Iced Out: A Rival’s Sister Hockey Romance – Chapter 10

The moment I almost kissed Easton repeats in my head during the entire walk back to our place. I’m thankful for the cold air because my body is too warm from picturing his grasp on my waist and the desire burning in his blue eyes.

Reagan pauses before opening the door when we reach the apartment. “So,” she drawls. “I saw you cozying up to Easton Blake most of the night. He even asked to walk you home, aww.”

“Oh, uh.” I release a nervous laugh, floundering for a way to explain. “That’s not—no. Don’t give me that look. We’re just, sort of, friends now, I guess. Weirdly.”

“Friends who definitely want to fuck each other,” she mumbles.

My mouth pops open. “I heard that.”

“Heard what?” she says innocently on her way inside.

She makes a beeline for the water jug in the fridge. After filling two glasses, she hands one to me and downs hers.

“Whew, I needed tonight,” she says breathlessly.

“I think I did, too.” I fold my arms and lean on the small island that separates our kitchenette from the living room. “Tonight was fun. Thanks for making sure I get out of my head for a while.”

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

I return her warm smile. “Same. What happened with your frat boy?”

She shrugs. “Turns out he’s a terrible kisser. You know how I feel about that. Sex without kissing just feels empty and disconnected.”

“That sucks.”

She sighs. “Right? He seemed like he could really toss me around easily.” She eyes me slyly. “Maybe I need to find myself a hockey player, too.”

I laugh at her over the top winking. “Go for it. You can have the whole team.”

“Ohh, now we’re talking about getting spicy. Night, babe.” She puts her empty glass in the sink and heads for her room.

“Night.”

Even though I spent most of the night hanging out with Easton, I surprisingly did have a good time. I fight the smile tugging at my lips while I sip my water, failing to smother it.

When I return to my room, my phone screen lights up on the nightstand.

My brows furrow when I check the text from a number I don’t recognize. The contact name is Hat Trick King with the wet emoji.

Worry slices through me for a moment. There’s no way Johnny would go through the effort to text me from a different number, let alone somehow have it already saved as a contact. He’s not bright enough for such a strategic play.

And to be honest, he’s not skilled enough for any hat tricks. On the ice or in bed. I can’t recall one good orgasm I had because of him. He’s too selfish, only ever focused on his own pleasure. He was the kind of guy who thought his dick was enough magic to get me there without any kind of foreplay, so I’d end up taking care of myself. I’m certain he only plays hockey for the fringe benefits.

Oh. Easton. A wry smile twists my lips and my thumbs hover over the keyboard as I relax.

The photo. She must’ve sent it as a group text. I didn’t check since I was too busy resisting my attraction to him. I shoot a glare with no real heat behind it towards Reagan’s side of the apartment.

How the hell did he get his contact saved in my phone as Hat Trick King, though? The only time my phone left my hands was when Reagan wanted to change the music and her phone wasn’t connecting to the Bluetooth speaker after we left Easton to go to the kitchen.

No, you know what? I don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter, it’s done now.

The second message comes through only moments after the first cocky response. I bite my lip. Other guys I’ve been with were never so considerate of my comfort the way he is.

Johnny never respected me, period. It’s easy to see that now in hindsight looking back on our relationship. If I can call it that. Most of the time it was him manipulating me to get what he wanted.

I doubt the time I caught him with someone else was the only time. He probably cheated on me the entire time we dated.

Easton might flirt and joke around, but when it comes to my boundaries he knows when to stop without making me feel like shit about it.

Yet. Him and that damn word. He’s so sure he’s got me, so confident that it’s only a matter of time before I realize I want him too.

My stomach dips pleasantly as I recall how it felt to have his breath fanning across my lips just shy of kissing after he swung me away from someone spilling their drink.

Maybe I do.

I suppress another smile, shaking my head. “You’re asking for it, hotshot. I’ll text you daddy and pretend it’s the wrong number before I disappear. Let’s see how cocky you are then.”

The temptation is strong. I bet he’d go feral thinking I meant to send it to some other guy instead of him, but he’d guess it was fake if I do it right now. I’m brainstorming other pranks to pull when he redirects the conversation.

He sends a photo of himself hanging out by a fire pit with two of his other teammates creeping in at the edges of the frame making goofy faces. His charming lopsided smile is half hidden by the green Heston U Hockey hoodie he’s wearing with the neckline tugged up over his chin.

“Oh boy,” I whisper when my heart flutters. “Don’t do that. No swooning for hockey boys. Especially this one.”

My heart isn’t behaving, thudding rapidly in excitement. I roll my lips between my teeth, gazing at the photo. He really is handsome. When he turns those blue eyes on me, I can’t think straight.

With a resigned groan of defeat because I can’t control this little crush fighting to take hold, I cover my face with my hands to hide the blush heating my cheeks. I’m crushing on a hockey player.

“This is tomorrow’s problem,” I mumble before climbing into bed.

For once, I fall asleep easily. Instead of battling anxious racing thoughts, I’m relaxed when I lay my head on the pillow. One of my last thoughts before I drift off is wondering what it would be like to kiss Easton Blake.

