Page 36 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Twelve
Maddox
Itry to nap, try to tamp down the excitement of playing for my new team, with my new band of brothers. Bonding over pool and a few beers is one thing, but I have something to prove on the ice. That I’m worth the fucking truckload of trouble the Brawlers are going through to have me on their team.
There’s one thing that’s perfectly clear, this team is on a fucking serious mission like no other I’ve experienced. Not even that team the year we gave up alcohol for the season can beat the fucking single-minded drive I feel here, and the genuine closeness. I’m convinced the drive and the brotherhood go hand in hand.
I have a fucking shit ton to prove tonight.
In spite of the pressure, I close my eyes and get lost in thoughts, mostly centered around Harper and what she was doing outside the bathroom door yesterday. I doze off.
The beep of my phone wakes me and when I check the time, I let out a groan. Only a half hour has gone by. It’s my Twitter feed sounding off, so I shut down the sound. Fuck. My mind returns to the dream I was having. Harper following me into my shower. Problem is I wake up before anything serious happens. Kind of like real life.
I kind of feel sorry for Harper. Imagine being forced to live and sleep in the same house asthe charmer. Yeah, that’s what they’re calling me now in the social media around here, according to the feed which I mistakenly turned back on. Which is a helluva lot better than what they were calling me back in NOLA and on the national sports scene. But I solve that problem by not watching sports news.
Harper keeps me up on the latest gossip about me like my personal sports broadcaster, except I know she leaves out the worst of it. When I get up and dressed, I find her sitting at the kitchen island staring at her computer. Her hair curtains her face in glowing burgundy, rich and fluid like a glass of wine. She looks up and, without returning my smile, looks back down again.
“A car will be here in five—”
“Not necessary,” I say. “Finn is swinging by to pick me up.”
“Why didn’t—?” She bites her lip and picks up her phone, tapping something in, presumably to cancel the car she arranged.
“I’m sorry.” I join her at the island, sitting on the stool nearest to her, my knees almost touching hers, but almost isn’t good enough so I touch her arm. It’s dangerous, what she’d call an inappropriate move, but she tries so hard to do everything for me, meet every need. Except thatonevery elemental need.Fuck.
She looks up as if she heard my thoughts and dislodges my hand, putting her phone back on the counter.
“No problem.” She waves a hand. “You don’t owe me—”
“I should have mentioned it to you, should have known you’d get me a car. Should have known you’d take care of me.” Her eyes widen and she looks away, huffing out a breath.
“It’s my job, Knight. And I’m very good at my job.” When she faces me she wears that mock stern look like she’s trying to imitate the ballbuster. But she’s too cute, too sexy, and far too sweet to make it work. Which doesn’t mean she’s not tough because I know she is, the way she holds the weight of her family finances on her strong shoulders.
I don’t share my thoughts with her, but I risk upsetting our balance by patting her on the knee. She jumps and I want to drag her into my arms and soothe her nerves the best way I know how, but I hear a car honk out front, saving me from my own stupidity.
“That’s Finn?” she asks as I rise with my small team bag packed with a few of my personal things, including a change of underwear. I take her by the hand.
“Walk me to the door.” I tug her but she comes along in spite of her reluctance because she’s a people pleaser at heart. I should know. I’m the same way and I so much want to show her how much I could please her. Maybe after the season.Fuck.
“I’ll look for you in the stands,” I say.
She snorts.
“Don’t worry about me, Knight. Just put on a puck show and score a goal. We want to show these Brawlers what you’re made of, that you’re a superstar on the ice no matter what else…” She waves a hand as we reach the door and I open it.
“I think you just paid me a fucking compliment.” I grin automatically, feeling the glow in spite of her frown, in spite of how she folds her arms over her white starched shirt as if she can hide the goods—which she can’t, because I have an excellent imagination when it comes to the female anatomy. And especially where Harper is concerned.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” She stands in the doorway and looks past me, waving at Finn.
“I’ll see you after the game,” I say. It takes everything in me not to bend down and kiss the seriousness off her face. She must sense my intention because she backs up.
“Goodbye, Knight. And good luck.” She shuts the door on me. Finn beeps his horn again because he’s an asshole like me and when I go around and get in his car I find him laughing.
“Fuck you,” I say, only partially annoyed. I don’t relish having my rejection out there for ridicule, but it’s fair. Besides, maybe the shit he’s giving me as he pulls away from the curb, still grinning and making boo-hoo noises, will keep me grounded and rational about this.
“What’s the matter, porn boy? Abstinence doesn’t agree with you?”
“Not when I’m faced with her every day,” I say, honesty getting the better of me. “But I’ll get over it.”
