Page 10 of Hot Ice, Tennessee (Hard Spot Saloon #2)

10

JESSE

One more. Just one more.

I dipped to grip the barbell, getting into a deadlift position. I hoisted it up, feeling the burn in the backs of my thighs, my arms, and my ass.

“Beast mode,” Andrew said from beside me, clapping. “I didn’t think you could do another, man.”

“That’s Jesse for you,” Robbie said. “Fuck yes.”

I pulled in a sharp breath and let it out as I set the barbell back down onto the ground, breathing heavily.

Earlier, I’d been on the treadmill doing my warm-up run next to Robbie when Andrew had spotted me in the gym. He’d come over and taken the machine next to mine, and since then, the three of us had been chatting about football, hockey, and TNU as we worked out together. Andrew joined me and Robbie for squats and deadlifts after, and we’d been taking turns spotting each other for the last twenty minutes.

“My glutes are going to be pure hell tomorrow,” I said.

“Worth it,” Andrew said.

Robbie laughed. “My core’s going to be fucked after the planks we did.”

“I feel like that’s been my entire summer so far,” Andrew added. “I’ve worked out harder this summer than any in my life.”

“TNU athletics don’t fuck around, that’s for sure,” Robbie told him.

Andrew stretched his quads, nodding. “Max jokes about me being a star wide receiver, but next season, I really do want to make that happen.”

“The football team doesn’t know what’s going to hit ‘em.”

My thighs were still completely on fire. I grabbed my water bottle, popped the top open and took a long swig, encouraging Andrew on his last set of deadlifts.

I’d been working out more than usual, too. In the last few days since I’d lost the game against Nashville, I’d thrown myself right back into workouts and studying, like I was on repeat from the week before it. The library was my second home, and the gym was my third.

A sandy-blond guy walked past us in the gym and I did a double take. For a split second I was sure it was Mason, but when he turned, I saw that it was just some other guy who wasn’t nearly as hot, anyway.

Not like the cowboy’s going to be in a TNU campus gym.

“Good work,” I told Andrew, idly watching his deadlift reps. “Don’t forget to breathe. You can do five more, yeah?”

He heaved a sigh. “I can do five more. Just going to take a quick break first.”

“Smart.”

For a minute he grabbed his water bottle and I reached for my phone.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Mason for the past three days, everywhere I looked. The blow job was one thing—hotter than fucking hell. But I also passed by some Hostess cupcakes in the convenience store yesterday and couldn’t stop smiling.

Mason hadn’t texted me since that night, and I knew it was because he was trying to be a good boy about it.

I knew he was trying to please me, keeping things “no strings attached.”

But goddamn , the dutiful way he was trying to be good was only making me want him more.

I bit my lip and thumbed through my phone, looking over some old texts from him and sliding up to one of the photos he’d sent of him, shirtless in his backyard.

When I glanced up from my phone Andrew and Robbie were looking over at me a smile on both of their faces.

“You look happy ,” Robbie said.

“Shut up.”

“Sanocki never looks happy like that,” Robbie told Andrew, and Andrew laughed.

“Going to be honest, man you look like you’ve got a bit of a… a glow ,” Andrew said.

“I do not have a glow. What am I, a new mom?”

Andrew snickered. “New daddy, more like. You fucking somebody?”

“He’s always fucking somebody, but he never tells us about any of his guys,” Robbie said. “He’s a gentleman, like that.”

Not guys, plural, I thought, but as usual, I was private when it came to what I did—and what I’d done for the past years.

“Gentleman and a playboy ,” Andrew said.

“I already like this guy,” Robbie said, pointing at Andrew. “He might be a football player, but he’s already indulging in the time-honored tradition of roasting Jesse Sanocki.”

“Do you guys want me to kill you later tonight, or should I go ahead and do it right here?” I asked.

They were laughing as they wiped off the equipment.

“Whoever your new boyfriend is, you look happier than you’ve been in… months? Years?” Robbie said. “Good shit, man.”

My cheeks went hot as he said the word boyfriend .

The fuck?

I usually didn’t blush at anything. I was proud of who I was, and confident in my decisions, but somehow thinking of Mason as my boyfriend felt impossible and also was making me feel something funny in my chest.

“Never going to happen, but if he were my boyfriend, I’d parade him around like a prize trophy, don’t you worry,” I told Robbie.

He whistled at me. “That good?”

“ That good.”

I looked down at my phone, where an email had just come through with test scores from my first exam that I’d taken yesterday in Physiology.

In my history class a day ago, I’d done okay, getting an 84 on my first test. But in Physiology, I’d gotten a perfect score.

Freaking 100 out of 100.

I stood a little taller, a smile playing at my lips again. I used to get perfect scores more often, but in the last couple of years, I’d fallen off. The pride carried through me and adrenaline hit me after, making me feel like I could do anything.

