On the Line Page 4

  I went home, frustrated and confused, and met Lizzie shortly after at a barbeque in Dieppe, my hometown. I wanted to like her because I was just so desperate to have something with someone, since I couldn’t have what I wanted with Steph. And Liz made it easy to like her. She was sweet and kind and very easy on the eyes. I wanted to be over Stephanie. Lizzie was an easy fit, a perfect solution; even my father—the man who had been adamantly against me having a public relationship—seemed okay with her. He never once gave me the “you’re a public figure” lecture the whole time I was with her.

  Then late one night I was too stressed out about all the contract offers and uncertainty about my career and I couldn’t sleep. I found myself calling Sebastian. I told myself I was just catching up with an old teammate and friend, but the second question out of my mouth was “How’s Stephanie?” That’s when Sebastian told me she had moved to San Diego.

  The next day I asked my agent to ask the Saints if they would be interested in making me an offer. By the end of that week I’d signed with San Diego, broken things off with Liz and started packing, all to the sound track of my father screaming that I ruined my career.

  Since being here in San Diego, my confidence has wavered more than a balloon in the wind. Stephanie is giving off mixed signals. One minute I’m convinced she wants me the way I want her and then—boom—she shuts down, not returning my texts, turning down my offers to hang out. So that’s why, two months after I stepped foot in California, we are still just friends—and neighbors. But I haven’t given up hope. I tried that once—giving up on her—and tried to date someone else and that didn’t work. So I am going to keep trying.

  There are so many things about Stephanie that draw me to her in ways I never expected. Stephanie is opinionated, loves sarcasm and speaks the truth to me, whether it is what I want to hear or not. My father had told me, from the minute I hit puberty, that I didn’t like women like that. He explained that I needed a woman who was passive and demure and didn’t get in the way. And that’s what Lizzie was, which is why I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

  I loved hanging out with Steph as much as, and in the same way, I liked hanging out with the guys. Except I thought about her naked and, on long road trips, I often satisfied myself to that taboo fantasy. But, honestly, her mixed signals are probably because, even if she is attracted to me, she is too smart to get involved in the façade of a life I have to live.

  So the question is, can I find a way to convince Stephanie I am worth it?

  Chapter 4

  Stephanie

  “You’re kidding, right?” Avery stares at me blankly, just blinking his pretty coffee-colored eyes in what seems to be a mixture of dismay and awe.

  “Not kidding. Now put on your big boy pants and hop on,” I tell him with an amused smile.

  “Where’s Ty?” he asks, looking around like his friend and teammate will suddenly appear and save his manhood.

  “He’s with Maddie. They’re already at Hamilton’s.”

  Avery is totally horrified. His reaction’s the exact response I’ve been expecting from any male I would ask to hop on the back of my scooter. I get it, I guess. I mean it is going to look hysterical for me to have a two-hundred-pound tough guy hanging off the back of my candy-apple-red Vespa.

  “Avery, you can either man up and hop on or spend hours trying to get a cab on a busy Friday night. You decide.”

  He sighs loudly and runs a hand through his freshly washed hair, which is still damp at the tips, then takes a defeated step toward my bike. He extends his hand for the extra helmet. I smile triumphantly.

  “It’ll be okay, honey,” I say in a patronizing tone. “I promise you’ll still be a big strong hockey player afterward.”

  He smirks, rolls his eyes and pulls the helmet down on his head. I love riding a scooter in San Diego. You can lane share and beat all the notoriously evil traffic.

  “Why wouldn’t Ty just drive me?” Avery groans as his long, ridiculously muscular legs straddle the scooter and his muscular butt sits on the back of my seat.

  “He said to say ‘this will teach you to ignore your check engine light.’” I giggle.

  Apparently Avery’s Audi has had the check engine light on for more than a week, but he didn’t bother to take it in. The car finally died tonight, as he was on his way to meet Maddie, Ty and his team for drinks. Maddie asked me if I would bring him since I was going to join them anyway.

  “Hold on tight, Princess,” I say in a deep, manlike voice.

