Page 6

6

TAYLOR

I stop behind Lacey, smiling, ready to greet Théo. I haven’t seen either of them since the wedding. And my gaze lands on JP.

I freeze, my smile falling away.

Crap. What is he doing here?

Our eyes lock and his face tightens. Clearly, he’s as thrilled to see me as I am to see him.

I grip Byron’s leash, holding him back as he tries to dash out onto the patio, but he half drags me out and leaps toward Théo, one of his favorite people.

“Hey! Byron!” Théo greets him with ear rubs and back pats. “Hi, Taylor.”

“I saw Taylor on the beach when I got home, so I invited her over,” Lacey says.

“Hey, Théo.” I lift my chin and turn to JP, my voice going icy. “Hello, JP. Last time I saw you, you were bleeding.”

His jaw tightens. “Last time I saw you, it was your back as you cut and run.” His voice has an edge.

I shrug. “Testosterone-fueled brawls aren’t my thing. I hope you’ve apologized to Lacey and Théo.”

Lacey’s jaw drops and she blinks, her gaze darting back and forth between me and JP. “Uh, he did,” she mumbles.

Byron trots over to JP, who holds out a hand for him to sniff. “Hi, doggo.” Byron sniffs and eagerly greets at JP, who then rubs his head gently. “You’re a handsome boy.”

Byron submits to the caresses, the canine traitor. I want to tell JP to keep his hands off my dog, but when JP stops rubbing him, Byron sets his paws on JP’s knees to beg for more attention.

“Down, Byron.” My voice is sharp as I tug the leash, displeased with Byron’s affection for this jerk. “You guys are eating dinner, sorry—we’ll take off.”

“No, stay and keep me company!” Lacey says. “I’ve already eaten. How about you?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Let’s have a glass of wine while they eat, then.” She turns back into the house.

“Byron, sit.” He obeys my command, his nose twitching at the scent of the meat on the guys’ plates.

“Have a seat, Taylor.” Théo waves to the patio furniture grouped near the glass dining table they’re seated at.

“Thanks.” I perch on the edge of a chair, wishing I could make a getaway. I don’t want to hang around with JP.

Even though he looks so damn good . . . tanned and healthy, his dark hair thick and shiny, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt that hugs his shoulders and chest. I remember what his hair felt like when I slid my fingers into it, how that big, hard body felt against mine as he thrust into me . . .

Heat washes over me and I resist the urge to fan myself, instead reaching down to pat Byron, letting my hair fall forward to hide my burning cheeks.

I haven’t told Lacey about what happened the night before her wedding. And the night of her wedding. Not the fight—obviously she knows about that—but why Manny went nutso and jumped JP while we were dancing.

Or maybe she already knows. Manny certainly figured out what happened.

My guilty conscience pokes at me again. When Manny and I made eye contact on the patio and then I left with JP, I wanted him to know what was happening. I wanted him to be jealous, to see what he was missing out on after dumping me without a word.

I feel like I was using JP for that, except . . . ugh. I kind of was. But really . . . I was so attracted to JP, I wasn’t going to say no to sneaking away with him to his room even if Manny hadn’t been there. After what happened the night before? Maybe my vagina was taking over for my good sense, but I wanted more of that. I definitely wasn’t thinking about Manny when I was with JP. JP completely seduced me and pulled me under his magnetic spell. I was only thinking of him . . . and I’ve only been thinking of him ever since. Dammit.

Maybe JP told Théo all about it, and he told Lacey. Maybe JP told them I spent the night before the wedding in his hotel room, where we did dirty things to each other.

I was the reason for that whole shit show. I should have resisted the temptation of JP and his sexy smile and hard body and bad-boy charm. And now, I don’t even want to face him.

Awkwardness holds me in a tense grip as Lacey hands me a glass of wine. “Thanks.” Even my voice is stiff. I’m on alert, jumpy, waiting for someone to say something.

Lacey sits too. “Look at poor Byron. He’s dying for some steak.” She relaxes into the chair cushions, clearly not feeling the same discomfort I am.

“Can he have some?” JP asks.

“Oh. Um.” I’m tongue-tied and self-conscious. I swipe at my hair. “Not until you’re all done. Otherwise he’ll learn to beg at the table.”

“He’s very well trained,” Lacey says approvingly. “I’ve almost got Théo convinced to get a dog. I’ll need tips from you on how to train her.”

My lips tick up into a smile, my unease lessening slightly. “Her?”

“I want a girl dog.” She nods. “I don’t know what kind yet.”

“I haven’t agreed to a dog,” Théo says mildly.

Clearly, it’s a done deal. Pretty sure Théo would do anything for Lacey.

I swallow a sigh. I’m only twenty-four. Too young to give up on love. But I’m definitely discouraged. What Lacey and Théo have is so beautiful. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but it also makes me feel a pang of . . . yearning. And that has nothing to do with JP. Nothing.

I take a gulp of my wine. “I’d love to help train a puppy.”

“Get a Great Dane,” JP suggests.

