Page 14

Chapter 14

Aiden

“So, sweetheart, I finally told your father about our illustrious plan,” Mom announces as I take my seat around the breakfast table. “He was so pleasantly surprised, and he’s definitely on board.”

My hand freezes over the coffee jug. Her eyes are saying, ‘don’t even think about disagreeing with me.’ I glance over at Dad, a version of me twenty-five years from now and he’s beaming.

“It’s the best news I’ve gotten in a while, son,” he says. “Though I’m not surprised. I know how much you love that girl.”

“Casey. Her name is Casey,” I reply.

He raises thick, greying brows at me. “Of course I know her name, just like I know she’s the right one for you. It was only a matter of time before you forgave her for that… you know…”

He can’t even say it, yet there’s no remorse on his face.

Dad clears his throat as I reach for the coffee jug once more. “Anyway, I thought to celebrate this wonderful news by surprising your mother with a few days in the Maldives.”

Mom giggles and it’s now that I realize they’re both dressed in resort wear. “As in today?” I ask.

“We’re heading to the airport right after breakfast,” Mom replies. “Isn’t that amazing, honey?”

I pause putting cream in my cup, taking in her flushed cheeks, bright eyes and it occurs that I can’t recall when last I’ve seen her this happy. Maybe Mom knows what she’s doing after all. It’s possible that her plan could actually work.

Knowing that, it leaves a deep pang in my stomach.

“Sweetheart? Aren’t you happy for us?” Mom presses when I don’t answer. “Your father is taking me back to where we first fell in love. Five days of nothing to distract us so we can rekindle. Isn’t that great news?

I catch her hidden meaning. “That’s awesome, Mom. I’m happy for you both.”

Dad’s endearing smile thrown in Mom’s direction seems genuine, but this is the same man who built his empire on the backs of small businesses he ultimately destroyed. It’s one of the reasons I decided to pursue my own goals instead of joining the company like he expects. I don’t want any involvement with the karma that he’s going to get.

I glance at my watch. It’s a quarter to ten, which means Scarlett will be here in no time. Grabbing up my cup, I inch over to Mom and kiss her forehead. “Have fun.”

For her sake, I hope she does.

Dad pats my hand when I squeeze his shoulder. “You too, Dad.”

“No wild parties while we’re gone!” he calls cheerfully after me. He knows that’s not my thing.

I spend the next half an hour soaking my foot in the ice water like Scarlett suggested. Having already done it once last night, I can tell the strain is already easing. Scarlett knows what she’s doing. Can’t say I’m surprised.

Getting downstairs after a shower, I’m surprised to see Mom still sitting in the living room, one leg bouncing impatiently on her knee. “Where’s Dad?” I ask.

“Oh, he took a quick trip downtown to clear up some things,” she says casually, her tense shoulders a stark contradiction. “He’ll be back in half an hour.”

I glance at my watch again. Scarlett should be here any minute now.

“Expecting someone?” Mom asks.

I nod, glancing through the front window. “My physical therapist.”

Concern is stamped on her face when I look back at her. “Why do you need a physical therapist?”

“Just a slight ankle sprain,” I explain simply.

She huffs. “I told you to take it easy after that surgery, but did you listen? No. Heaven knows why you keep going so hard with that goddamn hockey. You should give it up; let the experts play.”

I’d love to tell her that I am a pro. I’m great at this. This time next year, I should be signing a contract with a prestigious team, preferably New York. But after that stunt she pulled with my trust fund, I know it will backfire on me.

“In fact, you should be spending more time at Hunter Energy, learning the ropes,” she goes on. “Dropping in during the holidays is not enough, not anymore.”

Yeah, pigs are going to fly before you see me in a stuffy suit, trapped in an office. I don’t care how nice the view is.

The sound of an approaching car takes my attention back to the window. Blowing out a breath, I run my fingers through my hair, arranging it a little before I catch Mom frowning at me.

“What?” I mutter.

“A physical therapist or a booty call?” she queries as our butler Ramon goes to get the front door.

“Mom, please. Don’t start.”

“Don’t start what? Your cheeks are red and you’re doing that thing with your hair when you get anxious.” She juts her finger toward the front door. “Whoever she is, I hope she knows you’re not single anymore.”

“You’re being ridiculous. This is strictly business. I’m not even attracted to her.”

I move to stand by the window, watching Scarlett tentatively climbing the stairs, her mouth half-opened as she looks around. She disappears from my sight under the patio, soon emerging into the foyer. I take one look at what she’s wearing and realize I’ll have a hard time convincing Mom of what I just said.

I can’t decide which is sexier; the black dress Scarlett wore at Cameron’s party or these leggings that emphasize how gorgeous her body truly is. She’s also wearing a tank top and sneakers. Besides the party, I’ve never seen her wearing anything so fitted.

Mom stands accessing her, too, an elbow resting on one hand, an index finger tapping her temple. Wanting to whisk Scarlett away before the twenty-one questions begin, I hurry to her side.

