“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.”
She stares up at the building in question. “This is cruel.”
She has no idea what I have planned next.
“It’s not.”
“But I’m going to want to take them all home.”
“You will.”
“And I can’t take them all home.”
“You can’t,” I agree. “But trust me, this is the next best thing.”
“Fine but I swear, if I walk out of here with a broken heart, I want it on record it’s your fault.”
“Deal.”
I pull open the door to Pawever in Love and usher Harper inside.
“Ah, Collin! It’s so good to see you. We missed you this summer.”
Harper gives me a quizzical look, and I hope the one I send back says I’ll explain later.
“Hey, Rachelle,” I say to the vet tech sitting behind the counter I’ve stood in front of too many times to count. “How are the kids?”
“They’re a handful. You just missed them actually. Dante is starting first grade this year, and Dixon is in sixth. He told me he wants to play football.”
“Football? He sure he doesn’t want to do hockey instead?”
She laughs. “I told him you’d say that, but…” She shrugs. “He’s obsessed with Tom Brady.”
“I’ll make sure to pop in one day when they’re here. Maybe I can sway him.” I wink. “What about the other kids? They ready for us?”
“Oh, of course. I’ll go grab them.” She gives me a warm smile, shaking her head. “You have no idea how much we—and they—appreciate it. We all know you’re busy, busy, busy. How you find the time, I don’t know, but we don’t take it for granted, that’s for certain.”
“Trust me, I do this for me just as much as I do it for them.”
Rachelle scurries down the hall and I turn to Harper, whose stare I can feel burning into the side of my head.
“Do you come here often?”
“Whenever my schedule allows. I usually stop in a few times a week if we’re on a home game stretch. Typically I spend a lot of time here in the off-season, but this year Coach thought it would be best if I went back home.”
She nods, understanding. “The arrest.”
I try not to wince. “Yeah.”
“And what do you do here? Volunteer?”
“I—”
The scraping of excited paws on the floor draws my attention, and I turn to find Rachelle being pulled down the hall by two rambunctious pups.
“Ah, Mario, my man!” I drop to my haunches as my favorite English bulldog scrambles over to me, jumping into my lap as best as his stubby legs allow. I rub my hand between his ears as he digs into me, licking at my shirt. “Missed you too, buddy.”
A Chihuahua, a new dog I don’t know, tries to push Mario away, but he’s not budging.
“And what’s your name, huh? Please tell me it’s Luigi.”
“As awesome as that would be, no. This little princess is Nacho.”
I glance up at Rachelle. “Nacho?”
“She was found out behind a bar eating nachos and the name stuck.”
Much to Mario’s dismay, I run my hands over Nacho. She looks to be in good shape. No scars or visible issues. “Nobody claimed her?”
“No, but someone called looking for a Chihuahua not long after she was brought in. When I told them about Nacho, they seemed to be relieved and hung up. I’m guessing she was theirs and they dumped her somewhere, then felt guilty and wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“Fuckers,” I say. “Sorry for the language.”
Rachelle waves her hand. “Please. My husband was in the Marines. He says ten times worse.”
I stand and both dogs jump at my shins, not wanting me to let them go. Nacho prances over to Harper, smelling her, then curls up on top of her feet.
“Ah, hell. I’m so rude. Harper, this is Rachelle, my favorite vet tech. Rachelle, this is Harper. She’s…”
“A friend,” Harper supplies, sticking her hand out to greet Rachelle, who bounces her eyes between the two of us, not buying the friends thing for a second. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Rachelle leans in. “Don’t let this man fool you. I know Penny is his favorite. She’s about sixty-five and is always patting his ass. We all know she’s the reason he keeps coming back.”
Harper laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Rachelle hands Nacho’s leash to Harper and Mario’s to me.
“All right,” she says, “you four have fun. Just make sure they’re back within the hour so we have time for cleanup.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, letting Mario pull me toward the door.
We head out the front door and don’t even make it twenty feet before someone stops to pet the dogs.
“So, a hockey player with a soft spot for animals, huh?” Harper asks once we’re finally on our way to our destination.
“Yep.” I nod. “We had a dog growing up and I loved him so much. We went everywhere together. I swear I cried for about three weeks when Bobby passed.”
“You named your dog Bobby?”
“Yep. After Bobby Orr, one of the greatest defensemen to ever play the game.”
She grins. “Of course you did.”
“Anyway,” I say, steering us toward the park not too far up the street, “I’ve always wanted to get a dog, but since it’s just me, and with my schedule, it’s not something I feel right doing. So instead, whenever I can, I walk the shelter dogs. That way I get my dog cuddles in and they get the love and attention they deserve.”
“That’s incredibly sweet, Collin.”
“It’s really no big deal.” I shrug, hoping she doesn’t see the heat I feel coating my cheeks.
When we finally reach the park, I lead the dogs over to the sectioned-off area and let them off their leashes inside the fence.
They go nuts, running back and forth and back, stopping to pee every few feet to mark their territory.
We take a seat on the bench, letting them play for a few minutes but keeping an eye on them.
