Page 2 of Stick Play

I pull my hand back quickly, and shove it behind my back. He eyes me for another second before turning his attention back to the panel and I’m grateful for the reprieve. Honestly, I know what my problem is. I haven’t been with a man in five long years. Sad, I know.

But I can’t be ogling this man like the bunnies who hang around after a game, wanting a piece of him. It’s wrong. He’s a professional hockey player, not some boy toy here in my café for my personal pleasure. Unfortunately.

No. No. No. Not unfortunately.

I’m not interested in anything from Ash and he’s here helping me out because his buddy Conner asked him to. Ash is a good guy like that, always there for his friends when they need him. I’m not really his friend, I’m a friend of a friend, and while I don’t know what that makes me to him, I seriously appreciate him helping.

A niggling bit of guilt crawls into my stomach. Ash is supposed to be on his way to Noah’s resort in Sparrow Springs. It’s Noah’s turn with the cup and he’s planned a big celebration with friends and family. My heart tightens with joy as I recall my luck in meeting Melanie and Brady on the beach last summer. It was the beginning of a great friendship, when I had no friends at all after moving here from California. I love the closeness between the guys and the WAGs. I’m a little bit of an outsider with the WAGs. Not that they ever make me feel that way. It’s simply that I’m not dating or married to one of the players.

“Ash,” I begin, about to tell him to leave it, that he should head to the resort.

“Yeah?” He jumps up to his full height and tears off his T-shirt. He exposes his very big, muscular body as he waits for a response, and I try very hard not to swallow my tongue as I stare at the delicious lumber-snack before me. He shakes his head as he glances around the empty café. “Oh, wait is this not okay?” he asks, obviously misunderstanding my stupefied reaction.

Sure, I’m taken aback, and I’m probably turning a thousand shades of red, but it’s not because he shouldn’t be shirtless in my café. He should be. Oh yes, he really, really should be. “With the café closed, I thought it’d be okay to take this off.” He wipes his brow with his forearm. “It must be a hundred degrees in this kitchen.”

No shoes. No shirt. No service.

Dammit, I really want to service this guy.

Oh Lord.

“I…” Why are words so hard today?

He holds up his damp shirt. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He makes a move to tug it back on, and I snatch it from him.

“No,” I answer quickly, probably too quickly because now it looks like I want him shirtless, and of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? It’s only like my secret fantasy come true. “I…it’s not that. It’s just…you should go to the party. This is taking longer than it should and I don’t want to keep you from celebrating with friends.”

He shrugs. “We all get a turn with the cup. I’ll have it soon enough.” Once again, I try to form a coherent sentence. He pauses, a haunted look passing over his face. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“No,” I say again, once again too quickly, especially when my stupid, traitorous eyes are leisurely strolling down his rock-hard body.

Don’t go there, Gina.

But there’s a small part of me that’s asking why I shouldn’t go there, and that small part might just be centered between my legs. It’s telling me it’s been ages since I’ve been touched, and if I know what I’m getting into with Ash, why shouldn’t I have a good time for once in my life? It’s not like I want a commitment, and with his revolving door, not to mention his no commitment attitude, he’s clearly living his best life with the bunnies.

What could possibly go wrong?

Unlike my ex, a well-known psychiatric doctor who turned out to be something he wasn’t, I know exactly who Ash is, and what to expect from him. A hot, hard time between the sheets, and an adios afterward. His muscles flex as he puts his tools back in the box, and I can’t help but think…

Maybe he could put his tool in my box.

Ohmigod, what is happening to me?

Ash…Ash Wheeler…

That is what’s happening to me.

You know what else is happening? My brain and body are telling me that an Ash-hole is exactly what I need in my life today. As a former nurse, and now single mom, who owns her own café, I go from morning to night doing everything for others.

Why can’t I hand my body over to Ash, let him take control of me. Allowing him to remove all decisions from my brain as he takes what he wants. As he uses and abuses my body in the most delicious ways? Sure, as an Ash-hole, he might be out to take what he wants, but there’s no denying I’m going to get something out of it too.

A buzzing sound reaches my ear, and he pulls the refrigerator doors open and puts his big hand inside. “Starting to cool already.”

“Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?”

He closes the door, and when his intense gaze lands on me again, a burst of heat arcs between us. “You don’t owe me anything.” He glances around and clears his throat. “Where’s your air conditioner?” I’m about to protest, but he moves around me, his arm brushing mine as he steps into the dining area. My body quivers, begging me to seduce him. I’m just not sure how to go about it. “A wall-mounted unit,” he mutters under his breath. “I can fix that.”

“You’re a man of many talents.” He turns my way. Is that a smirk on his face? Is he taking what I said the wrong way…or maybe it’s the right way. Damn, I’m really out of practice with this seduction stuff. His gaze drops and that’s when I realize I’m toying with the top button on my shirt, exposing a bit of cleavage as I open and close it.

---