Page 11

W e win the first game of the season, and, man, it feels great. Not only do we earn two points, but we do it against a division rival. That makes the victory that much sweeter.

But what’s even better is that Claire was there the whole time watching me. It reminded me of old times when she would come to my high school games.

That’s why I did the same thing I used to do when she was in the front row at a rink. I skated by during some downtimes, smiled at her, and tapped the glass with my stick.

Claire grinned back each time and even blew me a kiss once. I know that was for show, but damn if it didn’t make my heart soar.

Speaking of kisses, I keep thinking a lot more about what it would be like to kiss Claire. And I don’t mean a chaste peck like the one I gave her at our wedding. I’m talking a real fucking kiss, one filled with passion and longing—the same passion and longing I keep tamping down.

I better keep doing that, though, as we have a fancy event to attend tonight.

A bunch of the Bears players, including me, have been invited to a formal dinner and auction for an animal rescue charity that our team supports.

There will be a lot of donors in attendance, and they love seeing the players in person.

I’m almost ready to go.

I have on my nicest black tux, a white shirt, and shiny black shoes. I just need Claire to make sure my bow tie is even and straight. It looks fine as far as I can tell from the reflection in the mirror on the inside of my walk-in closet door, but I want her to double-check.

After leaving my bedroom, I head down the hall to hers.

The door is ajar, but I don’t just go in. I wouldn’t want to catch her half-dressed.

Okay, maybe I would like that, but it wouldn’t be appropriate.

So I knock lightly. “Is it all right if I come in?”

“Yes, yes!” she yells back, sounding frazzled. “I need your help anyway.”

I open the door the whole way and step in, readying to go to her, but I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

Claire is standing in front of the mirror above her dresser, her back toward me. She has on a formfitting gold shimmery dress, and her shiny hair is pulled over one shoulder.

But what has me frozen in place is that her dress is unzipped all the way down to her ass, exposing her bare back.

Fuck, she clearly has on no bra.

And is that a thong I see?

Kill me now.

“Can you zip this thing up for me?” she asks, one hand reaching around her body in vain. “I can’t quite reach.”

“Um, uh, yeah.” Swallowing hard, I stride over to her and place my hand on the zipper pull.

I look down, and— oh hell —she does have on a thong.

And her bare skin is so fucking smooth and sexy.

I’m so mesmerized that I hesitate, zipper pull in hand.

Claire murmurs, “Easton?”

Oops, busted .

I snap to it. “Yeah, I got it.”

I begin to zip up her dress ever so slowly, and that’s when our eyes meet in the mirror.

“You look fucking beautiful,” I blurt out.

“Thank you,” she replies softly.

Our eyes stay locked as I continue to zip up her dress. The whole while, I swear I see in her eyes what I know is in mine—lust.

I wish we were real husband and wife.

I’d be unzipping, not zipping, this thing so she could shimmy out of it and be left standing here in a thong. I’d lay her back on the bed that’s only inches away from us and take that little undergarment off…with my teeth.

And then I’d make my way back up her body…to between her legs, where I’d—

“Easton?”

Oh shit.

“Yeah?”

With a knowing smile, she whispers, “I think it’s zipped.”

I look down. “Oh, yeah, it is.” I release the pull and step back.

There’s a stirring in my groin, but thank fuck, I’m not hard. Good thing, too, as when Claire turns around to face me, I catch her totally glancing down at my pants.

Her gaze lifts and reaches mine, and now it’s my turn to give her a knowing smirk.

She bites her lip.

Then, looking away quickly, she says, “We better go.”

I agree wholeheartedly. “Yeah, we better.”

Damn, I can’t wait till later tonight when I’m alone in my bed. I have a whole new fantasy to play out. And the best part is, I’m going to imagine Claire down here in her room, doing the same thing.

Based on how I just caught her looking at my junk, I think that could totally happen.

Fuck.

Shane, my linemate, tells another joke, and Claire, seated at the table between us, giggles.

I roll my eyes.

