Page 8 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Chapter Three

Chelsea stepped out of the passenger seat of Preston’s badass Audi, staring up at the Rittenhouse Hotel, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.

They weren’t bad butterflies. Not based on nerves or second-guessing or fear or anything like that.

Nope, these butterflies were driven by pure excitement, anticipation, and hormones.

She bit her lower lip to hide her grin, not wanting Preston to think she was unhinged or anything.

This was so out of character for her, and yet, it felt perfectly natural to be following this sex-on-a-stick man whom she’d JUST met into a swanky five-star hotel.

It was hard for her to believe she’d only met Preston a few hours ago.

Practical, play-it-safe Chelsea would never have left a party with a virtual stranger, going to a hotel with him, but the truth was, every single one of her instincts told her she could trust this man.

Which was also shocking, considering she thought her trust meter was broken for good.

“This place looks nice,” she murmured. He started to agree, but she shook her head. “No. Like, too nice. Too expensive.”

Preston chuckled. “It’s on me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just…”

“Chelsea. I’m not dragging you to some seedy motel. I wanted to take you somewhere nice, and this is one of the best hotels in Philly.”

“Yeah, but we don’t even have any luggage. It’s going to be kind of obvious we’re just here for a hookup.”

“I’m pretty sure hotel hookups are a common thing, even in the ritzy places. Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

“Good God, no.”

Preston gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good girl.” He handed his keys to the valet, then placed his hand on the small of her back. “Don’t forget, you promised to text Allyson the name of the hotel.”

Since she and Preston had both gotten their tickets to the party secondhand and at the last minute, neither of them had been able to book a room in the inn, those spots filling months ago.

The fact Preston was reminding her to do the mature, self-protective thing proved just how far off the deep end she’d fallen.

Because Chelsea, the never-stick-a-toe-out-of-line, so-predictable-you-could-set-a-clock-by-her girl had checked out of the building, replaced by this impulsive, wild, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants woman.

“Oh right.” She quickly fired off the hotel name to Allyson, who had absolutely lost her mind when Chelsea told her she was heading out with Preston. Her bestie had squealed with delight, hugging her before high-fiving the man.

Completely mortifying, but one hundred percent Allyson.

Then, she and Allyson had done the unthinkable and switched friendship roles, Allyson demanding Chelsea text her where she was going and insisting she call her first thing in the morning, as well.

“Proof of life,” her insane friend dead-panned.

Chelsea had promised, then left the inn with Preston.

He was the one who’d suggested a hotel, which made her curious, wondering why he wasn’t inviting her back to his place, but she brushed it off, deciding it was no big deal.

Maybe he was a slob or had annoying roommates or preferred to maintain his privacy.

And it wasn’t like she could invite him to share her blow-up mattress at Allyson’s cousin’s place.

It didn’t really matter to her where they went, because she meant what she’d said to him.

This was just a one-night stand.

Her first ever.

And she realized the timing on it was right.

Tonight felt like a bridge from her old life to her new.

She wanted to reboot her life, and by taking this step with Preston, it was as if she was shedding some of old Chelsea’s inhibitions and embracing this new version of herself.

This Chelsea emphatically shouted “Yes!” to amazing opportunities, like finding a dream job, moving to a new country, and spending the night with a sexy, sweet, romantic man.

Once they stepped into the foyer, her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she rolled her eyes.

“Allyson has a big mouth.” Chelsea flipped her phone around so Preston could see Ethan’s name on her screen.

“Your friends are protective of you. That’s not a bad thing, Chels. Why don’t you talk to him while I go get us a room?”

She nodded, enjoying the view as Preston walked to the check-in desk. Sweet Jesus, she could bounce quarters off that tight ass.

“Hello,” she said, distractedly.

“Giiiiiiirl. Ally just called.”

“I figured that out,” Chelsea said, grinning. “Considering you don’t usually call?—”

Ethan was too fired up to listen to her response because he started talking over her.

“She said you left the party with some hottie. I’m worried someone roofied her or she’s tripping balls, because I told her there is no way in hell our sweet little cupcake would go home with a man she just met in a strange town. ”

“Philly’s not that strange,” Chelsea joked.

“Cupcake.” Ethan had been calling her cupcake since fourth grade and her grandma sent in the sweet treats for the entire class on her birthday.

“No one roofied Ally,” Chelsea reassured him.

