“It is not.”
Speaking of Case, he calls when I’m getting ready to shower later. I want to wash my hair for real after half-assing it in the locker room earlier.
My fingers hover over the “accept” button. I almost don’t answer, but habit takes over.
That, and I can’t deny I miss the sound of his voice sometimes.
“How’d the game go?” Case asks.
Ducking out of my private bath, I fall onto the edge of my bed and into old patterns of venting to Case. “It was brutal. We need to watch out for Providence this season.”
“You sore?”
“Sore and a bit bruised, but nothing a good ice bath tomorrow can’t fix.”
“Or a warm bath now.” His voice, soft and slow like molasses, drifts into my ear. “I could come over and join you if you want company.”
I’m…tempted.
A shiver dances through me at the thought of being naked with Case, pressed up against his body while he strokes my hair and kisses my neck.
Mya’s right. I’m so hard up right now.
Which is why I hurry to end the call. “No,” I say lightly, “I’m all good. Just gonna shower and then go to bed.”
“I’m here, G. You know that, right? I’m always going to be here.”
But he wasn’t there. Not when it mattered.
So how am I supposed to believe he’s here now?
Ugh, I don’t have the mental bandwidth for this right now. I take a shower, then brush and blow-dry my hair before crawling into bed. Lying there, though, sleep eludes me. I’m antsy and—fine, maybe in need of release. So when 1:00 a.m. rolls around and I’m still wide awake, I bite my lip and slide my hand between my legs.
Is that what you need from people? To be told what a good girl you are?
Before I can stop it, Luke Ryder’s gravelly voice slides into my head. Once again my core clenches, my body whispering, Yes, call me a good girl.
My fingers brush my clit, a fleeting caress, before I realize who I’m throbbing for.
Just like that, my arousal dies. I’m not allowed to touch myself thinking about the jerk who showed up at my game today, listed all my issues as a player, and then insinuated I don’t deserve to play D1 hockey.
Nepotism in action, my ass.
Fuckhead.
It takes forever to fall asleep, and even after I do, it’s not at all restful. I toss and turn and wake up feeling tired.
Because of that, I struggle during my morning run, which Mya joins me for because I desperately need the company. She attempts to distract me from the gloomy mood that still hasn’t lifted, but it’s not until we walk back to Hartford House from the trails that she starts finding success, drawing genuine laughter out of me.
Which, of course, promptly fades the second I spot Ryder waiting for us at the front entrance.
Holding a bouquet of daisies.
CHAPTER TEN
GIGI
International Eat an Apple Day
“I’M JUST SAYING, YOU CAN’T KEEP CALLING YOURSELF A PRINCE when Malta abolished the monarchy in the seventies. Like, bro, your family sells doors and windows now. I don’t care that once upon a time you were distantly related to the fucking queen—” Mya stops talking when she notices Ryder. Then she spies the little bouquet of white and yellow flowers. “Oh, wow. Okay. I’m here for this.”
At our approach, Ryder straightens his broad shoulders and takes a step forward. He’s sporting the same outfit combo as yesterday, jeans and a black T-shirt, but no baseball cap this time. His dark hair is tousled, and he shoves his free hand through it.
“Hi,” he says brusquely.
“Hi,” I answer. My tone has a chill to it.
Silence falls. We eye each other. I’m suspicious. He’s expressionless.
“Hi!” Mya chirps.
I totally forgot she was here.
“Ryder, this is Mya,” I say hastily. “My roommate.”
He nods in greeting.
She looks him up and down, and from the slight curve to her full Cupid’s bow lips, I can tell she likes what she sees.
He’s still holding the daisies but makes no move to give them to me. For a moment I wonder if maybe they’re for somebody else.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“Oh, for sure,” Mya answers. Then she clocks his expression and realizes, “Oh, you mean you and Gigi alone. Damn it, I really wanted to know what this was about.”
“I’ll fill you in,” I promise.
She grins and walks past us toward the dorm, where she scans her key card to get inside.
“I have one question,” I tell Ryder once we’re alone.
“What is it?”
“Did you actually bring me flowers?”
“Yes,” he mutters.
I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. I’ve never seen anyone look more disgusted with their own behavior.
“Look, we both know you’re a dick, but that’s just your personality, kiddo. You didn’t have to degrade yourself by bringing me apology flowers.”
He gives me a slight smirk. “Who says they’re apology flowers? Maybe they’re celebration flowers.”
“Uh-huh. Really. What are we celebrating?”
He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it. He scans the screen for a moment, and from my vantage point, it looks like he’s consulting a calendar app.
“It’s International Eat an Apple Day.” He lifts his gaze. “Seemed like something we should celebrate.”
I stare at him. “You’re making that up.”
He turns the screen toward me. Sure enough, on the list of international holidays, International Eat an Apple Day is actually a thing.
“I really like apples,” he says, carelessly smug.
“You know, I think I like this Ryder. I had no idea you were so quirky.”
“I am not quirky,” he growls.
“Then why are we celebrating your love of apples?”
He thrusts the bouquet at me. “Just take the fucking things.”
An unwitting smile springs free. I put him out of his misery and accept the daisies.
“I do love flowers,” I inform him. “Not as much as I love butterflies, but pretty close.”
Ryder sighs.
“What?” My tone is defensive.
“You like flowers and butterflies? Just when I was starting to think you were cool.”
“Well, what do you like?” I challenge.
“Not those things.”
“Funny, coming from the guy who spent his whole morning picking I’m-sorry flowers for a girl.”
“I didn’t spend the whole morning. It took like one minute. I stole them out of my neighbor’s planter.”
“Oh my God.”
“And they’re not I’m-sorry flowers,” he grumbles.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Because I’m not sorry.” He flicks up one eyebrow. “I spoke the truth.”
I glower at him. “How would you feel if I ambushed you after one of your games and then stood there and listed everything you’re bad at?”
“That’s not what I did. You asked for my thoughts.”
“You didn’t have to answer.”
“Don’t ask things you don’t want the answer to,” he counters.