “Some men bring flowers, but I brought a new seat for the throne.”
“Why?” Charli demands from somewhere behind me.
“Well—” Anton clears his throat. “Mind if I come in?”
I realize that I’m blocking the door while I stare at his pretty eyes. “Of course!” I leap out of the way.
“Campeau asked us to pick up a few things that he thought you needed.”
“A toilet seat?” Fiona asks, skeptical.
“Replacement!” Bryce yells from the bedroom. “You do not know who lived here before.”
“Actually, we do,” Drake says, entering the apartment behind Anton.
Charli growls.
Drake moves to stand in the corner, in a pose that positions his hands in front of his testicles. “This is the apartment where Becca and Georgia lived until Georgia moved out to live with Leo, and Becca moved in with Nate. After that, Becca’s sister lived here.”
Bryce emerges from my bedroom. “Thank you for stopping at the store.”
