Page 23 of Fair Play
Everything about her is sexy and complicated and electric.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this.
It’s going to mean trouble. I recognize the signs—I’ve put myself in situations like this a million times—and promised myself I would avoid women who’ll bring drama to my life.
Except there’s something different about Billie.
She still means trouble for me—with a capital T—but the risk/reward ratio is higher. The pull is stronger. The chemistry more explosive.
And all we’ve done is dance.
“It’ll be good to see Nita,” I add when the electricity between us starts to crackle like fucking dynamite. Another five seconds and I’m going to throw her down, rip off of clothes and?—
Knock it off.
All of that is a huge no-no.
I agreed to dinner, nothing else.
There can’tbeanything else.
I’ll tell her after dinner. Thank her for taking me along and then make it clear we can’t go where this is going. Sharing this place with Bodi is saving me a ton of money, which means I might be able to pay off my ex by summer. Then she’s out of my hair for good and I’m free and clear. If I can extend my contract for one more year, even making the league minimum, I can retire in decent financial shape.
It’s been nearly three years since my last divorce, and I’m still trying to get back on my feet.
“Well, anyway, I’m going to get some rest,” I say. “And Bodi said to go ahead and sleep in his bed again.”
She shakes her head. “I changed the fucking sheets earlier. God dammit. Well, I’m not changing them again. He can deal with one night’s worth of my body cooties.”
I snort. “Body cooties?”
“They’re cleaner than Bodi cooties.”
“All hockey players probably have those same cooties,” I deadpan.
She throws her head back and chortles. “You can say that again. He was so gross in high school. My mom used to chase him with deodorant… he never remembered to wear it so she told him that was all he was getting for Christmas until he woreit every single day.” Her expression softens for a moment. “That was one of our last Christmases together.”
“I’m sorry, Billie.”
Fuck.
Now I’m touching her again. My hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly, letting it linger, giving her the only kind of support I can offer for something like this. I don’t know much about the accident where she lost her parents beyond what Bodi told me the night she moved in, and I don’t want to be intrusive. Or make her relive something that has to be painful, no matter how long it’s been.
“It was a long time ago,” she says quietly. “Bodi made sure I went to therapy and it helped. I just wish he’d gone too.”
“He didn’t?” I ask in surprise.
She shakes her head. “No. I think he was in survival mode. Taking care of me—I needed multiple surgeries and a full year of rehab—plus hockey and being thrown into full-blown adulthood. He’d just turned eighteen and suddenly he was in charge of a teenager, a career as a pro athlete, maintaining a home, and everything that went with it. He didn’t have time to grieve. I think that’s why he’s all up in my business.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
She sighs. “I’ve tried, but he can be stubborn. He says he’s fine. All he cares about is me.”
“He’s a good guy,” I say gently. “I know it can be a hassle, him being so overprotective, but it’s obvious he loves you.”
“He does.” She nods. “That’s what makes it so hard. I know he’s got his own shit, but it’s starting to be intrusive. I mean, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m still a virgin.”
Why does the mention of her virginity give me a semi?