That one wasn’t even that funny.

But what’s really grating on my nerves is that this is Shane’s eighth joke of the night—yeah, I’ve been counting—and Claire has laughed at each and every one of them.

At first, I thought she was just trying to be nice, but now I think she really finds his stupid jokes hilarious.

Okay, maybe I’m being harsh.

They’re not that bad.

Shane does have some good one-liners that I’ve heard him chirp on the ice. Some of them are actually pure classics. He can be a funny guy.

I think I’m just jealous.

No, I know I am.

But I have no right to be.

Remember that, dude.

We’re at the charity event, and dinner has just ended. Seated at the table with Claire and me is Shane, of course, as well as Lennox and some bimbo he brought with him.

Those last two have been busy whispering sweet nothings to each other all evening, so it’s almost like they’re not even here.

Fuck, I wish Shane had brought a date.

Now Claire’s telling him a funny story about one of her former real estate colleagues, and he’s eating it up.

I’ve heard the tale before, so I’m tuning it out. But not before I huff loudly.

I’m beyond thankful when an announcement is made that the auction is about to start.

Claire wraps up her story, and we all direct our attention to the stage at the front of the hotel ballroom we’re in.

At first, a bunch of various gifts from sponsors are auctioned off.

Then it’s time for things donated by the Bears to go up, most of which are signed sticks and pucks, as well as tickets to a slew of home games.

The final three items up for auction involve me and my teammates here at the table. They’re all for special outings with the players on the top line.

I’m paying full attention now, as the last one is for going out to lunch with me. I’m curious to see who puts in the top bid on that one and wins.

It’s been a good night for the rescue, but I hope these last auctions raise even more money for them. It’s such a good cause.

First up in the final three auctions is a chance to skate for twenty minutes at the Glacier Dome with Lennox.

Bidding is fierce, and a middle-aged guy ends up winning that one.

Although he did all of the bidding, when Lennox goes up to the stage to shake his hand, the man sends up his son, who looks to be in his early teens, to accept the prize.

The kid is so excited that he starts crying.

It’s sweet, and everyone is touched.

The next auction is for a tour of our facility with Shane as the guide.

An older lady wins that one. She seems a little flustered when she meets my teammate on the stage and has to shake his hand, but that’s not entirely surprising, as Shane is a really good-looking guy.

Shit, now it’s my turn.

Who will win lunch with me?

I’m the new guy on the team, so I don’t expect a ton of bids to pour in. Fans just don’t really know me yet.

But to my surprise, the bids start coming in at a respectable pace.

Claire glances over at me and gives me a reassuring smile.

Shit, now I feel bad that I’ve been so jealous tonight. I hope she hasn’t noticed. But knowing Claire, she has.

I’ll have to apologize later.

Oh hell, I just realized we have a winner.

I wasn’t even paying attention, when that was my whole goal.

Damn it.

I get up and head to the stage to meet whoever the winner is.

To my surprise, I’m joined by a hot-ass chick with a platinum blonde bob. She’s attractive and about my age, but what really stands out is how she’s dressed. She’s wearing a slinky, hot pink low-cut dress that leaves little to the imagination.

Wow.

Hey, I am still a guy.

And I’m not even really married.

I can look.

She shakes my hand and bats her long lashes at me.

I chuckle a little, shaking my head.

I tell her, “Congratulations,” and that I’m looking forward to lunch.

She replies, “Oh, so am I, Easton, so am I.”

Oh boy.

I return to the table, and holy shit—Claire looks beyond pissed.

“You okay?” I ask as I sit down next to her.

“Yes,” she snaps, turning her head and sniffing. “I’m fine.”

Oh my God, she’s jealous, much like I was earlier. But she truly has nothing to worry about. Hot Girl may be smokin’, but I’m not interested.

I do, however, allow myself a moment to enjoy the satisfaction that I’m not the only one who’s been feeling pangs of jealousy, especially tonight.

The only thing perplexing is, if we’re only friends, why are we feeling this way?