Page 27 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

“It’s strange. I’ve studied the game of hockey my entire life.

First players and stats, then skating and skills.

Then plays and strategy. I’ve eaten specifically.

Trained specifically. Watched videos and practiced every single day since the time I was eleven years old.

I finally made it to the NHL. Finally got my legs and had thirty goals in my first full season with the Monarchs.

Then a random hit fucks up my neck, and five different doctors tell me I can’t play anymore.

” I take a deep breath. “Everything I worked for—everything I lived for—gone. Just like that.”

Fuck me. I wanted to open up to Bree, but I hadn’t planned on going this deep on our first real date. I don’t want her pity or sympathy—or questions.

Shaking my head, I continue. “It put life in perspective for me at an early age.”

“I get it.” Bree places her hand on my forearm. A silver heart hanging from her chain-link bracelet rests on my wrist. I recognize the iconic Tiffany jewelry because I bought a similar one for Adrienne, my former hookup in Detroit. I like to spoil people.

“You do?”

“I did the same thing with nursing. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to tend to people. I wanted to make them better. No one in my family was safe from Nurse Bree.” She leans back as she laughs.

“Everyone was a patient. I waited on my brother when he was sick. I cleaned scrapes from rollerblading falls and made sure our first-aid kit was filled to the brim with everything we might need. I never wanted to be a doctor. I always wanted that intense personal interaction. The satisfaction of watching someone recover because of the way I’m treating them, whether it’s physically or emotionally.

I studied it, trained for it, tested for it—I get it. Your career becomes your identity.”

I nod. “Exactly.”

She’s hit the nail on the head about the identity.

I am hockey. Hockey is me.

Being a hockey player is all I ever wanted, all I ever identified as. I never would have gotten out of Downtown Eastside Vancouver without hockey.

“It must be hard being out of the game. Did you feel lost at first?”

“At first?” I ask. My voice is a whisper, and Bree squeezes my arm.

“Sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to get too personal.” She leans back as if trying to move away. But she can’t. There’s nowhere to go.

She’s the one who doesn’t want this to get personal.

I’m not on the same page. She’s trying to be flippant, but her innate compassion envelops me as if she placed a warm blanket across my shoulders.

She knows how to connect but also when to stop.

It’s a beautiful combination, and I’m not going to let it go.

I want to get inside her head—see what makes her who she is.

“It’s okay, Bree,” I say, and I mean it.

Even though I want to open up, she doesn’t need to see any more of whiney little bitch Luke on our first date.

I shouldn’t let that shit roll out until at least the third or fourth.

“I’ve always liked mentoring the young guys, so the role I have with the organization now is a great fit for me.

And I still get to be involved in day-to-day hockey operations. I’m still living the dream, ya know.”

It’s an answer a veteran hockey player trained in how to handle interviews would give, but I can’t help the way my voice cracks on the last line.

Living the fucking dream sitting on my ass at twenty-six years old.

Though my pint glass is three-quarters full, it only takes one long gulp, and my beer is gone. Bree is a smart, observant person, but I hope she doesn’t notice the distress chug.

“Sounds like the job suits you. I can see that in how you interact with the kids at the hospital. You transfer knowledge without sounding like a know-it-all.”

“You mean like their parents?” I joke. Her compliment fills me with pride. It’s nice to hear that other people appreciate what I’m doing.

“You know how kids are. They’ll listen to anyone other than Mom and Dad.”

“Well, parents are always wrong,” I say. “Especially when you’re a teenager.”

“Still goes for me.” Bree laughs. She sets down her chopsticks.

Our waiter comes by and drops the bill off at the table.

“Parent problems?” I ask as I dig my wallet out of my back pocket.

“A story for another time,” she says. She wipes her mouth and tosses her napkin on top of her plate. “Ready to hook up?”

“What?” I ask, counting cash and placing it in the black folder.

“I’m messing with you, Luke.” Bree pats my thigh, then grabs her purse from the floor. “I really like it here.”

“Good. We’ll come back.”

After I pay the bill, we gather our stuff and leave the restaurant.

Once we’re in the parking lot, I walk her to her car. “You okay to drive?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” Bree presses a button, and the doors to her black sedan unlock. “I had a great time tonight, Luke.”

“Me, too.” I step closer to her. “I’m glad you didn’t have to use your getaway vehicle until now.”

“Maybe we can drive together next time?” she suggests.

“Are you confirming another date? Is that allowed?”

“I suppose so.”

“Awesome. I have an amazing place in mind.” Just thinking about taking her to the Whitewater Center has me bouncing. From what I learned about her tonight, it’ll be the perfect place.

“Amazing? I’m intrigued.”

“I leave for the West Coast tomorrow, so it’ll have to be when I get back. Does that work for you?”

It’s a quick overnight trip to Vancouver, but I purposely avoid saying that because I don’t want her to ask me about what I’ll do at home. She doesn’t need to know.

“I guess it’ll have to, won’t it? I work the next few days anyway. That will keep my mind occupied until the amazing adventure.” Bree places her hand on my chest, right above my heart. “Will there be fireworks and dancing pandas?”

I swallow back a surge of lust and run my hand through my hair. “You don’t hold back, do you, Bree?”

She lifts her eyes to mine without completely tilting her head up. “Only when there’s a reason to.”

Touché.

I lick my lips and lower my head. Before I reach her lips, she rises onto her toes and presses her mouth to mine.

Suddenly, she’s got her arms wrapped around my waist and molds her body to mine.

Her tongue slides into my mouth first, which gives me the permission I need to tangle my tongue with hers.

Then my hands are in her hair, and I’m pulling her head back to tilt her face to the perfect angle to deepen the kiss.

When I remove my lips from hers, my head is in a fog. I love that she knows what she wants. She owns her sexuality but not in an overbearing way. It’s all very natural.

As if my dick isn’t hard enough right now, when I look at her, she’s got this naughty smile that makes me want to push her onto the hood of her car and fuck her until she can’t walk.

I take a deep, calming breath and shake my head. “You are everything and nothing like you seem all at once.”

“I think it’s called an enigma,” she says, purposely brushing her ass against the front of my pants as she scoots past me to get to the driver’s side of her car.

“I’m going to be thinking of you all night, Bree,” I say.

“That’s the point.” She opens the door of the car. “Have a safe trip, Luke. See you when you get back.”

Without waiting for an answer, she ducks into her car and shuts the door.

It’s been years since I had the teasing and buildup of the beginning of a relationship. Hell, I can’t even remember my last real girlfriend. The relationship I had with Adrienne was purely physical.

Then I met Bree. And she has me mentally begging for more of everything. Her smile, her voice, her lips, her thighs over my shoulders. I haven’t even left, and I already can’t wait to get back from Vancouver to see her again.

Maybe Mom will be easy on me this time. Maybe Bree is a symbol of how my life is on its way up again.