Page 39 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Behave yourself. Better yet, let’s get out of here.” She grabs my arm as if to drag me to the exit and I see O’Rourke come in. With no more than a quick nod in my direction, he heads straight to his wife and Chelsea greets him with open arms. Lucky bastard.
“I was hoping to go out with some of the guys and—”
“No. We can’t. I mean, we agreed to keep things low key and that you wouldn’t go out drinking after games.” Panic tightens her low voice and she darts her eyes around as if to see if anyone’s listening.
“Relax. We’re going to dinner with a few of the guys.” She shakes her head no.
“You agreed,” she says.
“If that means I can’t go out with my teammates when they invite me, then no-can-do. I need to fit in on this team and it’s not like we’re going to a strip joint. You said you’d go out with me when I need to go out. We’re going to a nice restaurant for dinner with two couples. It’ll be fine.” She avoids my eyes as she shuffles from one foot to the other.
“Who’s going?” she asks. I tell her.
“Fine. But there will still be no flirting with waitresses or puck bunnies. Because you know they’ll be out there throwing themselves at you.”
“Aww. You jealous, sugar buns?”
“And for the love of god, do not call me that in front of your teammates. I have a professional reputation in this league.” She’s almost spitting mad. “And no more plans without clearing them with me first.”
“I’m a bad boy hockey player, not a child, Harper. But don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you. You’ll get my total respect.” I hold up two fingers for the Boy Scout promise.
“That’s not exactly what I’m looking to hear. No calling mesugar buns. Say it.”
I frown, but I say the words. “No calling you sugar buns.” I smirk because I’m not above pulling a juvenile move and I have my hands behind my back and my fingers crossed. She squints those laser green eyes at me like an angry cat and my first thought is how much I want to make her purr, but I bite my lip.
“You don’t,” she whisper-shouts and grabs my arm, pulling it free, and I’m not shy about showing my crossed fingers and unable to keep a straight face as she slaps my hand, shaking her head in disgust. “You’re such a… a…child.” You would have thought she called me a motherfucker with the amount of horror she put into the word child.
“What do you have against children?” I say. “I’m starting to get the idea you don’t like me.” It can’t be true and the idea bothers me. She throws up her hands. I suppress my grin, enjoying her flare-up too much, but I don’t want to push her away from me. I shouldn’t care if she likes me, but I do. And more importantly, I want her respect. I notice a few people eying us as they leave, moms and dads of a couple of the rookies.
“Shut up and listen.” She gets close and her eyes actually throw sparks and I feel the singe. “If you so much as come within a whisper of me, any part of you, I’ll grab you by the balls and squeeze so hard you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of your life.” My heart pounds like I haven’t felt in…since I don’t know when and not in fear, though that may be a measure of my stupidity. Because what I feel is bona fide excitement, the chill of sexual thrill running down my spine and straight to my balls who don’t give a shit about the angry threat. My dick shoves my mind out of the way.
“Challenge accepted,” I say, my voice a raspy growl. I clear my throat as I watch her smoldering eyes. I’m sure she means to appear menacing, but she has no idea how fucking sexy she looks right this minute, no idea she’s having the exact opposite effect on me than she intends.
Breaking her eyes away from mine, she storms out the door and down the hall and I jog after her, tracking her down in the empty corridor leading to the garage.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I don’t know. Away from you. You’re…”
“A child? I think we already covered that.”
“Impossible,” she says.
I take her hand. “O’Rourke and his wife invited us and offered to give us a ride,” I say. Her eyes widen in horror as if I suggested she walk the streets naked with me.Wrong visual. “Maybe you can sit in the back with Chelsea.” She heaves a breath and calms, yanking her hand from mine.
“No touching.” I nod. She’s right. Because touching her piles on a layer of crazy to my already overloaded restraint and I promised her—and myself—that I could do this. That I could go until the end of the season without fucking a woman.While living with her. Shit.
And maybe that was all kinds of crazy to start with.
* * *
O’Rourke and the others come out into the corridor shortly after Harper’s blow-up and I make sure there’s plenty of space between me and her. The last thing I want is for O’Rourke, or any of the guys, to think there’s anything between us besides business.
“When is your car getting shipped?” O’Rourke asks. I’m in the back seat with Harper because there was no stopping Chelsea from hopping in the front seat of the SUV, leaving me and Harper to the back. Not a good start. She darts a glare at me as she straps on her seatbelt.
“Tomorrow. It’ll arrive tomorrow,” Harper says.
“What kind of car is it? I bet you drive a sports car,” Chelsea says.
