Page 8 of He Has MVP (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 3
Aiden
Iought to be ashamed of myself for playing games with Pink. But damn it, she’s hot, and more than that she fucking provokes me with all that deep, complicated passion she has going on underneath her buttoned-up suit. Like she’s hiding something magical and precious.
Plus I know she’s interested. Even if she’s the hands-off type and Chelsea’d kill me if I laid a hand on her. But damn.
What if she laid a hand on me first? If she starts it—and there’s a distinct possibility she’s game—I’d be in the clear.
The need to explore the depths of Pink overwhelms me. Physically, sure, that goes without saying. But the rest of that shit? What has me so intrigued? She’s so damn compelling. It’s like I’m stuck on her and it’s Lucy from tenth grade all over again. Pink is a puzzle I need to solve. I want to be her solution so bad I almost burn lunch.
I manage to finish grilling up the burgers, feeding the burnt ones to the puppies. It’s really late for lunch and I’m starving. Eating outside would be a challenge with the wind whipping off the ocean. Instead we sit at the table inside and watch the waves through the window while we eat. We don’t talk much because I’m busy demolishing three burgers and Pink’s trying hard to be as unfriendly as possible. I think she’s still resentful that I’m riding her about all work and no play. Or maybe she’s resentful about the wild attraction between us. But she’ll get over it. I’ll see to it. She hardly eats a thing, but that’s okay because me and the pups share her leftovers.
She wants to run back into the bedroom to work, but I insist it’s her turn to walk the dogs and the fresh air will do her good. It’s already late afternoon. Of course, I go with her.
“I thought you said it was my turn?” she says over her shoulder as I jog to reach her side. She’s taken the pups out front to walk in the street and handling the three of them with no problem.
“I don’t mind coming with.” I take the two leashes for Larry and Moe from her and let her keep Curly. Larry and Moe are all mine, big and tough and manly for a couple of fluffy puppies.
She rolls her eyes at me but doesn’t stop walking or protest. The wind gusts and her hair flies up. I wish her skirt would fly up, but the damn thing is too tight.
She’s overdressed, still wearing her buttoned-up white blouse and heels.
“Interesting outfit for dog walking,” I say. I love getting a rise out of her, seeing that frustration heat up into that pretty pink blush she’s named for—because I’m convinced that’s the true root of her nickname. She’s so damn easy.
“Oh, so now you’re a fashion expert?” She eyes my T-shirt with a meaningful glint under an arched brow. She probably doesn’t realize how adorable her suppressed grin looks, the dimple almost showing.
Her blond hair flies into her face and she swipes at it. “Damn wind.”
A branch blows into the street in front of us and Moe and Larry charge after it. I let go of the leash to give them some space, confident they’ll come back to me.
“Are you crazy? Don’t let go of them. We’ll never catch them.”
“They’re fine.” I watch them play tug-of-war over the small branch as we catch up to them. I turn to her and she glares.
“Oh no, don’t run away puppies,” I say, heavy on the sarcasm as I stand over them. She swats my arm. I grin. She’s still swiping at her hair blowing around, making her look wild in spite of the tailored shirt. Maybe more so.
“Don’t you dare say I told you so.” She waves her hand. “This proves nothing.”
“It proves something.” She tries to swat me again, a smile escaping. I love teasing her. Love her sass, her refusal to bend.
I lean over and join in the puppies’ fight over the branch, grabbing the leashes and pulling the animals back to the curb as a police car drives slowly up the street in our direction.
The wind whips up around us in a gust as the police car stops along side us. I stand at Pink’s side, feeling protective, like I should block the assaulting gust.
“You two live in this neighborhood?” the officer asks, a grim line to his mouth, his radio frantic with static inside the cruiser.
“Yeah, a couple of doors down,” I say before Pink can correct him on the irrelevant detail that we’re only here for the weekend. Because I totally know she’s a stickler for details no matter what. I wonder how that applies in the bedroom, but I dismiss the untimely thought to concentrate on what the officer is saying.
“Make sure you’re prepared for the storm to hit in a few hours. Power outages are possible. If you’re close to the ocean, you’ll need sandbags because the surge is expected to hit tomorrow morning. Ten to twelve feet. There’s a shelter at the high school inland if you need it.” He nods, gives us each a look to make sure we understand, and adds, “Finish your walk and then stay inside and have a safe night.” Then he drives on like he’s trolling the neighborhood for trouble.
“Shit,” Pink says. “I hope he’s wrong about the power outage. I can’t afford to lose work time. I better make sure my phone and computer are charged. Does the house have a generator?” she asks me as if I should know. And I wish I could give her the right answer.
I shrug, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. There’s not one in the garage or around the perimeter and it wouldn’t be in the basement, but I’ll check as soon as we get back.
“We need to make sure we have water and candles and batteries,” she says, the pinch between her eyebrows deepening into a sexy librarian look. Another gust of wind whips around, but this time it’s sustained and the pups bark and whimper.
She picks up Curly and I’m mesmerized by her cooing words of comfort almost as much as the way her skirt tightens across her perfect ass. The sky darkens as if time has sped up, bringing nightfall in a few minutes instead of hours.