Getting out of bed in the morning is a struggle. Mainly because I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream that left my core tingling and my nipples tight.

I was ready to reach for the box hidden beneath my bed to chase the way the dream left me feeling when I realized it wasn’t some random guy spreading me out on the bar after I danced, kissing a path down my body until he slid his big hands up my thighs to lift my dress and cover my pussy with his perfect mouth.

It was Easton.

He was doing all that to me in my subconscious, taking me to the brink and leaving me turned on as fuck when I woke up.

Then I was awake for an hour with my thoughts taking me for a ride to pick it all apart before I finally fell asleep again.

I slide my thighs together and tug the covers over my head. Blowing out a breath, I get up to grab my shower bag. Before I leave the room, I kneel down to drag out the box decorated with cat stickers.

They make me smirk every time I get one of my collection of toys out of it. I grab the little aqua blue one because it’s waterproof and add it to my shower bag for a self-care morning.

When I come out forty minutes later, my body is languid from reliving the dream for five orgasms in a row.

Anxiety After Dark Maya can overanalyze all she wants, but in the light of day the dream is just that—a dream. It’s not real. He doesn’t have to know how many times I came to the thought of his tongue inside me.

Or that I’m crushing on him. As far as he knows, we’re still just friends and I’m keeping it that way.

Besides, Easton’s hot. If he’s starring in my dreams to devour my pussy on top of a bar in my fantasy, I’m not complaining. I can keep this crush under control so that it only has an outlet in my fantasies.

“Don’t you look relaxed.”

Reagan peers at me over the rim of her steaming mug. The scent of tea with lemon and honey wafts through the kitchenette.

I hum in amusement, flashing her a playful look. “Self-care works wonders.”

“Hell yeah it does.” She sets her tea down. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. I have work this morning, though.”

She pulls down the instant mix from the cabinet while I get a pan out and set it on our small stove.

I duck into my room to get dressed and hang my towel to dry. When I come out, everything is set up for breakfast.

“So last night was fun,” she says.

“Yeah, like the part where you helped Easton get my number?” I laugh at the overly innocent expression she puts on. “Your singing might tug at the heart strings of your online following, but you’re not fooling anyone with that terrible acting.”

She presses her palms together and closes her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. He offered to delete it if I didn’t want him to have it.”

Reagan relaxes, beaming at me. “See? The hockey guys aren’t so bad. They tip great at the bar, and if they’re there when I close out, one of them always walks me to my car.”

“That might be true, but that doesn’t mean this is going anywhere between me and him.”

She gives me a side hug that’s warm and soft. I rest my cheek on her head.

“I’m with you one hundred percent of the way no matter what goes down.”

“Thanks.”

After we eat, she takes care of the dishes while I go back to my room to dry my hair before work.

I’m sitting on my bed looking for a hair tutorial I wanted to try on my phone when I get a text that makes my stomach fill with tantalizing prickles of heat when I see it’s from Easton.

My mind jumps right back to the dream. Then swerves to remind me of the moment we almost kissed. A flush spreads across my skin. He did wish me sweet dreams.

I bite my lip to hold back a smile. Before I respond, Ryan hits me up. Switching to his text, I check what he wants.

I roll my eyes when he follows up with an unimpressed emoji.

He doesn’t answer after I send him a middle finger emoji because he knows I’m right. He’s only joking about how I left the bar that night, but him calling Easton my boyfriend sends a mix of jitters and warmth rushing through me.

It gets worse when the latest message from him appears at the top of my screen.

He continues talking to me while I get ready for work, and we’re still texting back and forth on my way to the farm for my shift.

My stomach tightens as I impulsively tell him I’ll talk to him later. He replies with a winking emoji.

I curse when I realize I’m about to be late. I jog across the farm to reach the pavilion, darting inside to meet this morning’s group Marnie scheduled me for.

I freeze inside the door, gaping at the sight before me. What. The. Hell.

Hockey players.

There are hockey players everywhere.

This can’t be happening. How is this real?

Easton Blake and the entire team of Heston University Knights are at Merrywood Farms, in the yoga pavilion. Waiting for me.

“Hey,” he greets when he spots me hovering in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt.

“Goat yoga.” He grins, waving an arm at the guys. “I think they’re actually looking forward to it.”

“Goat yoga,” I repeat faintly.

“You should’ve been there when I suggested it to our coaches. Most of the guys lost it. They thought I was kidding.”

“I don’t blame them. I can’t picture Mr. Macho hockey captain—” I give his arm a friendly push. “—and a bunch of hockey players doing yoga, let alone goat yoga.”

He lifts a shoulder. “We’re here to limber up. Did you know yoga is great training to help improve stability and range of motion?”

My mind goes right to the gutter, picturing Easton’s muscles flexing as he moves into different poses. The tips of my ears grow hot.

“And the three other yoga studios in the area were booked? If you want to have a session that’s more serious, goat yoga probably isn’t it.”

He rakes his teeth across his lip. “Yeah, but you don’t teach at those. We requested you specifically.”

Now my ears are on fire. He calls for the guys to circle up.

