AJ chuckles and says, “Only you, Morgan.”
“Funny,” she says, “that’s the reaction everyone has regarding my love life.”
“And to think you stormed into my office before that trip saying that you had a special ability to attract assholes.” She lifts an eyebrow as her gaze travels to me.
“Luckily her abilities worked just fine on that trip, and she snagged me,” I say.
“I hate to break it to you, dude,” McCabe says. “But I don’t think you were ever actually an asshole.”
“Oh yeah?” I say.
“Yeah.” His eyes travel to Abby with her head on AJ’s chest and eyes closed. “Okay, I think we need to get Abby to bed now.”
I hold in my laugh because with the way he’s looking at AJ holding his little girl, I think what he means is that he wants to getherto bed now.
We say our goodbyes and when the elevator doors close, I pull Morgan close. “I know Christmas is over, but I got you one more present.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “You did?”
“Yeah. I bought you my jersey. I’ve only ever seen you with McCabe’s name and number on your back, and I’d kind of like to see mine there.”
She smirks. “You really do have a fetish for me in your clothing, don’t you?” I just nod, and she says, “Luckily, four is my lucky number.”
“Perfect, because I’m going to fuck you with that jersey on tonight, and then watch you wear it tomorrow night at the game. And every time I put my own jersey on, I’ll think about you in it.”
“Sounds like a good way to be distracted,” she says, lifting up on her toes to press a quick kiss to my lips. “And I’m pretty sure you promised your coach, your GM, and your agent that you’d have no distractions this season.”
I can’t help the way my smile spreads and laughter tumbles out. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m more focused on my future than ever before.”
With a new contract, a likely run for the Stanley Cup, and the possibility of forever with her, my future has never felt brighter.
It feels like we’ve just fallen asleep after staying up way too late exploring all the things I wanted to do to her in my jersey, when Morgan’s phone rings. I groan and nudge her, but she’s not waking up easily. So I reach over her and grab her phone off her nightstand, only to seePreston Hartmannflashing on her screen.
What the fuck? I can’t think of a single reason that our CEO’s billionaire older brother would be calling her. I can’t even think of a reason she’dknowhim.
I press the screen to answer the call. “Hello?”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Who’s this?” Preston asks.
“Aidan Renaud.”
“Oh, good. Renaud, I need to talk to Morgan. Can you put her on the phone?”
I’m not surprised he knows who I am—his family owns the Rebels. I am, however, astonished that he doesn’t seem the least bit curious that I’m answering her phone at four in the morning.
“Yeah, hold on,” I say and press mute. Then I give her another shake, saying, “Morgan, you need to wake up.”
She groans but doesn’t open her eyes. “Why?”
“Preston Hartmann is on the phone for you.”
“What?” She shoots up to sitting, eyes wide, and glances down at her phone in my hand. “Oh no...”
I hand her the phone, unmuting it as I do, and she presses it to her ear. The look on her face is borderline panic. “What happened?” she asks. “No, he didn’t!” There’s a pause, and she sighs, folding her legs beneath her so she’s sitting cross-legged. “I told Tucker to stay off social media,” she says, as I reach toward the blanket at the end of the bed and wrap it around her bare shoulders. “Okay...yep...all right, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
She disconnects the call, tilts her head back while letting out a huge sigh, and then sinks back into bed with the blanket still wrapped around her. “Fuuuuck.”
“Uh . . . what just happened?” I ask.
