This was all War’s fault, declaring that we were a couple to those groupies!
Trying not to swallow and give my poor, brutalized throat a chance to recover, I grabbed a magazine from the counter. My cell indicated I had five minutes to moan my fate, finish my coffee, and beat feet to the door before that impossible man arrived.
I absently paged through the magazine—
What the heck? I blinked, then hastily backtracked to the page I just passed.
And there he was.
A smirk on those sensual lips I’d kissed last night, he stared at me from the glossy pages for…my gaze snagged on the name for a top sportswear brand.
Shirtless, and a revealing lickable, muscled chest with tattoos sprawling across his defined pecs to his thick biceps, he lazily palmed his hockey stick. Black sweats covered his long legs with the brand name in white on his muscular thigh. On his feet, he sported a pair of black sneakers with neon green edging and the brand symbol, ones he apparently used on his time off, too, since I saw him wearing them at the training facilities yesterday.
I rolled my eyes and slammed the cover of Cosmo shut. “Gina, can I borrow this?”
She looked up from cleaning the countertop. “Yes. It just arrived. I was supposed to take it up to your mother’s room.”
“Well, she’s not here.” Smiling, I palmed my ammunition—er, mag. How I would use it, I had no idea. “I’ll return it to her.”
“No worries, dear.”
Five minutes later, magazine shoved in my tote, I pulled on my hoodie to fend off the morning chill, and stood outside the gate, bouncing on my toes, trying to keep warm while the sun crept up the sky. Seven on the dot and the big black monster of a truck he drove cruised up the road, stopping opposite me.
His eyebrows popped above the Ray-Ban’s he wore, but I just knew those devilish blue eyes sported a gleam of triumph. I scowled.
Slipping my shades on, I strode across the quiet street to the elevated truck, opened the door, and then had to scramble up the running board—
Then he was there, hands on my waist, giving me a boost to the seat. “It’s good you’re punctual.”
“I didn’t trust you not to crash your way into my house and drag me out of the bed.”
“I don’t crash houses, Blue. I’m invited inside,” he drawled, buckling my seatbelt. “But I might just make an exception for you.”
My jaw nearly smacked my chest.
Smirking now that he’d got me gaping like an idiot, he shut the door and rounded the hood to the driver’s side.
How could he be this hot and so aggravating?
Guess he had to have some annoying traits to balance out his looks.
He got in, and as we left Pacific Heights, I recalled he had an apartment.
“So how exactly do we weed at an apartment?” I cocked an eyebrow, a wasted effort since he was watching the street.
A ghost of a smile appeared. And my heart tripped.
He is not for us,I warned that traitorous organ.You need to just pump blood, so I can be the calm, reasonable person I know I am.Not one who fell headlong into a trap.
“I bought a place a few months ago,” he said.
Aaandnothing else.
Jesus, would it cost him to expand a little more? Since he didn’t, and I refused to ask where, I lapsed into silence, enjoying the warm morning sun filtering through the windows. He switched on the radio. I expected some sports station. Instead, music flowed into the interior.
The lengthy drive south, then the turn onto Highway 17, headed in the direction of the ocean, piqued my curiosity. Did he get a mansion on the beach or something?
“So, what kind of place is it?” I finally gave in and broke the stand-off.
