Page 6 of He Has MVP (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Never mind. Go have your lunch.” I turn.
“I’ll wait till you’re hungry. The pups and I will take a walk while we’re waiting.”
He whistles and they follow him to the back door. Even Curly runs after him. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s an overgrown kid and a natural playmate for the pups. I wonder if he really needs my help. Watching him rush out the door, leaving it open running with the dogs, I shake my head. Walking back to the door, I close it. The pups definitely need my help. Having fun with them isn’t the same thing as taking care of them. They need to be fed properly and be given their worm medicine. They need to be walked in the early morning.
* * *
Workingat the kitchen island where I can see the water—or I could if I looked up—I finish the first of the spreadsheets needed for the wealth analysis to optimize my client’s tax position. The wind whips the trees, loud and strong. Glancing at the sky, I notice dark clouds moving in along with booming waves. I haven’t checked the weather report all day, but I did hear the pilot of the small plane I took to the island earlier saying he was in a hurry to get back to the mainland due to a big storm coming.
Aiden crashes inside the patio door with the pups on a whirl of cool air and raw energy. My heartbeat ramps up and my alertness spikes as if I’m anticipating danger. Or, based on the warm rumble at my core, maybe I’m anticipating a tantalizing appetizer for my session with Bixby.
“You ready for lunch?” He’s talking to the pups, who race to their dishes. He promptly fills their dishes with food and water. My eyes follow him, riveted, all muscle and smooth motion. His graceful movements are not too unlike a ballet—albeit a raw and gritty version.
What the hell am I thinking? Snap yourself out of it, Pink.He’s a hockey player. Furthest thing from graceful. Furthest thing from what I’m into. Except to look at. From afar.
Finished with what he’s doing, he turns to me, aiming dark-fringed eyes and playful grin full throttle in my direction.
“Now that Moe, Larry, and Curly are fed, what about you?”
His messed hair, tight shirt and that stupid, not quite goofy but definitely boyish look that should be clownish except for his exceptional eyes, have me mesmerized. An uncomfortable feeling of attraction creeps in, but that’s ridiculous. He’s all raw animal sexy, sure, but that’s so not my type. My hormones must be starved and in need of serious attention. I definitely need to take care of that problem because the last thing I need is for Aiden’s raw manliness to distract me from work.
“Okay. You make lunch. I’ll take my computer into the bedroom. I have a few emails to send.” And a few balance sheets to review and update. Plus I need to look at the files Brady Mack transferred over from his soon-to-be-prior accountant. A smile curves my lips as I pick up my laptop, ready to head to the master bedroom. I love it when I get new clients.
“You got it,” he says, keeping his eyes on me.
I turn away and walk down the short hall into the bedroom. When I glance around the room, the smile I was wearing disappears, turns past a frown, and heads straight to a scowl.
“Aiden!” His stuff—an open Boston Brawlers duffel bag—is sprawled on the bed. My bags are neatly piled near the closet and his shaving things are spread on the desk near the patio door. What the hell is he thinking? That we’re going tosleep together?
The door bangs open and he comes in accompanied by all three pups as if he’s playing Pied Piper.
“What the hell? Get your stuff out of my room,” I say. My hands are on my hips and I feel like someone’s bitchy maiden aunt, but I don’t care.
Okay, I care a little. He’s not a bad guy even if he isn’t my type, so I back off my scowl and drop my hands.
“I need this room so I can work at the desk. You can stay in the guest room.” I don’t bother questioning his intention to stay with me in the same room because the notion is preposterous.
“No can do.” He grins and passes close by me, then throws himself onto the bed with innate recklessness as if he’s flying into a corner after a loose puck. I shiver. The picture he makes with his arms up behind his head, his chest heaving with muscles and his biceps bulging from his shirtsleeves make a drool-worthy picture.
“You posing for a condom commercial?” I ask. What the hell happened to my self-discipline? I’m not one to spit out the first words that pop into my mind, but that’s what I just did. His smiles goes from goofy grin to sexy come-on and I’m reminded that I’m playing with fire here. Aiden is a pro at more than hockey. He’s used to women drooling and knows what to do with flirtatious innuendo.
My eyes dart automatically to his crotch. Damn. Am I this desperate?No. I’m only curious. I need to gauge his level of intent. He’s . . . bulging, but not too bad, not too hard.Not yet. My warped sex-starved mind whispers the challenge. But I feel it like a smack in the butt, spurring me on. Maybe bullying me on. My neglected pussy is a bully.
“There’s no mattress in the guest room,” he says. “The pups ate it, I think. We’re all sleeping in here with you.” The dogs jump up onto the bed with him on cue and he scratches them each in return as a reward. “Is my fly open, Pink? You keep staring at my crotch.”
The blush of heat blooms furiously on my cheeks and I resist touching them. Barely. I roll my eyes and look away. “You’re so ridiculous.” My words lack the intended punch.
“You never explained—why do you need a million dollars?”
“Why do you care anyway?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. You fascinate me. You’re different than other women I know.”
I snort. “I’ll bet.”
His grin widens. “You’re complicated. You have layers like—”
“Don’t say an onion.”
