I get to kiss you whenever I want.
Even though it’s been a full day since Cole dropped that ridiculous bombshell on me, I’m still fuming mad. I clench and unclench my fingers, wanting to hit something—mainly that devil-may-care smirk that crossed his too-handsome face when he laid out his terms.
“Cocky son of a bitch,” I mumble and pace around my small living room. From the sofa, Jess examines her fingernails, only half listening to me. Not that I blame her at this point. I’ve been ranting ever since she arrived over an hour ago.
“How dare he think I’m some puck bunny dying to climb all over his…stick?” Jess snickers and my gaze flies to hers. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says and waves her hand for me to continue.
I pace some more, and a tortured growl catches in my throat. Kiss me whenever he wants. As if. I am not kissing him. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I wouldn’t kiss him. Not only is he a cocky bastard, he’s my brother’s best friend and I’ve known him since forever. He might as well be my brother, too, or a really close cousin.
Ah, but you don’t think of him that way at all.
I shut down that line of thinking and say, “By rights, I should have just introduced my knee to his crotch.”
“But you didn’t, did you.” Jess says.
I cut Jess a look. I could almost swear there was laughter in her tone, but she’s still looking at her nails. “No, I didn’t.”
“And why do you think that is?”
I draw in a long breath and slowly blow it back out. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s that thing about eating and having a roof over my head.”
Jess pulls her phone from her purse and slides her finger over the screen. With her attention half on her latest text and half on me, she says, “Is that the only reason?”
“Yes,” I shoot back quickly.
She drops her phone, and her lips quirk as dubious brown eyes gaze at me like I’m telling half-truths, which I very well could be, but I’m not about to admit that.
“Are those the only reasons, Nina?”
“Of course they are.”
“If you ask me—”
“I didn’t ask you.”
“Come on, admit it. You want a rage ride and you know it.”
I stop and turn to face Jess, planting one hand on my hip. “Save the therapy for the classroom, Jess. I’m not one of your seniors in need of sex advice.”
“Okay then, don’t anger-bang him.” She shrugs. “But what’s a little kiss between friends? He gets what he wants, you get what you want.”
What do I want?
The sudden vision of his mouth on mine flashes through me, and a big ball of fiery heat follows. I gulp, and work to refocus.
“Okay, counselor. In your opinion, what do you think he wants, exactly? Why would he make kissing a condition? He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him.”
“Ah, so now you want my advice, do you?”
“Seriously, I just don’t get it.” I start pacing again.
Her jaw drops open and she looks at me like I’m a bit dense. “Did you ever stop to think that he might like you?”
“Like me? Ha! I think it’s more about teasing me, like he used to do when we were kids. He’s on a power trip, always has been. God, what an ass.” I walk to the window and pull my curtain back in time to see Mr. Johnson circle the black Mustang parked on the street in front of my building. What a ridiculous muscle car. With that ridiculous muffler that the neighbors can hear long before they see me coming.
Overcompensating much?
“If he’s such an ass, he wouldn’t have lent you his car to drive, for as long as you need it, instead of you bussing out to his place all the time.”
“Yeah, so, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably so I can get there faster so he can toy with me longer. This is all your fault, you know.”
“Hey, I didn’t twist your arm.”
“But you did put the idea of sex in my brain,” I whisper under my breath, but not quietly enough, because Jess, with her Vulcan hearing, jumps from the sofa with a huge-ass grin on her face.
“I knew it.”
Giving up the act, I sink down onto the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. “Jesus, Jess, you should have seen him. He’s a cocky ass, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s freaking hot. He walked around in nothing but his jeans, and then he took them off to get in the pool. He actually went swimming in his boxers. In front of me. He even invited me in.”
I spread my fingers and glance at my friend. Her eyes go wide, and she plops onto the sofa across from me and rubs her hands together, waiting for all the juicy details. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Tell me everything.”
“He took his pants off. Like it was nothing. Like we undress in front of each other all the time.” I groan and shake my head.
“So, is it true then? Do they call him the Cannon because he’s loaded?”
