“Fair point,” I tell Eli. “But if I have to see Jonathan when this game is over, don’t ask me to be nice.”
Eli rolls his eyes, turning back to the game. “And you call him Scrooge.”
Begrudgingly, I have to admit the game is fun to watch, just like Dad promised. At least, it’s fun, until Jonathan turns into the MVP.
After his first goal, the opposition ties it up right before the first period ends. In the second period, Eli’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s a defensemen, has an incredible breakaway with Jonathan and an assist for Jonathan’s second goal. Then in the third period, the other team ties it up, but with two minutes to spare, Jonathan scores once more, which not only wins the game but makes for a hat trick.
He’s going to be insufferable at work tomorrow.
I try hard not to pout like a five-year-old as we wait for Luke after the game, but I’m struggling. Eli drove us, so I’m stuck until he’s ready to go—a plan I was fine with before I knew I’d be bumping into Jonathan Frost.
I really don’t know if I can take seeing him like this, after kicking ass at my favorite sport, sweaty and showered and glowing with pride, high on adrenaline and arrogant as hell.
In fact, I know I can’t.
The first of the players exits their locker room, and my heart springboards from my chest to my throat. Spinning, I start for the lobby doors. “I’m going to wait in the car.”
“You’ll need my keys,” Eli says, a little too pleased with himself. “Seeing as it’s locked.”
I freeze, pivot, then freeze again. Shit. I’m too late.
Because strolling out of the locker room, shoulder to shoulder with Luke, is Jonathan. His dark hair’s wet and wavier than normal, a thick lock out of its normal tidy order brushing his forehead. He glances up and air whooshes out of my lungs. His cheeks are pink from exertion, and there’s a fiery glint in his pale green eyes.
My legs wobble a little.
Eli grabs my elbow. “You okay?”
“Uh.”
“A certain someone isn’t making you weak at the knees, is he?” Eli says out of the side of his mouth. I elbow him so hard, he wheezes, “You need anger management classes.”
“I know. It’s his fault.” So many things are Jonathan’s fault. The relentless heartburn I’ve developed in the past year, the ache in my knuckles from my hands forming fists all day, the deplorable dream that’s sabotaged my sleep. And now, he’s responsible for every drop of liquid heat flooding my veins, pooling low and aching-sweet between my legs.
It’s as if my libido—sometimes extinguished, other times a faint, quiet flame coaxed to life in the air of connection—is now a consuming wildfire, devouring every moment we’re together, burning hotter and brighter. I can’t stand it.
Clearing my throat, I try to look dignified as I meet his eyes. “Jonathan.”
“Gabriella.” His mouth tips up at the corner, a satisfied near-grin that makes my stomach flip-flop. “An unexpected surprise. This is a little much, though, don’t you think—following me to my game? If you wanted to see me outside of work, a simple text would have sufficed.”
“Ha-ha.” I set a hand on my stomach and tell it to stop doing backflips as I jerk my head toward Eli giving Luke a congratulatory kiss. “I was brought here against my will.”
Jonathan’s gaze dances over me. “Like what you saw?”
I roll my eyes. “You know your performance was impressive.”
His eyebrows lift. A blush blooms on his already flushed cheeks. “Wow.”
“Don’t—” I point a finger at him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He lifts both hands innocently. “I just said ‘wow.’”
“I’m so glad you came,” Luke tells Eli.
“Me too.” Eli smiles up at him. “You were amazing.”
“Not as amazing as this guy,” Luke says, shoving Jonathan’s shoulder playfully. Jonathan doesn’t budge. “He stepped it up tonight. Putting on a show for someone, big guy?”
For the first time, I see someone else earn that arctic glare. “I played like I always play.”
“Uh-huh.” Turning my way, Luke offers me a fist to pound. “Gabby. Thanks for coming.”
I glance away from Jonathan and smile up at Luke, who is absurdly good looking. Dark skin, amber eyes, the kind of bone structure that June covets and recreates with her daily contouring makeup routine. “You did good, kid,” I tell him.