Page 3 of Sweet Thing

“Oh, that beard burn must drive the ladies wild!”

Self-consciously, I rubbed my facial hair and mentally shuddered at the notion of Aurora commenting on its effects on the female population.

“I’ve only got eyes for you, Aurora.”

“See? You can charm them when you choose. And I’m not the only woman that Scandi noir vibe of yours works on. Why, I’ve seen the greedy gazes following you around at this party, even from some of the WAGs.”

“I don’t mess with married women.” That came out a bit abrupt, but her words sent me hurtling back to one night a couple of months ago in the Empty Net, the team’s regular watering hole. Another woman who had enjoyed my beard and had taken me unawares.

“Of course you don’t! Now, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my grandson. You’re younger?—”

“Not by much.”

“Eight years! So I need you to look out for him on that ice. He’ll never admit it, but he’s not as tough as he used to be. You’ll protect him, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my best, Aurora. But to be fair, he’s about as tough as they come. No one’s getting by Superglutes.”

She smiled at my use of Kershaw’s nickname. “I can’t think of anyone I’d want partnering my boy in these final years. He won big when the Rebels landed you, Lars Nyquist.”

No, I was the winner. Though I resisted with all my Scandi noir vibes, the Kershaws made me feel like I belonged. I’d happily spend every minute protecting Theo on that ice and his family off it.

“Oh, there’s Harper.” She waved at the team’s CEO, the Rebel queen herself, who had just arrived with her husband, Remy. I gave a quick salute which the vivacious and still shapely blonde acknowledged with a raised eyebrow. “I need to talk to her about what else she’s doing to keep my Theo safe.”

Off she went, leaving me to marvel at all us minor planets orbiting Theo Kershaw, the sun in this close-knit universe. I moved through the house, taking in every signifier of its absolute fitness for purpose: keeping the Kershaws safe and demonstrating their familial perfection. Every turn revealed another sign of a life well lived. The marks on the door showing the children as they grew from Hatch to Tilly, the kids’ art on the walls, the family photos on the landing. This cathedral was a testament to the Kershaws’ abiding love for each other, and I couldn’t help a smile as I hit that creak on the stairs then another squeak of the floorboards on the landing as I headed to the bathroom.

Something pulled me up short. I was pretty sure I’d heard my name.

“You’re not going to see him for at least a year,” a female voice was saying from behind a slightly ajar door. “Maybe longer. By the time you come back, he might be hooked up with some bunny.”

Someone else scoffed. “Sure, and what am I supposed to do about it? Oh, Lars, haven’t you heard? I think you’re the sexiest guy alive. Could I have a kiss to keep me warm on the lonely nights while I travel the world?”

I froze. That was Adeline.

“Why not?” The other voice countered. I recognized it now as belonging to Rosie, daughter of Cade Burnett, a former Rebels defenseman and ex-GM, Dante Moretti. “If he bites, you get some. If he doesn’t, you move on and …” She trailed off.

Adeline groaned. “I know, I know. Ineedto move on.”

“Yeah, you do. But maybe he’ll go for it?” Her reply was gentle, not wholly convinced.

He won’t go for it.Do not even try it. Don’t put either of us in that position.

I needed to leave. That way I wouldn’t have to turn anyone down, not that Adeline would truly make a move on me. That was absurd.

About as absurd as what you just heard.

Pro hockey players were known for their lightning-fast reflexes, but today this one’s were way off. To my shame, the door flew open before I could get a step off.

“Conor, aren’t you a little old to be listening at—?” Adeline gasped.

Shit.

“Oh, sorry, I—” She hesitated, blinking dark, inky lashes, picture frames for those somber green eyes. “I thought you were my brother.”

“Nope. Not your brother. Just …”The guy you think is the sexiest alive.I thumbed over my shoulder at the bathroom by way of explanation.

“Right.” Her face was flushed, which I would normally think was pretty, but right now, no. It meant she was embarrassed, and that I was the dick who caused it.

Rosie appeared behind her. “Hi, Lars.”

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