I nod, unable to form the words as my mind races back to the sexy image of him standing by his pool…to the big bulge in his shorts, specifically.
Excited by my confirmation, Jess throws her hands up in the air. “I knew it! Now you have to sleep with him.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” I glance at my clock. “Other than go to his house and watch tonight’s game with him.” I stand and smooth my hair back. “But first I’m going to eat a Caesar salad with extra garlic.”
Jess laughs. “I think it might take a lot more than garlic to deter him from kissing you.” She gives me the once over, her face thoughtful as she taps her chin, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she takes in my clothes. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
I look at my frayed jean shorts and tank top. “It’s too hot for anything else. Do you think I should change?”
She points at my legs. “No, you’re sexy as hell in those shorts, and that tank really shows off your tits.”
Tit for tat.
“Then I’ll change.” I make a move to go to my room and she captures my arm to stop me.
“No, keep this on. I’m kidding. You look like hell. But when was the last time you trimmed the triangle?”
I blink once, then twice. How are we friends? “Excuse me.”
“You know, trimmed the triangle, beat down the beaver, Georged the bush.”
“Georged the bush?” A laugh bursts out of me. “Ohmigod, girl. Who are you?” I ask. Georged the bush. Only Jess would come up with something like that. She really does crack me up, and when it comes down to it, she’s right about so many things. Like me needing to get laid…wanting to hate fuck.
“Something tells me Cannon is a vagatarian, and you want be all neat and tidy when he kisses you down there, don’t you? I mean, it’s not like he specified where he wanted to put his mouth, right?”
I point to the door. “On that note…”
She jumps up from the sofa, and blows me a kiss and she saunters away. “Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.” I shake my head and laugh in spite of her absurdity. I mean, it is absurd, right? He’s not really going to want to kiss me…down there. “I’ll call you later.”
“Will this be before or after you do the nasty with Cannon?”
“Jess…” I warn as the heat in my body spikes at the visual.
Cut it out, Nina. You don’t want that.
“Love you,” she says.
“Love you, too.”
She slips out the door, and I glance out the window to see her checking out the Mustang. She gives me two thumbs-up and slides into her car and takes off. I laugh again, despite myself. I do love Jess, but I think she’s all wrong where Cole is concerned. Not the part about him having a cannon between his legs, but the part about him wanting to kiss me because he likes me. No way can she be right about that. Then again, it’s illogical to kiss someone he truly hates. Is it possible that he likes me, at least enough to kiss me?
As I contemplate that, I grab a handful of strawberries from my near-empty fridge, and pop them into my mouth. I snag my purse and notepad from the kitchen counter and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. I head outdoors, lock up behind myself, and stare at the Mustang.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper.
I jump into the car and cringe as the rumbling muffler gains the attention of my neighbors. I smile politely and wave, then pull into traffic. Cole said the game started at seven, but I want to get there early in case he wants to go over anything with me first.
Like kissing.
No. No. No. Not like kissing. Like slang and things like that, so I can understand the plays better.
I jack the tunes and look around the clean vehicle. It still has that new-car smell and hardly any miles on it. With Cole being on the road, and then the concussion, he probably hasn’t even had a chance to break it in yet, see what it can do. I press the gas pedal and speed up to find out for myself. Nice.
Truthfully, though, it was very kind of Cole to lend me a vehicle, since it was just sitting there unused. What a nice brotherly thing for him to do. Cason would be pleased by his friend’s generosity.
As the sun begins its descent over the horizon, I pull into his driveway and power down the car. I stare at his big house and suck in a breath as I rationalize our deal. I can understand the skating part, but the kissing…
He had to be kidding about that, right? I mean, he’s always teased me about everything, so he has to be teasing about this too. Yeah, he has to be, because the guy doesn’t even like me. There was really no reason for me to fixate on that and get so worked up today. This was just Cole being Cocky Cannon. When it comes right down to it, he doesn’t want to kiss me any more than I want him to.
I let loose a relieved breath—and try not to examine the tiny twinge of disappointment fluttering in my gut.
Damn you, Jess.
