Page 3

Chapter 3

MICAH

F uck my life.

Fuck my whole damn life.

I calmed my rattled breathing as the water filled my glass. I was on fucking edge, and now I had to sit down and eat dinner with her when all I wanted to do was give in to my craving to taste her again.

Touching her was a mistake, but it wasn’t like I’d planned that. I was out of sorts as soon as I’d walked into my condo and saw her standing there with that brilliant smile on her face and the mess in my kitchen surrounding her. I wanted to clean it up and also kiss her and…

Fuuuuuuccckkk .

She’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and I was losing my damn mind.

“Are you okay?” Her voice cut through my mental scolding, and then water was dripping over my hand.

“Shit.” I pulled the glass back from the dispenser, spilling water on the floor. “Shit.”

“Hard day at practice?” she asked, and my head shot up, meeting her hazel gaze. There was no smirk, but my brain was misfiring.

“Uh, yeah. Grueling practice as usual. Gotta be ready for the game tomorrow night,” I said, setting my glass down and grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. “So, what’s for dinner?”

I could do this. Be calm and rational, and don’t think about how her shirt was just a little too thin and stretched gloriously across her boobs.

Yep. Totally rational.

“I made garlic and herb marinated chicken and steak. Gotta get that protein in so you’re ready for the game. And we have roasted sweet potato fries and veggies with a garlic aioli dipping sauce. And crispy-edged oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies for dessert.”

I laughed. “Crispy-edged?”

“What? People love a good crispy cookie. Now, come sit down and tell me all about your day.”

Damn, had her smile always had a chokehold on me?

“Nothing special. Just practice and a team meeting. Going over some videotape of the teams we’re playing on our road trip. We’re flying out day after tomorrow, and I’ll be gone for six days. Also, I got you a ticket for tomorrow’s game. You’re coming, right?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to cheer for you. Should I paint my face?” she teased.

My lips quirked up. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. Have to show my support for the best defenseman in the league.”

My throat caught at the sincerity in her voice. I liked that she was a fan and was clearly following my career. Maybe I liked it a bit too much. That was a slippery slope I needed to steer clear of. “Want me to get you a jersey?” I asked.

“Nope. I already have one of yours.”

“You do?” A stupid thrill shot through me, and I was diving headlong down that slope.

“Of course. I’ve always had your jersey. Why wouldn’t I support my favorite player?”

“Um. Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“Are you blushing?” she asked, her eyes sparkling again.

“What? No, of course not. So, what did you do today? Aside from make a mess in my kitchen?”

Get back on track, man. Back on track.

“I vegged on the couch. Then I went to the grocery store to get stuff for dinner and snacks because you don’t have nearly enough food that actually tastes good in this place. Oh, and I walked the dogs before all of that.”

“Walked the dogs? What dogs?” I asked, looking around my living room. Did she have a dog in here that I didn’t know about?

She giggled. “There are no dogs here, I promise. Although you should totally get one to keep you company.”

“I’m on the road too much for that.” But when I retired, I was definitely getting a dog. Or maybe a cat. They were less work, but they also could shred furniture.

“You need something snuggly to come home to.”

Brain out of the gutter, man.

“So, the dogs?” I prompted.

“Oh, yeah. It’s one of my jobs. I’m a dog walker. I have a few clients right now, and I’m hoping to get more. I get to take them for walks, play with them, and then bring them back to their owners. Total win-win. Lola freaking loves playing in the snow. That’s one of the dogs I walked today. She’s a chocolate lab and husky mix. She likes swan-diving into the snow. It’s so adorable. Oscar is an Australian shepherd and still getting used to his snow booties.” She paused with another giggle. “He kept trying to shake them off. It was hysterical. Oh, and Sheldon, the beagle, had to sniff every five steps. Today was my easy day. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I have nine dogs to walk.”

My eyes widened. “At the same time?”

She laughed. “No. Four separate families scattered throughout the day. They’re pretty flexible as to times, and it’s fun. Beats sitting at a desk all day.”

“I’m not going to argue with you on that.”

“And don’t worry. I’m looking into other stuff, too. I have been doing some freelance sketching and designing for a few random companies, and I’ve got a few feelers out there.”

“Josie… it’s not… that’s not.” I paused. “Don’t feel like I’m rushing you to get work or anything. I just wanted to know how your day was.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Blame it on years of my family asking me when I was going to get a real job.”

I reached toward her, but she spun back to the stove and loaded up a large plate with chicken and steak that was currently making my mouth water.

“Maybe you should be a private chef or something. That smells amazing,” I said, hoping to clear the tension.

She huffed. “Stop. I just like cooking. Doing this as a career means training or shit. Work crazy hours in a restaurant. It’d take the fun out of it. No thanks.” Plating the rest of the food, she set the dishes on the empty side of the island.

It was fine. We could clean it off after dinner together.