“Mom, this is Scarlett Pierce, my PT. Scarlett, meet my mom.”

Scarlett smiles and gives my mom a shy wave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hunter.”

My mother scoffs. “I wish the feeling was mutual, my dear. My son knows the help is not allowed through the front door—”

“Mom, that is highly inappropriate,” I scold as Scarlett gasps.

“What?” she has the nerve to look innocent. “You know the front is only used by family and esteemed guests.”

“I’m really sorry about her,” I say remorsefully to Scarlett, whose face is beet-red. With my hand pressing against her lower back, I inch her toward the side door. “Not cool, Mom.”

Asking her to apologize would be like asking America’s Most Wanted to turn himself in.

“Don’t mess things up, Aiden. You hear me? You know what your obligations are. I won’t have you consorting with anyone beneath us.” She calls after me.

Ignoring her cringy comment, I keep guiding Scarlett out the door.

“I’m truly sorry, Scarlett—”

She waves my comment away. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t live in a trailer park for twenty-two years without hearing worse. Did it sting? Yes, but I’m used to it. For once, this is not your fault.”

The twinkle in her eyes makes it clear that last comment was a joke, which makes me smile. I don’t know why I ever thought Scarlett was a damsel in distress. She is the toughest person I know.

My hand moves from her back as we head down the path to the guest house. It’s not because she doesn’t need my guidance anymore. It’s what I feel when I touch her. After everything that’s happened between us, I shouldn’t be feeling anything.

But I do.

And it keeps getting stronger.

And it feels fucking good.

I walk ahead, keeping my eyes peeled on the pool house, but I’m fully aware of her presence behind me. I’m also aware I’ve never smelled that fragrance on her before. It reminds me of a candy store and for some reason, it gives me a warm, comforting sensation in my stomach, tempting me to sweep her into my arms for a deep inhale.

“You’ve got a really nice place,” she comments as I enter the code for the front door. “Huge. I think half of my neighborhood could fit on your property.”

“My parents’ property,” I correct softly, gesturing for her to step inside.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s still yours,” she points out, scanning the open concept space. The living room sits in the center, with the dining area and kitchen on one side and a balcony leading out to the pool on the other side. There’s a narrow hallway that leads to the two bedrooms that include ensuite bathrooms.

I shrug in response, then point to the balcony. “I laid the stuff out there.”

By ‘stuff’ I mean my mom’s massage bed and a few towels. Scarlett nods and I lead the way through the French doors.

“I have a few techniques from my physiotherapy course that will help,” she informs, removing the backpack and resting it on the nearby chair. “But you’ve got to take it easy until your next practice so your ankle can heal.”

We’re on a five-day break, which I hope will be good enough. I can’t afford for Coach to bench me.

While rummaging inside the bag, Scarlett softly instructs, “Take your pants off.”

The soft blush that coats her cheeks is so cute that I smile. “Pants only?” I tease.

Her eyes are still fastened on the bag, but the blush spreads down to her neck. “Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with your upper body.”

“You don’t know that. The muscle strain probably spread all the way up—”

“Aiden, quit playing with me.” Her entire face is red now, right after her eyes scope my entire body. That quick scrutiny lights a fire inside me, one that is already spreading in my stomach. I don’t understand getting turned on by a girl simply looking at me. It might just be the forbidden aspect. I can’t touch her, which makes me want her more.

Yes, that’s it.

“Fine,” I concede, yanking down my pants. Scarlett gasps, then whips away from me. When I’m settled on the bed, I let her know it’s safe to turn back around.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say as her fingers lightly press my ankle.

“No.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Her hand pauses on me. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“I’m not familiar with that word. Sorry.”

Scarlett sighs, touching my ankle bone. “Does this hurt?”

“It doesn’t. Are you going to answer me?”

She touches the softer part of my ankle and I flinch. “Just as I thought. Definitely a sprain. You’re one lucky guy. I’m going to start by massaging your calf which will help improve your ankle flexibility.”

I twist on my side, looking up as she squeezes something from a tube into her palm. “Answer me.”

“Why is that important?”

“I’ve never had a virgin give me a leg massage before,” I reply, smirking.

Scarlett smirks back. “Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but this is not that time.”

My smile disappears abruptly, in tune with the sucker-punch feeling in my gut. Which is weird. It shouldn’t bother me that she’s already had her first. I’ll never be anything to her.

Flipping back to my stomach, I keep my eyes trained on the backyard pool as she applies deep pressure to my leg. “You’re very tense,” she mutters.

I grunt in response.

Her hands are small, deftly working the muscles, each stroke sending pleasure to my groin. Biting my lip, I suppress the groan that wants to rise from my throat. Scarlett definitely knows what she’s doing. This feels so fucking good.

“Turn over,” she soon instructs, and I roll onto my back.

She moves down to the spot above my ankle, gently working the soft area, which allows my heartbeat to slow down. Her eyes occasionally meet mine, soft but focused. I wonder what she’s thinking. I’m curious enough to ask her.

