Page 32 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
She might have been drunk last night when she was brave enough to ask me for what she wanted. But there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ve been building to this moment for the better part of a week.
Aspen is a good girl. Smart. Hard working. Ruled by her own common sense and self-preservation. But our chemistry is potent. And if she still wants this when she’s sober? In the light of day? All bets are off.
When I lean down and take her mouth again, her lips part, inviting me in for a taste. I thread my fingers through her hair and touch my tongue to hers. A little whimper of surprise escapes before she begins kissing me back in earnest. She’s skilled at this—her hot tongue matches mine stroke for stroke—and I have no doubt that things between us would be combustible.
Before I do something really stupid, like take her upstairs and pound out all of my pent-up energy, her phone makes a chirping noise. She pulls away.
“I have a call with Eden starting in a few minutes.” Aspen is breathless, and I love the slightly dazed expression she wears.
I nod. “To be continued.”
She gives me one more look of wanting, and then disappears inside to take that phone call.
10
* * *
ASPEN
My heart is still hammering in my ears when I sit down with my laptop at the dining room table and join the video call with Eden. Her face lights up my screen, her hair and makeup perfect, as usual. I absently touch my fingers to my mouth, my lips still tingling from the kiss I just shared with her ex.
I’m totally gonna lose my job over this.
“Hey, Aspen. How’s cabin life treating you? You look great.”
“Uh—it’s . . .” I stumble over my words, completely sure that Eden’s going to see right through me. “It’s beautiful here. Saint has it made. The views alone are to die for.”
“I’m jealous.” She sighs with a small frown. “Summer in the city can be suffocating. You’re lucky you get to spend the hotter months where the air is fresh and doesn’t smell like body odor.”
I laugh at her description, because even though it sounds like a joke, it’s actually true. “How’s Holt?”
“Oh, you know. Stoic, somber. The usual.” Eden’s eyes sparkle with humor as she touches the engagement ring on her finger. You’d have to be blind to miss the look of adoration on her face, even as she teases her fiancé. “I think he misses having you around. He asked about you the other day. You know him—he’s a protector, and he worries.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” I chuckle, a little touched. Holt is the kind of guy who rarely smiles, unless the conversation is about Eden. So, for him to ask about me is surprisingly kind.
“I wish you weren’t all alone out there,” Eden says, her tone becoming serious for a moment.
My throat tightens. Wait. What? Doesn’t she know Alex is here too?
“I half expected you to get ax-murdered by some Canadian mountain man before our first check-in,” she says.
“No Canadian mountain men here. No, sirree.” I laugh, but it sounds thin and forced. I open my planner, staring at the pages so I don’t have to meet her eyes. “Shall we get started?”
“Sure. So, I’m assuming you saw my email about those invoices from last quarter . . .”
“I sure did. And I did some recon to find out why they were screwy.”
“Awesome.” She grins. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
It’s so easy to fall back into pace with Eden, scribbling down abbreviated notes as she barrels through a to-do list that might give a less-motivated assistant an aneurysm. She’s a wonderful boss—always making her priorities clear without being condescending, and never fails to compliment a job well done. Ever since I started this job, our working relationship has been smooth sailing. I’d hate for anything to rock the boat.
And by anything, I mean a hulking, hotter-than-hell hockey player who happens to be her ex, and who I’m very likely going to have sex with before the end of the summer. Repeatedly.
Suddenly, Eden pauses mid-thought. “Is that Alex?”
My gasp is audible. I look up from my planner so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. Sure enough, Alex is walking across the deck in the background of my setup, totally oblivious to his brief on-screen cameo. And to make matters worse, he’s shirtless.
Shit.
“Yeah,” I say lamely. It seems that all my coherent thoughts have disappeared, and probably took with them all the color in my face. “Um, yeah, so he’s also staying here at the cabin.”
Eden’s eyes widen more than I thought was possible. “Why the hell is he staying there?”
“Funny story . . . he was the one who got me the job in the first place, ’cause it was supposed to be his, but then he, uh, recommended me for it, and actually there’s a lot more manual labor than you’d think, so Saint suggested we split up the workload.” I paraphrase poorly, rushing everything out in one breath. I always ramble when I’m nervous.
