Page 32 of Trick Shot

“Why would I go on a bonding trip with your team? I’m not even on the team.”

“You’re the captain’s sister. And I’m not leaving you here alone for a week in a city you don’t know, with no one around in case something happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Dom,” I protest, throwing my arms out in front of my still half-packed suitcase.

“Mel.”

That’s all it takes. Just my name, in that low, warning tone, and I fold faster than a Dollar Tree lawn chair.

He softens it, just a little.

“You’ve been here for, what? A week? You don’t have friends here yet. No family nearby. You get sick, you need help, something happens—I need to know you’re okay.”

I open my mouth, then close it. Because goddammit… he’s right. I don’t like being told what to do, but Dom doesn’t give you room to argue. He says something, and the rest of the world just nods and moves. It’s how he is. Always has been.

Dominic Moreal: human freight train of authority and unsolicited big-brothering.

“Fine,” I huff. “But I’m not talking to anyone. And I’m not wearing a bikini around those guys.”

“You packed two. I saw them.” He smirks, pushing off the doorframe.

I glance at my suitcase, my eyes falling over the ends of the bikini strings hanging out.

“We leave in an hour,” Dom reminds me before closing my door.

I let out a breath and fall forward onto the bed, arms flopping wide.

A vacation with a dozen pro hockey players.

And Jace, who I haven’t seen since he pressed himself against me and made my internal organs perform a synchronized backflip.

I groan into the comforter just as my phone rings. I glance at it, seeing Lennie’s name on the screen.

I answer it on speaker and flop dramatically onto my back.

“Packed and ready?” she teases through the phone.

“For the hell I’m about to enter? Almost.”

“Hell? You’re going to be stuck in a house with more than a dozen pro athletes.” Lennie pauses. “Sounds like heaven to me.”

“Wanna swap places then?” I ask, dragging myself toward the suitcase I left half-packed. “And did I also mention that the house belongs to the guy who cornered me in the kitchen?”

“That’s hot,” Lennie says, unfazed. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

I freeze, halfway sitting up.

There’s a pause.

“Have you told Ghost about this guy?” she asks, hesitant.

“Of course not.” I frown as I toss my phone on the bed, freeing my hands. “What would he think of me? Talking to him while getting close and personal with my brother’s teammate whose house I’ll be stuck in for more than a week?”

“You’re in deep,” Lennie says after a pause.

“Like Mariana Trench,” I agree, tossing a pair of flip-flops into my suitcase.

“Wonder what else will be in deep,” she teases.