“Just ensuring I’m hitting the right spots and not worsening the situation,” she replies. Her eyes flick up at me. “Can I ask you something?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Why don’t you want the team to know about your injury?”

I didn’t expect that question, especially with how she just looked at me. Her being here, willing to help me, it makes me believe I can trust her with this information. “There’s a talent scout coming from New Jersey to see our next game,” I explain. “I need him to see me.”

“Need?”

“Yes. I need to go pro next year. Playing hockey is my lifetime dream.”

“I hardly know much about hockey, but you play really well, plus you’re the star of the team. Isn’t that good enough?”

She moves down to the sole of my foot as I shake my head. “It’s not that simple. There are tons of players looking to make it to the big league each year. It’s easier to get drafted when a scout is impressed by watching you play live.”

“I see, but you’ve been playing for years—” She stops at my raised brows. “No, I wasn’t stalking you or anything. You’re one of the most popular guys on campus, duh.”

“If you say so,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway. You’re so talented that I can’t imagine a scout not seeing you play.”

“They usually look for a pick among the best of the best, usually during the finals,” I explain, and her expression shifts with a sudden awareness.

“That explains why you were so pissed at me. You thought I denied you a chance of getting scouted,” she mutters, and I nod.

“Jeff Ross usually shows up at the championship game. He scouts for my dream team, the New York Sabers . Missing out on that chance, it gutted me.” Pushing up on my elbows, I lash her with a remorseful stare. “I was so pissed, not thinking straight and I put you in harm’s way. I’m sorry.”

“You already apologized, remember?” she murmurs, the lightness in her tone contrasting with the emotion in her eyes. “Besides, you were only wrong about the person who called security. It doesn’t change the fact that someone wanted to ruin the team.”

I sigh, dropping back down. That puzzle has been on my mind since I realized it couldn’t have been Scarlett. It was a dark night. Someone else was obviously lurking when the team dashed into that parking lot.

Who? And why is security so tight-lipped about it? It couldn’t have been someone from the rival team or they would’ve sang like a canary when Noah flashed those hundreds for them to give up a name. Back then, I thought they were protecting Scarlett out of pity, but now I can’t help suspecting it’s someone powerful.

For some reason, it leaves me concerned as fuck. My gut tells me they’re going to strike again.

“Whoever made that call, I hope that wasn’t their endgame,” Scarlett says. “Let’s hope they were only doing what was right.” She looks back at me. “No offense.”

“None taken. I wasn’t a part of their plan, Scarlett,” I reply, and she pauses. “When you saw me, I was on my way to stop them. By the time I got there, the damage was already done.”

Which includes us getting exposed.

“I thought you were—” She stops as I shake my head.

“So, you’re not half as terrible as I thought,” she goes on, chuckling as she moves up my thigh.

“No. I’m much worse,” I mutter, shifting my hips.

Scarlett’s eyes move to where her hands are working, slowly inching toward my groin. I clench my teeth, willing my cock to stay down but the command is useless. Her little hands feel like heaven on my skin. The way she bites her lower lip, concentration on her face, it’s such a turn-on. She digs deep, touching a sensitive spot and I can’t help but moan, “Oh, fuck.”

She gasps and instantly backs away. I don’t need to look down to know why. My hard cock strains against the front of my boxers, begging for release.

Begging for her to sit on it.

Pushing that filthy thought from my mind, I reach for a towel and cover myself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just… didn’t expect it.” She flashes her hand, then pulls out a heating pad from her bag. “I was almost done, anyway.”

“Okay…”

“Yeah, so I’d advise you stay off your feet for another half an hour or so, then take it easy for the rest of the day,” she goes on, wrapping the heating pad around my foot.

I nod. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Make it later, about two. I have stuff to do at home.” She drops her things into the bag, then swings it onto her back.

Reaching for my cell phone, I text my driver. “Dimitri will take you home.”

Her eyes quickly pan down to my groin, another blush covering her cheeks as she mumbles, “I’m sorry about that.”

She dashes out before I can say anything. I can’t determine if I’m more puzzled by Scarlett’s apology or turned on by the look that briefly flashed across her face as she shifted her gaze. It’s a look I’ve gotten countless times before taking a girl to bed. One glance at my cock and they’re either wondering how hard they can ride it, or getting ready to run for the hills. That expression on Scarlett’s face was definitely unexpected.

She wasn’t thinking about running for the hills.

I don’t have a physical type. I don’t care about size. I like girls who seem innocent on the outside because they were always freaks in bed. Scarlett is definitely innocent-acting. As the front door closes behind her, I wonder what her freak level would be.

Not that I would fuck her.

It doesn’t matter if she’s the kind of girl I would chase. Scarlett is off limits. She might be helping me, and I vowed to keep the guys away from her, but without real proof that someone else sabotaged us, she’s still the team’s number one suspect. The team would tear me a new asshole for even thinking of her that way.

Well, if they could read my thoughts, anyway.

Dropping back on the bed, I stare up the ceiling with a slowly emerging smile. I can’t touch Scarlett, but I can surely fantasize about having her on top of me.