“Sweet Jesus. I’ll tell you right now, you hooking up with a stranger was not on my bingo card for this year. Or next year, either.”

Chelsea giggled. “That’s funny, because you hooking up with a stranger is always on my bingo card in multiple squares.”

“So you’re with this guy right now?” He refused to be distracted by her attempt at humor.

“Yep. He’s at the front desk getting us a room in a swanky hotel.”

“Describe swanky,” Ethan demanded.

“Well, it’s no Super Eight, I can tell you that. Google the Rittenhouse Hotel. It’s in the city center and it’s bougie as hell.”

She could tell from the way Ethan’s voice became fainter he’d put her on speakerphone and was doing exactly what she suggested. Especially when he all but gasped. “I am so depressed.”

“Why?” Chelsea asked.

“I should have insisted you stay home to pack for the move to Paris and taken that party ticket for myself because dayum, girl. This boy is treating you right. I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of that.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes, amused. “Right, Ethan. Because Preston would totally be with you right now if you’d come instead. Hate to break it to you, but he is extremely straight.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t need to. He gives off alpha— hetero —male with a capital A vibes.”

Ethan scoffed. “You underestimate my powers.”

Chelsea didn’t underestimate Ethan’s charm or his good looks or his ability to pick up guys.

Gay guys.

Well…and bi guys.

Anytime she, Allyson, and Ethan went out, eight times out of ten, it was Ethan leaving the bar with a hot guy. And Allyson was the other two times out of ten.

Chelsea, prior to June, had always used the “I have a boyfriend/fiancé” line whenever someone tried to pick her up. In the six months since, she simply hadn’t met anyone who captured her attention or got her motor revving. Not like Preston.

Looking across the foyer, she saw the front desk clerk hand Preston the key card. “Listen, I need to go. He has the room.”

“Call me first thing in the morning,” Ethan demanded.

“I’m already calling Allyson.”

“And now you’re calling me too,” he insisted, undaunted. “What’s the guy’s name so I know what room to send the cops to if you don’t call me?”

Chelsea hesitated. “Um…”

“Wait, you don’t know the guy’s name?”

“It’s Preston. I didn’t get his last name.”

Ethan barked out a loud laugh. “Holy shit, girl. When you break bad, you break fucking bad. I’m starting to think I’ve been a bad influence on you.

The problem is, I don’t feel a bit guilty about that.

Fine. I’ll direct the cops and SWAT team to Preston No Last Name at the Rittenhouse Hotel if you don’t call me by seven. ”

“Seven? It’s midnight, and I have high hopes for Preston’s stamina. I’ll call you around nine. Or ten.”

“Nine. And not a minute later. Now…go get laid, Cupcake, and clear some time in your schedule for tomorrow afternoon when you get home because I’m going to want all the dirty details. I might buy a whiteboard and markers because I’m a visual learner.”

“I’m not drawing pictures of sex acts for you, you perv.”

“We’ll see,” Ethan drawled.

She and Ethan said goodbye and she tucked her phone in the back pocket of her jeans as Preston returned.

“All good?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m experiencing some weird Freaky Friday kind of shit because usually I’m the friend on the other end of the phone, demanding Ethan and Allyson make smart decisions and be safe.”

Preston wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the two walking toward the bank of elevators just beyond the front desk. “I promise you’re perfectly safe with me. And as far as smart decisions go, I’m not sure where you stand, but this is the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Me too,” she said, aware of just how much she meant those words.

She’d been waiting for her common sense or whatever part of her brain that kept her from doing spontaneous stuff like this to kick in, ever since issuing her invitation to a one-night stand.

But it hadn’t.

Not when he accepted.

Not when she found Allyson to say she was leaving with him.

Not on the ride here.

And not even now, as she stepped onto the elevator.

In fact, every step that led her closer to the bedroom only solidified how right this felt to her.

Preston placed a kiss on the top of her head as the doors slid closed.

She’d never been with such a large guy. Rick liked to tell people he was six feet tall, but he was probably an inch or two shy of that. Plus, he was lanky, with a long-distance runner’s frame. Preston, on the other hand, had close to a foot on her, and he was built like a brick house, all muscle.

“This is my first one-night stand, so I’m a little shaky on the protocols.”

Preston chuckled, taking her hand and leading her off the elevator and down the hall. “No protocols. Tonight, we’re just doing whatever comes naturally.”