Page 47 of Pucking the Team

“Hey.” He stepped up to me and rested his hand lightly on my shoulder. He was close, so close I could see the delicate soft stubble now coating his top lip. “Stop saying thank you, we’re happy to help.” He paused. “It’ll be good to have you stay, gets a bit testosterone heavy around here.”

I rested my hand over his, absorbing the warmth of his skin. “Okay, but if I’m not saying thank you, please remember that I do appreciate it, and I’ll figure something else out soon.”

“There’s no rush to do that.”

I turned as Theo came into the room holding a tall glass of water. He set it beside the bed.

“Are you guys going to rest, too?” I asked.

“Nah, we’ll stick it out until bedtime, take the jetlag hit in one fell swoop.” Theo walked to the window and pressed a white button.

Shutters came down, rendering the room in near blackness.

Ben turned the light on. “We’ll see you in a few hours, and be hungry, it’s takeout night.”

I fell into a dark black sleep. No preamble, no dreams, and I don’t think I moved.

When I woke I checked my phone. It was six-thirty in the evening. I’d had four hours. That should take the edge off.

I stretched then got up, showered, and spent twenty minutes sorting out my suitcase, packing things into drawers and being careful not to disturb Mrs. Evans’ few possessions.

With my hair piled up and wearing cream-colored shorts and a t-shirt with a turtle on it—that I’d thought perfect for the Maldives—I wandered down the stairs.

The first thing I noticed was the sports on the TV. It was loud, the crowd cheering. The second thing was the scent of chlorine.

I was drawn to the back doors which were slid open. The brothers had a large kidney-shaped pool complete with fake rocks and a waterfall splashing down onto them. The edge was lush with tropical plants, and a table sat next to a long BBQ and food prep area. The entire space was enclosed in fine mesh, presumably to keep out the bugs.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Theo stood from a lounger and wandered over to me holding a beer.

Fuck.

His swim shorts sat low on his hips, exposing the angles of his lower abs. And his abs, jeez, the guy was ripped, not in the way the runway models were, slender and sinewy, but heavy with muscle. His thighs were wide and powerful, and his shoulders equally so. He had two hockey sticks tattooed beneath his right nipple, crossed, a puck between them.

I swallowed and forced my attention up to his face. That view had been muscle overload to my jetlagged brain.

“Yes, I figured that sleep was long enough.” I cleared my throat.

“Wanna a beer?” He nodded at a tall chrome fridge.

“Sure.” Beer, I never drank beer. “Thanks.”

He popped the lid on a Budweiser and passed it to me.

“Where’s Ben?” I asked.

“He’s organizing food. Dylan and Eduardo will join us.”

“Ah, okay.” My attention drifted to beyond the mesh toward a large lake and the lavish homes opposite. I had to do something else with my eyes. It was a long time…if ever…I’d seen such a gorgeous male body in the broad light of day. And unlike Dylan, he was hairless, practically, only a small coating of soft blond hair down near the waistband of his shorts.

Pressing the cool bottle of beer to my forehead, I let out a sigh.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yes, fine.” I gestured to the table. “Might sit, it’s hot out here.”

“Always is.”

We sat, and I found myself staring so intensely at his tattoo that I had to mention it to not feel weird. “That suits you.”