Fuck it.

He’s played ‘good boy’ long enough, I think.

I took a screenshot of the score, navigated to my texts with Mason, and shot off a picture of it. I tapped out a message alongside it.

Jesse : Proud of me?

I put my phone away, spotting Andrew as he did his final set of deadlifts.

“Holy fuck, I don’t know how you do twenty pounds more than that,” Andrew said, putting down the barbell as he finished. “I’m convinced playing hockey turns guys into animals.”

“You’re kind of right,” I admitted.

I looked down at my phone.

Mason : Very. And are you proud of me?

Attached was a picture of a freshly poured concrete slab in the area of his backyard that he’d leveled off last week.

Jesse : So proud.

Mason : Poured the concrete myself. Should be able to have my hot tub delivered by next week. Perfect for parties.

The thought of Mason getting into a hot tub was enough to kick up a frenzy in me.

But as we headed off to the gym showers and rinsed off, my thoughts were running on overdrive. My mind was swirling now, thinking about other guys getting in the tub with him, which was definitely going to happen at any of the parties he threw.

Guys who certainly would want to fuck him just as much as I did.

I ran my hands along my body in the shower, rinsing off the lathered soap under the hot spray of water. I let my palm run along my cock, imagining if it was Mason’s instead, then doing a U-turn right out of that headspace because I didn’t need to end up jerking off in a gym shower.

I wanted to be the one getting in a hot tub with Mason.

Or in bed with him.

He wasn’t mine, but… he was still mine .

Sort of.

Fuck, not really, though.

I cut the water and grabbed a clean towel. I scrubbed at my face, drying off.

The worst of it was that Elliot hadn’t just ruined things between us—he’d also burned me , and my ability to trust anything. I was still healing from the deep wound he’d left, as if hookups and dating were some mine-filled war-zone.

I was fucking tired of it. And I wasn’t going to let it rule my life.

Maybe what I really wanted, beneath everything, was simple.

I wanted to ask Mason out on a date.

…And then watch him squirm and blush and freak out, telling me a bunch of shit about why we couldn’t possibly date—and then probably go on a date with me, anyway.

“Yo,” Andrew said after we got dressed again, finding me outside the gym lockers. “Max said I should roll through the Hard Spot. Half off domestics until seven, and Robbie says he’s down. You want to come?”

I shut the locker beside me with a thwack .

“Fuck yes, I do.”

Whiskey felt like liquid fire in my throat as I downed my second shot of the night.

It was just me and Kane at this corner of the bar right now. Right now Max was on his half-hour break for the night, and Andrew and Robbie had gone with him to grab some sub sandwiches at the diner across the street.

I’d resorted to talking about the weather with my brother, because I kept specifically avoiding bringing up Mason.

We talked about how Tennessee was hot. Like, fuckin’ scorching, lately.

How the summer was good, but winter was good, too. Hockey, Christmas. Mmhmm.

We’d even freaking talked about how the sky was blue today. Right? Yeah. Very blue!

“Mason said you helped him out the other day,” Kane finally mentioned as he was changing out the cartridge in the soda gun.

My ears perked up immediately.

“He did?” I said instead, thumbing the rim of my shot glass.

Kane nodded. “You took care of his horses while he was fucked up on allergy meds or something?”

“Brought him some consolation food after I heard about the shitty newspaper story. He was falling asleep on those meds pretty soon after. He tried to throw a party that night, actually. I talked him out of it.”

And he was adorable, for the record .

He snorted. “He’s unstoppable. He was in here last night, in peak form.”

“Peak form?”

Kane nodded. “He looked like he was ready to fuck any guy that walked in here. Hell, even any woman, which is saying something when it comes to Mason.”

I bit down on the tip of my tongue for a moment, feeling a flash of heat roll through me. “Sounds like him.”

“Sure does.”

“Could I get another shot?”

He gave me a glance. “Damn. You’re going all in tonight.”

“For the first time in weeks, I actually have a day off tomorrow. No practice, no game, no class. I can drink.”

“Cheers to that,” Kane said, topping off my shot glass.

I neatly downed the liquor, and this shot didn’t burn as bad as the other ones had. I let the conversation pause for a moment before I continued.

“So was he doing keg stands again last night or what?”

“Not this time. He kept talking about breaking his dumb sex-free pact, though. Not that I ever believed he was going make it through the whole summer. Most of the time he can’t make it a week.”

Not the time to get all sad, Sanocki.

Mason has every right to fuck who he wants.

“Did he go home with some hot farmer?”

Kane shrugged. “Don’t know. Wasn’t watching. This place was packed. He needs to quit bitching about it, though.”

If Mason was so desperate, he could have just texted me.

