“WHAT DID HE WANT?”
It’s not the politest way to greet someone, but after I jump into my ride once I’ve nodded at my bodyguards to make sure they’re there and find Gracie in the backseat of my SUV, it’s the only thing I can think to say.
Her attention doesn’t deviate from the textbook she’s reading on econometrics—with the start of school on the horizon, she’s been lugging textbooks around and skimming them in between work. “Hudson likes emo rock.”
I cut the driver a glance in the rearview mirror. Hudson is one of many perks the Stars have given me—Acuig went above and beyond to bring together an all-star team. He hides his smirk by looking away.
“Yeah, he does,” I lie.
“Do you get him Cameos too?” she drawls. “Is this an employee perk that everyone receives?”
Ignoring her, I demand, “What did my dad want?”
“He said that I bring out the best in you.”
My mouth rounds because whatever I thought my father would whisper in her ear during practice, it wasn’t that. “He did?”
“He did.”
I have no idea how to respond to that.
Gracie snorts. “Cat got your tongue, Donnghal?”
I grimace. “I thought he was coming onto you.”
A hoot escapes her, one that’s loud enough to make Hudson jump. “Your father’s like seventy years older than me.”
“More like forty,” I correct.
“I might be into older guys, but grandads aren’t for me.”
“Reassuring.”
She likes older guys.
Fuck.
I can make a lot of shit happen, but being born after she was isn’t one of them.
Ridiculously disappointed, I almost miss her saying, “Anyway, he’s taken.”
“No, he’s not,” I scoff.
My father is a perennial flirt. A fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. Exactly how he was with my maman. The asshole.
“According to him, he is.” She pins me with a look. “When was the last time you talked to him?”
“A while ago.” When she hums, I grimace. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. What?”
“He said you spent the summer together after the kidnapping.”
“We did. So?”
“You never mentioned him at the time…”
Because it had been hell. “Almost killed each other.”
“Fun times,” she mocks.
I grunt.
True, yet there’s no denying he got me through those weeks when I could only practice and didn’t have games to escape in.
The memory has me rubbing my temples.
“He says he’s got a lady friend who doesn’t like him cursing in front of her.”
“A lady friend?” I sputter. “He used those words?”
“Well, he called her a lady.”
“I didn’t know that he knew any.”
“I’m offended on your mom’s behalf.”
“She showed bad taste the night she met him,” I dismiss, methodically cracking each of my knuckles then flexing my fingers as Hudson guides us through the crazy traffic toward my building.
“I don’t think she did.”
That has me frowning at her. “Don’t think who did what?”
“Your mom.” She rolls her eyes at my blank stare. “Don’t think she had bad taste. You exist, after all.”
My lips quirk into a dopey grin. “Was that a compliment?”
“I’m capable of them,” she drawls, then her brow furrows. “How big of a problem is Greco going to be for you?” When I just shrug, she sighs. “Come on, Liam. How am I supposed to fix things if I don’t know what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
“There is. Did you fuck around with his girlfriend?”
Deep inside, tension crawls up my spine as I grind out, “You’re not my PR rep. You don’t need to know that. And even if you did, you shouldn’t have to ask—”
She tuts. “I didn’t think you had, but I needed to check.”
My nostrils flare with irritation. “I guess.”
When Hudson drives over a pothole, it shoves us closer together, but she doesn’t seem to notice, just carries on as if nothing happened.
“So? What’s the beef with him, then?”
I, on the other hand, do notice our new proximity.
Does she know that she smells of lilies today?
We also have a change from regular jeans and a hoodie or sweatshirt to an actual pantsuit.
In the semi-formalwear, I’ve been more aware of her than usual.
How can someone so short have such long legs? It’s a crime.
Against nature.
“Liam?” A nudge to my side has me blinking at her. “Did you get hit in the head or something when I wasn’t looking?”
I huff. “No.”
From this position, I can see straight down her—
“What’s the beef with Greco?”
“The beef could be pork for all that matters. Greco’s making shit up. He somehow passes his drug tests but I swear he’s on LSD or something. Trippy motherfucker.”
“Not possible.”
Sniffing, I retort, “Anything’s possible with enough money.”
“True. Did you know that cocaine only lasts two days in urine? It’s why the NHL finds it so hard to clamp down on its usage. Party on a Friday but it’ll be out of your system by Monday.”
