Gross. That’s always my first reaction when someone finds my brother attractive. I can be a little more objective about Levi. I get that the tall, dark and brooding thing is an instant panty-remover for a lot of women, but considering he lived in my basement for three months when he was a teenager, I don’t see him as anything more than a pseudo-brother.
Trish yawns. It’s a huge yawn—her mouth is open so wide her hand can barely cover it—and she makes a weird noise while she’s doing it. She giggles when she’s done and puts a hand to her chest like Scarlett O’Hara or some such nonsense. “So sorry! I was here until almost eleven last night working out the last auction items for the event. Did you figure out all the travel details for the Storm players coming?”
“Yep!”
My skin starts to tingle at the mention of the Storm players. “They played last night, right?” She nods and struggles to cover another yawn. “How’d they do?”
“I’m sure Nadine will have the report ready for you when we get off this elevator.” Trish seems overly amused for a second and then she seems overly impressed. “I swear, Dixie, I have never met a person on the business end that’s as interested in the sports end as you are. I mean, you probably know more about the prospects on the farm team than the coaches.”
“I’ve always been a hockey fan,” I explain as the elevator doors open and we both step off. “Some of these guys may make it up to the team, and I like to keep an eye on them now so I’ve got a handle on their performance and personalities before I have to sell them to the press.”
Nadine is at her desk when we walk by. She’s the intern for our department, the job I started here with. She’s basically our slave, but if she works hard enough and well enough she’ll get a position like I did. She smiles and hands me the sheet she’s gotten in the habit of preparing for me. It’s clips from media articles and posts from the last twenty-four hours. Anything that mentions the Thunder or the Storm. I take the papers and smile. “Thanks, Nadine. How are you?”
“Right as rain,” she responds cheerily. “I’m almost finished with the programs for the auction.”
“Great! Send them my way as soon as you’re done,” Trish tells her and breezes by to her desk. It’s always a relief when she’s gone. I feel like an ass for thinking that, but then I catch someone else—like Nadine right now—with the same look of relief flickering across her face and I realize I’m not a judgy bitch. Or at least, I’m not alone in my bitchy judgment.
I move to my own desk, which is about two feet from Trish’s and separated by an opaque glass partition. Before my butt is even firmly in my seat, I’m flipping through the pages Nadine gave me and reading everything about the Storm game last night.
Elijah wasn’t the starting goalie, but they put him in halfway through the second period. Eli did okay. Not great, because he let in two goals in quick succession, but he blocked eight others. Well, that’s better than he’s been doing. Damn. I wish I could ask Levi what he thinks is going on with his brother, but he’d want to know why I’m so concerned, and I can’t explain that to him. He’s already keeping my identity a secret. He doesn’t need to keep my crush a secret too.
I met Levi when I was fourteen at Jude’s boarding school graduation. He had been Jude’s roommate and they’d quickly become best friends. Levi’s parents weren’t at graduation, just his older brother, Todd, who seemed like a bit of a doofus. When Jude explained Levi’s parents had disowned him because he was going to enter the NHL draft that summer instead of going to college, my parents offered to let him spend the summer with us. He was a quiet, reserved kid and rarely talked about his situation. I did hear him mention a younger brother, but he didn’t give details and I didn’t ask.
The attraction to Eli when I met him in that elevator was intense and out of nowhere. It was easy to dismiss him, and the feelings, as some weird chemical reaction. But now that we’re in contact again and he’s texting me all the time, I realize it’s not just chemical. I like him, which is even weirder because he’s brash and wild. I’m usually attracted to guys with a serious side, something Eli seems to have been born without. But we seem to just really click with each other.
I remember that he texted me about this weekend and I never responded. I grab my phone and pull up his message again. There’s a new one that’s just a bunch of question marks. I sent his itinerary this morning, so he knows I gave in on his request for an extra day, and that’s why he’s pushing me.
I quickly type him back: We can’t.
Then I put my phone down and turn on my computer. I bury my brain in work to avoid thinking about this man who has become the biggest temptation of my life.
3
Elijah
Casco! See me when you’re done with your weights,” the coach barks as he pops his head into the weight room. I feel my heart sink. This can’t be good. We have three days off. There’s no reason he should need to talk to me right now…unless it’s about the charity auction. Maybe they changed their mind and are sending a different player. My heart sinks at the thought.
I finish my set of leg presses and stand up. My teammate Jasper walks over. He wipes his face with his towel and gives me a sympathetic grin. “What’s that about?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t feel like it’s good news.”
“Yeah,” Jasper agrees and runs a hand through his hair. “But you did a decent job last night. And we eked out a win.”
I nod and take a sip from my water bottle as Jasper sits on the weight machine I just vacated. He looks up at me as he positions his feet in the machine. “Well, good luck. At least we have a weekend in San Francisco to look forward to.”
“If I’m still going,” I reply and try not to frown. “Maybe that’s what this is about.”
Jasper doesn’t look the least bit concerned. “Nah. You’re a media dream and the captain’s brother. Everybody loves hockey siblings. I’m sure you’re still going.”
I give him a fleeting smile and leave, heading down the hall to the coach’s office. Rationally, I know Jasper is probably right. Still, I’ve gotten really used to things not being predictable in my life lately, so as I walk into the office I totally expect him to tell me that I’m not going to San Francisco.
I haven’t looked forward to anything in a long time, but I’m really looking forward to seeing Dixie Wynn Braddock. It’s all I’ve thought about since she called me to tell me about it. Something about our crazy flirtation makes me feel something I haven’t felt since before the accident—normal. Probably because she never asks about the injury—or even talks much about hockey—so I can almost forget it happened.
I rap my knuckles on Coach’s open office door. He looks up from his desk, spinning his chair away from his computer to face me, and motions for me to take a seat across from him. He levels me with a stern stare. “You’re starting on Tuesday.”
“Oh. Okay,” I reply and it sounds as emotionless as I feel.
He stares at me wordless for another minute, and then his expression turns into a scowl. “Fuck, Casco. That’s it?”