“Come on. Eat, and then I promise to make this kitchen sparkle and look spanking new,” she teased, reading my mind.

Spanking.

I shoved aside all the thoughts warring in my head and dove into the delicious meal. Food like this was definitely a perk of having her here.

Now if only I could get her perky boobs out of my brain.

***

“Well, don’t you look rested and ready to go,” Dom said, slapping me on the shoulder when I walked into the team lounge the following afternoon. “Have a good pregame nap?”

“You did not just wink at me,” I muttered.

The man only had the decency to shrug. “Pregame naps are extra fun with roommates.”

“Oh, fuck off. Your roommate is your girlfriend and baby momma. Mine is neither of those things and never will be.” I moved toward the buffet table laid out for us across the room, and Dom unfortunately followed.

“There was a sound of longing in your tone,” he taunted.

I shot him a glare. “Maybe Livi’s been screaming so loud that you need to get your hearing checked.”

“Babies are loud as fuck,” Sin said, popping up next to me. “You ready to kick ass, Micahtron?”

I groaned. “Can we just go back to Micah or even Mics?”

Sin grinned. “Nope.”

I ignored him and grabbed a plate. Josie had made me lunch before she’d disappeared to walk a dog or something, but I was still hungry. Or maybe I just needed something to focus on, aside from my nosy teammates.

“So, how’s the roommate thing going? Bang her yet? She’s fucking hot as hell.”

Spinning on my heel, I leaned into Sin. “Fuck right off, and don’t talk about her like that.”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “Chill, dude.”

“Fuck, Micah. We do not need you tense tonight. You know Sin is just bullshitting,” Dom said, his eyes narrowed on me. I wasn’t the type to lash out at a teammate I knew was constantly teasing, but I didn’t like Sin talking about her like that.

I rubbed my face.

“Sorry. I’m fine.”

Dom tilted his head at me. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just a bit on edge. Getting used to someone staying with me is just strange.” I shrugged, hoping they wouldn’t read into it anymore.

“I bet. But channel that edge at Chicago on the ice tonight, not at me,” Sin said, lightly punching my biceps.

“I will,” I mumbled as Sin gave me one last look and walked away.

“You sure you’re good?” Dom asked.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Josie moving in is an adjustment. It’ll be fine.”

Hopefully, I could convince myself of that and focus on tonight’s game instead of on her sparkling hazel eyes and that smile that twisted up my gut.

Dammit.

JOSIE

“Go, go! Dig it out,” I yelled that night as one of the Stampede players tried to get the puck away from one of the Chicago guys. Micah was on the ice and looking like a beast after checking a Chicago player into the boards. It’d looked brutal, but someone in the row in front of me said it was a clean hit, so I guessed that was good.

My hockey knowledge was minimal. I enjoyed watching the games and always tuned in when Micah was playing if I could. Since moving to Denver a few months ago, that had been more and more. I didn’t understand a few of the calls—like, what the hell was icing?—but I knew that I was rooting for Micah to kick ass, and that was all that mattered. Plus, it was a fun game to watch, especially since the Stampede were winning right now, four to three. This was the final period, so hopefully, that lead remained until the end.

People around me started voicing their frustration, and I focused again on the ice, watching a Chicago player skate around the back of our net and take a shot on the goalie. The goalie blocked it, and someone knocked the puck away. Now, a Stampede player had it, and they were all moving in the opposite direction toward the other end. The game was crazy fast, and I struggled to keep track of everything, but I could always spot number fifteen.

Damn, he looked so good out there. He was pushing over six and a half feet with his skates on, and it was baffling how someone that big could look so fluid, almost graceful, as he skated down the ice.

“Shoot it,” someone called out as the players passed the puck back and forth.

Now, Micah had the puck, and he sent it to another guy, who missed it. Chicago snagged it and then they were skating back in the other direction. I was exhausted just watching them, but my eyes were locked on Micah again.

I’d missed most of the warm-ups because I’d been working on some illustrations for my Etsy shop I started last year. It didn’t make a ton of money, but it was something I liked doing. By the time I’d arrived at the arena and grabbed some pulled pork nachos, warm-ups were over, and the first period was about to start.

The seat Micah had gotten me was perfect for watching him—I mean, for enjoying the game. Low enough to get a great view of the ice and the players, and seven rows up on the corner, so there weren’t any blind spots. It was perfect. I adjusted my Stampede beanie with an adorable pom-pom on top. Fully decked out in jersey, hat, and scarf—it might’ve been overkill in the arena, but it was cold as hell outside. And it wasn’t like I’d painted my face or something. That definitely would’ve been over the top.

The glass rattled in front of my section, and I drew in a breath as Micah pressed one of the Chicago players against the boards. His head was down, his helmet blocking me from actually seeing his face, but that stupid thrill shot through me again. I rolled my shoulders and drank my soda to cool myself down.

