“Oh yea? Let’s just see about that.”
Liv grabs my hand and yanks me across the square, heading straight for the curling team.
“Liv. No. What the fuck are you–”
We stop inches away from the men, all four of them pausing and turning our way. No one says anything at first, but I don’t miss the way the gentleman in the back snickers and the guy next to him eyes my best friend up and down slowly.
Typical men.
Finally, Liv breaks the awkward silence.
“Hey! Men’s curling team right? We just wanted to come say hi and introduce ourselves. We play for the women’s hockey team. I’m Liv and this is…”
“Charlie.” Luke’s voice interrupts Liv, and she moves her head back and forth between the two of us.
I told you he knows who I am.
Liv stops her eyes on me. “Charlie? I thought you hated that nickname.”
Luke’s deep rumble of a laugh causes my thighs to clench together but luckily Liv turns her attention back to him and doesn’t notice when I cross my legs to ease the pulsating happening there.
“By the way she’s blushing, I think she likes it. Don’t you, Charlie?”
Oh shit.
Luke’s voice is flirty and I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or actually flirting with me.
His entire team, and Liv, turn their attention back to me. I tug my beanie over my ears and pretend to shiver.
“I’m not blushing. It’s cold as hell out here. It must be windburn.”
My eyes are on Luke and the sexy smirk he sends my way tells me he doesn’t believe my bullshit. And he shouldn’t. I don’t want anyone else to call me Charlie because he’s the first one to ever call me that. It’s sacred and would lose its appeal if everyone else started using that name.
Thankfully one of his teammates rescues me from myself and changes the conversation.
“Hey, I’m Brendan. You guys play tonight, right?”
Liv and Brendan start chatting about our matchup against Finland but I can hardly pay attention. I’m too distracted by the skip of the curling team. His eyes haven’t left mine and the look he’s wearing should send me sprinting in the opposite direction.
Because unlike every other time I’ve seen him, he’s not flanked by my older brother. He’s not wearing a mask of annoyance or looking anywhere else but at me like he normally does.
No, he’s looking directly at me.
And he looks like trouble.
Charlie fucking Smith.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She might be seven years younger than me at twenty-five, but that doesn’t make her any less fucking gorgeous. But she’s also my best friend’s little sister.
And completely off-limits.
I’ve always had a soft spot for Charlie. She followed in her brother Connor’s footsteps and became a badass hockey player. It was hard not to root for the girl. She annoyed the hell out of Connor, but I got a kick out of it. Who doesn’t love to see their best buddy annoyed from time to time?
It wasn’t until I saw her play at Wisconsin that I realized my adoration from childhood had grown into something more. How could it not? The way she moves across the ice and completely dominates her opponents is sexy as hell.
Now here she is, an ocean away from the person who ties us together, looking absolutely stunning in our country’s colors. Her espresso brown hair falls down her shoulders, the spiral curls practically inviting me to pull them. Her mossy green eyes have yet to leave me since her and her friend ambushed us on the sidewalk.
Can’t say I’m mad about it though.