I climb from the car and the front door opens, and I once again find Cole waiting for me as I make my way up the long walkway. Funny how that makes me feel so strange. Growing up, there was never anyone home to greet Cason or me after school, after practice, after…anything. I kind of like the normalcy of it, of having someone waiting for you, looking forward to seeing you. Not that I think Cole is looking forward to seeing me.
He removes the shirt hooked over his shoulder and tugs it on as I approach, his big frame filling up the doorway. Thank God he’s dressing. I don’t know how I’d make it through the night if he were half naked again.
“Do you just stand at your door and wait for people to come by?” I ask.
His smile is slow, cocky as hell. “No, I heard you coming.”
“Hard not to.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I think your muffler is broke.”
“That’s just how it sounds.”
“You know what they say about guys with noisy mufflers.” What the hell am I doing? Shut up, Nina. Shut up right now before you back yourself into a corner and have to use the word penis in front of Cole.
“You mean about overcompensating?” he asks, and turns to the side to allow me to pass. “That a man with a small cock compensates by getting a noisy muffler?”
Heat burns my face, and I keep my back to Cole, dying of embarrassment. But he steps around me, and a sexy grin splits his lips when he sees the color on my cheeks.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”
I tug my notepad from my purse. “We should get to work.”
“What’s the hurry? The game doesn’t start for another hour.” He rubs his stomach. “I was about to order pizza. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” I say, the strawberries I had for dinner doing little to fill my stomach.
“What do you like on your pizza?”
“Vagatarian.” Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m really going to kill my bestie. “I mean vegetarian. Vegetarian,” I say again.
“You don’t eat meat?”
“No, I eat meat,” I say quickly. “I love meat.” His grin widens, and I know exactly what’s going through his little pea brain. Why oh why does everything sound sexual when I’m around him. “I just don’t like all the processed meats on pizza,” I add. “They’re full of nitrates, and not very good for you.”
“So you only like to put things that are good for you in your mouth.”
I stare at him, pretty sure he’s making this about sex. With every ounce of me fighting the urge to punch that playful grin off his face, I choose my words carefully, so he can’t twist them into something dirty. “Yes. I like to eat healthy,” I say.
He nods in agreement and runs his fingers through his dark hair, messing it up. Damn, that makes him look sexier—and here I thought that was impossible.
“I normally do too, but the pizza joint is just around the corner and it’s quick and easy.”
That gives me pause. The last time I was here, there was a pizza box on his kitchen counter. “Wait, have you been eating takeout for the last a month?”
“Yeah. I can’t drive to get groceries because of the concussion, and I don’t really do a lot of cooking anyway.”
“What about your dad? Couldn’t he help you out?”
He stiffens at the mention of his dad. “No,” is all he says, but I don’t miss the defensiveness in his tone.
“Friends?”
“I live on the ice, my friends are all hockey players, and they’re on the road right now.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Single.”
I hate the little thrill that goes through me with that admission. I don’t care if he’s single. It means nothing to me, other than he has no girl to help him out when he’s down, and that just plain sucks.
“Sister?”
He frowns, and looks down, like he’s remembering something painful. “She’s away, working on the East Coast.”
“Oh, wow, I didn’t realize. She sure moved far away from home.”
“Yup,” is all he says.
“Well, you shouldn’t be living on takeout. I can take you to the grocery store. You should at least have fresh fruit and vegetables. I can even pick us up some steaks and cook them for us instead of ordering in.” I gesture with a nod to the deck area. “When I was here yesterday, I saw a barbeque out by the pool.”
“Yeah?” He cocks his head to the side. “You’ll take me shopping?”
Why does that surprise him so much? Okay, yeah, sure, we don’t like each other, but I’m not a monster. I’d help anyone out in this kind of situation. Enemy or not. “Of course.”
“And you’ll cook?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem.” I throw my purse back over my shoulder.
He frowns, and waves his hands to stop me. “Wait, wait, you did enough cooking growing up. You shouldn’t have to do it for me.”
