Page 7

I can see it. I can feel it.

The chemistry between us is like static electricity, bouncing back and forth just waiting to be ignited. That simple touch on her arm had her pupils dilating, and goosebumps erupted in the wake of my finger.

I want to push her up against whatever building this is and feel her body wrapped around me. Learn how she tastes, and the sounds she makes.

But I know she isn’t ready for that.

Becca’s mind is at war with her body, and I’m not going to interfere with that. If anything occurs between us, it goes at her pace, not mine.

“Doesn’t anyone call you Jacob?” she whispers, her gaze dropping to the sidewalk pavement as she tentatively steps forward.

“Not really, no. Nicknames are a big deal in hockey. Most people call me Jax, or my last name. Only a few people call me Jacob.”

“I can call you Jax,” Becca says softly.

“No,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine before I have a chance to think about it. “I like you calling me Jacob. I like that you treat me differently, Spitfire.”

“How so?” she asks, and I silently celebrate when her hand closes around mine.

“My teammates are one thing. But almost everyone else I meet sees me as a commodity. Either they want something from me, or they want to fuck me. You didn’t fall into either of those categories, and it was a refreshing change.”

“Do you automatically have to assume that someone isn’t being completely honest with you? I think I’d never want to meet new people. I’d think the worst of them immediately.”

I think for a moment before I answer. “Yeah. It’s probably why I only hang out with my teammates, or other friends in sports. I’m good friends with the quarterback for the Coyotes, and he obviously understands because he goes through it too. I can’t tell you the last time I had a real date. It’s been years since I had a girlfriend.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a real date too. Well, a date where I didn’t want to run screaming from the restaurant,” she says with a giggle. “I have been on too many first dates this year, and all of them ended horribly.”

“Oh yeah?” I force myself to say, while bitterness fills my veins. It honestly pisses me off that she’s been on dates. Becca is actively trying to find someone, yet I know she won’t ever think to give me a chance. “What’s the worst date you’ve been on? You can only pick one.”

“Only one? Dang. Give me a minute,” she says, tapping her finger to her lips. Her perfect, plump, rosy lips that I stared at so many times tonight. She snaps her fingers and says, “I’ve got it! A guy met me for dinner, then asked if I’d be okay running to grab his dog from the vet.”

“Seems somewhat normal,” I comment.

“Just wait. I’m sure you figured it was a dog having a procedure or something at the vet, right?” When I nod, she continues. “Nope. The dog died, and he was picking up the remains. And not the cremated remains, Jacob. The actual remains. He said the cremating process was too expensive. Then, without telling me what we were doing, he drove to a public park, where he proceeded to grab a shovel out of the trunk and start digging a hole for his dead dog.”

“What the fuck?” I breathe, completely shocked at her story.

“Yeah. I was pretty freaked out, seeing as how we were alone in a park and he had a shovel, so I bolted and called the police. He was arrested for a bunch of things. The DA wanted me to testify at the trial, but fortunately it was all settled out of court. I never heard from him again.”

“That is so fucked up. What was his reasoning for burying the dog there?”

Becca sighs. “He said he thought the dog would like it. It wasn’t even a park they went to. It was just the park closest to the vet’s office. The entire debacle was so bizarre.”

“Wow. My bad dates pale in comparison,” I comment.

“Oh please, make me feel better. Tell me a good one,” Becca says with a laugh. I’m tempted to make one up on the spot just to keep her happy, and to keep her hand enclosed in mine, but then I remember the worst date I’ve ever had.

“In college, we did a lot of group dates. Some of the guys weren’t as outgoing as me, and they liked the group concept better. I was cool with it, because I can have fun anywhere. Didn’t matter to me if it was me and a girl or fifteen of us hanging out.”

“You, extroverted? Shocking,” Becca says dryly, making me squeeze her hand.

“I know. I’m as surprised as you. One night, there were five guys and seven girls. We’d driven over to Lake Michigan with a ton of beer. I honestly can’t remember how we got the beer, because we were all underage, but Ann Arbor is a big sports town, so we probably just got it without being carded. By dinnertime, we were all pretty toasted. One of the girls suggested truth or dare, and brought out a couple bottles of whiskey.”

