Page 15

Chapter 15

Piper

T he soft hum of conversation filled the hotel lobby as I strode across the marble floor, my suitcase rolling behind me. I didn’t notice Jordan until he stepped directly into my path, his familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Piper,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper.

My stomach sank, but I kept my posture steady. “Jordan.”

What was he doing here? And why did he insist on popping up everywhere?

“Didn’t expect to see me here?” he asked smugly.

Of course I hadn’t. I had assumed that blocking his calls and texts, repeatedly telling him I didn’t want to get back together with him, and even going as far as trying to prove I’d moved on with someone else, would be enough to keep him from coming around.

I took a step back, creating space between us. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t see you anywhere.”

Jordan’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. “Come on, Pipes. You don’t mean that. We had something good. I made a mistake, but I’ve been trying to fix it.”

“A mistake?” I shot back. “Cheating on me wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice.”

His jaw tightened. “I’ve changed. I miss you. And this”—he gestured vaguely toward me—“whatever you’re doing with Zeke, it’s just to get back at me, isn’t it?”

My fists clenched at my sides. “It’s none of your business what I’m doing or who I’m with.”

Jordan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “It’s obvious. You’re using each other. He’s just as much of a mess as you are. You think he cares about you? He’s probably doing this to piss off the team or the league, or heck—maybe even me.”

Heat rushed to my face, anger swirling with hurt. “You don’t get to come here and tell me what my relationship is or isn’t. Zeke is nothing like you. He respects me. He?—”

“Does he?” Jordan interrupted, his tone dripping with disbelief. “He’s been traded more times than I can count. Guys like him don’t settle down. This isn’t real, and you know it.”

“Get away from her, Jordan.”

The deep, gravelly voice made both of us turn. Zeke stood a few feet away, his broad frame imposing even in a casual hoodie and joggers. His gaze locked on Jordan, unflinching and protective.

Jordan scoffed, straightening. “Speak of the devil. Here to play the hero?”

Zeke stepped forward, his expression calm but his presence radiating warning. “I’m here to make sure you don’t bother Piper again.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “This whole thing is pathetic, man. You’re both just?—”

Zeke cut him off, his voice like steel. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t owe you an explanation, and I sure as hell don’t. Whatever you think this is, it’s not your problem anymore.”

Jordan hesitated, his confidence wavering under Zeke’s steady glare. He looked at me one last time, searching for some opening but found none.

“Fine,” Jordan said, his tone petulant. “But don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

Zeke took another step forward, and Jordan wisely turned and stalked out of the lobby.

As the doors closed behind him, I let out my breath.

“You okay?” Zeke asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, though my hands trembled slightly. “Thanks for stepping in.”

Zeke tilted his head, studying me. “You didn’t need me to. You handled yourself pretty well.”

My lips quirked into a small smile. “Still, I’m glad you showed up.”

Just like I had been last night when he’d showed up at the bar.

He gave me a crooked grin, the intensity in his eyes fading into something warmer. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the encounter disappeared, replaced by the unspoken tension between us. But before either of us could say more, Holden called out to Zeke, breaking the moment.

I cleared my throat. “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Zeke replied, but I could feel his gaze linger on me as I turned and walked away to the bus.

Between my unexpected encounter with Jordan, Zeke showing up and defending me, last night’s events at the bar, and my late-night text conversation with Zeke, I was feeling all kinds of strong emotions. Although I had foregone coffee this morning, it was as if I had taken one too many espresso shots.

I boarded the bus and sat in the third row, keeping with the rest of the team staff. The players ended up boarding next, and I pretended to be busy on my phone to avoid making eye contact with a certain right wingman. But as I looked down at my phone, trying not to think about Zeke, I was reminded of our text exchange last night.

I’d been annoyingly excited about seeing that I had a text message from him. Then I’d been recklessly emboldened by the barrier of text and darkness, being way too flirty and honest with him. My lame attempt to pull back and mask my true feelings had been followed by an abrupt end to our conversation, which I’d been both grateful for and disappointed about. Who knew what else I would have said or how far our texting would have gone? As much as I wanted to believe I was in control of my emotions when it came to Zeke, I was pretty sure kissing him last night had said it all.

These last three hours on the bus had seemed excruciatingly long because of how hard it was to not look back at Zeke. We were only halfway to Saint Paul, and I was more than ready to get off this bus. I’d tried reading, listening to music, and texting my sister, but nothing could keep my mind off Zeke, only a few feet away.

