Page 28 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

Bree

M y phone buzzes next to my head. At first, I think it’s my alarm, but I open one eye and glance at the clock on the dresser across from my bed and realize it’s a half hour before my alarm is set to go off. Reaching up, I grab the phone and look at the screen.

Why the fuck is Luke calling me at five thirty in the morning?

“Hello?” I croak.

“Wanna meet me for breakfast before you start work?”

I blink a few times to make sure I’m awake and that this call is really happening. “Now?”

“Now. Twenty minutes. Whatever you need.”

“It’s five-thirty, Luke. What I need is another thirty minutes of sleep.”

“What’s thirty minutes in the grand scheme of life?” he asks. “I just got out of the shower; I smell good, I’m wearing?—”

“Is this a demented version of a booty call?” I ask him. I have to interrupt because the more details he gives, the more I’m aroused but only below the waist. It’s not doing anything to take away the fog in my head.

“Payback’s a bitch, eh?” Sensuality slides through in his sexy, scratchy voice. Which doesn’t remedy my situation. “What do you say?”

“Honestly?” I ask through a yawn. “I need caffeine. I’ll meet you at Zorba’s across from CCH in thirty minutes.”

“See you then.” Luke hangs up without another word.

I haven’t been this excited about getting ready for work since my first day in Charlotte.

It’s the fastest shower I’ve ever taken, but I need the extra primping time.

I don’t usually wear makeup, but today, I sweep a sheer, plum-colored gloss across my lips instead of my normal tinted lip balm.

Then I rub my arms from wrist to shoulders with Burberry London-scented lotion.

I never wear it to work because I come into contact with so many people with allergies or sensitivity to scents.

But this spontaneous meeting with Luke has me all riled up, and the fragrance usually wears off within an hour or two anyway.

I’m out the door within twenty-eight minutes of Luke’s call—which is record time for me. Because it’s a gorgeous morning, I immediately slide the windows down as soon as I get in the car. Then, I crank the radio for the drive.

I want to yell to the entire city how excited I am to meet up with him. But I’m fairly certain no one would give a damn—and even more certain that being excited is a horrible idea.

Casual sex. Friends with benefits. Hookups only.

That’s what my relationship with Luke was supposed to be.

But finding out he’s not a hockey player anymore sparked something in me.

He still travels for his job, but it’s in a different capacity.

With his position in the organization, he could actually settle down somewhere and have a life—a family.

I enter the restaurant through the back door and walk past a small section of booths to get to the front.

Luke is already sitting at a table with a coffee mug and two glasses of water in front of him.

As soon as I see him, I think about our kiss last night and have to squeeze my Kegel muscles in response to the flash of lust that pulses through me.

“Morning.” He stands up and walks around the table to greet me with a kiss.

“Good morning.” My cheeks hurt from smiling so much when I’m around him, but I can’t stop.

From the broad grin on his face, Luke looks just as happy to see me. My eyes lower to check out his crotch to see if he’s showing signs of happiness anywhere else. I can’t help it. It’s the first place my mind goes whenever I see him.

“Did you just check out my dick?” Luke asks.

I lean back, feigning that I’m appalled he would even ask—or call me out on it. “I can’t keep my eyes or mind off of it.”

Luke’s hands skim my waist and press into my back. “I love that you have such a dirty side, Bree,” he whispers in my ear. “But I don’t think you’ve shown me everything.”

“You have no idea, Luke.”

“I don’t. But I will.” He slides his tongue across his lower lip then bites it. “I got you a water. I didn’t know if you were a coffee drinker or not.”

“Thanks,” I say scooting in. “I drink tea.”

“I figured Miss California would choose a healthier alternative. If I keep hanging out with you, it might get me into better shape.” He winks.

Miss California.

If Luke only knew that my parents tried to get me to be a pageant girl and a model.

Well, my tree-hugging mother, of all people, did.

When I vehemently opposed the pageants when I was younger, she hired a makeup artist to slather thick creams in various shades over my face, then paraded me around in front of talent scouts and photographers in sparkly dresses and bathing suits.

Thinking about it still makes me want to vomit. Thankfully, my dad nixed that. He saw the tomboy in me.

“Thanks for waking me up this morning. I’m glad I get to see you again before you leave.”

Luke looks up before taking a sip of his coffee. “I needed to hang out with you, Bree.”

