“Hockey,” I say again. I’m almost squeaking.
What a sight that must’ve been.
Kane Saint with his ridiculous height and barrel chest tearing across the ice.
I can see the hockey stick clenched in his hands, murder in his eyes as he confronts the other team.
His animalistic focus on the puck, ready to plow his way through a solid line of huge men.
I’m not a big sports girl, but that I could watch.
Then I see a faceless woman in the stands, cheering him on.
Hot jealousy bolts through me.
She must’ve been something to hook herself a hockey beast, even if it didn’t last. Were they high school sweethearts?
Stupid, I know.
I have no clue what happened to the kids’ mom, but now it eats at me, almost as much as finishing Gramps’ little treasure hunt.
I’m guessing they’re not together anymore.
He hasn’t worn a ring this whole trip and there’s no sign of a woman in the picture, no mentions from the kids, no calls back home.
But once, she could’ve been his everything.
“Hockey,” I whisper again.
“Don’t tell me you just learned the word?” He smirks.
“No, I—I’m just surprised. And I wish I could’ve seen it.”
His smirk widens. “Why’s that?”
“Maybe it would’ve been nice to see you a little less buttoned-up and more spontaneous.”
“Maybe?”
“Orrrmaybe I just want to picture you being good at something besides swinging a hammer when I beg you not to.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Woman, I’m good at a lot of things.”
Oh, no.
Another image crowds my senses now.
One with his smirking face between my legs and his green eyes on mine as he slides my panties off with his teeth.
My heart jackhammers.
There’s no ignoring the ache in my belly.
My hands find their way to his chest on their own, palms flattening against wall-to-wall Kane.
“You going to keep giving me shit for helping you or what?” he asks.
“Only because you’re fun to tease. But for real, I’m glad you’re here,” I admit, a little too breathlessly.
