Page 7 of Cross Check Hearts

“Did you miss the part where my dad is your new coach?” I ask, keeping my voice low and hoping he gets the hint to do the same.

“No, but that’s not the point. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. This is crazy.”

I blow out a breath, trying to ignore the butterflies going wild in my stomach. Between the way his muscular body fills the space in front of me and the amazing way he smells, like cedarwood and some kind of spice, my brain feels like it’s overloading.

It can’t reconcile it. These two parts of my life were supposed to stay separate, but the line between them has been smashed to pieces now.

“You’re right,” I admit, looking up into his amber-flecked eyes. “Itiscrazy.”

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to that intimate register that still haunts my dreams, “I remember every single moment of that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Heat flashes through his eyes. “Still can’t.”

“I…” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “I remember it all too.”

He takes a step closer, and I have to tilt my head back a little to hold his gaze.God, he’s so fucking tall.

“So here we are again,” he murmurs. “What do you want now?”

It’s the same question he asked me that night all those months ago, and just like then, a blast of heat rushes through me—both at the memory and the implication burning in his gaze.

My chest tightens. As much as I want to pull him into the back seat of my car and answer that question with my mouth and hands rather than with words, I know it can’t happen.

“It’s not going to be like that,” I say after a beat.

His expression falls a little. “Why not?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Well, for one thing, my dad has forbidden me from dating hockey players in general—and especially not his players.”

A rueful smile plays across his lips. “Ah.” He steps closer, not invading my space but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him. “Well, he can make whatever rules he wants, hummingbird. But we’re not kids. We’re adults who have an incredible connection. Besides, something tells me you don’t do everything your father tells you to. Does he know about your wild side? The one you showed me that night?”

My stomach tumbles like it’s in a washing machine, heat surging up my cheeks. I shush him quickly and glance around, hoping no one heard what he just said. But it’s just us out here, at least for now.

After the way Declan and I met and the night we spent together, he knows damn well that the answer to both of those questions is no, and it blows my mind that he’s acting like none of this is a big deal. If my dad found out we were even out here talking like this, he’d make Declan’s life a living hell on and off the ice. And if he found out what happened between us out in California? Declan’s career with the Aces would be over, no questions asked.

“Be careful. You don’t know my father. And you don’t know me,” I say, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, really? Then why do I know exactly how to touch you?” he asks, reaching out to trail a finger up my forearm and making my breath catch.

While I’m still trying to collect myself, he steps closer and lowers his voice.

“And how do I know the spot behind your ear makes you shiver when I scrape my teeth over it?” He reaches up to run his fingers across that exact spot, pulling a gasp out of me, then lowers his mouth to hover by my ear. “How do I know what you sound like when you’re about to fall apart? I know you better than you think, hummingbird.”

The nickname—the one he whispered against my skin that night as he worshipped me—sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the crisp air. He gently kisses my neck, making my skin come alive with goosebumps as my knees weaken. My heart races and my breathing turns ragged as memories of that night, of everything he just said, flood me.

I don’t know how I do it, but I shake my head and take a small step back from him to look him in the eyes.

“Just because you know those things doesn’t mean you know me,” I say firmly.

“Maybe not, but Iwantto.”

“That would be a mistake.” I swallow hard. “It would probably be better for both of us if we just pretend we’ve never met before now.”

With that, I turn and start walking back to my car before the voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stay can win out.

“You can pretend all you want, hummingbird,” he calls after me, his tone light—although I can hear an edge of determination in it. “But I’m not giving up that easily.”

His words make my heart skip, but I don’t answer. I just slip into my car and put the key in the ignition, although I can’t help stealing glances at him as he leans against the building, watching me. He doesn’t look defeated at all. He looks… patient. Like a man who knows exactly what he wants and is willing to wait for it.

The thought sends equal parts thrill and worry racing through me. I start the engine and pull away, desperate to put some extra distance between us before my body spontaneously combusts just from his proximity.

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