Page 42 of Pucking the Team

“It’s not sweet or thoughtful, it’s practical.” Theo shrugged. “You’re coming to Florida, it’s the perfect solution for you and for us.”

“For you?”

“We’ll be so fucking worried about you, sick with worry,” Ben said. “We saw him last night, how he was. It was a good thing we turned up when we did. That was about to get very nasty and very non-consensual.”

I couldn’t disagree with that. It had been horrible.

“But where will I…when I get there?” I rubbed my temple. “Yes, I know. I’ll get a hotel, Miami, lie low, catch a few rays. Perhaps down in the Keys would be better, it’s nice there, quiet.” I blew out a breath. This could work.

“A hotel!” Eduardo laughed. “Ma choue,we have enough space for you to have a bedroom in each of our houses, you do not need a hotel.”

I stared at him. Was he really suggesting I bunk up with one of them?

“Don’t be so shocked.” Dylan shrugged. “It’s a practical solution, and we won’t cramp your style. We practice six hours most days and we’ll be on the road soon, preseason games.”

He said it as if it was nothing, me staying with him, one of them, as if I could. Easily.

“You don’t have to make a decision now.” Ben pulled my case from the corner of the room. “But you do need to get up, dressed, and ready to go to the airport.”

“Airport. Yes.” Travel nerves always struck me. Mainly it was miss-the-plane anxiety. “Three hours, right?”

“Yep.” Theo folded his arms and nodded.

“Okay, I can do that.” I threw back the duvet and stood. My head spun with all the things I needed to do. Shower, put on some long-acting moisturizer, find my shades, charge my phone, locate my neck pillow and book. Had I packed the melatonin?I was sure it was in my travel bag. “Give me fifteen minutes, okay?”

I strutted to the en suite, mind whirring, and shut the door.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

Fuck!

I clasped my hand over my small triangle of pubic hair. Shot my other arm over my breasts. What the hell? What was the matter with my brain? I’d totally lost the plot.

I’d just walked, stark naked, across a room full of hockey players as though it was the most normal thing to do. No wonder I hadn’t had a response from them about giving me fifteen minutes. They all likely thought I was completely crazy, or totally in love with myself, or way too confident, or just a dumb blonde.

“Fuckity, fuck.” I cranked on the shower and grabbed my shampoo. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, I was used to being naked—or mostly naked—in a room full of people. Behind the scenes of a runway was a maelstrom of bodies and clothes and dressers and makeup artists. The tension was high, urgency ruled, and no one took any notice of boobs and bums and anything else that got flashed.

And right now my lack of self-consciousness had bitten me on my bare ass. Now, not only had Dylan seen me naked, so had Theo, Ben, and lothario Eduardo.

I stepped into the stream of water and held my face to the coolness. Maybe the trauma at the churchhadaddled my mind. Steven and Cheryl had done such a wicked thing to me I wasn’t thinking straight.

I lathered my hair, rinsed and added conditioner, then reached for the shower gel while the conditioner did its magic.

Go to Florida?

Was that also crazy?

It didn’t feel it. It felt like a solution to the fairly urgent problem of getting out of the country. And the guys did seem quite insistent, Theo especially.

I washed and rinsed and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy white towel to dry off. I had my flight routine down to perfection. I nourished my skin, combed my hair, and went minimal on makeup.

Taking a deep breath, and wearing a robe, I opened the door to the room.

It was empty.

“Thank fuck for that.” I scooted to my case and set about finding sweats and a t-shirt.

“Welcome aboard Virgin Atlantic today.” The air steward smiled at me.