Sandro made a face at him. “I don’t have experience with organizing this kind of thing, B. I don’t even know where to start.”
It was the same excuse he’d given Roman, but there was more to it than that. Bennett was sure of it. This wasn’t the first time Sandro would be working on something he knew nothing about. He’d voluntarily taken a logic course through the philosophy department at U-M, and it had been the source of his all-nighters and sleepless nights for an entire semester. His sister had once asked him to organize the surprise party for their mom’s birthday, and he’d spent hours googling event planning as though studying for a midterm. And their college hockey coach had tasked Sandro with overseeing their senior year family weekend, which he’d stressed about up until the last parent had left.
He could develop Roman’s initiative. He just didn’t want to.
Bennett opened his mouth to point that out when he registered where they were. “How’d you know where I’m staying?”
“The organization owns this row of townhomes,” Sandro said as he parked in the circular driveway of a pitched-roof, two-story building split into three separate townhouses that was situated next to a cliff with views of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks. “It’s where they always put visiting stakeholders. Which one’s yours?”
“The far one. Seventeen C.”
“That’s the one Dabbs lived in last season when he got kicked out of his place. He has two dogs,” Sandro explained at Bennett’s raised eyebrow. “And his landlord didn’t allow dogs.”
“Huh. Who knew there was a bit of badass in Team Captain Kyle Dabbs?”
“I mean, he’s dating a player from a rival team. He’s definitely not as squeaky clean as he appears on the surface. Oh, hey, there’s your camera guy.”
Camera bag over one shoulder, Fowler Bugg exited the front door of the middle townhouse and locked it behind him. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Bennett and Sandro sitting in Sandro’s car nearby—with Fowler, either could be true—because he got in his rental car and drove away without a glance in their direction.
“Where’s he off to?” Sandro asked.
“Meeting between your coaches and the GM about your upcoming road trip,” Bennett told him.
“That’s not something you want to sit in on?”
“No. I’m right where I want to be.”
Sandro’s eyes locked onto his. His right hand loosely held the steering wheel; the other arm was casually propped up against the windowsill.
He looked like a fallen angel. Bennett had always thought so. Physically, Sandro was the darkness to Bennett’s light.
But he’d been the light to Bennett’s darkness in every other way, even when Bennett had been falling apart during his rookie season in Chicago.
Selfishly, Bennett wanted that light back.
He hadn’t forgotten that Sandro had said he wanted to take him to bed. But just because he wanted to didn’t mean he would.
Bennett wanted him so goddamn badly. Wanted to pull Sandro close and kiss him. Feel Sandro’s beardstache rake against his jaw and his hands grip him closer and their lips cling hotly. He wanted to trace the curve of Sandro’s cheeks with his fingertips and then with his lips before tracing the muscles in his shoulders, his biceps, his pecs, his abdomen.
Lower.
Sometimes Bennett thought he could feel the echoes of Sandro on his skin like a ghostly touch.
Sandro’s breathing sped up so minutely that Bennett wouldn’t have noticed had he not been paying such close attention to him. He also noticed Sandro’s knuckles whiten around the steering wheel and the twin spots of color high on his cheekbones. Sandro licked his lips, and Bennett had to force himself not to pounce.
Inhaling sharply, he unbuckled his seat belt and picked up his box of leftover cheese and crackers from the footwell. “If you want someone to bounce ideas off of for the wellness initiative, I’m happy to help.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s a cool project. I’d love to be involved.”
“Okay,” Sandro said slowly. “But what about when you go back to LA?”
“I’m only a phone call away, Ro.”
Sandro met his gaze steadily, his meaning clear. You were only a phone call away back then too.
But he’d been a dumbass kid back then. Things were different now.
