Page 68 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

LINDY

I was at work. I had been for two hours. I’d accomplished nothing except open a client’s files on my computer and stare at them. All I could think about was Dex’s dick. How big it had been in my hand. How hard it was. How much I wanted it.

Squash had nothing on Dex, that was for fucking sure.

God, I’d never been so… horny in my life. Alan the Dentist never stood a chance with Dex in the picture. With me in Dex’s house. His bed. With my hand on Dex’s dick.

I’d jumped the berm, snuggled up behind Dex and accosted him.

Again!

I hopped from my desk chair, paced and made a cross between a groan and a screech of frustration. What was I going to do?

I wanted Dex. Clearly since I kept mounting him like a fucking stallion in my sleep. He wanted it and I knew it first-hand. Literally.

We kissed. Once. That had been a teaser. A cruel, sweet reminder of what I could have if I just begged.

Begged!

How could he be so calm? So unbothered? Yes, he wanted me. He said as much. I’d felt as much. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to rip his clothes off or strangle him or–

“Lindy, good, you’re here.”

I spun about at my friend’s harried voice. It was Aspen.

“Hey. What’s the matter? I don’t think there’s any issue with your bookkeeping this month.”

She was practically vibrating as if fueled by too much caffeine, although I knew she stuck to green tea since she didn’t drink stimulants. She owned the town’s only yoga studio and was dressed as if she’d just come from leading a class.

She waved a hand and gave me a look like she didn’t care about her finances.

“Do you think your boyfriend would coach Sierra’s PeeWee team this week? The regular coach is in Florida because his mother fell and broke her hip.”

I frowned, then tried to imagine Alan on skates. “Um, that date didn’t go well, and I really don’t think Alan plays hockey, let alone knows where the rink is.”

Maybe that was harsh, but from what he said the night before, a trip to the winter sports complex wasn’t on his schedule.

“Who’s Alan?” She did the arm thing again, as if swatting away a fly. Or the idea of Alan being my boyfriend. “I mean Dex James.”

At the mention of him, my heart flip flopped and my ovaries perked up.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I stated clearly.

“You’re living with him.”

“My house got taken out by a tree.”

“You’re living with him.”

That sentence proved that small town life was sometimes–a lot of the time–really annoying.

The yoga class I always attended was tomorrow morning, so she hadn’t heard anything from me about the tree fiasco and my living arrangements.

Bridget hated yoga, called it boring and too zen for her, so she wasn’t the source.

But in Hunter Valley, everyone was the source. Otis at the pizza place, Mr. VanMeyer, any other neighbor who’d dropped in to watch the tree removal spectacle yesterday. Anyone walking on Main Street and saw us kissing.

She studied me as if trying to read my chakras or if I was doing proper three-part breathing, then stepped into my office and shut the door. “Please tell me you’re doing all naked kinds of things with that huge piece of man candy.”

Oh, I was doing all kinds of things with him, like climbing him like a tree in my sleep. I wasn’t telling her that because how could I explain I did it while I was unconscious? Obviously she hadn’t heard about the street make out session.

“Why would he coach Sierra’s team?” I asked.

Aspen’s daughter was nine and she played ice hockey at the winter complex up by the ski resort. Besides several hockey rinks, it had indoor turf fields.

“Why wouldn’t he? Is he an asshole?” she whispered, appearing equally curious and horrified. “That would be a shame.”

I frowned and dropped into my chair feeling defeated. “No, he’s not an asshole.” The opposite, really. In every way.

“Then he might do it. Ask him.” Now hope shone in her gaze, but it made no sense.

I stared at her, completely confused. “Why?”

“Why? Why what?”

“Why ask him specifically? I know he’s here on vacation and all,” I said.

“Because he’s a professional hockey player with the Colorado Silvermines.”

My mouth fell open as I put together what Aspen said with what I knew about Dex.

I spun my chair around so I faced my desk, went to a browser on my computer and typed in his name. A flood of photos and articles came up. Over a… holy shit. Over a million.

I gasped.

“You didn’t know?” Aspen wondered, stepping close and leaning over my shoulder.

While she was a single mom whose daughter was obsessed with ice hockey, which meant Aspen knew tons about the sport, I was clueless.

“He’s one of the best players in the league.

Highest paid and in an eight-year contract.

I mean, he’s on the first line and is a top scorer, not just for his team but the entire league!

I’d say he’s the most well-rounded player we’ve seen in a long time, even with all the attention that bar fight got. His stats alone–”

I tuned Aspen out because I was a little cranky that she knew more about Dex than I did. Hell, the entire world knew more about him than me. And I was in his bed every night.

I grabbed my cell off the desk and pulled up his number, the one he’d given me in Denver last weekend so we could coordinate the return trip on his private jet.

“Hey, sugar.” The sound of his deep, smooth voice had me heating up like a menopausal woman. “I’m at Steaming Hotties with Mav. Want me to pick you up a drink? I can swing it by and–”

“You are a professional hockey player,” I said, cutting him off because he was being all nice and stuff.

There was a slight pause.

“Yes.”

“You play for the Colorado Silvermines.”

“Yes.” He should have said duh since it seemed I was the only one who didn’t know.

I glanced over my shoulder at Aspen, whose eyes were bugging out of her head. You really didn’t know? she mouthed.

I clicked on the link for the Silvermine’s web page. Front and center was Dex in full uniform. The site was practically sparkling with green and blue, clearly the team’s colors, with his name in fancy lettering and a cool logo of a minecart with hockey pucks piled in it.

“My friend Aspen wants to know if you’ll coach her daughter’s PeeWee hockey team while the coach is out of town.”

“Sure. I have to go out of town this weekend, but I can until then and then when I’m back. What time today?”

Holy shit. Dex wasn’t unemployed like I thought. He wasn’t a slacker playboy. He wasn’t living off a trust fund or hiking his summer away. He was hot as hell in a hockey uniform. All that padding, the skates. The helmet… Aspen was right. He was the most amazing piece of man candy. Ever.

Which was really bad for my willpower because I was going to break down and beg. It was only a matter of time.