Page 12 of Forbidden Puck
Oh boy. Here we go.
I frowned. “Look, I'm sorry, can you forget I said anything? I don't know what Lance told you. And I don't want to cause any trouble between you guys.”
She neared and touched her hand to my forearm. “Oh, no, Radar. This is not your fault. Don't worry. This issolike Lance.”
I swallowed, whipped out my cell phone, and fired off an SOS text message to Lance.
“Dude, where are you? Your sister's here and I think I just got you busted. You didn't tell her you wanted her to decorate?! WTF, man? You better get over here quick before I make this situation any worse.”
She noticed.
“And now you're texting him so he can get his story straight,” she said with a giggle.
I was too stunned to deny it, but she must've read the guilt on my face anyway.
“It's okay. I know how you guys are,” she said.
“Us guys?” I asked, my throat tightening on me as I spoke.
Come on Lance! Where the hell are you? You said you'd be here by now!
“Hockey players,” she said.
“Oh … um …” I didn't know what to do or say. I figured,fuck it,the only move was to throw all my cards on the table. I waved my phone in the air as if were a white flag of surrender. “Yeah, I just told him that I might have gotten him busted. That's all. I really don't want to get between you guys.”
She smiled at me. A big, genuine smile. She looked really happy in that moment, but I didn't know why. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
That's right. Lance said not to lie to her.
“You're welcome,” I croaked.
“Why don't you give me the full tour?” Ella asked.
“Sure.”
Chapter 5
The Tour
Ella
My knees were already weak after the scenic waterfront drive to the Port of Boston, with the city skyline just over the water. Lance lived on the top floor of an eleven-story brick building, and the lobby was nothing but class—it was modern, and verytastefullymodern, with nothing overdone. A quick ride up the elevator delivered me to the top floor.
But when the door opened, I nearly drooled at the work of art standing before me.
I'm talking, of course, about Lance'scondo.
High, vaulted ceilings. Hardwood floors. Awallof windows, floor to ceiling, that offered a breath-taking view of the harbor and Boston skyline. The kitchen sparkled with granite counter-tops and stainless steel appliances and an expansive center island. The condo also boasted an open living space.
Averyopen living space, really. Because as nice as this place was? Somehow, these two millionaire athletes' condo looked more like a hillbilly's backyard, with fold-out chairs and a way-too-enormous TV resting right on the floor. All that was missing from this scene was the rusted-out husk of a decrepit car.
Boys. Sigh. So clueless.
I guess I should mention Lance's roommate, too, shouldn't I?
Lance didn't tell me he lived with ahottie.But uh, guys are weird about that sort of thing, so I guess it would make sense that he wouldn't tell me that. But, yes, Radar was a handsome babe. A six-foot-something, imposing and muscle-bound babe.
Within seconds of meeting him, I felt like I knew him. He commanded a quiet but strong presence. He was almost painfully macho, the way he carried himself—so upright and strong. He had dark, clean-cut hair and a five o'clock shadow. Oh, and the best part? He'd opened the door wearingnothingbut a mouth-watering pair of blue jeans that were so tight, they were practically painted on his round ass and thick thighs.
