Page 2 of Sticking Around

“Sorry about all this.” I back up and angle my body, so she can get to her room. “I didn’t know you were here.”

She takes a step and hesitates. “Brighton didn’t text you to let you know I’d be staying here for the weekend?”

I scratch my head. “No.”

She nods. “It was pretty last minute, and it probably just slipped her mind. She’s been busy getting the baby’s room ready, here and at their summer home.”

“Right.” It was just last week that Brighton announced to us all that she was pregnant. We’d all been at their summer home for a barbecue when she shared the news. It was also at that barbecue when Melanie shot me down after I asked her out. That was pretty embarrassing. When I said I was going to talk to her, my buddies Conner and Gunther warned me that she wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy like me and I stupidly put a bet on it—and lost.

Melanie isn’t the kind of woman who is into quick hook-ups, and that’s all I can give her. Hell, she’s a couple of years older than me and is working on her Master’s of Psychology. Right there…that’s another reason not to get close. I don’t need her in my brain, discovering and dissecting the shit I keep bottled up. No fucking way.

Emotions are weakness, Brady. You’re the man of the house now so grow a set.

As my mother’s warm, encouraging words ping around inside my brain, Melanie walks past me, the freshly showered scent of her skin teasing my senses.

“I should go.”

“Okay,” she calls out from her room.

Poker still in hand, I take one step down the hall and hesitate. “Is everything okay?”

The sound of a zipper peeling open fills the hall. “Yeah, why?”

“I just mean, it’s late and you’re staying here for the night.” My muscles tense again, every worst possible scenario playing out in my brain. I haven’t seen her with any men, but if she’s here late at night maybe… “Are you hurt?” Silence. I suck in a breath and wait for her to answer. She remains silent so I take a step toward her room, and find her dressed in pajama shorts, her back to the door. “Melanie, if someone hurt you…”

She pulls a T-shirt from a duffle bag full of clothes on the bed and slips into it. Angling her head, her gaze meets mine and for the first time since I’ve known her, she directs a smile my way. I nearly drop to my knees. Jesus Christ, she is so fucking beautiful. So different from the flighty bunnies who swarm us before and after games. Maturity looks good on this woman.

I’d look good on this woman.

Better yet, she’d look good on me.

I swallow hard at those thoughts because that’s never going to happen.

“What are you going to do, Brady?” She plants one hand on her hip, and juts it out, a challenging gleam in her eyes. “Go fight him?”

“Damn right. No one hurts those I care about.”

She arches a brow. “You’re saying you care about me?”

“You’re good friends with my friends, so yeah, by proxy, I care about you.” I shrug, and pretend her dislike of me doesn’t hurt. “Even though you don’t like me.”

Her eyes soften. “I never said that, Brady.”

I snort out a laugh. “Not in words, no.”

“I just…don’t date.”

She’s leaving off…guys like you. That’s okay. I get it. I do have a reputation, and she’s a serious woman, a bartender here at the resort, working toward a better life. I totally respect that, and I know the work that goes into achieving a successful career.

“No one hurt you?” I ask.

“No. My roommate recently got engaged, and her guy is over a lot. I like him. He’s not giving me trouble, but our thin walls sure as heck are.” She grins, and I laugh at that.

“Gotcha, and I’m here because of my roommate. While our walls aren’t thin, there’s just a lot of partying going on. Got me drove.”

She angles her head, her gaze moving over my face, a careful assessment, and I try not to squirm. I’m not much into being evaluated—off the ice. Her brow lifts. “Is the player played out?”

I open my mouth, wanting to tell the truth, but instead say, “Not in this lifetime, babe.”

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