When my eyes snag on very muscular and broad shoulders that taper down to a sculpted and tan ass, my soul leaves my body. Just exits the chat. There should’ve been a warning sign or a foghorn or something before getting hit with a full HD view of that.
Wait, is that a…?I slap my hand over my eyes.
I let out an indignant squeak as heat shoots up my neck so fast, I’m surprised I don't trip the emergency sprinklers. Ronan lets out a snort because he knows I'm two seconds from fainting.
“Texas, what part of ‘visitor’ don’t you understand?” Ronan barks out but I hear the smile in his voice.
“Sorry, Cap. I’m ready n-oh.” A familiar southern draw hits my ears and trails down my spine like honey. “Christ, what happened to the five-minute rule?”
Ronan ignores him.
“Everyone not already participating in the calendar, line up against this far wall. Let’s go!” Ronan peels my hand from my face. I blink a few times as they adjust to the light again. My eyes betray me as they seek out… wait, did he say Texas?
My eyes snap up to scan the now lined up players.
I go down the row until my eyes land on, yep, my neighbor. My stomach tightens. Tate. Just standing there like this is completely normal. The one man I should steer clear of in every possible way, and here he is, half naked and looking right at me. I am not prepared for this. Standing there in his black Calvin's like he was sculpted by the angels.
Of course, the first man I'm attracted to after my messy divorce is off limits in all areas of my life. Not only does he work for the team, but he also lives right next door. And if I know my son, Tate is his new best friend's dad. No way am I going there.
But damn, does he look like he would know just what to do with a woman like me.
Oh my God, Allison. Stop staring, you creep.
His gaze falls to where I'm biting my lip and he smirks. I quickly avert my eyes. For a shirtless contest everyone but Tate is fully dressed.
“Okay! Alli here is gonna take a look at you studs and decide who is gonna stand in for TJ in the calendar shoot.”
A chorus of boos and complaints go up in protest. A lot of people voice my own concern which is that he did it on purpose.
“You need to get your man on a leash, Alli!” The rook and left winger, Ryan Quade calls out. He doesn’t mean any harm. At nineteen, he’s just still got some growing up to do. He flashes me a boyish grin to show me his joking.
A few of TJs friends on the team however guffaw and act like that’s the most outrageous thing ever.
“Yea Right. He was hardly on a leash last night at Escapade.” Tony scoffs loud enough for the entire team to hear. My face heats and I dip my head. It stings—way more than I want it to. I hate that hearing about TJ’s extracurriculars still lands like a punch to the ribs. The man can’t show up for our kid’s weekend, but he can sure show up for the VIP room. I laugh with the guys, but that ugly twist in my stomach doesn’t go away. They think it’s all jokes but hearing the man who once promised me forever turned into a locker-room punchline is… exhausting.
“He’s not her man anymore. It’s called divorce.” Liam Fitzgerald, a first line defenseman, calls out and then folds his hands in prayer and dramatically groans. “Thank God for it, right Alli?”
I shoot him a grateful smile.
“It’s kinda like fishing huh? Throw the small ones back and all that.” Tate surprises me by throwing out. The locker room explodes in laughter. Ryan and Jordan clap him on the back.
“Texas got jokes, huh?” Jordan shakes his shoulder a couple of times. Tate grins and throws me a wink.
“Texas has something that’s for sure.” Ronan mumbles under his breath where only I can hear. “It’s the same as what Emalyn has for me.”
I snort. “Indifference, then?”
He rolls his eyes. Then in a moment of instant karma, he orders the shirts off. “It’s ashirtlessphoto op, gentlemen.”
Shirts fly off like we’re in some kind of sports-themed Chippendales revue. Any other woman would be drooling. Honestly, I would too—if I weren’t too busy dying inside. Hearing my failed marriage broadcast in a locker room is… great. Just fantastic. Exactly how I wanted to start this day. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of these men’s bodies, especially not Tate’s, but my traitorous brain is already filing away details for the lonely-night archives.
“Pick your victims,” Ronan elbows me lightly. “Your eye candy over there can't be all twelve months.”
I tense. I hadn't even realized my gaze kept drifting back to Tate. And his delicious V…
Fantastic. I’m basically eye-fucking the man and didn’t even notice. Real smooth, Allison. Truly thriving. Next thing I know, I’ll be doodling ‘Mr. and Mrs.’ in my planner like a full deranged teenager.
I let out a breath and chance a glance at Ronan. He's wearing a shit eating grin he had no hopes of even trying to hide.