“This is Madden—we call him Graves—and our rookie, Elijah.” Easton messes up Elijah’s light brown hair and dodges when he tries to retaliate with a shove. “Then there’s some of our seniors, Jake Brody and Theo Boucher. You met Cam the other day, and—”

“And I’m Noah,” says the tall beach blond guy with a gleaming smile. “The hot one.”

Easton elbows him in the side, nodding in satisfaction when the other teammates give Noah shit. “Can it, assholes.” Once the laughter and smack talk settles down, he gestures to me. “This is Maya. Don’t flirt with her.”

“Yes, captain,” Noah says in a jaunty tone. “We wouldn’t dream of making moves on your girl.”

“I’m not his girl.”

Easton opens his mouth and I silence him with a fierce look, holding up a finger in warning before he can utter his favorite word: yet. Smirking, he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Where are these goats?” Noah asks. “I’m ready to cuddle.”

“I’ll bring them in once Maya goes over some information about the session,” Hana says as she arrives. “Sorry I’m late, Marnie needed me.”

“Hana?” Elijah sputters.

Her steps falter. “Eli. Hey. I’ve barely seen you around so far this semester.”

“What are you doing here?” Elijah asks.

“I work here.”

He rubs at his forehead. “What are you doing in Heston Lake? I thought you were going to go to Stanford.”

She gives him a wobbly smile. “I applied here last minute. My grandparents weren’t happy with Dad for letting me pass on my acceptance to their science program, but he said I should follow my dreams no matter what they are.”

“Wow,” he says. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hana shakes her head, waving him off. Noah looks between them with an intrigued smile. He nudges Elijah.

“Dude. You know a hot yoga instructor? You’re holding out on us.”

“She’s my sister’s best friend. We grew up together.” Elijah’s stare is caught on Hana as she puts her hair up. He gravitates toward her.

“Okay, you can all take a mat. I’ll go over everything to expect, and then we’ll get started,” I say.

Easton picks front and center, sprawling on the mat that faces mine. Once they’re all settled, I go over the rules for when the goats are in the room. We get started with some simple breathing techniques to help us dispel the energy we brought into the pavilion.

“Okay, incoming,” Hana says. “Let them approach you. Trust me, they’re obsessed with attention.”

She opens the door to the pen where we keep the goats on standby until yoga sessions begin. They all stream into the room and the guys get a kick out of it.

The smallest kid rubs against Noah’s hip and flops down when it loses its balance. He pets it.

“This one’s mine,” he says.

His teammates laugh, equally enthralled by the baby goats roaming the pavilion.

“Taking a deep breath in, let’s bring our hands overhead,” I direct. “Then we’re going to slowly curve our bodies to the side. It’s okay if you can’t reach far. Go at your own pace for everything.”

I don’t know what I expected, but Easton taking this seriously and keeping his teammates in check wasn’t how I thought this would go.

The guys are all having the time of their life. They put good effort into the poses, but when the goats interact with them they basically have hearts in their eyes.

Despite my surprise when I found out who was taking today’s class, I can’t hold back the content feeling I get every time I see animals helping people relax and let go of any worries they’re carrying with them.

Easton ends up with a brown and white goat climbing into his lap while we’re working on stretching our hips. He smiles down at it, letting it sniff his crooked finger. It settles down for a nap and he winds up spending the next fifteen minutes absorbed in the goat like nothing else in the world exists.

My heart gives a squeeze at the sight. What is it about a guy snuggling animals in his strong arms that is so damn attractive?

Easton catches my eye, stroking his sleeping goat’s cheeks. My pulse thunders.

Concentrating through the second half of the session is challenging. I keep getting distracted watching him when I’m supposed to be leading them through the final poses. He can definitely tell because he keeps peeking at me until we finish.

After the photo we take at the end of every session, Easton lingers while his teammates file out. He helps me herd the goats to the paddock behind the pavilion while Hana hangs by the door talking to Elijah.

“You seemed like you enjoyed that,” I say.

“Any time I get to spend with you is enjoyable.” He winks when I laugh. “Actually, it was pretty cool. Might have to come back again. We bonded.”

He points to the brown and white goat playing with another one. It’s the one he cradled in his lap when it fell asleep. Once we have them all in the paddock, he rests his forearms on the gate. I do the same beside him.

“So,” he starts.

“So.”

“There’s a party at our place next weekend.”

I hum. “Have fun with that.”

He angles his head to look at me with a soft smile. “I will if you’re there. What do you say?”

“I mean…”

“Say yes.”

He hits me with that damn puppy look, smoldering gaze piercing through me. Biting my lip, I mull it over.

“Okay.”

His face splits with a heart-stopping smile. “Yeah?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes.”

He whoops, drumming a victory beat on the gate. He wraps his arms around my waist and swings me around. I choke back a scream so I don’t startle the goats, laughing at his antics.

“Easton? We’re about to leave,” Elijah calls from the pavilion.

He puts me down and brushes hair from my face. “See you.”

A warm laugh bubbles out of me. “Bye, weirdo.”

Hana walks down the small hill sloping off the pavilion and joins me. We lean against the gate, watching the two hockey players walk away.