She sighed loudly, and the server looked over at us. I gave her a wave and glared at Mia. She shook her head in disappointment. “You know those rules are stupid, right? The guy was fine as hell.”
All the more reason to keep the rules in place. A guy like that was hard to walk away from. I knew the type of girl I was. Before I knew it, I would wrap my entire life around him like some kinda clingy octopus. Hey, it was important to know your weaknesses, and being a needy bitch was one of mine. No doubt stemming from my bottomless pit of daddy issues.
Anthony messed up my hair. “From the way you two were moving, I bet he’d be good in bed too.”
I could already feel the blush rising in my cheeks. “The rules are nonnegotiable.”
Mia sighed, her dislike of my rules clear on her face. “Okay, but it was only one rule. The hockey player part doesn’t really matter if it’s only one night, does it?”
“How’d that go for my mom?”
Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry.”
I covered Mia’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “It’s fine. Hockey players are arrogant pricks that are selfish in bed. I’m better off with my vibrator.”
Anthony leaned in and whispered so only we could hear. “Please tell me you at least used him as material for your ‘self-care.’”
A flush crawled up my neck, and my face felt like it was catching fire. I’d imagined Jax’s full soft lips pressed against mine, my fingers digging into his messy sandy-brown hair, and the weight of him pressed between my thighs more times than I could count.
Mia squealed. “Oh, you totally did. Dirty. I bet it was good.”
Heat pooled between my legs. Yeah, too good.
THREE
JAX
Sidney crossed the street in front of my truck, and I had to stop myself from beeping the horn. Her deep brown hair was down around her shoulders, hiding the silver streaks I knew were underneath. She wore plaid tights under a black skirt that hit mid-thigh that switched as she walked and an oversized bright blue coat. She had a cute punk-rock librarian thing going for her today that was doing a number on my ego.
It had been over a week since the night we danced, and I didn’t think she understood what kind of challenge she’d laid down with those rules of hers. I swear my dick was hard for days. The only relief was from my own fist, picturing her pressed against me, head tilted all the way back, pupils blown wide, and the perfect way her tongue wet her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth. Even in my memories, the need to soothe the red dents with my tongue was overwhelming. Fuck, my mouth watered just thinking about it.
But nothing, and I do mean nothing, topped the crashing disappointment that sank low in my gut when she’d shrugged and walked off. Because I was a hockey player, of all things. That was supposed to get me laid, not cock-block me.
Her rules landed like a challenge, and I’d been looking for her ever since. Here she was, dropped in my path like it was meant to be.
I parked in a teacher’s spot, not giving a single shit if I got a ticket. If I didn’t hurry the fuck up, she’d disappear again. I practically jumped out of the truck, feet pounding on the cobblestone path, and tried to catch up to her. When I turned the corner, her blue coat had vanished in the sea of students heading to class.
Where the fuck is she?
I huffed out a breath, pushing down the disappointment of losing her, and headed toward the coffee shop. Was it stalker behavior to show up earlier next Monday and wait, hoping to see her? Probably.
What the actual fuck was wrong with me? It had been one night. Not even. Nothing but a fucking moment between us, but her rules had dug their claws into me ever since. I hated it as much as I enjoyed the thrill of finally being interested in someone.
“Hey! Aren’t you Jaxton Ryder?”
Small hands clamped around my arm, halting my steps, and a blonde stared up at me, her doe eyes wide. I gritted my teeth, stopping a sudden sneer from crossing mouth when she leaned against me. It took every ounce of self-control not to shake her off.
“I know you’re him. You took us all the way to finals last year.” Her voice was sickly sweet. She was trying to be cute, but that shit was not attractive.
Alex nearly fell off his chair this morning, laughing, when I put on a beanie and grabbed my sunglasses. His smug ass thought it was hilarious that I believed I could pull off a “Clark Kent”—his words, not mine—and walk around unrecognized.
Fucking great.
“I heard you’re playing next weekend. Maybe I can come by after the game?” she said, her voice soft, attempting to be seductive, but she couldn’t hide the underlying hint of desperation.
I didn’t miss the fact that she said “after” the game. Her baby blue eyes, bleach-blonde hair, and decent rack should’ve tempted me, but she had that needy gleam to her. She thought if she could catch me, she could keep me.
She was wrong.
I stepped back and removed her hand from my chest. “I’m sure the guys will be happy to see you.”
“You won’t be there?”
I deadpanned, making sure she got the point, “Oh, I’ll be there.”
Her face crumpled into a pout, but I turned before she could say anything.
“Have fun at the game,” I said dismissively over my shoulder and walked away. Maybe I sounded like a dick, but that girl had stalker written all over her. She’d no doubt gotten here early just to corner me on my way to class. The irony that I’d been considering doing the same to Sidney was not lost on me.
Today was the first day of my last semester of college. In a couple of months, I would have a degree in kinesiology, and then I would be off to play for the Boston Bruins. They’d drafted me three years ago when I was still playing Juniors. I was all set to go right to the pros, but my meddling mom had sent me a list of players who sucked it up and went to college. So here I was.
Unlike football and baseball, the NHL drafted most of their players before they got to college. They used a loophole where you didn’t physically sign the contract, but you were committed to the team. It was to the point that if you played college hockey and weren’t drafted, you were likely a second-tier player.
My long strides ate up the distance as I walked along the cobblestone path to the coffee shop. A buzz of noise greeted me when I entered. The place was so packed students with early classes, the line stretched around the wood bistro tables to the front entrance. It was set up exactly like every other cookie-cutter cafe chain, cash at the front and pickup line down the side.
I removed my beanie, tucking it into my pocket, and my gaze landed on the girl directly in front of me. A grin lifted the corner of my mouth, and my heart beat in my ears.
Found you.
Sidney’s foot tapped incessantly, and she’d checked her watch at least three times in the past thirty seconds. She hadn’t seen me yet, but I couldn’t look away from her. Sidney stepped fully in front of me and glared at the cute barista, who was trying to skip her to take my order.
“I’ll have a large dark roast. Please.” Her voice was sharp. The type you would expect from a coach, not a mini-skirt-wearing co-ed.
Entertained, I waited my turn quietly and watched her walk to the other end of the counter without spotting me. I quickly placed my order, ignoring the way the barista was leering at me, and circled around the cafe so I could approach Sidney from behind. I stepped into her space, not touching but close enough to drop my mouth to just above her ear and whisper, “There you are, Trouble. I’ve been looking for you.”