Page 4 of He Has MVP (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 2
Pink
It’s noon already. I was supposed to be here two hours ago, but that was unrealistic and even though I hate being late, I did warn Chelsea. I’m hoping she brings Ryan with her to pick me up. My stack of bags sitting at the curb would be a lot for us to wrestle into the car. I told her I’d be waiting at the front entrance of the Nantucket airport .
This weekend will be all work interrupted by dog walks and dog feeding. I’m not even sure I’ll come out of my room to eat dinner with Aiden. The big lug sent me texts all week like he had nothing else to do but harass a girl.
Apparently the season starts next week and this is his last free weekend for the duration. The guy is excitable like an eight-year-old boy. Except he looks nothing like an eight-year-old. He’s all man-muscle, edgy stubble and longish wavy hair with those deep blue soulful eyes and thick lashes wasted on such an oaf.
I can’t believe I even think he’s attractive—albeit only on an objective basis. He’s so not my type. I’m into suit-and-tie guys. Though Aiden did look hot in his tux at the wedding last weekend, he didn’t manage to carry off the sophistication. He’s too class-clown, too not-serious. About anything. Certainly not dog-sitting. He raised his hand for this job without a second thought, without considering what’s involved.
Where the heck is Chelsea? I’m standing in my heels and pencil skirt, my suit jacket over my arm and new Gucci bag slung over my shoulder. I know it’s been at least twenty minutes because that’s the limit of how long I can stand comfortably in these shoes. I’m about to pull out my phone to call Chelsea, when a car races around the curve of the arrival driveway and stops short with a beep.
It’s Chelsea’s car—a Land Rover with a mesh screen across the back seat and three puppies that look like a cross between wolf and sheep. In truth, they’re adorable rescue mutts. My eyes settle on the driver and I’m not surprised. It’s not Chelsea driving. Not even Ryan.
It’s Aiden Liam Cavanaugh. Or Aiden the Conqueror, one of the suggested nicknames that he mentioned in one of his many text messages. He jumps out of the car and my gut slams as I’m treated to a massive man chest replete with rippling muscles under an extremely tight T-shirt, as if he’s wearing his kid brother’s clothes by mistake. The dogs bark and he bangs on the roof as he comes around the back. To my surprise the dogs shut up. And here he is, standing in front of me with that shit-eating grin and distracting deep blue eyes.
“What happened to Chelsea and Ryan?” I swallow a gulp as he gives me a Big Bad Wolf stare. But it’s not as if I haven’t seen that before—mostly he’s aimed it at other women, like puck bunnies, when we went out after games last season.
“They had to leave. It’s just you and me, kid. And three crazy puppies. They’re great, though.”
He eyes my pile of luggage and raises his eyebrows up under his shaggy hairline.
“You get we’re only staying the weekend, right?”
“Ha, ha. You get that I brought my work with me, right?” The incorrigible man smirks as if I’ve challenged him to a duel or slapped him with a white glove or waved a red cape. Take your pick. He responds elementally, like a pirate, all high-seas adventure boldness. Not a serious or cautious bone in his body.Like a man who plays hockey for a living.
“We’ll see about that,” he says. “As I recall, you were supposed to back off from work. Something about burnout.” He opens the back door and proceeds to toss everything inside. I grab my laptop before he can do any damage. Meanwhile I notice those rippling muscles again and I can’t help an internal sigh.
It’s been way too long. But I’ve brought my favorite vibrator along. I call him Bixby. I have no idea why. But he works wonders, so I have nothing to worry about. Aiden opens the passenger door for me and, as I pass by him, I get a whiff of his all-male scent and it hits me like a whirlwind. I’m almost dizzy as I get inside. Maybe I’ll change Bixby’s name toThe Conquerorbefore the weekend’s out.
* * *
When we getto the house, Aiden takes all my bags, except the laptop I’m carrying, without being asked and I follow him from the garage into the familiar kitchen. I’ve been to Ryan and Chelsea’s Nantucket cottage on the sea a few times. It’s small with only five rooms. But the kitchen and living areas are open and spacious, yet still cozy and livable with pine paneling, high beams, a stone fireplace taking up one wall, and glass taking up the wall facing the ocean.
With Aiden instigating them, the pups jump and frolic their way to their feeding station in the kitchen.
“You can’t have a meal yet, but how about a snack?” He talks to them like he’s expecting an answer, wrestling and playing and petting each of them. They’re all grinning like kids at an amusement park.
“Are you allowed to give them snacks?” I have to ask because I know puppies need their meals scheduled to set expectations. “And don’t they need their worm meds?”
I join him and the puppies, bending to pet the smallest of the three, Curly. She’s the girl, but she holds her own with her brothers and I feel a natural affinity with her.
Picking her up, I laugh when she licks my face. “You can come with me and keep me company while I work. You’re so adorable. I can’t believe Chelsea named you after a Stooge.”
“One of the three all-time best comic actors, you mean.” Aiden stands, towering over me. I stand too, but he’s close to a foot taller than I am even in my heels. I throw my shoulders back and put my free hand on my hip, spread my legs, and take the Wonder Woman power stance.
It doesn’t help. He rakes me with his eyes and lets his dimples loose and his teeth flash.
“You going for a toothpaste commercial?” I scowl. Curly squirms in my arms, so I return my attention to her.
“I’m done with commercial shoots until the end of the season.”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t a serious question—never mind.” I turn to take the puppy with me to the master bedroom where there’s a desk with a nice view. Chelsea insisted I make myself at home there.
“Where you going?”
“I have work to do.”
