Page 8 of One Goal in Mind

“That remains to be seen. It’s not like we can date. You live here, and I’m three thousand miles away. And you’re one of my brother’s players. If things didn’t work out, it could strain on my relationship with him or jeopardize your career. They wouldn’t trade you, but he’d make your life a living hell.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it’s downright depressing.”

“So… what do you say we become best friends for a night, and in the morning, we pretend we never met?”

“Then I probably shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I practically begged you to,” she laughs, sliding her hand onto my thigh, squeezing once. My cock twitches at her touch, a reminder that this is a bad idea. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to get to know her, but keeping my hands to myself will prove to be difficult when a simple thigh grab is making me hard.

“Friends don’t kiss,” I counter, covering her hand with mine.

“Says who?”

“Name one other friend you kiss.” We pull up to the stoplight and I glance over with a cocked eyebrow.

“Well, you’d be the first.”

The light turns green, and every fiber of my being wants to pull over and taste her again. As much as I would love to lick every last inch of this woman, I continue driving while my cock protests, throbbing against my jeans.

We arrive at her hotel, and I’m able to find a parking spot near the entrance. I hop out, rounding the car to open her door before she dares to. It earns me a smile, and I swear my heart leaps out of my damn chest at the sight. As I shut the door, Scarlettslides her hand into mine, interlacing our fingers. It feels more intimate than any sex I’ve ever had. I don’t know anything about her—aside from my brief internet stalking—but from the moment I laid eyes on her, I’ve felt this pull. Maybe she’s right, and for some inexplicable cosmic reason, I was always supposed to meet her.

She leads the way through the lobby and up the two floors to her room. The hotel is older but recently renovated, with new carpets and updated fixtures. The moment she swipes her keycard against the sensor, my breath catches—are we really doing this? I can’t remember the last time I went home with a girl, let alone someone I wanted more than a quick fuck with. A small part of me worries she won’t like what she sees. Everyone knows me as Russ the athlete, not Russ the man behind the jersey.

We step inside, and the click of the door seals my fate. Scarlett drops her purse and keycard on the small table by the door and spins to face me. “I’d offer you a glass of wine, but the best I can do is water.”

“Water’s fine.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

If I actually wanted to be comfortable, I’d have her naked in bed with me, but that can never happen. She strips off her jersey, revealing the Cougars tee she wore to the game, and kicks off her shoes. I remove my own shoes and leave them by the door, then help myself to a glass of water before she can.

“Hey!”

“Hey, what?” I say into my glass, but as I’m about to retrieve a second for her, she snatches it from me and takes a sip.

“So, tell me, why hockey?”

“Why not?”

“That’s a non-answer,” she laughs and makes her way onto the dark gray loveseat, bringing the water with her. I prep a second one and join her. “I’m serious. You probably know how my brother wanted his own career but wasn’t good enough to go pro. Apparently, you are. So, how did you decide being a goalie was for you?”

We’ve all heard the stories about Coach North. He was incredible on the ice but never had his chance. I’m grateful for all that he’s done for our team, but I can’t imagine that kind of disappointment. “I’ve played since I was old enough to stand,” I reply, blowing out a long breath. “I haven’t known anything else. My parents encouraged it when coaches saw something in me. I played through college—even though I barely graduated—and have played professionally ever since.”

“What did you go to school for?”

“Business. I figured it would be the most versatile if hockey didn’t work out. I was on scholarship and could’ve picked any subject I wanted. My parents wanted me to be practical, and I’m grateful for it. I was never supposed to be a doctor or a lawyer. I was always supposed to be on the ice. What about you? Why soccer PT?”

“Well, my family loves hockey but I hardly follow it. I loved my sports medicine courses, and even though the injuries are predictable, I like that they are still interesting. In soccer, there are lots of knee injuries and pulled muscles, but it’s not asaggressive as other sports. I did apply for a position with the Québec Dynasty, so maybe hockey is in my future after all.”

“You know they’re a rival team, right?” I laugh and take a long gulp of my water.

“It’s just a game.”

I sputter a cough. “Just a game? Please never say that in front of your brother.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So, if you got that job, you’d travel with the team, and when they play here in Vancouver…”

---