Partner.
I pocketed my phone and found the exit. Outside, the wind sliced through my jacket. Quebec City had real winter, the kind that made New York feel like a joke. I shoved my hands into my pockets and scanned the curb until I spotted a sign:Paquette/Rossi.
The driver greeted me in French-accented English and opened the door. “Mr. Paquette?”
I ducked into the warm car. “No, I’m Nico Rossi.”
“We are still waiting for Mr. Paquette?”
“Yes. His plane just landed, so he’ll be here soon.”
“Good,” the driver said. “It isn’t a long drive to the hotel.”
Thank God. We can’t get there quickly enough for me.
I watched the terminal exit as people came and went. My breath caught when Pack appeared, smiling as he rolled a suitcase toward the car.
The driver got out to handle the luggage, and Pack slid in beside me. A grin spread across his face. “Nix.”
“Pack.” My voice was steadier than I felt.
“Long time,” he said.
“A week.”
He chuckled, a low, rough sound that went straight to my dick. “Felt longer.”
My pulse went into overdrive.
We were quiet as the driver left the airport and pulled onto the highway. Snow streaked across the windshield, but the road was clear. Pack looked out the window, then at me, and then back out again. His hand rested on the seat between us, and without thinking, I slid mine over until they touched.
He looked confused but didn’t pull away.
“Ready for another round of public humiliation?” I asked.
He laughed. “Born ready.”
By the time the hotel came into view, I wanted to kiss him so much my lips tingled, but the entrance was clogged withpeople. While we signed autographs, I nudged him. “Surprised you showed up, Paquette. Thought you’d fake an emergency to avoid me.”
“Come on, Rossi. The only reason I showed up was to keep you from embarrassing the league.”
A woman gave us a hat to sign and said, “You two should get a room.”
Pack smirked. “Funny thing is, we’re getting two.”
He glanced at me. I smiled and gave him an upward nod.Doesn’t mean we have to use both.
The Fairmont Le Château Frontenac did not disappoint. When the bellman left me alone in my room, I turned in a circle and whistled. Soft golden light streamed through the arched windows, making the dark wood furniture gleam. A massive bed anchored the space, with a fluffy white comforter turned down enough to make me want to crawl under it.
It was too romantic for one person, and my thoughts turned to Packy. He’d look incredible standing by the window with snow falling behind him and the frozen St. Lawrence River below. I hated how much I wanted him there, not because I hated him, but because I didn’t know what I’d do if he’d changed his mind.
I showered, then pulled on gray sweatpants and a Condors hoodie. After spritzing on a touch of cologne, I headed out. It was time to find out what Packy wanted.
He opened his door barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a faded Warriors T-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, andhe smelled like body wash and cologne. The sight of him nearly knocked the breath out of me.
I swallowed and said, “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stepped back and let me in.