I shoot him a wide-eyed, what-the-fuck look, but Lacey bursts out laughing.

“Maybe a bloodhound,” he adds. “Those are cute.”

“Those dogs are ugly!” Lacey keeps laughing.

Why is she laughing at his stupid comments? Annoyed, I drink more wine.

“Mastiff,” he says. “Remember, Théo here needs a big dog to . . . compensate.”

“Fuck you,” Théo says. “Besides, isn’t that what your Jag is for? Compensation?”

“The bigger the car, the smaller the penis,” I comment.

JP narrows his eyes at me. “My Jag’s not big.”

I wave a hand. “A small penis car doesn’t have to be big. It can be any fancysports car–type vehicle. Usually driven fast, with loud music blaring.”

“Hmm.” Théo cocks his head, clearly trying not to laugh. “If the car fits . . .”

“Boys, boys.” Lacey waves a hand.

JP gives me a pointed, fulminating look, and I know just what he’s thinking—I’m very aware that he has no need to compensate.

“Get a Chihuahua,” Théo says to Lacey.

Lacey claps her hands. “Yay! So you’re saying we can get a dog.”

“No! That’s not what I . . .” Théo sighs. “Fine.”

My eyes meet JP’s in a mutual look of “we knew it.” I have to fight back a smile and I tip my glass to my lips again to hide it. Shit. I don’t like him. I don’t want to share amused looks with him. Or any looks with him. Except the stabbing kind.

I don’t know exactly why I feel so angry with him.

The guys are finished eating, so Théo stands and picks up his plate.

JP stands too. “Can I give Byron some steak now?”

I want to say no, but I love Byron, and he loves steak, and depriving him of a treat just seems mean, so . . . “Okay. A little.”

I unclip Byron’s leash and he happily dances after the men as they disappear into the kitchen.

“What’s with you and JP?” Lacey immediately whispers urgently.

I give her a blank look. “What?”

“We haven’t talked since the wedding. What was going on?”

My eyes flick toward the kitchen. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Oh my God.” Her eyebrows fly up.

The men return, Théo with a beer in his hand, JP a bottle of water.

“On the wagon now?” I ask him. “Maybe that brawl was because of overindulging?”

He sits back down and casually leans back. “It wasn’t a brawl.”

“What would you call it? Saturday night?” I give myself a mental high-five for that one. “You’re a hockey player. Just a normal thing for you.”

A muscle tics in his jaw.

“Oh yeah, training camp started today!” Lacey exclaims.

“Yeah.” JP holds up his bottle. “That’s why I’m drinking water. And why I can barely walk.”

My eyes widen.

“We did testing today,” he explains to me, apparently seeing my confused look.

Damn. I don’t want him to talk to me.

“And for the Condors, too,” Lacey adds. “How did the first day go, Théo?”

“Can’t talk about it.” He nods at JP. “The enemy is here.”

Lacey’s mouth falls open. “What? You mean you guys can’t even talk about hockey?”

“Better not to. In fact, he probably shouldn’t even be here.” Théo gives JP a smirk.

“You invited me!” JP shakes his head. “Asshole.”

I find myself studying his mouth. His lip was bleeding the other night, but it looks okay now. In fact, it looks beautiful . . . sexy . . . He looks up at me, catching me. His eyes grow hot.

Shit.

I stare down at my wine.

“Okay, then, we can talk about something else,” Lacey says. “How about politics?”

The guys groan, and I grin.

“Okay, then, let’s talk about how Batman is not a true superhero,” she says.

I laugh.

“Of course he isn’t,” JP says. “He’s a fictional character. Therefore not a true superhero.”

“Oh, come on!” My eyes bug out. “The very definition of superhero is that it’s fictional.”

“Says who?” JP meets my eyes, his chin jutting.

“Says me.” I frown. I actually don’t know why I said that.

“Taylor’s right,” Lacey says, consulting her phone. “Wikipedia says a superhero is fictional.”

Now I lift my chin at JP with a satisfied smirk.

“Okay, then. He’s not a superhero because he doesn’t have superhuman abilities.”

“What?” My eyebrows pull together. “Sure he does. He has superhuman strength. He just doesn’t brag about it.”

“That’s not superhuman. He just works out a lot. Plus he has money to buy a lot of gadgets.”

“There’s no way working out a lot is going to give you the strength to punch someone across a room. I mean, I guess he can’t fly, and he was never horribly mutilated or bitten by a spider or whatever, but clearly he has superhuman strength.”

“No.” JP shakes his head. “He just has training and money.”

“Ugh.” I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

I catch Lacey and Théo exchanging glances at our heated debate, and I sag back into my chair. Why am I arguing about this with him? It’s Batman, for cripe’s sake. “Whatever,” I mutter, and drink my wine.

“When’s your first game?” Lacey asks JP brightly.

“No hockey talk, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “I think that’s pretty safe.”

“Tuesday,” he says. “Against Nashville.”

My head jerks up. He’s going to be playing the first game of the year against Manny? Uh-oh. I cast a wide-eyed glance at Lacey.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “Um . . .”

