Page 4 of Play Book

Tall and broad-shouldered, with dreamy blue eyes and scruff on his jaw that makes my nether regions clench just thinking about what it would feel like to have him between my legs.

Would he be a giving lover or a typical, arrogant ass who thinks his looks make up for being shitty in bed?

Nope.

In my fantasy, he knows his way around a woman’s body.

“Saylor. Are you listening to me?” Russell snaps his fingers in front of my face.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him off, but I genuinely adore his aunt and don’t want to risk our friendship.

Maybe it’s time to fake an illness.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day,” I say. “And I think I’m getting a migraine.”

“This is why women shouldn’t work full-time. I’ve always said no wife of mine will work. How will you have energy for me if you work all day?”

“How will you have energy for me if you work all day?” I counter. Not that I give a damn, but I’m interested in his answer.

“Well, if I worked all day and you didn’t, it’s up to you to see to my needs. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

Pretty much the answer I expected.

It’s going to be a long night.

TWO

Canyon

The name flashing on the screen of my phone makes me grit my teeth.

Carly.

Nope.

Not tonight, sis.

I haven’t spoken to my sister in years, and the only reason she ever calls is to ask for money.

And I’m done giving.

I send her and my niece money at Christmas, but that’s the extent of it. There is way too much water under the bridge between us, and I want no part of the drama.

I stuff my phone back in my pocket and lift my beer, taking a pull as my friend and teammate Marty Nadeau nudges me. “That blonde over there has been checking you out.”

“They’re everywhere,” our buddy Connor Brooks stage whispers. “I mean, available ladies are freakin’ everywhere.” He’s just turned nineteen and is playing his first season of professional hockey. Everything seems to amaze, awe, or wow him. Sometimes it’s fun to watch; other times it’s exhausting.

“Go get ’er, kid,” I say with a grin. “We are your wingmen tonight.”

Connor ambles in the direction of the blonde, and I chuckle.

“That was you not that long ago,” Marty says, laughing.

I shake my head. “Nah. I was never that green. He started the season a virgin. I mean, I lost my cherry at fourteen.”

“Fifteen for me,” Marty says, “but we’re all different. I look at my kids and wonder what their futures will look like in that regard, you know?”

“Does it freak you out?”

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