Tenley nods slowly, but it’s a nod that basically screams a sarcasticsuuure. Before I can tell her to stop it though, she switches gears again. “Also, for the record, you’re not the only one going through a tough time. Mac just went through a nuclear-level nasty-ass breakup with a real cockwobble. She deserves a nice breakfast from a dude some women might say is okay to look at.”
“Just okay? Yeah right.” I snark at her pseudo-compliment. “Macjustbroke up with someone? Who?”
Mac didn’t mention it. Then again an about-to-be psychiatrist probably knows better than to spill her guts to some random hockey dude six years younger than her, who she hasn’t seen in almost a decade, and who breaks into her apartment, flashes her, and pitches a bit of a fit.
Tenley’s full mouth squishes up like she swallowed lemon juice. “Well, the breakup was almost six months ago now, but she had been with him for years. I refuse to tell you his name. It doesn’t deserve to be on my lips. Anyway, it was the kind of bad break that lingers, you know? So treat her to breakfast… and maybe even a little ofsomething else… if you’re so inclined.”
Tenley wiggles her eyebrows at me and then she gives me a big, pervy wink. I think I might puke. “Stop doing that! Andalso did you not just hear me say I donotneed some kind of complicated romantic thing right now?”
“Who said complicated? Fucking is super simple if you want it to be, Con. And a little mutual orgasm might do you both some good. You do know how to make a girl come, right? Don’t tell me you’re one of those hockey jocks that doesn’t have the intelligence or inclination to learn where a clit is or what to do with it.” She sighs like she has first-hand experience with those types of jocks and I shudder at the thought, and this entire conversation.
“Leave. Walk away. Stop talking and pretend you never saw me,” I mutter, my eyes closed because I can’t even look at her after that TMI outburst.
She pats my shoulder and I hear footsteps so I peek and find Tenley trotting down the aisle toward the sourdough section. Over her shoulder, she adds, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone I saw you. But you know Auntie Callie and Uncle Dev will be devastated if you hide your way through Christmas. We all love ya, Con, you big dummy. Now go slip Mac some sausage and I'll see you Christmas Eve."
It’s ridiculous that Tenley thinks random sex is what I need right now. It’s not. But she’s got me thinking about Mac a little bit more. Mac mentioned last night she didn’t have a lot of her things. She said she left her last place quickly…
I’ve never told a soul, but I used to have the biggest crush on Mac. I didn’t see her much growing up, but every summer my dad and uncles would get together with their friends from the league. Their buddies would come to Silver Bay and spend three or four days on the lake with us. When they started settling down, their families would come too. I was the oldest kid in the group until Alex Larue married Brie Bennett and they adopted Mackenzie, aka Mac.
She showed up the summer I was eight. She was quiet andwore indifference like it was a suit of armor. She barely spoke to anyone other than Alex and Brie. She'd watch everyone and everything with hard but beautiful blue eyes. I never spoke a word to her because I was an eight-year-old boy who couldn't fathom how to talk to the first girl to make me think of girls inthatlight.
Eventually, with each summer that passed, she grew more and more at home in her life and the annual summer vacation to Silver Bay. She started participating in stuff, like water skiing and volleyball. She'd go out on the row boats in the middle of the lake with just us kids, or go with us for post-dinner, parentless walks to town to get ice cream cones. We'd talk and make jokes with each other. We were never what I would consider close, partly due to our age gap and also because I just found her intimidating. Every girl I'd ever met was impressed by me because of hockey, even ones older than me. When I was thirteen I once had a sixteen-year-old slip me her number. But Mac clearly didn't get impressed by my hockey skills, even when I mentioned how many trophies I'd won that previous season. And she always looked at me like I was a kid. Even worse, she made mefeellike one. I was too insecure and immature to understand what to do with that. And when our age difference became less of a challenge, when I was eighteen and she was twenty-four, I felt like a timid kid around her. Getting over that would have been a challenge. Other girls my age from Silver Bay didn’t take work. So Mac disappeared from my life without ever knowing about my crush.
Now, instead of being a guy who’s too lazy to take on a challenge, I'm a guy whose entire career has turned into a challenge. So I better stop worrying and thinking about Mac Larue and this mysterious ex-from-hell. I have my own personal drama to attend to and even if Mac is still gorgeous, more gorgeous than ever, I need to focus on hockey.
