Page 13 of Breakaway Goals

But that had to be what this sensation was, like worms crawling around in his stomach.

“Come on,” Danny coaxed. “Come over to the bar with me. I promise if you were there, Monty wouldn’t be flirting with randoms. He’d be flirting with you.”

“You don’t know that,” Morgan said. But he wanted it to be true, so badly it made him squirm.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Danny said impatiently.

How had he gone from the state of finding Hayes annoying and like a prickly pointed reminder of his fading opportunities to Hayes being the most appealing person he could remember meeting?

You actually got to know him. You talked to him. You figured out that you and him? You’re the same underneath.

That seemed to be the biggest issue. Before this tournament, Hayes had been a generic outline, another guy taken first overall, who everyone had universally decided was going to be great, as great as Morgan, or maybe even greater.

Up until this point, Morgan had resisted actually having a real conversation with the guy. What good would that serve, he’d always imagined, if he’d thought about it at all. But now he couldn’t unwind the clock.

Couldn’t pretend that he and Hayes hadn’t made a connection.

Morgan finished his beer. He could go over to the bar. Get another one.

“Don’t be stupid about this,” Danny lectured.

Morgan shot him a look. It did not escape him how painful it was that Matthew Daniels was lecturing him on stupidity.

“You’d know,” Morgan said, grinding his molars together.

“If I was him, I’d think the sex was bad, if you’re over here and not even trying to stop that guy from touching me,” Danny said.

And yep, then there was the sexual tension.

He’d hoped, maybe a little stupidly, that the sex would have dispensed with that.

It often did, in Morgan’s experience, but then he also had never hooked up with someone and then wanted to stay after, either.

He hadn’t done it last night, but he’d thought about it, and that was the scariest part of all.

If Hayes had asked, he’d probably have said yes, and then where would he have ended up?

Maybe the end result of all this was Hayes holding his dick like a leash, but how was that any different than what Morgan was doing now, staring daggers at a guy who kept daring to touch Hayes’ arm?

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Morgan said, sliding out of the booth and getting to his feet.

He didn’t miss how Hayes’ gaze flicked over to him as he sauntered over to the bar. He took his time ordering another beer, making more polite small talk with the bartender than he might normally tolerate.

Only when it was over and he had a fresh bottle in his hand did he make his way over to Hayes.

“Hey,” he said, interrupting some story the guy was telling. Something about a Leafs game. Morgan barely held in his eye roll.

Hayes glanced over. “Hey, this is—”

The guy made a trilled embarrassed noise. “Morgan Reynolds. Of course.”

“Yep,” Morgan said. He did not shake his hand. He was still contemplating yanking the whole arm from its socket. The guy was shrimpy, he probably had weak tendons.

“You finally decide to stop being antisocial?” Hayes asked, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Morgan wanted to shake him and demand answers. How did you get so fucking attractive? I’m dying here.

“Yep,” Morgan repeated.

The smile lines around Hayes’ eyes and mouth deepened. He tilted his head up towards Morgan’s face. Morgan was reminded, viscerally and suddenly, of kissing him.

Morgan licked his lips. He hadn’t wanted to come out at all, and now he had to extract both of them from this bar and this stupid idiot in front of them who had the nerve to imagine for even five seconds that Hayes was good enough for him.

“You’re just . . .” The guy was still making embarrassing noises. “Just so damn good at hockey.”

And yeah, it had gotten worse, because his interested gaze had moved from Hayes to Morgan.

“I know,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, he knows,” Hayes said, grinning now.

“That goal in the first game, against Sweden—”

“Now that,” Morgan drawled out, because he was done with this shit and more than ready to end it, “was all Hayes.”

Hayes’ cheeks pinked up. “No, it wasn’t. I told you . . .”

“Yeah, you did, and you were wrong. That pass? You made that play happen.”

Hayes flushed even darker but looked pleased. Not as pleased as hopefully Morgan could make him in about half an hour, but it was a good start.

Even better was the fact that Hayes was looking at him now.

“Maybe,” Morgan continued, unwilling to stop now, “I’ll get lucky enough to send you one of those during this tournament.”

“Not against Canada,” the guy said.

“Dude, that’s pretty much who we’re playing for the rest of the tournament,” Hayes said, his eyes flicking to the stranger’s briefly, like he didn’t want to stop looking at Morgan and any time he was forced to, it was an annoyance.

“I mean, Sweden’s won all their games except—”

“It’s going to be the US and Canada,” Morgan said, nearly growling. “It’s practically a done deal.”