Becca’s face screws up in disgust. “Twenty-year-olds drinking straight whiskey? And after all that beer? This is going to end badly.”

“You are correct. Anyway, it started off with stupid dares, but everyone had to take a shot of whiskey, no matter if they chose truth or dare. After a couple rounds, we all got a little more … daring.”

“Is there any online evidence of this night? If I Google your name and Michigan, am I going to find a picture of your bare ass or something?” Becca asks.

“No.” I pause. “At least I don’t think so. But if you want to see my bare ass, I’m more than happy to show it to you.” I reach for my belt dramatically, but Becca bats my hand away. “Damn. I do enjoy a good mooning.”

“In this city, you will make it onto the news if you show your butt on a major downtown road,” Becca says. She’s probably right. I’ve been on the news, and on trashy websites, for much smaller offenses.

“Well, the girl next to me dared me to strip down with her, then go stand on a couple of old wooden pilings from a broken pier and sing some stupid song she liked, but don’t ask me what song, because I didn’t even know what it was then. So off we go, dropping clothes along the way. About twenty feet from the pilings, I realize I really don’t feel well. I’m not even looking at her. I’m thinking about how the two pilings we’re supposed to climb onto have morphed into six, and they seem to be swaying.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Somehow I climb up on the stupid thing, but she can’t get up on hers. She wants up on mine. These damn things were like six inches across, and I have big feet. I tell her I’ll help her up onto hers. I reach down and grab her arm, hauling her up and basically tossing her over to the other piling. I still don’t know how she managed to land on it, but she did.”

“I doubt I could do that sober,” Becca murmurs. “So then you sang?”

“Nope. I took one look at her and projectile vomited all over her.”

“You didn’t!” Becca shouts, then slaps a hand over her mouth. “That is not where I thought the story was going!”

“What did you think I would say?”

“I guess that one of you fell and injured something, so a trip to the hospital ended the evening. I never thought you’d vomit on her.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” I say, defending myself. “Does it make you feel better to know that she then puked on me?”

“Actually, it does.”

“You’ll probably also enjoy knowing that everyone forced us to sit in the back of a pickup truck for the ride home, because even with the lake there and attempting to wash off the puke, we both still stunk.”

“That’s really not that bad of a thing.”

“Do you know how far Ann Arbor is from Lake Michigan?” I ask.

“Isn’t Ann Arbor pretty close to Detroit?” Becca asks.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you go to Lake Erie? That would have been so much closer.”

“I’m aware of that. I suggested it. The girl I puked on was the one who complained about how ‘disgusting’ the beaches near us were, and suggested we traipse two and a half hours across the state to go to Lake Michigan.”

“I’m not sure which one of us had the worst date. Me or her,” Becca says with a breathy laugh.

“Hey! What about me?” I ask with fake anger.

“You were twenty years old, you got drunk on a beach, and got to see some boobs. You had the best date out of the three of us,” Becca points out.

“You’re right,” I sigh. “She did have a nice rack.”

I’m honestly surprised when Becca throws her head back in a loud shout of laughter, and the sound is like music to my soul. Holy hell does she have an incredible laugh. It’s then that I notice we’ve arrived at her apartment building, and I’m disappointed the evening has to end.

“I was worried tonight would end horribly, but it didn’t at all,” Becca says shyly. “Thank you, Jacob. I had a really great time.”

“I did too,” I answer honestly. “It’s been a long time since I had such a fun night. What would you say to having a meal again sometime soon? As friends, of course.”

Becca stares thoughtfully at me. “A few hours ago, I would have told you no. But now, I think I’d like that. You’re not at all who I thought you’d be.”

“Likewise. What’s your number?” I ask. When she rattles it off, I immediately send her a text. “There. Now you have mine. If you ever want an early morning bodyguard, you let me know. I’m excellent at before dawn small talk.”

“Wait! That coffee. Was that Danica? Did she give you my favorite order?” Becca asks.

“No. Maybe? I’m not sure. Levi told me he knew someone at the station, but didn’t say who. He’s the kind of guy who has contacts everywhere, so it may have been someone else. I promise I’ve never met Danica.”

