Page 2 of Crossed Sticks

My new crush tightened his grip on my arms before letting go. We stepped aside to let the other man pass, and it was only then I noticed it was Holcomb.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Guys too, eh?”

So much for me coming out to the team. He’d spread the news the moment he got back to our table.

When my dark-haired stranger nodded toward the hallway, I followed him back into the dining room, hoping my bladder wouldn’t fail me. His smile was a breathtaking display of perfect teeth, and when he pushed a lock of raven hair off his forehead, I clenched my fists to keep from touching him.

“Are you here with someone?” he asked.

“A group of guys.”

“Me too.” He jiggled his eyebrows. “Want to ditch?”

Did I ever, but I couldn’t desert my teammates after they’d taken me out. “I can’t. It’s a long story, but tonight’s sort of about me. I’ve got to stick around.”

He nodded. “That’s too bad. I’m Luca, by the way.”

“Harper.” Fuck my life.Luca had just turned me inside out, and now cruel fate prevented me from spending time with him. He was too attractive to be safe, but in the grand scheme of things, how much harm could a one-nighter do?

“Nice to meet you, Harper,” he said. “Want to trade numbers?”

“Sure.”

We pulled out our phones, and my hands shook as I typed in his details. While I gave him mine, Holcomb walked by and shotme a wink. I braced for the inevitable teasing when I returned to the table.

Luca and I lingered, clutching our phones, caught in a quiet bubble that shut out the noise of the bar. A thrill rushed through me when I noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead. It could have been the heat, but I wanted to think it was because of me.

He worked his lips into a smirk. “Text me? Or should I blow up your phone?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Either way works.”

His eyes sparkled, and his smile broadened into a grin. “Good deal. Enjoy your night, Harper.” He turned to walk away, then looked back. “See you around.”

1/

luca

The door slammed shutbehind me as I headed for the kitchen, where I downed a bottle of water and grabbed a beer. The humidity was so thick it was seeping in through the walls, making the inside air sticky. On my way to sit down, I paused by the thermostat and noticed I’d left it set on sixty-nine. I chuckled at the coincidence—or was it a Freudian slip?—before lowering it to sixty-six.

In the living room, I set my phone on a table and collapsed into the leather recliner that offered a two-way view. Swiveling to one side had me facing an eighty-six-inch TV; on the other side, a row of arched windows offered a stunning view of Lake Erie. In the winter, the gray water and constant fog held a mysterious charm, but the summer transformed the view into pure brilliance. Today, the water sparkled like liquid sapphires, a scene fit for a king.

After spending the entire day in a photo shoot, I was worn out. The session was so long because the photographer had been a condescending jerk. Since I couldn’t understand what he wanted me to do, I handed his attitude right back to him. Some lacrosse fans said I looked like a model, but I certainly didn’t have a model’s skill in front of a camera. I’d learned somethings since Finley Sports Gear made me the official face of their lacrosse division, but it was slow going.

Fortunately, people liked the ads. Finley’s lacrosse sales had increased an incredible fifty-three percent in the two years I’d been with them, resulting in a staggering profit and a new five-year contract for me. My fee had a lot of zeroes attached, a godsend considering the measly salary I received for playing with the Buffalo Steamrollers. Professional lacrosse doesn’t pay the kind of money athletes earn in other sports.

While I drank my beer, I thought about what to do for the next four months until training camp started. Without a boyfriend, I was free to follow the wind, but that was nothing new. I’d never had a relationship. For most of college, I had sex with a different man every chance I got. If they had a dick and got mine hard, they qualified.

Then I became fuck buddies with my best friend, Caleb. When I fell in love with him, I was afraid to say so. I delayed too long, and by the time I found the courage to speak up, he’d fallen for someone else. I’d say I was devastated, but it was much worse than that. Crushed, shattered, gutted, and demolished might be closer to the truth. Somehow, we remained friends, and I even found a way to get along with his boyfriend. Shit—make that husband now.

Memories tumbled back, making my stomach clench. It had been a terrible time. No matter how hard I tried to move on, my heart had belonged to Caleb. For a while, I put on a brave face for my friends and teammates, but when I was alone, I’d go to bed, bury myself under the covers, and stay there until someone forced me to get up.

When my depression became so serious I couldn’t get out of bed at all, my folks put me in a psych ward to get a handle on things. Therapy, combined with medication for depression and anxiety, helped me think more clearly, and I slowly made myway back into the world. I’d still been in bad shape, though, completely in love with Caleb.

I was celibate for almost two years after he fell for Daniel. The lack of sex had contributed to my illness, but my need was more than physical. I longed for companionship and craved the small, precious moments—being partners in crime, having breakfast together, texting each other during the day just to say hi. For a while, I had that with Caleb, but I let him slip through my fingers.

Desperate for any connection, I went back to my old ways. My specialties became hookups, weekend lovers, drinking too much, and making bad decisions. It was easy because my increasing notoriety as an athlete and model made it a breeze to find willing playmates. See a guy, make small talk, charm him into bed—it worked like magic.

Until last week, when it didn’t.

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