“I really don’t mind. I like being in the kitchen, and your equipment…I can’t wait to try it out.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Oh, shit. I really need to stop saying things about his equipment, even if I am referring to his appliances…at least I’m pretty sure I am.
Gawd…
I steal a glance at the clock and clear my throat before saying, “I think I’ll have time to prepare a healthy meal before the game starts.”
“You will if I help.”
“You?” I poke my finger into his chest—and wish I hadn’t touched him. It does the craziest things to the needy little spot between my legs. Working diligently to pull myself together and pretend his hard muscles and strong heartbeat hadn’t affected me, I continue with, “The self-proclaimed bachelor who can’t cook is offering to help me?”
His cocky grin is back. “Sure, tit for tat, remember?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on. You can talk to me about hockey in the car.”
“Okay, but is that the tit or tat part?” he asks.
“Just so we’re clear, there will be no tit part,” I say, but then embarrassment floods me when I realize what I said. Sure, I write hot sex in my books, but in real life, I don’t talk dirty or say things like…tit, or penis, or worst of all…cock. Ugh.
“So all tat, huh?” He grabs his house keys from the table near the door and locks up behind us. “I can work with that.”
“Good.” We hop into the Mustang and I back out of his driveway, but being in such an enclosed space with him, and him smelling so damn good and clean and soapy, is messing with my brain. “Where is the closest grocery store?” I ask.
“You’re asking me?”
“Right, what was I thinking?” I gesture to the bulge in his jeans. Not the one I can’t seem to stop checking out, but the one in his pocket. “Check your phone.”
From the corner of my eye, I steal a glimpse of him as he stretches out those long hard legs of his and tugs his phone from his pants pocket. He pulls up a map. “Turn right at the stop sign.” I follow his directions and make quick, efficient turns, appreciating how the Mustang handles. A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the grocery store. I kill the engine and reach for the door handle, but beside me Cole hesitates.
He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Knowing exactly what’s he’s going though, I put my hand on his arm, and his lids flicker open. I shouldn’t have dragged him along in his current condition. What was I thinking? “Why don’t you take a minute?”
“I seriously appreciate your skilled driving, but I think the motion caused a bit of vertigo.”
He thinks I’m a skilled driver?
No one has ever complimented me on my driving before.
I give a quick shake of my head. What does that even matter? What’s really important here is his health. I look him over, take in the pallor of his skin, the sweat beading on his upper lip. My heart squeezes. It can’t be easy for him to be down and out with a concussion, missing out on playing a game he obviously loves, and having no one to help him.
Something inside of me softens. I squeeze his arm. “Why don’t you wait here? I can run in and grab a few things.”
“No, I’ll come.” He pulls a pair of sunglasses from the glove box and slides them on. I study him for a moment, and he says, “Sometimes fluorescent lights bother me.”
“I know. It was the same for me.”
“What a pair we are, huh?” I’m about to pull my hand away when he slides his big warm palm over it, his rough calluses scoring my flesh as he holds me in place. “Nina, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you when you had your concussion.” He frowns, and behind his lenses I’m almost certain I see sorrow in his eyes.
What the hell? Who is this Cole?
“Cason and I,” his voice catches, like his words are stuck in his throat, “were on the road and—”
“It’s okay, Cole. I’m not your responsibility.”
He goes quiet for a moment and looks down at his lap, his brow knitted tightly. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to say I was sorry, about that and your injuries. You were one hell of a skater.”
My stupid heart jumps at his second compliment of the night. He’d been at the rink a few times when I was practicing or competing, but I never thought he paid me much attention. I figured he was there to check out the girls in their skimpy performance outfits.
“Thanks,” is all I say, not wanting to talk about it. Think about it. Remember it. The past is the past, and I need to focus on the writing now, and paying the bills. “We’d better hurry. We don’t want to miss the start of the game.”
He looks at me for a moment and then nods, and we both exit the vehicle. He meets me at the front of the car, and we walk into the brightly lit store together. He leans into me and nudges me with his shoulder. His scent reaches my nostrils, and as I breathe in his clean, soapy smell, every goddamn nerve in my traitorous body comes alive.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I do not want this. Becoming attracted to Cocky Cole is the last thing I need.
