I steered the truck to the curb beside a sleek apartment that probably had a lock code and a doorman, lifted my phone to check the GPS one more time—and put it back down as a lithe blond figure stepped away from the building. Like he’d been leaning against it, waiting for me.
My eyes drank in the sight of him as he crossed the wide sidewalk towards the truck. The way he moved, the smooth bunch and flex of his muscles under the fitted black T-shirt, the sparkle of his green eyes behind that serious facade. Everything about him was mesmerizing.
And maybe I should’ve been more concerned about that.
“Hey, Kitty. Nice wheels.” He pulled the Tundra’s door open, tossed a small hiking pack to the floor, and slid into the passenger seat. “A giant truck. Classic America. Everything’s bigger, yeah?”
He winked, and it struck me what I was doing—what we were doing. How awkward this was going to be and how poorly it could go. What was I thinking?
“You can’t wear a backpack with that shoulder.” Smooth, Jamie. Real fucking slick. It’s such a mystery you don’t get laid.
“Maybe my friend Kitty will carry it for me.“ He flashed that cocky grin, and I wasn’t sure whether to kick myself for suggesting this or to adjust my pants to make more room, so I settled on pulling out onto the road instead.
It was still early enough—and Saturday—that the city hadn’t awakened. The Tundra barreled through quiet residential streets like the oversized and unnecessary monster it was.
“You can put your stuff in my bag.” I jerked my thumb at the pack on the backseat.
“Sure. Yeah. Maybe you could carry me while you’re at it.“ He turned towards me, and when I glanced over, his grin had gained a sharp edge. Not his normal cocky confidence. Something harder. More real—but not in a good way.
Right. Okay. So we were still salty. “Bowie.”
He sucked in a breath at the sound of that name. But barrelled on like the obnoxious little shit he was. Or wanted everyone to think he was. “I mean, if you’re trying to protect me from doing anything or whatever.”
I turned the truck on to Route 6 towards the lake. Pine trees towered up around us, eating up the growing spaces between houses. Morphing city into country with little transition between. I was a city kid, born and raised in the burbs of Boston, but being out here, away from buildings and cars and people, always calmed me.
Helped me find strength. “You know a little injury like this won’t hurt your season, right?”
I dared a glance over to see him gritting his teeth, a muscle in his jaw flicking beneath his skin. He didn’t know. Shit, he really didn’t know. Enough cocky swagger for a whole hockey team, and he didn’t know.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you were the best player I’ve seen come through here.” I reached into the compartment under the stereo to grab my sunglasses. Partly to give myself something to do. Partly to hide my eyes, my expression. “I’ve—I’ve been around hockey a lot, okay? I know the game.”
I was choking up. Cool it the fuck down, Sullivan.
“So when I say you’ve got talent like nothing this team’s ever seen before—I mean that. They’re not gonna let you go over a preseason shoulder injury. I bet you could ride the bench the whole regular season and still have a starting spot next year.”
I dared another glance his way, keeping my eyes hidden behind the mirrored aviators. If he’d bothered to look over, he’d have seen the hard, tense lines of his own face reflected back at him.
Jamie Sullivan: coward.
I kept talking anyway. “You have any clue what they probably paid to get you? Draft spots they traded away?”
“They paid me a lot of money,“ he snorted, “that they could just as easily pay someone else.”
Didn’t I know it. “Sure. But they won’t. You know what the guys think?”
That got his attention. He turned, brows lifting in genuine curiosity. Damn, the kid did not know. Under all that swagger and conceit was … what? Underconfidence? Fear? If Bowie was a mask, who was lurking beneath?
“I’m not on the team.” I kept my eyes on the road as the trees fell away and the lake stretched out calm and blue to the right. “But I hear a lot of shit. So … trust me, okay? The guys are in awe of you. This isn’t gonna end your season. And your career?”
I angled my gaze to peer over the tops of the glasses. Meet him eye to eye. “Your career’s just getting started.”
“Sure, Kitty. Whatever you say.” His mouth gave the smallest twitch before he tilted his head back on the headrest. “Those sunglasses are sexy as hell. Are you trying to impress me?”
“You know I’m not.” I rolled my eyes. But I didn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed into the seat. His voice had lost that sharp venom.
Relief eased the tension from my muscles, and I let my gaze trail over the sparkling blue waters of the lake. Cool air whipped through the open windows, ushering in the scents of pines and aquatic vegetation. It’d be hot once we stopped moving. Hotter once we started walking.
Maybe I’d pick a hike that ended at a beach.