Page 57 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

A laugh tumbles free as I remember what he was like when he discovered that a woman he hooked up with in a club was walking around growing his kid. Motherfucker had no idea what he was doing. Thank fuck Linc and Cole had a little foresight into the female species by then, or he probably would have utterly fucked it all up.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he says before he disappears into the showers. “Are you seeing Sienna tonight?”

17

SIENNA

I’m in the backroom of the salon, folding towels while waiting for the next load in the washing machine to finish, so I can throw it in the dryer when a loud banging starts out front.

“Shit,” I hiss, shifting out of the doorway in case whoever it is can see me.

I love being here, but I’d be lying if I said being here alone after dark didn’t sometimes give me the heebie-jeebies.

It goes silent for a few seconds, but it quickly starts up again.

I pull my cell from my pocket. No one has messaged to say they’ve forgotten anything and come back, unable to get through the deadlock I flicked when Bea walked out earlier.

My heart pounds and my hands begin to tremble as the knocking starts again.

“Just go away; we’re closed,” I hiss.

But my almost silent warning surprisingly does nothing, and the knocking continues.

I continue folding in the hope they get bored and give up, but—“Sienna?”

My heart lurches as the familiar deep voice echoes around the silent salon.

“Calvin?” Without thinking, I take off toward the front door with two towels thrown over my arm.

It’s raining outside, and he’s soaked.

His hair is dripping, and he has rivulets running down his cheeks.

As I undo the locks, I’m struck with an image from that Friends episode where Rachel unlocks the cafe’s door and the second Ross gets inside, he sweeps her off her feet and⁠—

“What the hell are you doing?” I cry the second the door is open, a rush of cold, wet air hitting me in the face, thankfully dousing any desire that previous image stirred within me.

“Well, I don’t fucking moonlight as a pizza delivery guy,” he states as he rushes inside, dripping water all over the floor.

“You’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, if someone had opened the door sooner…”

“I was hiding in back, assuming it was a crazy person wanting to murder me.”

He stares at me, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Had I known it was a hockey player with a pizza, I might have moved my ass a little faster.”

“Wonderful,” he mutters before lowering the bag he’s carrying to the floor, reaching behind his head, and smoothly peeling his soaked hoodie from his body, leaving him standing there with nothing but inches of toned skin on display.

“Uh…” My eyes are everywhere.

Sure, I’ve seen this man shirtless before. I’ve been known to stare at him wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs once or twice in the advertising campaign he was in last year. But nothing, and I literally mean nothing, could have prepared me for standing this close to him while he’s half-dressed. And he doesn’t just look good—he smells phenomenal.

My chin nearly hits the floor when he then proceeds to push his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and lets them drop to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek for the second time in the space of five minutes.