Unknown: It’s Dean btw.
I shook my head. This was a bad idea. I should block him now before things got out of hand. Jackson was right. I should stay away.
Beau:You should listen to your soon-to-be brother-in-law and stay away from me. I’m no good for you.
Dean:I’m an adult and able to make my own decisions. Why are you bad for me? Oh, are you a secret serial killer? But a cool one, like Dexter. Do you only kill bad people?
Dean:You don’t look like a serial killer, though.
Beau:I’m not a serial killer. Should I be worried that you would think that about me? And what exactly does one look like?
Dean:IDK. Not you. They usually have shifty eyes.
Beau:You know a lot?
Dean:Maybe I’m the serial killer. Did you ever think about that?
Beau:Well, you don’t look like one either. You’re much too pretty.
Dean:That’s the way I lure you in. With all my prettiness. Wait a second. You think I’m pretty?
Beau:It’s your smile.
Dean:Not my hair? Everyone is obsessed with my hair. Sometimes I think I should dye it a different color and see if that’s really why they like me. Or shave it off.
Beau:Your hair is nice, but your entire face lights up when you smile. That’s the first thing I noticed about you. But don’t shave it. You should grow it out longer.
Jackson was going to be furious when he found out about this. That Dean had texted me after I deleted his number. That I was flirting with him. And that we texted back and forth for the next couple of hours before Dean told me he had to get some sleep. I realized that I kind of liked him. And that I was fucked.
Chapter One
Dean
Ishifted my weight from one foot to the other as I waited for Beau Whitlock to answer the door of his hotel room. My stomach flipped and clenched as I looked around the hallway, not sure if any of his teammates were going to see me. I could say that I wasn’t scared someone would recognize me, but that would be a lie. I was a little worried. I had a couple of boxes of hair dye in the plastic bag hanging from my wrist. I had planned to change my normal color of green to pink, but until I did that—
The sound of the door unlocking caused my attention to fly back in front of me. Beau gave me an easy smile when he saw me, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a Boston hockey jersey, his inky colored hair damp as it curled around his ears.
“You came.” He opened the door wider so I could step inside his hotel room.
“Did you think I wouldn’t show?” I moved inside and was hit with the scent of spicy aftershave. It was soothing, with a hint of citrus and mint. I could feel his gaze at my back, and when I turned around, Beau’s eyes darted from my ass to my face.
“Were you just checking me out?”
He shrugged. “Shamelessly” He made no move to apologize or cover up the fact that he was doing just that, and I wondered if I should be bothered.
I wasn’t. In fact, I was kind of curious about how far I would let myself go with Beau if he tried anything. He was still standing by the door, which was now shut, with his arms folded across hismassive chest, and I took the chance to admire his tattoos. I had my own, but Beau was covered in them. My eyes flicked to the brightly colored graphic on his biceps, and I tilted my head to get a better look.
“What’s that?”
“This?” Beau pulled up the shirt to reveal a pair of hockey sticks, a puck, and gloves. “Sort of a rite of passage with my teammates. It was my first. What about you?”
I nodded as I shoved the sleeve of my shirt up over my shoulder to expose my inked skin. It was a guitar; myactualguitar that I had learned to play on, and I was proud of it. “I never thought I would end up covered like Killian, but it turns out, I like the way it feels. The pain of the needles as they push in and out of my skin. Sitting there for hours and watching art appear on my skin.”
“Your skin is perfect for tattoos.” Beau stepped closer.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe with him this close to me. It was like he sucked all the air out of the room, making me feel like I was going to choke. I stared up at him as he towered over me and watched the way his pale blue eyes moved over my face. “I... What are you doing?”
“Relax, Dean,” he murmured. “I won’t touch you unless you tell me it’s okay. This is all on your terms. We can be just friends if that’s what you want. You said you were going to dye your hair? I like the green.”
