Page 26 of Interference

“Oh, I bet.”

He petted Moose, which prompted some purring and an arched back. “I used to worry they were really stressed when I was gone, but…” He shook his head. “I check the cameras all the time, and they’re either sleeping, playing, or watching birds out the window.”

“They just lay on the guilt as soon as you get home?”

“Bingo.” Laughing, he rolled his eyes. “Cats are so good at emotional manipulation.”

“And stealing food. I never realized they hunted in tandem.”

Anthony snorted. “You should see them when I bring sushi home.”

“Oh, man. I would not want to fight over fish with these two.”

“You have no idea.” He petted Moose again, then gestured at the hallway. “I’m going to go change out of this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I nodded.

He left the kitchen with both cats on his heels, and I almost dropped my sandwich. Turned out those tailored green trousers didn’t just make his thighs look good. I was envious of the fine fabric that got to lay across that gorgeous ass.

I shook myself and tried to turn my attention back to finishing my food, but I couldn’t escape the image of my host in that suit. My libido had been MIA since long before I’d been evicted—dire straits were not what I would call an aphrodisiac—and even yesterday, I’d barely paid much attention to this man who’d scraped me up. Not what he looked like, anyway. Apparently all it took was twenty-four hours of food and shelter to dial back the survival drive enough to start remembering how much I liked men.

I didn’t have a chance with Anthony and I knew it, but I had to admit, it did feel good to notice an attractive man again. I’d almost forgotten what it was like, but oh, I was remembering now. Especially since Anthony was… wow.

I’d been in heaven in the Army—surrounded by men who were absolutely jacked and either wore utilities (which were sexy as hell) or snug T-shirts (which were fine by me). Sometimes I even got lucky and found a fellow soldier who also liked how I looked in utilities, and I’d… Well, I’d get lucky.

But oh my God, none of them held a candle to a ripped professional athlete in what had to be a bespoke suit. I’d never even thought about what a hockey player might look like. What little exposure I’d had to the sport had been seeing the guys in their bulky gear. Why had no one thought to tell me about the jaw-droppingly sexy bodies they had under all those pads? Or about the suits they apparently wore to and from games? Not that I’d ever have had a shot with one even in my best days, but I could’ve at least ogled them.

And now I was sleeping under the same roof as a hockey player who looked spectacular on the ice or in a suit, and—

My stomach flipped as my mind snapped to this morning.

To the man who’d picked up Anthony for practice.

Goddammit. Anthony was hot enough to wake up my dormant libido annnd he was also queer.

And spoken for.

And light years out of any league I might have ever been in.

Ah, well. At least my libido had come back to life, and just because I couldn’t touch Anthony didn’t mean I couldn’t check him out. Might as well enjoy those luxuries while I had them.

A few minutes later, as I was cleaning my now-empty plate, Anthony returned. He was dressed down now in a pair of shorts and a Boston shirt. He was unreasonably sexy in shorts, of course, especially since I had a better view of his sculpted, powerful thighs. Why had no one ever told me what ice skating did to a man’s physique?

I didn’t want to get caught staring, though, so I gestured at my own shirt. “Boston? I thought you played for Seattle.”

Anthony laughed as he got himself a glass of water. “I was drafted by Boston. Played my rookie season and half my second season there.” He shrugged. “And I have the shirts and stuff—might as well wear them.”

“That’s not against the rules?” I teased. “Nothing in your contract about wearing a rival’s shirt?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I mean, I’d be stupid to go out in public with it, but here?” He gestured around the room with his glass. “I can wear whatever I want.” He took a sip. “Hell, Simon wears Portland shirts behind closed doors.” With a grimace, he added, “That would be a scandal if someone found out.”

“Ooh, so they’re the actual rival.”

“Big time. Seattle and Portland have been at each other’s throats since before I was born. If someone here found out he still wears their logo sometimes?” Another grimace.

I chuckled. “And I thought football fans were bloodthirsty.”

“Clearly you’ve never been to a playoff hockey game in Canada.” He gestured toward the couch, and as we headed toward it he added, “Hockey fans take the sport very seriously.”

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