"Mom's not in the picture. Took off in a grief spiral after my dad died in a car crash," I have no idea why I’m sharing this with him. The whole goal here was anonymous seduction. I grab another cracker to give my hands something to do. "My grandmother raised me, but she passed away a few years ago, too."
Tucker's expression softens, and I brace for the pity I've come to expect. Instead, he says, "Then we should make a toast to her," and pulls a fancy bourbon from a collection of bottles on the counter. He pours two fingers into tumblers and hands one to me.
"To your grandmother," he says, clinking his glass to mine.
"To Grandma Essie,” I echo, taking a sip. The liquor burns pleasantly down my throat.
Tucker leans against the counter across from me, close enough that my knees nearly brush his hips. "What was she like?"
"Tough. Kind. Worked two jobs most of her life to raise me." I smile at the memory. This connection is unexpected. He’s flirting, sure, but he’s attentive. And I just keep sharing truths like he’s my therapist or something. "She loved the Tigers—baseball was her thing. Took me to games whenever she could afford it."
"Tigers fan, huh? Dangerous revelation with a Pittsburgh guy."
"I think I like danger," I reply, meeting his gaze directly.
His eyes darken, and he puts his glass down. "Is that why you led me in here? Looking for danger?"
I take another sip of bourbon, letting the warmth spread through me. "Maybe I'm just tired of playing it safe."
Tucker moves closer, positioning himself between my knees, his hands resting lightly on the counter on either side of me. Not touching, but surrounding. "What's the safest thing you've ever done, Sloane?"
The question catches me off guard. "Stayed in a relationship that wasn't working," I answer honestly. "Because it was easier than starting over."
Something flickers in his eyes—recognition, maybe. Understanding. "And the most dangerous?"
I set my glass aside and place my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath my palms. "Probably this."
His gaze drops to my lips. "Eating crackers? This isn't dangerous." He lifts a hand to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. "But it could be."
"Show me," I whisper.
Tucker's smile is slow and promising. He takes my hand and tugs me gently off the counter. "Remember those socks and condoms I mentioned? Want to see a prototype?"
I laugh, the sound bright and unfamiliar. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"I've been told my marketing needs work." He twines his fingers with mine, pale pink among tawny digits. "They're in my bag."
I should hesitate. I should consider the consequences. I should remember every lesson I learned from my failed marriage.
Instead, I squeeze his hand and say, "Lead the way."
CHAPTER 2
TUCKER
This party is so much betterthan I hoped. When I crashed my cousin’s shindig, I was just trying to take my mind off being stuck in Pittsburgh for the entire off-season. My teammates are all on yachts in Monaco fucking scantily clad European women.
I’ve been on my couch with an ice pack on my mangled mouth, alternating terrifying sessions with the team dentist and boring preparations for my brother’s upcoming wedding. An unfortunate side effect of the best job on earth.
But I’ve got my temporary crown and nobody’s getting hitched this week, so I thought I’d come out to the family ski house, rag on Stellan and his nerd friends, play video games, and pass out.
Instead, I’m leading a gorgeous woman by the hand, her golden-brown fingers interlaced with mine, her bare feet padding silently behind me.
When I tug her along, a conspiratorial smile plays at the corners of her mouth. That smile has been driving me crazy since I first spotted her in the pool—natural, uninhibited, entirely unlike the calculated expressions I've grown accustomed to from women who recognize me.
The puck bunnies want me for my fame, so they can say they bagged a hockey player. Sloane seems like she just wants to do something wild.
Stellan stuck me in the basement bunk room–a barracks-stylespace with four twin double-deckers. It’ll do just fine for what I have in mind. I push open the door and flick on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow. It's rustic but comfortable, with exposed beams and knotty pine walls.