“So, this is a grocery store?” he says.
I laugh, anything to hide the storm going on inside my body. “Yes, Cole. This is a grocery store.” I grab a cart. “Want a ride?” I tease.
“If I didn’t have a concussion, I’d be all over that idea.”
“I somehow don’t doubt that.” I guide him to the fresh vegetables section, and as I reach for the lettuce to make us a salad, a hush comes over the crowd.
I glance around, take in the quiet mass gathering around the produce.
“What’s going on?” I ask Cole, but then I see the way people are pointing, staring, whispering to each other. A little boy of around seven is gawking at Cole, his eyes the size of the apples in his mother’s cart.
Ah, I get it. Cole is the infamous Playmaker, and everyone is star struck. I don’t know why I never stopped to think about that before. I look at him, see him through the eyes of the crowd. Truthfully, he’s charismatic, larger than life. It’s no wonder he has women handing over their panties.
A child in a cast makes a move toward him, and at first Cole stiffens. The mother grabs her son to stop him from approaching without permission, and as Cole takes in the family, a fast change comes over him. He takes his glasses off and drops to one knee. “Hey kid,” he says, his Playmaker grin in place. “What happened?”
“I broke my arm. I just got this.” He holds his cast up, like it’s a badge of honor.
“Want me to sign it, then we can get a picture together?” Cole hands me his phone. “Would you mind?”
I take the phone, and the wallpaper is that of Cason and Cole. I pull up the camera app and try not to think about how much I miss my brother.
“Mommy, can I?” the boy asks this time, his voice bursting with excitement.
“Of course,” his mom says, but from the way she’s eyeing Cole, I get the sense that she’s as infatuated as her son. I can see why, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat.
Feeling a little protective of my brother’s best friend, I step closer, under the guise of getting set up to take a picture, and partially block the woman’s view.
The boy comes bouncing over, his body practically vibrating with excitement. Cole tosses his arm around him and nudges his chin. “You play hockey?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I’m not as good as my brother.”
“Do you want to be?” The kid nods fast. “So you love it?”
“I do.”
“Good. Work hard and stay focused. But only do it if you really love it, okay? Do it for yourself.”
The kid nods, and when Cole stops talking, I say, “Say cheese.”
They both smile, and I snap a few pictures while the kid’s mom does the same with her phone. After Cole signs his cast, the boy runs back to his mom.
“I’ll put that up on Facebook,” Cole says, and the boy is totally losing his mind over that, talking about how Caleb is going to be so jealous. I can only assume Caleb is his hockey-playing older brother.
A few more people make their way over, and even though we’re in a hurry, Cole makes time for them. His smile is wide and his stories are animated as they ask him questions. I shake my head. He’s in total Playmaker mode, enjoying the interaction with his fans.
“So that winning play you made in Pittsburgh. That was awesome,” a man in his mid-forties says. “When you got that breakaway and put the biscuit in the basket, it was a beautiful thing, man.”
“Thanks. It was a great play, and I couldn’t have done it without Cason. He’s my wingman. The whole team actually made that play happen.”
The commotion gains the attention of men, women and kids alike, and they all make their way to the produce section. They all want to ask questions, touch him, and get their pictures taken. I step back a bit, a little overwhelmed, and I’m not even the one in the spotlight. I’m not sure I could handle that kind of attention.
Cole, however, handles it like the pro he is, taking credit when it’s due, then praising the plays made by his teammates. I have to say, I kind of admire him for it.
When the crowd dies down, and he’s alone for a second—unaware of my eyes still on him—he takes in a deep, shaky breath, and his Adam’s apple bobs as if going down for the third count. He swallows uneasily and briefly pinches his eyes shut.
What the hell? My heart trips up at the deep sadness on his face, and a heaviness fills my chest. The orange in my hand slips and falls into the cart.
The sound does something to him—makes him aware I’m still there. He turns and, when he sees me watching him, quickly snaps out of it. With his big, contagious smile back in place, not a trace of that discomfort to be found, he walks over to me.