Chapter 4
Mac
Idon't hear a sound. Maybe Conner is one of those lucky adults who can sleep in. I yawn, stretch, and get out of bed. I strip and grab my robe off the back of the door. Then, I head into the rest of the apartment. Still no one and not a sound. I turn and glance toward the second bedroom. The blow-up mattress is half deflated on the floor, blankets tangled at the foot of it, but there's no sign of him. Maybe he decided to go to his parents after all?
I head into the bathroom and take a long, hot shower. My eye catches a glimpse of the remaining dollop of expensive bubble bath in the bottle on the ledge of the tub. I frown. Then I remember Conner naked and some of those expensive bubbles sliding over his hip and down to that soft but very formidable-looking cock. My cheeks flame so hard I have to turn the temperature down in the shower.
To be honest, I’ve never thought of Connerthatway. Never wondered what he would look like naked, that’s for sure. He is six years younger than me and at the time I met him, that was a big deal. He was ababy. The last time I saw him he was a teenager, and muscles had started to sprout on his long, leanlimbs. He was stopped everywhere we went that summer. He got us free ice cream cones by taking selfies with the owner and his kids. He wasn't even an NHL player yet, but people treated him like he was. I was fascinated by that. By the way, he carried that attention like it wasn't a big deal. Like it was as natural as his eye color or height or any other part of his DNA.
And also, he had this way of smiling that was… Contagious? Enticing? Tender? I never did figure out the right word for it back then. And to be honest, I hadn’t thought about his smile much since then. Now though… Now I’m thinking about it again. Abouthim. He’s definitely more intense than I remember. He’s become a little bit grumpy when he used to be all sunshine. He’s also a full-fledged man now. Naked Conner flashes across my brain again. I close my eyes and shove my face under the shower spray to wash away the memory with the soap on my face.
I remember the reason he was in my apartment to begin with. This waiver fiasco is obviously a big deal, and I'd like to talk about that with him some more. Maybe what Conner needed was to vent about it, or to strategize about what to say to his family. I’d be the perfect person to do that with because of my training. But Conner was gone, so it wouldn’t be me helping him. Even though I kind of found myself wanting to.
I turn off the water, grab my towel from the rack, and carefully step out of the tub. After drying off and hanging my towel back on the rack, I slip into my robe and open the door. As soon as I step into the hallway, I know he’s back. I can smell him. Is that weird? That’s probably weird. But the rich scent of my pricey bubble bath, and that crisp, woodsy scent that lingered on my pillow last night permeates the air. And makes me much more aware of all the neglected bits below my belly button.
My head swivels and there he is, standing at the counter next to the stove. He looks up from whatever he’s making. I yankoff the shower cap that keeps my curls from getting wet in the shower. My hair is up in a pineapple-style pony and curls must be standing up all over the place, but it’s less humiliating than the plastic fuchsia shower cap with orange flowers on it. “I thought you were gone.”
"I was. To the grocery store," Conner explains. "Do you still want me gone? Like really gone?"
“No. I’m fine with you here in the light of day, not stealing my bubble bath of course,” I say and smile. He smiles back.
“I have a peace offering.” He holds out the plate with a breakfast sandwich on it. I eye the sandwich.
“I didn’t know we were at war.”
“We aren’t, but I owe you a thank you and an apology,” he reminds me, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “I was kind of growly last night”
"I once lived on the street. I can handle growly," I reply and step closer to his outstretched hand holding the delicious-looking sandwich. “That smells incredible.”
“It is,” he replies confidently. “The guys all come over for my breakfast sandwiches if we have a day off on a weekend. I guess I mean theyusedto. Anyway, I usually use Spanish chorizo sausage for them but I know you're vegetarian so I bought veggie sausage and used sriracha mayo for the spice. I’m hoping you’re still an octo-lacto veg head because if you aren’t, this sandwich is worth converting back.”
I lift an eyebrow at being called a veg-head but I’m sure he means it kindly so I just nod, and he grins. I can't believe he remembered I'm vegetarian? After all these years? Something about that makes my insides feel… lighter? Warmer? I guess I just never knew he paid that close attention. I take the plate from him and he grins like it's some kind of hard-fought victory. "Sit. Enjoy."