I arch a brow. “Is that a random fact or something you want me to know? Am I being accused of taking coke now as well as being an asshole who fucks my teammate’s girl behind his back?”
Though her eyes widen, she angles her head to the side in a way that, I swear, would make her a perfect grade school teacher. “I think you need to check yourself, Liam,” she says calmly. So calmly that it makes my right eye twitch. “What about my questions felt like an attack?”
“You mean this wasn’t a character assassination?”
“No. You’re being paranoid.”
“Maybe that’s because of all the coke I take. Jesus Christ, Gracie. I don’t even eat refined sugar. I’m approaching thirty. If I want more years on the ice, I have to take care of my body. Coke or whatever isn’t on anyone’s list of superfoods.”
“I never thought you were taking cocaine, dammit! I was thinking out loud, that’s all. Why does Greco believe you were with his girl?”
Turning my head to the side as I watch Midtown fade into Hell’s Kitchen, I mutter, “Because his ego is the size of the US and he couldn’t handle thinking she didn’t want him anymore.”
“If it’s going to affect your game, then maybe you need to tell Greco you didn’t mess with her. Explain things.”
“I don’t owe him dick.”
She growls beneath her breath. “My God, you’re infuriating.”
“And you’re not?” I snap. “Do you know how I’ve spent the last three years, Gracie? Not fucking anything with a pussy, that’s how. I’ve been on the ice, on the road, or in my home. A home that I didn’t feel safe in. A home that, even though the kidnappers didn’t get to me there, they might as well have.
“I went to bed with a knife beneath my pillow, a gun in my nightstand, not some chick’s pussy sitting on my face—”
A hand settles on my shoulder. At first, I think she’s trying to shove me, but she isn’t. She does this pinching thing that’s too soft to be corporal punishment.
“I genuinely never meant for you to take this how you did, Liam. I wasn’t accusing you of anything, just trying to understand so I can maybe make the situation better for you.” She looks up at me, her eyes big and wide and so fucking beautiful that I grit my teeth. “I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Though I purse my lips, mostly I’m just wondering how I can stop thinking about her legs being wrapped around my head, her butt in my hands, and those big wide eyes staring at me as I plow into her with my tongue…
“Right.” It’s easier than arguing, especially when I know I did just jump down her throat.
Which, of course, makes me think of stuff I’d prefer to go down there…
Focus, Donnghal. Get your head out of your ass. Or thoughts of your little head in her mouth.
“Paddy told me about the gun.” She coughs. “Before you did.”
I think back to what I just blurted out. “I didn’t mean to tell you period.”
“Thought my very Canadian self would be ashamed of you? If so, you’d have been right.” But then, she nuzzles into my side. “I’ll protect you, Liam. I’m better than a gun.”
My laughter is sheepish. “Shut up, furball.”
Her nose crinkles. “That’s Gray’s nickname for me.”
“And? Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
“I think I prefer it when you call me a cabbage.”
I snort.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” she grumbles.
“I know that I am.”
Gracie sniffs.
“Why did you let Gray call you furball but you whacked Kow in the shin with his stick when he called you a rink rat?” Which, to be fair, was a pretty standard term in Canada for someone who loves ice hockey.
Her eyes narrow. “I’ll take any opportunity to whack Kow with his stick. Plus, Gray means it in a nice way. Kow didn’t.” Before I can pick that apart, she slides in for the kill: “So, why does Greco think you were with his girl? It’s not like you’ve played on the same team before.”
“Whenever the Mounties were eliminated from the playoffs, he was the goalie.”
“So it’s a you thing, not a Greco thing?” she mocks.
That has me folding my arms across my chest. “He’s been an asshole since we came up together in juniors.”
Her eyes get even narrower. “If I find out you’re lying to me about this…”
“What?” I jeer.
“I know where you sleep and I know where your food is.”
I frown. “Poison’s illegal. Whether it’s laxative or cyanide. You know that, right?”
Her smile is evil enough to make me huff. “Yeah, it’s illegal,” she agrees. “But maple syrup isn’t.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, yeah, I would.” She smirks. “Watch it, Donnghal. No kidnappers will get through me before I get to you.”
“Man, is that supposed to reassure me?”
I mean, if she were built like Noah, maybe. But she’s pocket-sized on a good day.
“It’s my job to reassure you,” she purrs, her rosy pink lips puckered as she croons the words.
I inch back in my seat.
Suddenly, I understand why a male black widow willingly succumbs to its fate.