“Well,” random guy said, drawing himself up, like he suddenly realized he’d overstayed his welcome, “that’s probably true. Good luck, then.”

Hayes murmured his thanks under his breath but Morgan didn’t even bother. He wasn’t sad this guy was finally leaving and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“You could’ve been nicer,” Hayes said, but he didn’t seem all that surprised that Morgan hadn’t been.

“You mean I could’ve flirted with him, too?” Morgan hadn’t meant the words to leave his mouth, because there was no question they exposed him—his jealousy, his soft, vulnerable underbelly, his feelings .

Hayes flushed again. “I wasn’t. He was flirting with me.”

“Smart man,” Morgan said.

“I wondered if . . .” Hayes trailed off.

Finn had told him specifically that if he wanted a tournament-long fling, he should say so. He hadn’t been explicit last night, but maybe he should be.

“Any time I can have you, I’m going to take it,” Morgan admitted in a low voice. I’d take it and probably beg you for more.

“Oh.” Hayes looked surprised and then thrilled. “Why didn’t you just say? I kinda assumed or rather I didn’t want to assume. . .”

“Because I’m stupid.”

Hayes laughed and then nudged him with his elbow. “Not stupid. Well, a little stupid.”

“Stupid to not walk over here half an hour ago and tell you that I wanted to go back to the hotel.”

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t be all cute and jealous,” Hayes teased. “And it would’ve been a damn shame to miss that.”

Morgan thought of how just a few days ago, Hayes had still seemed half-afraid of him, definitely worried about saying or doing the wrong thing.

And now he was gently puncturing his ego one softly pointed joke at a time.

If you’d asked Morgan a week ago if he’d like that, if it would turn him on , he’d have said no, that was crazy.

But he’d have been wrong. So wrong.

Because Finn had gotten it the first time; Hayes really cranked his motor. Everything about him from his hockey to his sly sense of humor to the way he filled out those jeans.

How had they started out with Hayes worshipping him and then ended up here? Morgan didn’t know, but he’d clearly lost the lead somewhere.

“Do you want to?” Morgan asked gruffly.

Hayes’ gaze heated up. “Yeah,” he said.

“Come on, let’s go,” Morgan said.

“Do we need to . . .I don’t know . . .say goodbye?” Hayes looked around the bar where the team was spread out at multiple tables and a handful even strung along the other side of the bar.

Morgan caught Danny’s eye and nodded once.

“No,” Morgan said. “Danny’s got this.” He pressed his palm to the small of Hayes’ back, turning him towards the exit.

“Danny? You mean Matthew Daniels? He has this?” Hayes laughed awkwardly. “Are you serious?”

“Braun’s here too, somewhere. As shitty as he is, he’s not going to let anyone do anything stupid.”

They grabbed their coats from the booth and headed towards the front door, Hayes pushing it open.

“God, it’s cold,” Hayes complained as soon as they were outside, on the way to the hotel. It was only a few blocks away, but it was still way fucking cold, and it made sense, considering how they were bundled up, to knock their shoulders together and then for Morgan to wrap his arm around him.

Nobody was going to know it was them, not with the snow swirling around the dark, and all the layers they were wearing.

“Better?” Morgan asked under his breath as they paused under an awning, the snow starting to come down harder.

Hayes’ smile was brilliant as he glanced over at Morgan. “Maybe we should’ve taken an Uber.”

“Afraid of a little snow, Monty?” Morgan asked, nudging him.

Hayes tipped his head back. “No. Just not used to it, I guess.”

“Not much snow in Los Angeles.” Morgan had a split second where he really thought about it; how frequently it snowed in upstate New York, where he lived. And how far away Los Angeles really was.

Morgan shoved the thought away. He didn’t like it and there wasn’t any reason to dwell on it, besides. They were together now, and who even knew how he’d feel in a week?

He was pretty sure the last time he’d slept with the same person for a week it was his ex-wife and it had been ten years ago.

“Actually, it’s kind of nice,” Hayes said and glanced over at Morgan. His eyes were shining, and it was really, unbelievably hard not to lean in and kiss him now.

He didn’t. But it was a near thing.

Instead, Morgan squeezed his far shoulder and dipped his head down, closer to where Hayes’ beanie just grazed the top of his ear. He even had an attractive ear, all soft small whorls. For a second, Morgan imagined putting his mouth there, too .

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go.”

“Impatient much?” Hayes teased as they walked back out into the snow.

Morgan wanted to deny it, but it was kind of hard to when it was so obvious. He wanted to get Hayes alone. Wanted to stop having to hold back.

“Aren’t you?”