JP flashes an evil grin. “Yeah.”

“JP . . .” Théo says warningly.

“What?”

“Remember those bad decisions we were talking about earlier . . .?”

“Yeah.” He purses his lips. “I’m not going to do something stupid.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t speak for him, though,” JP adds bitterly. “Clearly, he’s an asshole.”

I catch my lower lip between my teeth. He doesn’t know exactly why Manny was so jealous.

We make eye contact and a shiver works down my spine, both of us knowing we did a lot more than dance together.

Lacey wrinkles her nose. “We hung out all the time when I first moved here. I thought he was a good guy.”

JP’s jaw tightens.

As if sensing the tension snapping around us, Lacey changes the subject again. “Hey, today I saw one of the graffiti condoms.”

We all stare at her blankly.

“Haven’t you heard?” She gazes around at us. “There’s a guy going around town finding dicks that people have painted on buildings and walls, and he spray-paints condoms on them.”

“Uh . . .” I shake my head. “I hadn’t heard about that.”

“Oh, I did,” JP says.

“I saw one today.” Lacey grins. “It’s hilarious.”

“All those unprotected dicks do send a bad message,” JP says with a chuckle. “Safe sex is important.”

A vision of naked JP rolling a condom onto his impressive erection floats before my eyes. I whimper, quickly turning it into a cough. He shoots me a raised-eyebrows glance. My cheeks flame.

“Says the guy who thinks safe sex means not getting arrested,” Théo says.

JP shoots him a narrow-eyed look. “Hey.”

“You got caught in a storage room in the arena,” Théo says. “And the backseat of a car. And?—”

“Yeah. You believe in safe sex. You always took a condom when you went out.” JP pauses. “Although it was always the same one.”

Théo cracks up, as does Lacey.

“Also, I thought your definition of safe sex is a padded headboard.”

Lacey wipes tears from her eyes. “Oh my God, JP.”

My smile is stiff. “So funny.”

Actually, he is funny. I just don’t want to laugh at his jokes. Ugh.

He casts a slitty-eyed glance my way now, catching my sarcasm. And it’s like flames ignite between us. Heat sears over my skin and spreads from my belly through my body. My pussy squeezes.

I toss back the rest of my wine and jump up. “I better get going.”

At the same time JP stands and says, “I should go. Early morning tomorrow.”

We eye each other. More static electricity builds around us.

“JP will walk you home,” Lacey says.

“That’s okay,” I immediately respond. “I have Byron.” I look down to where he’s snoozing at my feet.

“It’s dark,” JP says roughly.

“I only live a few houses down the road.”

“It’s dark,” he repeats and picks up Byron’s leash.

Annoyance scrapes over my nerves. I grew up in this neighborhood, for cripe’s sake. I grit my teeth and say to Lacey, “Thanks for the wine.”

“No problem. Let’s get together this weekend.”

“Sure. You should come to yoga class Saturday morning.” We all head to the door.

“Ugh.” Lacey scrunches her nose. “The paddleboard yoga class?”

“Yeah.” She keeps making excuses not to come.

“I’ll end up in the water. Pass.”

I laugh. “Oh, come on. It’s fun! And even if you do fall in the water, so what?”

“I’ll think about it,” she says reluctantly.

I shake my head and wave goodbye as I step out into the fresh night air, scented with the ocean and the jasmine plant growing next to the door.

“She won’t come,” I tell JP.

“Yoga on paddleboards?”

“Yeah. It’s cool.”

“Okay, sure.”

Clearly he’s skeptical.

“You really don’t have to walk me home,” I tell him stiffly, setting out along the sidewalk of the narrow side street.

He follows. “I want to talk to you.”

Great.

“What’s with you and Manny?” he demands as he falls into step next to me. Byron trots along happily in front of us, making the left turn at Speedway that will take us home.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. He fucking jumped me because we were dancing together. Apparently, you two were seeing each other.”

“He’s an idiot.” I sigh. “He came to see me the day after the wedding and apologized.”

“What the fuck? He apologized to you? I’m the one he should be apologizing to!”

He sounds so outraged I laugh. “He wasn’t apologizing for the fight.”

The air around us changes, vibrating with . . . something. “Fucker,” he mutters.

I shrug. Let him be pissed. I’m pissed too. At both of them. And myself.

“This is my house. I mean, my parents’.” I stop in front of the Craftsman home with the tall picket fence around it. “Thanks for walking me home even though I didn’t need it.” Byron is sniffing around the grass beside the gate. “Come on, Byron, let’s go in. Good night, JP. Good luck with your season.”

I leave him standing there as I open the gate and step into the yard, which is shadowed by palms and big fig trees.

“Wait.”

I turn, firming my lips. “What?”

“I have something that belongs to you.”

I frown, then it clicks and my eyes bug open.

He grins.

I start toward him. Does he have my panties in his pocket or something?

He shakes his head. “I don’t have them with me. I’m keeping them. Just reminding you.”

I freeze and glare at him. “Asshole.” Then I spin around and slam the gate shut behind me.