  Avery groans in my ear but snakes his hands around my waist. Despite the humor of the situation, my insides quiver at the feel of his arms around me.

  I drive more carefully than normal, knowing Avery isn’t all that comfortable or used to being on the back of a scooter. He keeps his big, strong hands flat against my abdomen and I keep getting tingles in my girl bits because of it. Fifteen minutes later I pull to the curb in front of Hamilton’s and Avery hops off very quickly and very ungracefully, almost falling over. I pull off my helmet and give my hair a shake before smiling up at him.

  “Don’t worry. No one saw you,” I whisper with a wink. “And your secret is safe with me.”

  I lock our helmets to the bike and we walk into the bar together. Ty sees us immediately and grins mischievously. “How’d ya like the bitch seat, Westwood?”

  Larue, Echolls and their backup goalie Nikolai Furlov, whom they all call Furry, chuckle at Avery’s expense, but he just smiles and shrugs. “Call it whatever you want, but I got to spend fifteen minutes wrapped around this fine woman. I win.”

  He drapes an arm around my shoulder and grins cockily. Normally I would be slightly miffed at a man making a comment that makes me seem like a piece of meat, but…it’s Avery. I’m just shocked he said something so cocky.

  “Something tells me that’s as close as you’ll let yourself get to a woman for another half century,” Alex pipes up, and grins at me. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Shut up.” Avery gives Alex a friendly shove and then turns to me. “Beer?”

  I shake my head. “Perrier.”

  Avery heads for the bar and I join Maddie and the boys at the table. Moments later Avery puts the sparkling water over ice on the table as he drops into the empty chair next to me. We talk about the game they played last night because they won—breaking their three-game losing streak—and the guys are hyped up. Despite the losing streak, they’re doing better than they have in four seasons. All except Beau Echolls, who is scowling, are pumped up but also nervous about the games to come.

  Maddie and I listen supportively. This is all new to Maddie, who didn’t grow up watching hockey, but it’s normal for me because of Sebastian. Even after I ran away from home when I was sixteen, I still managed to keep track of his games. And then after living in Seattle and socializing with the Winterhawks, I became aware of not just the technicalities of the game, but of the emotional side of it too.

  Once the team has a few more drinks in them, the conversation turns to lighter things and the guys start to wander throughout the bar. Echolls and his girlfriend, Kyra, head over to the bar, probably just to get away from Avery. Beau hates him. The single guys, like Alex, saunter away in search of a conquest. Avery doesn’t join them.

  “Not up for the hunt tonight?” I ask him with a smile. “Not that it’s hunting. It’s more like shooting high-heeled fish in a barrel.”

  He chuckles and sips more of his pale ale. “You trying to get rid of me?”

  I shake my head. “Hell, no. Although it is entertaining to watch the high-heeled fishes swim around you trying to get your attention.”

  My gaze lands on two girls talking to Nikolai. The one with the darker hair keeps letting her eyes drift over to our table. I lean my head closer to Avery and lower my voice. “Like that one there…in the nude patent leather pumps. She’s just itching for you to leave the table so she can pounce.”

  I watch his dark eyes shift, and he glances at the brunette through his thick lashes. “I don’t know. I think she’s angling for a shot at Furry.”

  “Nah. The other one is going for that. She wants you,” I reply, and finish my drink. “I’ll bet money on it.”

  “Okay.” Avery turns his head and looks right at me, a twinkle in his eye that makes me light-headed. “How much?”

  “What?” I blink.

  “You said you’d bet money.” Avery smirks and it’s delicious. “Put your money where your pretty little mouth is, Miss Deveau.”

  I swallow and suddenly feel incredibly warm. He’s making a bet about picking up another girl; that shouldn’t feel like flirting, but it does. Get your shit together, Deveau, and calm the fuck down, libido!

  “The bar tab for the night,” I counter, and smile, hoping it looks sexy and doesn’t betray the quiver he’s started again in my girly bits. “For the entire team.”

  “That’s a little steep. I was thinking like twenty bucks.”

