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CHAPTER 4

DALLAS

A s I walk out of my closet, carrying two of my lucky game day suits to pack for our road trip tomorrow, the music playing through my apartment is interrupted by Siri.

“ You have new messages in the Thunder Lords chat .”

I toss the suit bags next to my case and grab my phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand, chuckling when I see the first few messages from my closest buddies on the team.

Happy: Tex, you still got the number for that hot red head in Philly with the huge ass.

Logan: Dude…

Mason: Happy, you’re a degenerate.

Happy:…

Mason: Sorry, that was Keller. She saw the notification pop up on my screen.

Logan: She’s not wrong. You are a legit degenerate.

Happy: Yeah, so anyway… Tex? I need my dick sucked.

I shake my head. Fran’s right. Happy is a straight up degenerate. I know I’m not really one to talk. I have a carefully curated roster of women in my phone from every city we’ve ever played in, willing to hook up again at the drop of a text. And as I read Happy’s messages, I can’t ignore the unfamiliar pinch at the back of my neck. Guilt? Huh. That’s new.

I scroll away from the Thunder Lords chat and open my message thread with Emily, staring at the last message she sent me.

Goldie: What happened between us… you realize this could get me fired.

What Andy doesn’t know won’t get anyone fired. I’m sure as shit not about to tell him that I spent the best night of my life with his now executive assistant, especially if it could risk her job. Sure, I have a big mouth most of the time, but I know when to keep it shut. And, for this woman, I will.

This woman, my God. This woman who floored me in the best possible way, the one I haven’t been able to get out of my mind for the last month. She’s got to be some sort of witch because there is no feasible way that it is normal to have these sorts of feelings after one night. But I do. I feel all the feelings, and they’re all foreign to me because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.

In my twenty-six years on this earth, I’ve never had a girlfriend. Voluntarily. Who the hell wants to commit themselves to just one woman? Suckers, that’s who. Hell, I took two dates to my senior prom. They didn’t know about each other, or agree to it, and I ended up with a Solo cup of spiked punch thrown in my face, but how was I supposed to choose just one? Monogamy is a crazy concept to me. At least, it was. I don’t know anymore. With a woman like Emily, monogamy doesn’t sound so bad. Now… if she would just give me the time of day.

Me: You up?

I stare at the text message I just sent, shocked by my own stupidity. Here I am, imagining Emily as the one and only woman by my side for the first time in my life, and I send her a fucking You up text?

“Dumbass,” I mutter.

Me: Sorry. That was sent in error.

“That’s even worse!” She’s going to think I meant to send it to someone else. “You idiot,” I yell at my screen as if I’m not the one in total control of my phone. Then, when I realize I’m sitting here, yelling at a goddamn phone, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the moment I so clearly need.

Me: Sorry. I lied. That wasn’t sent in error. You were the intended recipient.

Great. Now I sound like a fucking bot. Get your shit together, man. You’re Dallas Shaw, for fuck’s sake.

Rolling my eyes, my hands are actually trembling as I tap out yet another message.

Me: I hope you’re proud of the fact that you’ve rendered me incapable of stringing together a sentence. I promise I’m not normally a giant, bumbling fool.

I sit there for a long while, staring at the message thread. For all I know, she’s blocked me. But I’m nothing if not a persistent asshole.

Me: What’s your favorite food? I’m a Texas boy, so of course I’m gonna say you can’t go wrong with some good ol’ fashion barbeque. But I also like Italian.

Me: If you like Italian, we could go to Cucina Vappiano. It’s this cute little mom and pop joint in Bay Ridge. I think the lady who owns it has a crush on me. She’s always putting extra cannoli in my order.

Reading over what I’ve sent her, I close my eyes on a groan. For the record, I have no idea what I’m fucking doing. In my defense, I’ve never had to actually try and impress a woman before; they’ve always just thrown themselves at me. But this is different. Emily is different. I’ve never wanted more the way I want more with her. This is harder than I thought it would be.

I pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and forefinger, looking out at the view of the New York City skyline across the river, lights twinkling against the night sky. And that’s when it hits me. Another one of those feelings I’ve never felt before. One that makes me do something I’ll probably live to regret.

Me: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. Your smile and the dimple in the apple of your cheek when you laugh. The way you treated me like I was an actual person and not just some piece of ass. You’re the first woman I’ve ever held as I’ve drifted off to sleep. And I really want to hold you again.

As I stare at that last message, I can’t help but wonder who the fuck I even am right now. If she hasn’t already blocked me, she sure as shit will now. Hell, there’s probably a cease and desist being drafted in some lawyer’s office right at this very moment.

I drag a hand over my face. Chrissake, Shaw .

Suddenly, my phone shudders, and I almost throw the thing in the air. Fumbling the device, I somehow manage to collect what little cool I have left, unlocking it. But when I see what’s on the screen, disappointment floods through me.

Happy: Yo, Tex! My dick ain’t gonna suck itself.

Logan: He’s probably in the middle of one of his pre-road trip bangs.

Irritation rolls through me, and I don’t know why. I am so not an angry guy.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not currently in bed with a woman the night before a road trip like I normally would be. Hell, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until now.

Maybe it’s the fact that I know deep down, the guys know me too well, and they’re right; I’m the NHL’s loveable playboy, a crown I’ve worn proudly for the last two years.

Maybe it’s the fact that I just showed a piece of my heart to Emily via text and she’s blatantly ignored me.

I don’t know, but whatever it is, it gets the better of me and I scroll to my Puck Bunny contact list, select export, and share it in the chat.

Me: Have at it, fellas. I’m sitting this one out.

Logan: What do you mean you’re sitting this one out?

Happy: Holy shit, is this your road trip roster??

Logan: Tex, are you dying?

I ignore the messages and mute the chat, heaving a sigh as I stare back out at the view of the city, trying not to think about Emily’s silence. I kind of hope she has blocked me. Not seeing my messages has got to be better than flat-out ignoring them.

When my phone vibrates next to me, I glance cautiously at it, not wanting to get my hopes up. When I see Robbie’s name on the screen, I breathe a sigh of relief; sure it’s not Emily, but I’m also not completely pissed.

Picking up the device, I open his text message.

Mason: You good, man?

I wish I could tell him. Even though he’s only been playing on the team for a couple of months, in that time, Robbie’s become one of my closest friends. He’s been through a lot this last year. He went from winning the Stanley Cup with his old team, to getting released during the pre-season, picked up by the Thunder, and then almost dropped from the league entirely after a messy run in with Fran’s psycho ex-boyfriend. Poor guy has been through it, and he knows a thing or two about a thing or two, for sure. Plus, he’s also the only guy I know who’s currently in a solid relationship, so I know he’d be able to give me some advice. But I can’t risk it. I said I wouldn’t say anything, and I’m a man of my word.

Me: Yeah, all good, brother.

Mason: You know where I am if you need to talk.

I toss my phone onto the bed beside me and force myself up to continue packing. It’s the least I can do not to drive myself crazy over a certain blonde who seems to have taken up permanent rent-free residency in my mind.