Page 10 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Last weekend, once she agreed to stay at Saint’s place, I walked her outside and we waited together on the curb for her ride to arrive. She looked at me like I was some white knight sent to help her. Not fucking likely. I’m not anyone’s knight. Yes, I might have helped her by getting her the gig, but trust me, I had very selfish reasons.
Saint’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “She’s not a toy for you to play with this summer. You know that, right?”
“Chill, dude. Of course I know that.”
He flashes me a conspiratorial grin. “But you want to hit that, don’t you?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? Good thing I’m smart enough not to answer.
“All I’m saying is, Aspen Ford is not the kind of girl you fuck around with,” Saint says seriously.
I give him an annoyed look. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He straightens his posture. “It means she’s the marrying kind, bro. So unless you’re trying to become someone’s husband, it means you’d better keep your dick in your pants this summer.”
I laugh off his warning, but somewhere deep inside, I wonder if there could be some truth to his words. By all accounts, Aspen is a great catch. But since I’m most definitely not looking to be anyone’s anything, it’s all the more reason not to sleep with her.
“In fact, why don’t we make this interesting.” Saint rubs his hands together as a devious smile forms on his lips.
“What’d you have in mind?”
He grins, crossing his ankles. “If you end up falling for her, you have to get a tattoo on your ass.”
A chuckle tumbles from my lips. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
The last time I got a tattoo, it was a fucking disaster. I’ve learned my lesson there.
“Why? You scared I’m going to win? If you keep your word and don’t fall in love . . . no tattoo.”
I guess he’s right, so I shrug. “Fine. If I fall in love, you can pick the damn tattoo yourself.”
He laughs, the sound deep and mocking. “Oh, you’re on, bro.”
After Saint leaves, I finish packing and can’t help but reflect on his words. I’m sure he’s just trying to give me a hard time—I mean, that bet is ridiculous. Me falling in love? Yeah, that’s definitely not happening.
Inside the bathroom, I grab the few items I need off the counter and shove them into a toiletry bag—razor, toothbrush, floss, deodorant . . . all the basics. The box of condoms at the back of the drawer makes me pause.
I swallow a sudden lump in my throat and look down at the brand-new twelve-pack of size XLs in a black carton that’s staring back at me. I debate taking it for half a second before closing the drawer.
Why am I even considering it? I sure as hell don’t need a tattoo picked out by Saint. And I sure as hell don’t need condoms. I’ll only be there for three days, and just like I told Saint, nothing is going to happen.
Besides, I’ve had plenty of fun since my breakup with Eden. Too much, even. Although, is it really called fun if all it does is make you feel even more alone?
Lord knows, I tried. I plastered on a fake smile and went on a couple of dates, hooked up with a few puck bunnies just because they were there and willing, and because I thought it might help. It didn’t.
Although, I imagine being with Aspen in that way would be an entirely different experience. She’s not a puck bunny looking for one night of fun with a professional hockey player that she can tell all her friends about. She’s a good girl. The kind of girl you have to work for. But something tells me it would be worth it.
Still, not happening.
Can you imagine? Sleeping with my ex’s assistant? I promised Eden not even two weeks ago that my days of fucking up were behind me. And I meant what I said.
Forgoing the condoms is the right thing to do. Anyway, I’m sure that’s not what Aspen had in mind when she agreed to this. Yeah, she’s achingly beautiful, but like me, she’s fresh off a disastrous breakup and needs somewhere to hide out.
Saint was right. I’ll just have to keep my hands to myself.
4
* * *
ASPEN
I’ve been at the cabin for three days, and it’s official. I’m in love.
In his email, Saint explained that the property is roughly four thousand square feet of magic, and he wasn’t exaggerating. It’s a cozy haven full of endless possibilities—the Mary Poppins purse of houses. Truth be told, I didn’t know what my dream home looked like until now.
The exterior is equal parts rustic and elegant, with a large porch in the front, and a sprawling deck in the back overlooking the kind of view I’ve only ever seen on screensavers. Inside, the lower level boasts endless windows bragging views of the glittering lake and thick forest from all sides.