  “I’m not going to lose, so don’t worry about it,” I tell him flatly. “Unless of course you don’t want to pay that much.”

  Avery looks at the girl again. She’s now leaning in and laughing at something Nikolai said. “I’m not losing this,” he tells me.

  “I’m not worried.” I extend my hand.

  He reluctantly shakes it and doesn’t let go right away. His eyes land on mine and we stare at each other for a long minute.

  “So what now?” he asks, his voice husky and somehow flustered.

  I try to take a deep breath, fail miserably and settle for a short one. “You get up and go get me another drink. And let Nude Pumps do her thing.”

  Avery smiles. I pull my hand back, and he stands and walks away. I watch her watching him as he makes his way through the crowd to the bar. She is nodding
at something Nikolai said, but she’s no longer listening; I can tell. Alex walks over and plops down beside me in the seat Avery just vacated. I glance at him quickly and smile before returning my eyes to Miss Nude Pumps.

  “So you and Westwood…,” Alex says, letting his sentence trail off suggestively.

  “No. No ‘me and Westwood,’” I tell him firmly, and watch as the girl downs the last of her white wine and excuses herself from Nikolai and her friend to get another.

  “Reallllly?” Alex draws the word out to emphasize his skepticism and nods. “T’es sûr?”

  Alex, who is also a French Canadian like me, likes to talk to me in French. I kind of like practicing my mother tongue because I only do it now on the occasional phone call with Sebastian.

  “Oui. I’m sure.” I answer him quietly as Nude Pumps slides into the small space beside Avery at the bar. It has to be that way, I know it, even if my girl parts don’t. I am the worst possible match for a high-profile athlete who makes just as much money off his wholesome image as he does putting pucks in the net. I’m damaged goods. The media would have a field day dragging him through the mud.

  “You two have sex every time you look at each other.”

  Alex’s statement finally makes my head spin around to face him. He’s grinning over the top of his draft beer pint and his blue eyes are dancing at my reaction. “You’re bat-shit crazy.”

  “No. You and Westwood are bat-shit crazy if you won’t touch each other, you know, without clothes,” he replies, and sips his beer.

  “He’s my neighbor and a friend. He just broke up with a girlfriend, the only one he’s dared to have in five years,” I recount. Nude Pumps starts up a conversation with Avery. “And Sebastian would kill him.”

  “You’re stating facts, but none of them mean you two shouldn’t knock boots,” Alex replies.

  I snort. “Knock boots? Classy, Larue.”

  “Yeah. And chicks dig it.” He smiles triumphantly, then points at the bar. “Some of us need to use whatever charm we can muster. We’re not all born with the model good looks of your beloved.”

  “Beloved?” I laugh out loud at that, but it sounds nervous, which annoys me.

  “Honey, you better get off your pretty little ass and intervene or he’ll be on someone else’s bitch seat on the way home tonight.” Alex points to the scene at the bar, where Nude Pumps now has her hand on Avery’s arm. She’s batting her eyelashes at him, her ruby lips in a pouty smile. Avery is smiling down at her.

  My heart clenches. Why the fuck is it doing that? I goaded him into this. I just won the stupid bet. I should be happy, not suddenly moody.

  “Shut up, Alex,” I say flatly, and stand up and head to the restroom.

  Chapter 5

  Avery

  I glance back at the table, but Steph isn’t there anymore. It’s just Larue watching me with a stupid grin on his fat face. Don’t get me wrong, I like Larue, but he makes it his goal in life to be that friend you want to punch. No two ways about it.

  “So have you bought a place in San Diego yet?” Jennifer, or Nude Pumps, as Stephanie dubbed her, asks me. “I know most of the players live down on the beach. Do you have a beach house? I love the beach!”

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, and grab the drinks the bartender put beside me about ten minutes ago. “I have to give this to a friend.”

  I leave Nude Pumps standing there without another word and walk over to Larue. “Where’s Steph?”

  “Stephanie? You mean your buddy Stephanie?” He says it in a way that makes my jaw clench. It’s like he’s mocking me, but I can’t figure out why. It’s annoying. I put her drink down on the table.