His tone is somber, almost urgent. Not at all what I was expecting after our sexy flirting. “Why?” I ask.

“Being around you makes me happy. And I needed a hit of happiness before this trip.”

Rather than read too much into his comment, I’ll just assume the guy he’s meeting with today is a piece of work.

I’ve had quite a bit of experience with athletes through the years.

A handful of the kids in Juniors who hadn’t even been drafted yet had big egos already.

I can only imagine what it’s like to work with kids who have been drafted by an NHL team.

Although I’m sure Luke can handle it since he was in that situation.

“What is it about this trip that brings you down?” I ask, propping my elbow on the table and letting my chin rest in my palm.

“I feel like this is an interview.”

“All dates at the beginning are interviews. We have to get to know each other to make sure we’re compatible.”

“True.”

“Spill it.”

“It’s not just a random West Coast trip. I’m going to Vancouver today,” Luke says slowly, almost cautiously, as if he wants to say more but checks himself. “Being home is always a jumble of emotions.”

“I’m assuming the jumbled emotions are not cheery ones since you needed a hit of happiness today,” I say, giving him a small smile.

We’re interrupted by one of the owner’s sons, who takes our order quickly. When he walks away, Luke begins speaking again. “Pressures of being home, ya know?”

His Canadian accent really comes out with the words “ya know.” I want to smile because it’s so cute, but I don’t want him to think I’m laughing at him, so I keep a neutral expression and listen.

“People there still get on me about not playing. I can’t live up to their expectations, no matter what I do.” He takes a deep breath. “Being in Vancouver is exhausting.”

“I understand that. My parents have put a lot of pressure on me over the last few years, too.”

“Why?”

I glance up at the ceiling and shake my head. “At first, they wanted me to find a way to get my brother back on the ice. Now they want me to help him find a purpose for his life.”

“Wait, your brother plays hockey?”

I nod. “He did. He hasn’t for years now. He got hurt playing in Juniors.”

“Who did he play for?”

“The Spokane Chiefs,” I answer.

“The Chiefs,” he repeats. “I remember some hard-fought games against them. Always a great matchup.”

“So I hear.” I smile. “I didn’t get to see him play very often since I was in school when he was with them. But I know he worked his ass off and loved every minute of it.”

Luke nods in understanding. “What happened to him?”

“Concussions took him out. For good.”

“Shit,” Luke whispers. His face pales, and I immediately feel bad for being so nonchalant, especially when he just told me an injury took him out of the game indefinitely.

“It sucks. He’s been kind of lost since then. Similar to what you were saying last night. He worked hard to get to the Dub.” I pause, feeling like a complete dork for calling the WHL “the Dub” like my brother does. I cover my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, but next time you use lame hockey slang, you’re getting a penalty.”

“Hopefully it’s for holding,” I tease him. Then I take the innuendo up one more level. “Or maybe high-sticking?”

Luke bursts out laughing. “So fucking dirty, Bree. I’m onto you now.”

“You aren’t, but you will be soon,” I say to tease him a little more.

Luke lifts his hand to my cheek and caresses it. “Tell me more about your family.”

I press my cheek into his hand, calmed by his gentle touch. “My dad can’t understand the concussion thing. He thinks Mason is fine. Says he knows guys who played without helmets and are okay.”

“It’s hard to come to terms with an injury like that. You feel good, but people keep telling you you’re not.”

“Yeah, well, Mason’s situation was the opposite.

He didn’t feel good. He just told everyone he did to get someone to let him play.

He kept playing even when trainers told him not to.

Until that final hit.” I unwrap my silverware and set the knife and fork in front of me.

“I’ll never forget the moment he realized he really was too messed up to play.

I was in my last year of college. He calls and says it’s been two months and he still can’t get rid of the headaches.

They won’t let him skate. He needs me to look into meds.

He needs me to find a doctor who will clear him. He?—”

I pause, but Luke is hanging on every word like he can’t wait to hear what’s coming next. Maybe he thinks I found a cure for concussions.

“I spent a few years talking to everyone I could think of who might be able to help Mason get back on the ice because I know that’s the only place he feels whole. The only place he feels a sense of worth. He’s this great kid. Smart and sweet and—” I close my eyes. “Depressed.”

When I open them, I know tears are about to spill over, but I can’t help it.