“Least the truck heater decided to work,” he mutters. “Thought we were gonna freeze to death before we hit Main Street.”
“You should have said something if you were cold.”
He scoffs. “I’m notcold.”
Though it comes across as bravado, he’s probably being honest. After all, he was still radiating heat twenty minutes after the final whistle, his whole body no doubt running on post-gameadrenaline. It filled the cab and thickened the air, making it press against my skin; and the whole ride home, we managed to walk that whole fine line of not talking and not touching and not acknowledging a single thing neither of us is prepared to say out loud.
I hang my jacket on the hook and swallow down the way my pulse spikes.
“I saw you out on the ice,” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as I can manage. “You looked… good.”
He tilts his head, a slow, assessing shift of his attention, and then—very faint, barely even there—his mouth twitches, as if he almost wants to smile.
“You were watching?”
His voice drops half an octave, which is completely unnecessary, and my stomach flips.
“I wasworking,” I say, crossing my arms because I suddenly need the barrier. “And you were in my direct line of sight. Would be kind of hardnotto notice.”
He hums: a deep, resonant alpha sound that rolls through my spine before I can block it, and my instincts flare so fast and sharp I nearly choke on them.
Nope. Not tonight.
Not in this house, not with him looking like victory and heat and barely-leashed dominance.
I clear my throat.
“How’s the shoulder?”
He lifts and rolls it experimentally, and I watch the muscles shift under his shirt. The movement is careful, but he doesn’t hide the test.
“Better,” he says. “Feels… looser. At least, it doesn’t feel like it’s catching as much.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Just: make sure you don’t overdo it.”
He looks at me for a moment too long, and there’s something in his blue eyes that I just can’t read. Something hot, something… hungry?No, not exactly—
He nods toward the stairs, a jerky movement that snaps me out of it.
“I’m gonna go shower.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
He pauses before heading upstairs, and I swear the air around him turns warmer. It’s the kind of shift you feel more than see, the kind that makes instinct rear its head with interest it absolutely shouldn’t have.
He asks, quietly, “Long day?”
The question catches me off guard, but I try not to show it.
“Busy,” I reply. “But… good. Your guys are easier than most teams.”
“That’s because they’re idiots.”
I laugh, and he watches my mouth when I do. It’s only for a moment, but long enough that my breath catches.
He notices, then looks away immediately; his jaw tightening as though he wasn’t supposed to let that happen.
He moves, then, every step away from me radiating that same post-win alpha energy that is absolutely, unquestionably, a threat to my peace of mind. I stay rooted to the spot for another five full seconds, breathing through the tension he leaves behind. I press my palm over my sternum as if that’s going to steady the stupid flutter beneath it, and tell myself that he’s just an alpha, like all the others I’ve worked with before.
