Page 35

It looks like a real guitar

Sophie

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

We were both a little buzzed, which might be why it was more relaxed, less frantic.

We weren’t chasing the peak but enjoying the ride to get there.

For long minutes we stood, wrapped together, sometimes with his tongue searching me as he took the lead, and sometimes I chased into his mouth when I took over.

My arms around his neck were relaxed and comfortable, and his around my waist held me close to him.

Close, but not tight. Like we could do this for hours.

When had I last enjoyed kissing like this?

“Mmmn. This is nice,” I whispered when we pulled apart for breath.

“It is.”

“Still…it might be nicer on the bed.”

He glanced at the bed, and then back at me. “And naked.”

I smiled. “And naked.”

I tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants.

I wanted to see him, feel his muscles and hair and skin under my hands, trace his abs and his tattoo with my tongue.

One by one I undid the buttons to get rid of the dress shirt, pouting a little to find a T-shirt still blocked my access.

He pulled the offending undergarment over his head.

I ran my hands over his chest. It was broad and toned.

He worked hard to keep in playing condition, even though he rarely got to play.

But that was like him. Loyal and committed.

He moved his hands to the hem of my sweater, so I left my exploration for a few moments while he removed it.

He slid his hands to the back of my bra and released the catch.

Slowly, we removed items till we were exposed to each other.

I wasn’t self-conscious now—we’d been here before, and Remy never made me feel anything but beautiful and desirable.

And he’d never failed to arouse a passion in me I didn’t know I was capable of.

I took his hand and led him to my bed. We lay beside each other, staring but not speaking, till I leaned in to kiss him.

This time we let the urgency creep over us, kisses pressing over necks and nipples and noses. Hands moved over breasts and asses until I’d rolled a condom on his cock and he finally slid into me.

Even then, he didn’t rush. He moved in and out in long, unhurried, deep strokes, slowly winding me higher and higher.

I closed my eyes to enjoy every pulse of pleasure coursing through my body.

I didn’t remember sex being like this. My orgasm crept up, suddenly overwhelming me.

I rode that peak for long minutes. As I came down, I felt him tense and come.

We fell asleep wrapped around each other, and made love in the morning when we woke up. I didn’t know this woman, so eager for sex. I ignored the voice in my head reminding me this was temporary. I’d enjoy everything I could, as long as possible.

Remy

Sophie and I saw the new year in together, in my bed. For once, I wasn’t fretting over whether I’d still be playing at the end of the year. Worries about my hockey future were on hold while I was with her.

I existed in a bubble, and I refused to look outside it.

Like an ostrich, if I didn’t see any possibilities of a trade, then they couldn’t happen, right?

Realistically, there wasn’t a market for me at my age and with my record.

There were too many young goalies coming up, any of whom might become top players if given a chance.

They had possibility and a future, where I did not.

Otts was pushing for Lappy to play more games.

He was determined to make the kid a starter.

I worried about Lappy, seeing the tension eating away at him when we were at the arena or playing.

He dropped weight, which was normal for us, but I worried he was losing too much—though since it was his first season, what was normal?

But as long as I had Sophie around, I could push my worries aside.

I had free time when I wasn’t traveling with the team, and during those days I hung around Sophie’s workshop.

Beast and Goober were now on cordial terms. Goober had set her boundaries, and Beast was respecting them.

I could let him off his leash in the workshop, and he’d settle down near Goober but he didn’t try to lick her paws or get too close.

Sophie stared at the cat. “Goober never hung out here as often as she does now.”

“No?”

“I think she likes Beast, but she’s training him.”

“I thought they were flirting.”

Sophie considered. “Maybe both? She wants to be with him, but honestly, can you blame her for not wanting dog drool on her?”

Beast did leave his tongue out a lot. But he didn’t drool much, and he never licked me. Maybe he didn’t like me that much? “Are you saying saliva is his love language?”

She bit back a smile. “That or growling.”

“He growls at everyone.”

“Then saliva it is.”

“And what’s Goober’s love language?”

“Being with someone. A lot of times she’s never around.”

What was Sophie’s? I bit back the question. I liked her, but it had to stop at like , and wondering how she’d show affection that went beyond what we had—casual friendship with benefits?—was asking for something I shouldn’t.

She held up the guitar she’d been working on this week. “That’s done.”

It looked good to me. When I first saw it, it was dusty, a little faded. There were no strings on it, and Sophie had done a lot of work before cleaning it and adding fresh strings. I could say it looked good, but from me that didn’t mean anything. “Are you happy with it?”

She held it comfortably in her arms, left hand tuning it, right hand plucking at the strings. “That sounds right. I think the client will be pleased.”

“So, what’s next?”

“The one I’m making for Diane.”

“How’s it going?”

A smile crossed her face. “It’s not perfect, not by any stretch, but I think it’s going to be pretty good.”

“Could I see it sometime?” The words slipped out. It wasn’t like I could offer any helpful feedback.

“Would you want to?” She sounded surprised.

I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about guitars, obviously, but yeah I’d like to see the one you’re making.”

She looked down, slowly caressing the guitar in front of her. “Okay.” Her voice was quiet, but it was a win.

She still seemed surprised when I showed up at the shop the next time she was working at Diane’s.

I’d spent some time at the shelter, but didn’t dawdle before heading to String Theory.

They both smiled when I came through the door, bell announcing my arrival.

The two of them were at the same worktable, and on it was a guitar.

“Is this it?”

Sophie nodded and stepped back so I could look at it. I desperately wanted to say something intelligent, but I just didn’t know enough.

“It looks like a real guitar” was the best I came up with. I cringed.

“It’s a dreadnought,” Diane explained. She talked about it being bigger, so that much I could understand, but I was lost when she moved on to fingerstyle playing and a powerful lower end.

“That’s…good?”

Sophie grinned at me while she ran a hand over the body. “Diane, I’m pretty sure he didn’t understand any more of that than you would if he talked about a play in hockey.”

Diane flinched. “Sorry, Remy.”

I shook my head. “No, even if I don’t understand it all, someone talking about their passion is interesting.”

Diane raised her brows.

Sophie said, “He’s listened to me talk about the repairs I’ve done, so I think he means it.”

“When will it be finished?” It looked done to me, though it was missing strings, but what I didn’t know about guitar building would fill a few books.

“Bridge, nut, saddle, finish, tons of polishing —there’s still a lot.”

Again, I didn’t know what that all meant, but I didn’t have to. “How do you know if it’s a good one?”

They exchanged glances. “Quality materials, proper work. But at the end, it’s all about the sound,” Diane explained.

I wasn’t sure which stage would be the strings, but obviously there was no way to check the sound till that was done. Sophie wouldn’t know for a while. “I’ve put shelves together, but I wouldn’t have a clue where to start something like this,” I admitted.

Diane laughed. “I can make guitars, but the one time I tried to build a shelf my wife took my tools away.”

Beast grumbled at my feet. “Thanks for letting me see this. I’m impressed. But I think I need to take Beast home.”

Diane looked down at my dog. “I’d offer to pet you, but I’ve heard that’s a bad idea.”

“He’s better, but still…”

Sophie walked with me to the door. “Thanks for coming.”

“Can I see it when it’s done?”

She nodded. “I can even play it for you.”

“I’d like that.” All of it. The guitar, the playing, the time with Sophie.

The trade deadline was looming, but I refused to acknowledge it.