Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(24)
I shift my car into park, waiting for him to unfasten his seatbelt, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his seat, looking up at the roof. His chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. A telltale bulge in his jeans tells me I’m not the only one who’s hot and bothered.
“Is this the right place?” I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Just give me a sec.”
CHAPTER 11
FALSE ALARM
TYLER
Edging via audiobook. That’s a new one.
After I got my raging hard-on under control—no small feat after seeing Seraphina so turned on she was literally squirming in her seat—it was a quick stop to pick up my Audi because I’d already paid for the service online. By then, it was well past five and we were both starving, so I offered to order takeout when we got back.
Half an hour later, we haven’t settled on any food yet. We’ve been too busy talking… and flirting. It’s risky to be hanging out alone with her like this, but at least Chase is crashing at Bailey’s for the night, so he won’t randomly walk in. I’m not sure where the hell Dallas is. He’s going to have some serious questions if he comes home.
From the couch beside me, Seraphina nudges my foot with hers. Since we’ve gotten home, we’ve crept progressively closer and closer. Between playing twenty-one questions over the weekend and getting horned up listening to her spicy book earlier, I have no idea what the fuck we’re doing. I don’t even care. There’s no one else I’d rather have sitting next to me right now.
“You don’t have to buy me dinner.” She grabs her iced tea, smiling around her clear glass straw as she takes a sip.
“We don’t have any groceries,” I remind her. Not surprisingly, food doesn’t last long with three athletes under one roof. The cupboards are either totally stocked or depressingly barren.
“True.” She sighs, ice cubes rattling as she stirs her drink. “You guys demolished every scrap of food we had. The fridge is pretty empty, and the freezer is even worse. Someone must’ve gotten desperate because even the frozen vegetables are gone. I was going to place an order with FoodSave for delivery later. How the hell do you survive?”
“We eat at school a lot.” One major perk of playing for Boyd is that the hockey team has a rotation of chefs on staff who prepare healthy breakfasts, lunches, and dinners Monday through Friday, plus pre-game dinners on Saturdays. Things like protein pancakes and turkey sausage; grilled chicken wraps and raw vegetables; roasted sweet potatoes and seared steak. Being able to grab a meal or snack any time I need is a lifesaver, especially when you eat as much as I do.
“Plus, constant grocery shopping,” I add. Except one of us doesn’t keep up their end of the shopping bargain and by one of us, I mean her brother. “We take turns cooking when there’s food.”
“I like to cook, but I’m terrible at cleaning as I go, and I always end up making a huge mess. You can add me to the rotation as long as someone else is on dish duty.” She wriggles out of her black cardigan to reveal a pale blue blouse with a deep V-neck. A delicate gold chain drapes around her neck, a teardrop crystal pendant hanging from it. She’s dressed up more than usual. I think it’s because she was nervous for her first day of classes at Boyd, but I suspect she’d never admit it.
“Sold. You cook, and I’ll clean.”
“Maybe one of us should think about joining Costco,” she adds, pushing her half-empty iced tea aside. “You guys eat in bulk so we might as well shop that way. I don’t understand how we went through three bags of chips in one afternoon.”
“Ask Carter and Ward. They eat junk like it’s going out of style.” Reaching over the coffee table, I pass her another stack of menus. Our fingers touch ever so slightly, and I try to ignore the effect it has on me because I’m a grown ass man who definitely shouldn’t be excited by something as minor as playing handsies.
“And the entire package of cheese tortellini?”
“That one’s on me,” I admit. “In my defense, goalie gear is heavy. I burn a lot of calories in the ice.”
Seraphina rolls her eyes, but she’s fighting a smile. “Not to mention whatever happened to the cheese strings, one dozen apples, two loaves of bread, the variety pack of Greek yogurt, and, most upsettingly, my emergency pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream.” She holds up a hand, ticking the items off on her slender fingers.
Shit.
“Er… it was my cheat day, and I didn’t know that ice cream was yours. Sorry, Tink.”
Her eyes widen at my confession, and she smacks my hand. “That was Haagen Dazs, Hades. The good stuff. If you mess with my stash of pink Starburst, our friendship is officially over.”
“Noted. I’ll replace the Haagen Dazs, and I won’t fuck with the Starburst. Promise.”
“I’m going to start keeping food in my room,” she grumbles, but her foot is still resting against mine. “Maybe get a mini fridge with a lock on it.”
“As long as it’s pink.”
“Obviously.” A smile plays on her lips. “I hope you realize you owe me now.”
“Name it, and it’s yours.” It comes out before I can stop myself, and it sounds even more suggestive than I intended.