Page 54 of The Shots You Take

Her expression turned sad again. “I hate that you’re not proud of your NHL career.”

“Iamproud of it,” Riley argued. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”Or think about it, he added silently. “I also don’t want to talk about Adam. Or anything right now. Like, what the hell, Linds? You really think I’m looking for a date?” He flapped a hand in front of his face. “Fucking look at me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t go more than a few hours without crying. A matchmaking sister is the last thing I need.”

He went to open the door, but Lindsay stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I get it, and I’m sorry. Maybe I’m a little desperate for something good to come out of this nightmare. I want you to be happy.”

Riley rolled his eyes. “Adam Sheppard will never make mehappy.” Then he ended the conversation by opening the door and grabbing both boxes off the table.

By the time the shop closed, Riley was exhausted. He’d spent most of the day fighting back tears, and the rest of it being intermittently charmed by, and angry about being charmed by, Adam.

As he drove home, he wondered how exactly Adam had managed to invade his life so thoroughly in only a few short days. Riley had been sure he’d kept his guard up and hadn’t even been nice to him. And yet, here Adam was, helping at the shop, living in his house, and, apparently, volunteering his time for the local minor hockey banquet.

When Riley and Lucky entered the house, Lucky immediately started barking, alerting him that there was an intruder.

“I know, Lucky,” Riley grumbled. “We have a guest, remember?”

But Lucky tore off up the stairs, on a mission.

Riley turned on the oven, figuring they may as well have lasagna again. Assuming Adam didn’t have dinner plans.

He heard Lucky barking upstairs, and Adam saying, “Oh, hey, boy. You’re home.”

Lucky kept barking, so Riley sighed and went upstairs. He stopped short when he saw that Adam wasn’t in his own room, but was, in fact, exiting the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist.

“Lucky,” Riley said, then lost his train of thought. Adam was still carrying a lot of muscle, especially in his chest. His belly was softer than Riley remembered, and he had a surgical scar on his left shoulder. There were a few gray strands mixed into his dark chest hair.

He blinked, and said, “Come on, Lucky. Leave him alone.”

Lucky seemed satisfied that his detective work had paid off, and slipped between Riley’s legs to go downstairs. Adam, inwhat looked like a self-conscious gesture, tugged the towel up a little higher, covering most of his belly. Was he ashamed of it? Ridiculous. He looked incredible.

“That’s a nice shower,” Adam said.

“Thanks.”

“Good water pressure,” Adam continued. “I hope I didn’t use too much hot water.”

Riley watched a drop of water slide down Adam’s neck, landing in the hollow of his throat. Adam’s skin was flushed and glistening. “It’ll replenish,” Riley said. He couldn’t rid his imagination of a clear image of Adam in his shower, the water hot enough to fill the room with steam and turn Adam’s skin pink. He heard himself say, “Take all the showers you want.”

For the first time in over a week, Riley’s cock was getting hard, and he didn’t miss the way Adam’s gaze dropped to the growing bulge in his jeans.

Adam clutched the towel tighter, the muscles in his forearm bulging.

“Lasagna,” Riley blurted out. “I’m heating up the rest of that lasagna. If you’re hungry.”

Adam’s eyes flew back to Riley’s face. “Sounds good. Or I could just eat at the Dropped Anchor. You don’t have to keep feeding me.”

“Don’t eat at the Anchor. The kids will be disappointed if you die before the banquet. I’m sure Cathy has told the whole town by now.”

Adam smiled. “All right. I’ll get dressed and be right down.”

Riley’s gaze took another quick tour of Adam’s body, then he turned his back to him and headed down the stairs.

Chapter Sixteen

A few hours later, against all reason, Riley was standing outside the Dropped Anchor.

Adam had left shortly after eating. Dinner hadn’t been unpleasant, though he had tried to convince Riley to come to the bar. He’d clearly been disappointed when Riley said no, but hadn’t pushed it. After Adam left, Riley had felt an odd pang of regret, not because he wanted to go out, but because he’d wanted Adam to stay in.

He was still wrestling with those confusing feelings when, about forty minutes later, Adam sent him a text:I got our table, followed by a dark blurry photo of their two jerseys, hanging beside each other above where Adam was probably sitting. Riley decided that going out might be a better plan than lying in bed, staving off the urge to jerk off to thoughts of Adam, and then inevitably jerking off to thoughts of Adam.

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