“Sorry about that.”
“You okay?” I ask.
His hand brushes mine, sending shivers down my spine. He shrugs easily. “Yeah, great, why?”
“I…uh…well, you know, concussion and all. I’ve been there, remember?” I say, although I don’t think what I just saw had anything to do with his concussion at all. “That must have taken a lot out of you.”
“I’m fine.” He snags an orange, examines it, and drops it into the cart with the other one.
He seems fine now, but what the hell was that? Could it have been his concussion or something else? If something else, what?
“You really made that kid’s day.”
He nods. “I’m glad. Hey, can we get some Captain Crispies? I haven’t had them since forever.”
I laugh at his childlike enthusiasm. “You can get whatever you want, Cole. These are your groceries. Although Captain Crispies aren’t very good for you.”
“I’ll eat a banana to make up for it.” He grabs a bunch of bananas and adds them to the cart. He nudges me with his shoulder again—a gesture I’m growing accustomed to—and my body reacts to his closeness. “Actually, I put the banana in the cereal. A real time-saver,” he teases.
Needing a measure of distance, I turn toward the grapes. “How old are you, anyway?” I mock.
He reaches around me and chooses a bag of plump grapes. “Old enough.”
His breath is warm against my ear. Goose bumps prickle my neck. To hide my traitorous body’s reaction, I roll my eyes at him. “Come on, let’s get those steaks and your cereal.”
As we go down the aisles, Cole pulls food from the shelves and tosses everything in the cart, his attention solely on shopping. No more subtle touches, no veiled sexual innuendos. I’m both relieved and confused. Had I read too much into his actions?
By the time we reach the cash register, the cart is overflowing with groceries.
Nighttime falls over the city as we head back to his car and load the bags into the trunk. “You won’t have to order takeout for weeks,” I say.
“Yeah, but I’m going to have to hire someone to cook for me.”
“Well, since you’re helping me out, I can teach you how to cook. It’s not that hard.”
“Okay, but don’t think for a minute that crosses out any of my other conditions.” As soon as the words leave his lips, his gaze drops to my mouth.
My throat dries, and without thinking, I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip. His eyes darken, and my pulse jumps in my throat. Uh, maybe he was serious about the kissing after all, and maybe I kind of like that idea.
Oh, Nina, this is so bad.
“We, ah, should get back before the game starts,” I say.
“Okay,” he says, but doesn’t make a move to go. I grasp the trunk lid to close it, and he reaches over me, his big body pressing against mine as he slams it shut.
We both get back into the car and my damn body is on hyperdrive, my mind racing a million miles an hour as I retrace the route back to his place. From my peripheral vision, I catch the way he’s looking at me, the way his breathing has changed slightly. Fidgety under his scrutiny, the heat I see in his eyes, I try to think of something to say, but can’t seem to formulate a coherent sentence. I pull into his driveway and we’re both silent as we unload the bags, dropping them on his kitchen counter.
“There’s only one left. I’ll get it,” I say, and dash out the door, needing a reprieve from the hot looks he’s casting my way.
When I come back in, he’s in the living room, the remote in his hand. “Come on, the game is about to start.”
“Can we watch it on the TV in the kitchen? I want to get the steaks on the grill and make our salad.”
“Sure.”
I head to the kitchen and glance around for the remote. When I can’t find it, I turn, about to ask where he keeps it, but shut my mouth when I run smack dab into a hard wall of muscle, aka, Cole Cannon.
“Whoa,” he says, and slides his arm around me. He splays his big hands over the small of my back, the heat from his fingers dancing over my skin.
“I…uh, didn’t realize you were there. Sorry about that.” I try to extricate myself from his arms but he keeps me pressed up against him. His strong heart beats against my palm as I put my hand on his chest.
“Don’t be.” He dips his head, and his hair falls forward, shading his eyes as they move over my face. “I was thinking.”
“About what?” I ask, my voice coming out a little higher than I would have liked it to. But how the hell can I talk normal when I’m meshed up against his body like this—thinking about hate fucking?
“About kissing.”