Becca waves her hand in the air. “I don’t care about that. I can’t find fault in something that would have happened before we really met. It just bugged me how you figured that out.”

“It bugged you?” I inquire.

“I’m a pretty private person. I don’t like that someone is out there possibly gossiping about me.”

“Is it considered gossip if it’s just a coffee order? I mean, clearly getting your address was a huge red flag, but I never thought the coffee order would be crossing a line too.”

She shrugs, a wave of hair falling in front of her shoulder. Her green eyes appear guarded. Reserved. We’ve spent the entire evening having a good time, but the moment we begin talking about her, she throws walls up. Not that I blame her. I’m in the public eye, but I think Becca has it worse.

“I have no idea if other things were discussed. What other information did you ask for? Did the person supply anything without you asking?”

“Do you want me to ask Levi? I’m betting it’s one of the sportscasters. Levi’s an odd bird, though. He might know the owner of the whole damn station.”

“I don’t even know the owner. I’ve only seen him twice,” Becca says, irritation evident in her tone. I whip out my phone and text Levi quickly.

Me

Who did you ask at Becca’s station for info on her?

Levi

Rick Marshall

Me

You still with your girl?

Levi

Definitely not my girl after tonight. And as soon as you walked away, she miraculously could walk. Tell YOUR girl to be careful. I don’t trust Danica at all.

Me

I’ll let her know.

“He spoke to the evening sports guy. Rick Marshall.”

“Oh,” Becca whispers. “I rarely see Rick. I don’t know how he’d know my coffee order. Did you ask anything else?”

“I asked for your favorite flower, and if you liked hockey,” I admit.

“What answers did you receive?”

“Hyacinth, and a resounding no.”

“I have no idea how he found out about my love of hyacinths, but me disliking hockey is absolutely correct,” Becca says with a laugh.

“How can you not like hockey? It’s the greatest sport out there!” I exclaim.

She grimaces. “It’s violent, some of the rules make no sense, and you guys celebrate losing your teeth. The puck moves so fast I can’t keep track of it, and hockey stuff smells awful.”

“I wouldn’t say we celebrate losing teeth — wait. How do you know whether or not hockey equipment smells?”

She tilts her head to the side, a smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t live under a rock, Jacob. I’ve been to hockey games. Being with the station means I’ve gotten some behind-the-scenes sights for most of the sports teams here. The locker room after a hockey game smells the worst out of all of them.”

“You’ve been in our locker room? Right after a game?”

“Not immediately after, but yes. Typically most of you were gone. I didn’t want to see anything I wasn’t supposed to see,” she murmurs.

“When was this?” I ask.

Becca looks lost in thought as she wracks her brain. “Within my first couple of months on the job here. The station likes to take newcomers out and show them the sights, and since it was winter, we hit up a hockey game for our introduction into Denver sports. Danica dragged me again once last season, but we stayed outside the actual locker room.”

“Did you ever see me?” I ask quietly, and she nods. “What was I doing?”

“You were walking to the shower, I think. In a towel. I left because …” she trails off.

“Because why?” I pry.

She sighs. “The towel loosened and I saw your butt.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that booms from my mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. I tried to moon you tonight, and it turns out, I already did.”

Becca giggles as she rolls her eyes. “Like I said, I didn’t want to see anything like that. I hightailed it right on outta there.”

I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Well, what did you think, darlin’? Did you like what you saw?”

Her cheeks heat with a lovely pink blush. “I barely saw anything.”

A wide grin breaks across my face. “Liar.”

Becca snorts as she turns away, walking into her building. I don’t move, watching her beautiful form. If she turns to look at me, I’ll know that she’s interested.

Turn, Spitfire. Turn around.

As she opens the door, Becca turns. A small smile touches her lips as she waves awkwardly at me, before going into her building. I watch until she’s out of sight.

Game fucking on, Becca Stephens.

One way or another, you’re going to be mine.

As I walk away whistling, I pull out my phone. After a quick search of local florists, I’m ready to order a bouquet of hyacinths, when a thought occurs to me.

Why do I think I know someone else who loves the same flower? I’ve seen it recently, but where?

Stopping dead in my tracks, I almost drop my phone when I remember.

NerdGirl has a hyacinth as her profile picture.