I would not think about what it would feel like to have him press me up against a wall.

Damn, he was delectable. Every time his gloriously sweaty face showed up on the jumbotron, my body revved up another notch. I knew what it was like to kiss that man, and even if it hadn’t gone the way my eighteen-year-old heart wanted, and I was in no way pining for him after four years, I also wasn’t blind. He was fuckably hot, and watching him play hockey was a huge turn-on. I felt no shame in the fact that he’d featured in my fantasies over the years and had made more than a few appearances in my spank bank. We may not be riding off into the sunset together or some such nonsense, but at least I had no regrets. I’d gone for what I wanted and you win some, you lose some. I didn’t have the energy to think about what-ifs. There was no benefit to overanalyzing every little last thing.

I popped another nacho into my mouth and focused back on the game. Micah’s prey had escaped him and Micah skated in front of the net as the Chicago player took his shot. Then, they were all skating back in the other direction.

“That’s fucking right. Smith’s on fire tonight,” someone in front of me said, and I grinned.

If they won tonight, I was totally taking credit and telling Micah I was his good luck charm, just to tease him. I laughed. Spending more time with him just meant more chances to taunt him, and I would never tire of that. That man needed a little hurricane in his life to keep him on his toes, even if it was only for a short time.

I took another sip of my soda and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the game. The Stampede won five to three, and the energy in the arena was addictive. I was definitely going to attend all the games I could.

***

“I’ll take whatever pale ale you have on draft,” I said later that night as I settled on a barstool at Tipsy Steer. Micah had texted, asking if I wanted to head down to the family room to wait for him or just meet him here, and I’d opted to Uber over ahead of him.

“Are you Josie?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned to see a brunette woman around my age smiling at me.

“Yes, I am.” I held out my hand. “How did you know?”

“Purple hair and Micah’s jersey.” She shook my hand. “I’m Harper Cameron, Timmy’s girlfriend. Well, Connor Horton’s girlfriend. They call him Timmy because we’re from Edmonton, and he’s crazy about Timbits.” She grinned.

“Timbits?”

“Yeah, the donut holes from Tim Hortons. Thanks, Simone,” she said, nodding to the bartender, who had just put a beer in front of her.

“Timmy, ha. These guys love a good nickname,” I said.

She laughed. “Yes, they do. And they love you already because Micah’s never had a fun nickname. Micahtron’s perfect. He’s so focused, almost robotic.”

I shook my head and grinned. “Shit. He’s going to kill me for letting that slip.”

“He’ll get over it. Nicknames are par for the course with these guys, and he knows it’s all in good fun,” she said before taking a sip of her beer. “The guys should be here soon. So, you’ve known Micah for a long time, right? I bet you have some great stories. I’ve been besties with Connor since we were kids. Kicked his ass during a pond hockey game when we were six, and if you must know, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.” Harper’s eyes sparkled with humor.

“Since you were kids, huh?”

“Yeah, and now we’re together. It’s crazy but wonderful.”

“Yeah, I bet,” I said. “Micah’s my brother’s best friend. I’ve known him forever and have probably been annoying him since day one.”

Harper chuckled. “I knew I’d like you. So, has he always been so…” She trailed off.

It was my turn to laugh. “Pensive, quiet, intense?”

“You couldn’t even wait until we got here?” someone asked from behind me.

Harper shrugged. “You were taking too long. Had to go downstairs to give your man a kiss and everything.”

“She’s not wrong,” a blonde woman said with a laugh.

“Victory kisses are important,” the first woman huffed. “Hi, I should introduce myself. I’m Cora Monroe, and I’m dating Nate Talbot, the captain. And this is Anna Martin,” she said, gesturing to the blonde. “She’s an amazing baker, and, oh yeah, she’s dating Nick St. John, one of the forwards.”

I shook Cora’s hand, then Anna’s. “Nice to meet both of you.”

“Grab a drink, ladies, and let’s get some dirt on Micahtron,” Harper said.

I really shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Come on. Simone saved a table for us,” Cora said, leading us through the crowd just as a cheer rose up in the bar.

I turned to watch a bunch of gorgeous men in suits walk in.

“Gotta love a game day suit,” Cora said softly.

“No kidding,” I murmured, spotting Micah as soon as he stepped into the bar. I swore my brain short-circuited around him.

His gaze met mine, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he made his way toward me.

“Hey, Hurricane.”

His voice rolled over me, sending sparks in every direction more than it should have, and I tamped down a shudder.

“Hurricane, huh?” Harper said with a chuckle. “Yeah, we need all the stories.”

Micah turned to glance at Harper. “Whatever she told you is not true.”

“Sure, sure, Micahtron,” Harper teased. “And she hasn’t told us a thing. Yet.”

I was so happy that I’d found him at this bar a few days ago. This was going to be fun.