Ignoring me, he continues to attempt his way into the master bedroom.I’m starting to think that Cole wasn’t kidding when he said Goose won’t sleep anywhere else. The moment I open the door for him, he leaps onto the king-size bed and curls up in a little ball at the foot.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
The room is painted dark gray with sleek edges and harsh lines, but as I poke around, I find details that are distinctly Cole. The piece of art above his bed is a black-and-white snapshot of a hockey game. Both bedside tables are cluttered with family photos. And his closet boasts every piece of workout gear ever created by Nike and Adidas. I even find both glasses I gifted him for Christmas residing on his dresser, right next to his cologne.
By the time I’ve finished my self-guided tour, Goose is fast asleep on the bed.Shit. I can either sneak out and hope he doesn’t noticeorspend the night in Cole’s bed. A bed that looks extremely comfortable. With Tempur-Pedic pillows. And a cozy comforter. And a dog who refuses to sleep anywhere else.
It takes less time to decide than it should. But in the end, if I’m not sleeping with Cole, I may as well enjoy sleeping in his bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
cole
Our team doesn’t scorein the first period. It’s hard to when our chemistry is off and we can’t get the damn puck past the Rangers’ best defenseman. Jason DeVries is a giant dick, known for his out-of-line chirping. And, as a bonus, he despises me. Why? Solely because I look exactly like the man who “stole his girlfriend.” It’s ridiculous, if unsurprising, that Nathan’s love life is stirring up trouble for me years later. Some things never change.
By the end of the second period, we’ve scored once, but we’re still down by two. Jake passes me the puck, but DeVries intercepts and jams me into the board. Collisions are part of the game, and for the most part, they’re clean. This wasn’t, and yet the referee doesn’t call it.
“What the hell is your problem?” I shout, shoving DeVries off me.
He smirks, his eyes lit up with distaste. “Just as shitty of a player as your brother. Can’t get a simple puck past me.”
I shove his chest hard. I’m not quick to anger during games. Players have to become immune to the constant shit-talking and aggressive testosterone because there are about nine million ways to get a penalty. I can usually stay level-headed enough to avoid the penalty box, but mentioning Nathan? Game fucking over. “Want to say that again?”
“C’mon.” He chuckles darkly. “We all know the Berrett brothers never lived up to the hy?—”
I slam into him before he can get another word out. Rage, hot and heavy, springs to life and consumes me. The fight escalates with both Bobcats and Rangers players piling on to get a piece of the action, led by none other than Logan. DeVries lands an elbow to my nose, but not before I get in a few solid punches. As a ref pulls me off him, the first person in my line of vision is Coach, and he’s angry as hell.
Fuck.
I find Maya cuddled under my covers with my dog snoozing at her feet. She may only be there because, for reasons unknown, Goose dislikes the guest bedroom, but I’m not one to look a gift horse—or chocolate lab—in the mouth. I quietly drop my duffel on the floor of the closet and pad across the wood floor to the bed. Since Goose is the worst guard dog known to man, he doesn’t so much as flinch at the sound of my steps.
Maya’s curled on her left side with her hands resting under her cheek. Her lips are pushed together in an adorable little pout that’s at war with her relaxed brows.
I run the tips of my fingers over her cheek, reveling in the smoothness of her skin.God, she’s breathtaking. I must accidentally say that out loud, because the second the thought crosses my mind, a scream pierces the stillness of the house and a small fist connects with my face.
“Fuck.” I reel back, cradling my jaw. If I wasn’t already bruised from the on-ice fight, that would have done the trick. Warm liquid drips down my lips, confirming that her hit reopened a cut I sustained earlier. It hurts like a bitch, but I can’t deny she’s got a great right hook.
She squeaks, her eyes going wide in the dim room, and sits upright.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Definitely not the warm welcome I was hoping for.”
Maya turns on my bedside lamp and cups her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God. I’m sorry! I thought you were an intruder.” She turns to face Goose. “What the hell, dude? You’re supposed to protect me. Not sleep through an attempted kidnapping.”
He simply blinks at her before hopping off the bed and sauntering over to me.
Sighing, she studies my face. “Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to hit you. I’m usually very nonviolent.”
“You seem to forget I take hits for a living.” No longer cupping my jaw, I prod at the area, testing the tenderness.
“I made you bleed!” she shrieks, jackknifing out of the bed.
Damn. If I thought her sleeping in my bed was sexy? It’s nothing compared to her slipping out from under the covers in only a t-shirt. The smirk that pulls up my lips as I give her body an obvious once-over is automatic.
Maya holds up a hand, her cheeks stained bright red. “Don’t say a word unless you want matching black eyes.”
Biting back every innuendo in the book, I follow her into my bathroom. Based on how familiar she is with where the washcloths and Advil are, she’s done some snooping. I don’t blame her. I’ve done the same at her place. I’ve yet to figure out why she has enough Q-tips to supply our nation’s armed forces, but I can’t exactly ask without revealing how I know that they’re in the bottom drawer to the left of the bathroom sink.
As Maya holds the washcloth under the faucet, Goose weaves between my legs, desperate for the affection I’ve yet to give him.