And the most selfish, possessive hockey player in the world award goes to… Jesse! Sanocki!

“He needs someone who can handle him,” I said.

Kane narrowed his eyes at me. “What about you? How’s school?

I slid out my phone and navigated to the screenshot of my exam scores. “I’d say it’s going well.”

“100 is pretty damn hard to beat,” Kane said. “What about the other, though? 84?”

“That’s still a B.”

“You used to get perfect scores on everything, though.”

I raised my eyebrows, suddenly having a distinct urge to punch my brother in the face. “Are you really just going to fixate on the fact that I didn’t get two perfect scores? I’m proud of these results. These are some of the more challenging courses I’ve taken.”

“It isn’t a bad score. It’s just not like you,” he said. His voice was soft, without any real judgment behind it.

But I was still pissed.

Kane was giving me his whole father-figure treatment, even though I was 21 and well past the age where he’d had any hand in raising me.

“Promise you, I am trying my best.” I didn’t bother hiding the anger from my voice.

“I know 84 is a good score. I’m just checking in on you. The asshole isn’t giving you any trouble still, is he?”

Kane exclusively referred to Elliot as the asshole these days, and I definitely supported that.

“He doesn’t affect my life at all anymore. On the ice or otherwise.”

“Good.”

“I barely think about him at all. Have better things to think about, lately.”

The whiskey was hitting my blood now. A few minutes later, Max came back from his dinner break with Andrew and Robbie in tow. Andrew took his seat next to me again while Max got behind the bar.

“Andrew, have I told you about the ghost cat that haunts this bar?” Max asked.

Andrew laughed. “You rambled about a ghost cat when you were plastered that one night a few weeks ago.”

“I’m just certain that there is a sweet little cat haunting this bar,” Max explained. “He’s innocent, but definitely mischievous, too. He made Finn and Ori fall in love, and I know Mason is next.”

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Doesn’t seem to me like that guy needs a Cupid ghost cat.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Mason?” Andrew asked. “I’ve only run into him once or twice, but he’s a fucking flirt .”

Something deflated inside me. “How do you know?”

Andrew’s smile was wide. “I mean, spend ten minutes around him and you’ll find out. Last night was wild.”

The animal inside me was rearing its head.

Max was still talking about the ghost cat. He was convinced it was haunting the Hard Spot by opening cabinets and knocking over various things to send messages. The idea of following Max’s conversation seemed impossible, though, because of the alcohol in my system and because of everything I kept hearing about Mason last night. I tuned out the conversation, fixated on why the hell I was so pent up every time I heard Mason’s name on someone’s lips.

Mason may have hooked up with someone last night.

And so what?

I was thinking with my cock. But I was also worried—worried that Mason was doing what he apparently always did, shoving away any worries in life by trying to distract himself.

It sounded like he’d been treated poorly by guys in the past, too. Even if I couldn’t date him, I didn’t want him to be left feeling lonely again, off in his big, empty house and making decisions that he would one day hate.

I really did care about him.

In a short time, I’d been able to see just how genuine he was, and I knew damn well that he deserved to be happy.

Pressure slowly built up inside me like a kettle rising to a boil.

“Here. Leftover game prizes from the last game night,” Max said, pulling out a bowl of little lollipops.

I reached in, grabbing a strawberry flavored one. “This will be the perfect chaser for my next shot of whiskey.”

“You want another?” Max asked. “Coming right up.”

The whiskey went down too easy. The boys were distracted now, caught up in another conversation about a weird guy Robbie saw at the gym last week.

I needed fresh air more than ever. I slipped some cash on the bar top in case I didn’t make it back in.

Outside, the night wasn’t much calmer. I stepped out front and leaned on the wall outside, listening to the ambient sounds of Laurel Ave, people’s laughter and chatter floating through the evening air.

Little bit drunk.

Juuuust a little.

I thumbed at my phone for a while. I navigated to Mason’s text thread a handful of times, then closed it every time. What did I think I was going to say?

Did you bring someone home last night?

I’m so into you I can’t think straight, but I don’t know how to be with another person right now?

You might be one of my favorite people I’ve ever met, and you came out of fucking nowhere?

I finally tapped out a text, the words slowly populating the screen:

“ I want to take you on a date. You should know what it’s like to be treated right. But also… I need you to take my cock. Need to hear your voice break when I fuck you for the first time. I need my good boy— ”

I groaned out loud, popping the strawberry lollipop in my mouth.

I deleted every word of the text, watching it slowly disappear.

God, I was too drunk to be doing things like this.

A big truck roared its way down Laurel Ave, and I watched it go, the red tail lights glowing until they disappeared.

At last, I landed on ordering a ride. I was too drunk to drive, but I sure as hell had to get out of here.

Not that I had a damn clue where I was going to go.