  “Yeah. Where’d she go?”

  “You two have been pretty close since you moved here, huh?” His blue eyes are narrowed and accusatory.

  “We’re good friends, Rue,” I say sharply. “Started last year after you were traded. Back in Seattle when Sebastian started dating my friend Trey’s sister.”

  Alex smiles. Actually, it’s more of a smirk. “Nah…I love ya, Westie, but I’m not buying it.”

  I glare at him, and part of it is about that stupid nickname—only he uses because he knows I hate it. “I don’t give a shit what you’re buying. Did she leave?”

  He ignores my question and continues talking, looking totally smug and so freaking sure of himself. “The only type of friends you two can be are naked friends.”

  “You think girls and guys can’t be friends?” I roll my eyes. “I have a brain in my actual head, not just in my jock.”

  “Oh, I know some guys and girls can be friends. But you two…” He raises his hand and waves his finger in front of his face. “You two are destined to fuck each other.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Yeah. She said basically the same thing.” Alex laughs. “That’s how I know I’m right.”

  I grab the glass of Perrier and ignore my teammate as I see Stephanie weaving her way back toward us through the crowd. I walk over to meet her halfway. She sees me coming and her bright blue eyes dart to Jennifer. I’m standing like a wall in front of her a second later. Stopping her in her tracks, I hold the drink out to her.

  “Here’s your drink,” I tell her.

  She takes it and smiles, her lips parting above the rim as she takes a small sip. “Mmm…it tastes free,” she says.

  Holy fuck, why is she so damn hot?

  “Did I win the bet?” she questions.

  I nod.

  She grins triumphantly. “Then I’ll take another.”

  I laugh.

  She glances over at Jennifer. “So go get ’em, slugger,” she says, and gives me a tiny shove.

  “What?” Is she talking about Jennifer? She is. “Oh, no. I’m not interested.”

  “Why, because your daddy has to do a background check before you’re allowed in her pants?” Steph quips.

  “Wow, that was harsh,” I reply, and try to act hurt. But she’s not far off. I can’t go home with a girl I know nothing about. It’s too risky. She could sell the details of her night with Avery Westwood to the tabloids. She could take a selfie with me while I sleep and post it on the Internet. It happens to athletes all the time, so it’s not just me being paranoid.

  “Don’t be so uptight. Fucking is fun. You just broke up with someone. Rebound sex might be just what you need.” She smiles again.

  “Wow. Potty mouth. Kinda hot.”

  “I’m sure Nude Pumps knows some dirty words,” Stephanie counters, and tucks her soft brown wave of hair behind her ear absently. A simple sapphire stud twinkles from her earlobe.

  “You know Alex doesn’t think I should go home with Jennifer,” I tell Stephanie, and try to stare out at the crowd instead of at her, because I don’t think I want to see her reaction. “He thinks I should go home with you.”

  She doesn’t answer. I steal a glance, and she’s staring straight ahead with no readable look on her face.

  “Larue is a logistical genius. You should go home with me.” Now I openly turn and stare down at her. She smiles. “I mean considering you don’t have a car and I am your next-door neighbor…going home with me is the practical thing to do.”

  “He meant—”

  “I know what he meant.” She cuts me off and finally brings her eyes to mine. “He basically said the same thing to me.”

  We stare at each other. The air is suddenly thick. I shift from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

  “Alex is a pig who would fuck anything,” she declares suddenly, and pulls her eyes from me. She stares at her drink and uses the straw to stir it aggressively. “He doesn’t get that some people have a type. You have a type and it’s not me.”

  “Really?” She sounds so bloody sure of it, so overtly confident, that it’s startling. And perplexing. “What’s my type?”

  She glances up quickly and then back down. “Not me.”

  “Is this some weird, backhanded way of saying I’m not your type?” I clear my throat and shrug. “You don’t have to let me down easy. I’m a big boy.”

  She laughs at that and gives me an incredulous stare. She looks absolutely adorable with her mouth hanging open, and I want to fill that open mouth with my dick. God, that would be hot…