Page 59 of The One Timer

Or maybe like me, she’s wide awake with all kinds of hormonal excitement keeping her revved.

When she comes out of Gran’s room and closes the door behind her, she turns to me, no surprise, only a smile

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

“Chase the butler at your service. Let me show you to your room so you can get yourself out of that Cinderella gown.” I usher her down the hall two doors past my bedroom and open the door for her.

“That’s right. It’s well past midnight, isn’t it? You won’t mind if I end up in rags, will you? In fact,” she laughs, “I didn’t come prepared to stay over. I have nothing to wear to bed.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You poor thing. But don’t worry, nothing is my favorite thing for you to wear to bed.”

We go inside and I see her clothes are neatly folded on the bed. “You’ve been here before?”

“Earlier when I changed into my gown. Your grandmother is very sneaky because she knew very well I could find my way back to this guest room.”

“I see.” My grin pops free and my dick strains to do the same.

“You realize you look like a wolf ready to eat me, right?”

“Good.” I pull the door closed. “Because that’s just the beginning of what I want to do with you.”

I know I’m in trouble when the sunshine wakes me and I leap from bed. Em’s gone and I frown. This is the second time she’s left me alone. But I don’t have time to go to her and give her a proper good-bye. Throwing on some sweats and sneakers, I check my phone.

“Fuck.” About a dozen texts inform me that I’m a world-class ass because my teammates had been relying on me for a ride. Instead, they found their way home with Sabien’s hired car—otherwise known to the rest of us as a limo—leaving me to come to my senses.

I run down the stairs, pausing only for a heartbeat at the landing as I look up in the direction of the guest room. My conscience or whatever good sense I have left screams at me that there’s no fucking time and I storm down the rest of the stairs and out the back door to get to practice as soon as possible—which at this point is fucking late by at least an hour.

But that’s only the beginning of my bad day at the rink—which should be an oxymoron since the rink, any rink, has always been my second home, my haven.

Slipping in late for films, I sit in the back. It might not be as bad if we’d won the last game. But as the other guys file out at the end, Coach Nash points at and beckons me forward. It’s easy to ignore the guys snickering at me because I’m a hell of a lot more worried about what Assistant Coach Nash Lewis has to say. He’s not the same hard ass as Coach Spence, but that will only make his disappointment worse. Fuck.

“Coach,” I say as he contemplates me, his face blank and his arms folded. He doesn’t ask me to have a seat as we stand at the front of the stadium style film room.

“I thought you were committed to hockey. Especially this season.”

Fuck. “I am—we had the benefit last night in Boston⁠—”

“The other guys managed to make it in on time.”

“Yes sir. I…” I refuse to blame it on Em. “It’s my own fault. I have no excuse.”

“How’s your grandmother?”

Is he throwing me a lifeline? An excuse? It doesn’t matter. “She’s doing well.”

He nods. “I don’t expect this will happen again.” He turns and walks out the side door leading to the coaching suite.

Guilt about getting distracted from my mission to honor his parents and grandpa hits me, but before it can overwhelm me I let the anger burst through and dash up the stairs and out toward the locker room.

Then proceed to suck wind on the ice all morning because I got no sleep last night. I exhausted myself making love to Emery instead.

And the scary part is I’m having a hard time regretting it.

Chapter Twenty

EMERY

Ifasten the blood pressure cuff on Mrs. W while she sits on the couch in the library with her book. Listening, I finally release the pressure. The numbers are higher than last time.