Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“True.” I stab my noodles aimlessly. “Maybe… he doesn’t like Aaron?”
She gives me a look. “Based on what? The fact that he’s tall? Intimidating? Smells expensive and goes down on you?”
That makes me blush.
“Declan is wired for control—he loves routine. Structure. Suddenly his teammate is dating his sister. That blurs lines. What if he’s worried you’re going to be a distraction for Aaron?”
Pfft. “Who his teammates date is none of his business.”
“He could see it as a liability,” she adds, raising her brows. “Think about it! If he’s this hyper-focused on winning, anything threatening the machine could feel like sabotage.”
Eh. “I mean, maybe?”
“What if Aaron said something to him?”
“Like?”
“Like maybe he told Declan to stay out of his damn relationship.”
I laugh at the thought of how that conversation might have gone down. Honestly, I can picture it in my mind a little bit too clearly.
Based on the silence in the room, we’re both imagining it.
“Ooh, ooh!” Blaire blurts out, tapping her chopsticks against her container. “Picture this: Declan pulls him aside, gives him the whole big-brother speech. ‘Don’t screw this up. Don’t hurt her, blah blah blah or I’ll kill you.’”
I groan. “I would die.”
“Also!” Blaire adds with authority. “There’s the possibility that Declan thinks Aaron’s not serious?”
Yes, that sounds more accurate than all the other theories combined.
My friend waves her chopstick around through the air. “Maybe he thinks Aaron is using you as a rebound? Or leading you on?”
I replay the conversations I had with my brother, where he implied I was naïve—or not experienced enough to know what was happening in front of my face. As if I were too fragile and sweet for a guy like Aaron…
My face burns. “That has to be it.”
Blaire makes a face. “Ew. I hate that.”
“So do I.” I shove another bite of noodles into my mouth out of pure spite. “I am not some delicate woodland creature.”
“No, you are not. You’re way sexier than a woodland creature and with a way tighter ass.”
“Oh my god, stop it.”
“I’m just saying. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Before I can fire back, there’s a knock at the door.
Three solid raps.
We freeze.
Blaire’s eyes get wide. “That was a testosterone-filled knock.”
“No,” I whisper. “That is not who we think it is.”
Another knock.
Blaire slowly swivels her head toward me. “If that is your brother, I am out of here so fast.”
My heart is pounding now. “It’s not Declan. He would text first.”
“Go get the door before he leaves!”
I set down my takeaway container.
Wipe my mouth on a napkin.
Smooth down the front of my Ice Wolves jersey.
The walk to the door feels approximately six miles long.
I glance through the peephole.
And stop breathing.
It’s Aaron, standing in front of my door wearing a black quarter zip and jeans, hair slicked back. Fresh from a shower in the locker room. He has one hand in his pocket and the other braced against my doorjamb.
Damn, he’s sexy…
“It’s Aaron,” I mouth to Blaire, who’s now perched on the edge of the couch, clutching a throw pillow.
“Of course it’s Aaron!” she whisper-hisses. “What do we do? Should I hide?”
I shoot her a look. “Why would you hide?”
“In case, you know—he wants to have sex?”
“He is not here to have sex with me!” I hiss some more.
“Want to make a bet?”
Oh my god, she can be so obnoxious sometimes.
I take one steadying breath, smooth down the front of my jersey again—why am I nervous? I’ve already slept with this man—and open the door.
Aaron’s eyes lift to mine.
He smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say all breathy…
Behind me, Blaire makes a strangled noise that sounds suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.
Suddenly, I want to choke her.
He studies me for half a second, then glances down at the number on my jersey again. “You wore that on purpose.”
“It’s laundry day.” I laugh.
“Sure it is.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then another as I stand in the doorway, not letting him in.
He clears his throat. “Should I come back later? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
Oh my god. “You’re not! Come in, I’m so sorry.” I pull the door open and step aside. “Blaire is here, she was—”
“Leaving!” Blaire announces. “Blaire was leaving.”
But then, since they’ve never met face to face, my best friend unfolds herself and walks toward Aaron with her hand extended. “Hi, we haven’t met. I’m the bestie.”
Aaron looks mildly amused as he takes her hand. His grip is firm but polite. “Aaron.”
“Oh, we know,” Blaire says sweetly. “We’ve been discussing you extensively.”
Why is she like this?!
“Blaire,” I warn.
“What?” Her lashes flutter innocently. “It’s true.”
Aaron’s mouth twitches into a half smile. “Good or bad?”
She narrows her eyes. “Jury is still out.”
That’s mostly true.
Aaron glances at me. “Should I be concerned?”
“Probably,” Blaire answers for me, gathering up her purse and cell phone, then kisses me on the cheek. “Relax. He doesn’t look like a flight risk.”