Page 40 of Someone to Have
I don’t want to date him. How many times have I repeated those words since that first night I saw him at Tony’s? Too bad I’m not getting any closer to believing them.
And what about our kiss? I’ve never felt anything like the sensations that rolled through my body as our breath and tongues mingled.
“Fine,” I say when I trust myself to speak. “Thank you forpretendkissing me. Next time, let me in on the plan.”
“You would have been too nervous if you knew it was coming,” he says.
He’s not wrong, which annoys the heck out of me. Mostly because it means he knows me better than I want him to.
“I’m going to watch the last couple of auditions,” I tell him with a pointed look. “Unless you have any othercoaching tipsyou’dlike to offer.”
“Not at the moment.” He lifts his hand, palm facing me. “Well done, Tinkerbell.”
I give him a limp-dick high-five, and then he turns and disappears down the hallway. The sound of his retreating footsteps leaves behind an ache in my chest that I can’t explain.
I return to the auditorium, reminding myself that I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted so far thanks to Eric Anderson.
With that kiss…everything and more.
10
ERIC
I kissed Tinkerbell.What in the hell was I thinking?
Her brother would kill me if he found out. My sister would kill me. I have half a mind to punch my own face, especially when I think about the flash of hurt in her sweet doe eyes when I gave her that lame excuse about knowing Bryan Limpdick was headed our way. Claiming I only kissed her to make him jealous.
I can’t believe she bought it when it felt like wanting her radiated from every damn pore in my body.
It still does.
Which is why I’ve avoided her as much as possible since the night of the audition. No more stopping by to bring over food. I still have Rhett deliver meals—because the state of her fridge is pathetic—but I’m keeping my distance.
It’s gotten so bad that I’ve been peeking out the door to make sure the hallway is empty before venturing out, like the giant wimp I am. A few times, I knew I just missed her because that lavender scent she wears lingered in the hallway, flooding my bloodstream like a drug that’s instantly addicting.
Rhett hasn’t noticed that I’m acting like a complete idiot. Thekid is too over the moon about making the JV hockey team and getting the chance to stay for varsity practice most nights.
I still haven’t officially committed to helping as an assistant coach, but I keep lacing up my skates. I like being on the ice and having a reason to spend time with my nephew. One that doesn’t involve busting his balls for leaving a trail of teenage crap in his wake, putting away his laundry, emptying the dishwasher, or making sure his homework is done.
I need every excuse I can to occupy myself. For as much training and discipline as I’ve shown throughout my career, staying away from my sweet, sexy-as-hell neighbor is proving to be the single most insurmountable task I’ve ever taken on.
At least I seem to have convinced Toby to stop trying to set me up with every woman he knows. Mostly because I told him my sister made me promise to keep my dick in my pants. No one seems to give a shit that it’s been years since I’ve wanted a new woman on my arm or in my bed every night of the week. That guy feels like a person I don’t even know anymore. And I’m not interested in becoming reacquainted with him.
I’ve kept up with my team in Munich, only slightly disappointed to hear they brought in a new kid to fill in while I was gone—a kid who happens to be killing it.
My life has been all about hockey since Mom brought home a pair of hand-me-down Bauers in first grade, a rite of passage typical in northern Minnesota, where winters stretch on for months. Finding something to keep an overactive boy engaged was a gift for all of us in our cramped apartment.
If Jen hadn’t needed help, my life this season would have been much like any other. I take better care of my body and mind these days to keep up with the youngsters coming into the league, but I can’t believe how much I don’t miss the grind.
I’ll go back. Of course I will. My contract is up for renewal at the end of the season, and I know I have a couple more years in me. But right now, knowing and wanting are two differentthings.
Just like I know I should stay away from Tinkerbell. But wanting her is a deep ache in my chest, not to mention what it’s doing to the rest of my body.
I park in front of the Maxwell Construction workshop, pulling on my canvas jacket as I step out. It’s cold. The kind of dry Colorado air that smells like snow even if there’s none in the forecast. The lot is empty since it’s almost eight on Friday night, but I’m here to pick up a stack of measurements that I need for the job site tomorrow. We’re under a tight deadline with the house my crew is remodeling, so I plan to work a few hours tomorrow and Sunday.
When I’m not at the rink anyway. The team has a home game tomorrow afternoon, and I promised Toby I’d be there.
I use the key Marty gave me to let myself in, then pause as I hear hammering coming from somewhere inside the space. The workshop should be empty, but I guess I’m not the only Skylark resident with zero plans on a Friday night.