I wanted to be sitting by him. I wanted to be talking to him. My body and heart didn’t seem to care that my mind thought I was being ridiculous. None of this was helping me maintain my keep-things-professional-with-Zeke plan.

The more I tried to put boundaries between us, the more I flew right past them.

When I’d seen him sitting in that hotel lobby a few weeks ago, I should have kept walking and gone up to my room. But no, I’d had to go sit by him, start opening up to him about my dad.

When I had made a house call, I should have helped him with his knee and left. But no, I’d had to stay and watch a movie and make dinner with him, chatting about his past relationship.

When the fake relationship should have remained safely in the fake zone with no physical contact necessary, I’d had to go running into his arms for the best kiss of my life.

When he’d texted me a simple thank you message last night, I should have said you’re welcome and good night. But no, I’d had to get all flirty and tell him how I’d liked everything about our night together, the kiss being not just my favorite part but my favorite kiss ever.

There was seriously something wrong with me. I was giving myself whiplash. I could only imagine what Zeke was thinking.

As if he could hear my spiral, my phone buzzed with a text from him.

Zeke

A penny for your thoughts.

I glanced over to see Zeke sitting one row back, kitty-corner from me. He shot me a wink, and I swear I tried not to smile, but my mouth didn’t seem to care because my lips spread into a flattered grin.

He seemed to be in a good mood, or at least in a better mood than he’d been in when we’d ended our conversation last night. Maybe I wasn’t the only one prone to inflicting whiplash.

I turned back to my phone, wondering how to respond since clearly I couldn’t tell him what I had really been thinking about. If I typed back ‘you,’ that would go against everything I was trying to fix between us—to get us back to safer ground. But if my track record was anything to go by, I’d soon be telling him I couldn’t stop thinking about him instead of keeping things platonic.

Continuing to stare down at my phone, I contemplated what would be an appropriate response. I decided to go with something safe and simple, quickly pushing send before I could overthink it any longer.

Piper

Nothing much.

That was a lie if I had ever written one. I hurried and typed out another text to lessen my lie.

Piper

Thinking mainly about work.

That was mostly true. I was thinking about work. Zeke was part of my work. Keeping things professional between us was part of my work. Hoping to not lose my job because I might be having some feelings for a hockey player on my team was definitely thinking about work.

Zeke

Boring. I could think of several things better for you to think about.

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

Piper

Oh, yeah? Do I even want to know what these several things are?

Zeke

They’re pretty amazing things, but if you don’t want to hear them, I’ll keep them to myself.

He was such a tease.

Piper

You’ve piqued my interest.

Zeke

It seems like I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

Piper

I’m not acknowledging that comment.

Zeke

Okay, are you ready for the first one?

Piper

I hope I don’t regret this.

Zeke

The first thing that is better to think about than work is…

The Zeke Man.

I chuckled softly. He could not be serious. But of course he was.

Piper

I’m really hoping the rest of your list gets better.

Zeke

Ouch. I thought that was a good one.

Piper

You are nice to look at. I’ll give you that.

Zeke

I’ll take it.

I was giving him a hard time, but secretly I was loving every second of our texting. The smile permanently on my face was proof of that. And from Zeke’s vantage point, I was sure he could see it. So much for keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself. My face was giving everything away.

Zeke

The second thing that is better to think about is…

Texting with The Zeke Man.

Piper

I don’t hate it.

Zeke

Progress.

Was it odd how much fun I was suddenly having? The bus ride could double in time at this point, and I wouldn’t even care.

Zeke

The third thing that is better to think about is…

Spending time with The Zeke Man.

Piper

I’m sensing a theme here.

I heard his chuckle from across the aisle, and it sent warm tingles through me, knowing I’d made him laugh.

Piper

Let me guess—the fourth thing that is better to think about than work is…

Talking to The Zeke Man.

Zeke

I was going to say…

Kissing The Zeke Man.

I almost dropped my phone. I fumbled to keep hold of it so it didn’t go clattering to the bus floor.

I swallowed and typed back, already wondering if what I was typing was a mistake. My fingers continued to type out the message anyway.

Piper

Who says I haven’t been?

I chanced a glance over at Zeke to see his response to reading my text. Seeing one side of his mouth lift in a crooked grin made me grateful for being so bold. It probably wasn’t a good sign that I liked flirting with him so much. I knew it was trouble to get involved with a hockey player again, especially one I was working with, and especially one who didn’t do relationships.

But after seeing that look on his face—a look I had put there—I couldn’t find it in me to care.