Page 86 of The Roommate Remodel

Since practices tied up the guys’ schedules all day, that means I still haven’t seen Brax since he left last night.

“Hey, beautiful,” a voice rumbles behind me. I spin around to see a freshly showered Brax striding toward me from the back door.

He picks me up like I’m as light as a daisy and spins me around, the smell of his cologne overwhelming me. I nuzzle my face in the hollow of his neck, breathing in his warm scent, before he sets me on my feet again.

“You’re home,finally,” I murmur with a grin I can’t hide. Seeing and touching him is like getting a shot of dopamine. All the happy chemicals whirl around my brain, stirring up so muchpleasure. Brax doesn’t need to do anything but walk into the room, and my heart is doing inconvenient flips.

“Hi, you.” His hands slide to my back and his lips curve as he looks me over. That smile disarms all my defenses. “Sorry I didn’t see you last night or this morning,” he murmurs against my ear, making a shiver rush down my arm.

Rourke elbows Dawson and nods at us. “Big Mac’s got it bad.”

Dawson crinkles his nose, like a kid who’s been served Brussel sprouts for dinner. “Come on, guys, we’re about to eat. You’re ruining my appetite.”

Brax looks at him, but doesn’t let me go. Instead, he grips my back even harder, letting me know we’re staying this close no matter what Dawson thinks. “As I recall, Dawson, you were making eyes at that pretty blonde after the game last night.”

Dawson grins. “Yeah, well. She said she has a thing for goalies.”

Lucian rolls his eyes. “The way you smell after a game? No one is getting near you.”

The guys snicker as Dawson ambles toward the table. “You guys are just jealous she wasn’t looking at you.”

“Jealous?” Leo asks, joining the other guys around the table. “Did she get sick of all your hockey pickup lines?”

“I don’t have any hockey pickup lines.” Dawson grabs a roll from the table, even though the rest of the food isn’t done yet. These guys are like insatiable trash compactors with their food consumption, and Sloan delights in keeping them full.

“Are you kidding me?” Leo’s eyes widen before he strikes a typical Dawson pose. “Hey, baby, is this a power play?” Leo says, attempting his best Dawson impression. “Because your beauty gives you an incredible advantage over me.”

The guys all groan as Dawson shrugs. “What?”

Unlike Leo, Dawson isn’t afraid of looking silly or being vulnerable. He’s one of the most genuine guys when you get toknow him—a total cinnamon roll beneath that intimidating goalie glare.

“It worked,” Dawson says, slapping some butter on his roll. “I got her phone number.”

Pots clang in the kitchen as Sloan sticks her head in the dining room. “The spaghetti will be ready in ten minutes.”

Vale jumps up from the table. “You need help, Sloan?”

Sloan looks at me, still in Brax’s arms. “Sure, since it looks like my sister is otherwise occupied.” Then she gives me a quick wink before handing Vale a wooden spoon. I know she’s trying to give me a moment with Brax, and my stomach flips nervously.

“Sorry, Vale,” I call, but Vale just shrugs.

“I’m not sorry,” Brax whispers, pulling me closer so that I’m snuggled into the warmth of his arms. “I missed you last night.”

“Me too,” I whisper, trying not to sound too sad, since this is what I signed up for. I have to accept him being on the road, even if that means women will flirt with him after games. I’m confident he’ll shut them down, but that won’t keep them from trying.

“Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?” The nervousness in my stomach feels like a pot of boiling water ready to bubble over. I’m doing the brave thing I promised Sloan. If this is going to work, I have to put our trust issues behind us.

“Sure.” Brax frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly.” I glance around and notice that everyone is busy. The perfect time to sneak away. With his hand in mine, I lead him into the back hallway.

“This must be serious if you’re taking me here. Unless we’re planning on doing other things?” He lifts a suggestive eyebrow that makes me want to forget talking and take up his invitation.

I wait a beat, and he just grins, but still doesn’t kiss me. If only he would make a move, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

A few pots clang in the kitchen, and then the clatter of metal hitting the floor. Vale yells, “Oops! That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Everything okay in there?” I call down the hall.

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