“Can I tell you something?”
I glance over at Harper. Her eyes are trained in the direction of the dogs but her gaze is far away, somewhere else entirely.
“Sure.”
“In the car, I had this whole image of you built up in my head. You were this regular guy who worked in the sports industry”—I ignore the pointed look she gives me—“and you did and liked normal things, like fast-food chicken nuggets and horror movies.”
“I still like those things.”
“Right. But when I found out you’re a hockey player, that all got erased. You became…” She lifts a shoulder, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Something else. Something…bigger. And now…”
“Now?”
“Now I kind of want to kick you in the shin still.”
I tilt my head on a laugh. “Why?”
“Because you’re still this big, untouchable thing, but you’re also this normal guy who does kind things like take shelter dogs for walks and talks to Rachelle about her kids and saves me from drunken idiots and beats people up because they’re awful to your brother. It’s annoying.”
“Annoying?”
“Yes! Because you’re…” She throws her hands in the air like she’s exhausted. “Well, you! Hot, famous hockey player with a bad rap but a secret heart of gold. And, well, I’m just me.”
“First of all,” I say, shifting toward her, one arm outstretched on the back of the bench, the other hand going to her face to bring her eyes to mine. “I’m flattered that you think I’m hot.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to pull out of my grasp, but I don’t let her.
“Second, I’m still me. Aside from not telling you that I play hockey, everything I told you was all true. Hockey is a big part of my life, yes, I won’t deny that. But I have an identity outside the game too.”
“I know that. I just—”
“Third,” I interrupt, “you are not just you, Harper. You’re smart and funny and gorgeous. Talented as hell. You do that cute”—I make sure to emphasize the word—“rambling thing. You like what you like and you don’t apologize for it or try to fit into some box for society. You’re you…and that’s exactly why I like you.”
Her eyes are searching mine, looking for any hint that I’m lying, I’m sure.
But I’m not. I mean it.
I know it’s so fucking cliche to say the whole You’re not like other girls thing, but in this case, it’s true. If her profile hadn’t stuck out because I knew her, it would have for a different reason.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve met the wives of my teammates and they start to tell me about themselves and it sounds like they’re reading from the same script. Hell, even their social media pages all look the same. Same filters, same content, same sponsored posts, same outfits, same houses.
Same, same, same.
It gets old. It gets boring.
Harper? She’s anything but boring.
“And fourth?” I lean closer, and whether she does it on purpose or subconsciously, she does the same. “I assure you, I am not untouchable. You can touch me any time you want.”
“See? That!” She groans, pulling away. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me like you!”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
It takes us fifteen minutes to leave Nacho and Mario behind because Harper couldn’t stop hugging them.
“If you love dogs so much, why don’t you get one?” I ask as we leave Pawever in Love and head for the parking garage I left my car in.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”
“Your profile said something about commitment too,” I point out.
“I’m just…cautious is all.” She doesn’t look at me when she says this and I feel like there’s something more there that needs unpacked, but it’s really none of my business.
Besides, I’m not looking for serious either. Not right now, anyway.
“I understand. You want to keep it casual and see what happens?”
“Yes. Is that…is that okay?”
Harper helps keep my mind off of the game, and the fact that she doesn’t want strings when I’m not in any position to offer them? Yeah, casual is perfect.
“I can do casual.”
“Good, good. Glad we’re on the same page.” She grins. “So, where are we headed now?”
“Dinner, if you’d like.”
“Oh good.” She pats her stomach, which I’m pretty sure I heard growl a few minutes ago. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m starving. Where are we going?”
I grin. “It’s a surprise.”
“I should have known.”
“You just have to keep an open mind and maybe keep those dangerous shin-kickers to yourself.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything as I guide her toward my sleek, dark gray Audi S8. I notice the surprise in her gaze when she sees it, but really it’s nothing too extravagant, not compared to what most guys on the team drive.
“What happened to your SUV?”
“It’s still in the shop. I’m having it repainted and reupholstered.”
“Oh.” She eyes the car again. “And here I thought my paid-off Honda was badass,” she mutters as I help her in. “I feel underdressed for this.”
I laugh. “For riding in my car?”
“Yes.”
“For what it’s worth, I find your paid-off Honda to be very badass.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You worked hard for it, and in my book, that’s the very definition of badass.”
A smile lights her face as I gently shut the door, then round the car, hopping in behind the wheel.
We make small talk as I navigate the downtown area. And by small talk, I mean Harper mostly just googles my car, telling me all about it. Her excitement is adorable, and by the time I’m pulling into yet another parking garage, she’s already planned how much money she needs to make a year to be able to afford one of her own.
If it keeps her smiling like she is now, I’ll buy her one today.
But I’m not going to tell her that because I shouldn’t be thinking that.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shake myself from my thoughts and help her from the car. She gives me that same dopey grin. It makes me angry and causes something to flutter in my chest all at the same time.
I ignore both reactions and smile back.
“Keep that grin in place.”
She drops it, her beautiful white-blue eyes narrowing. “Why.”
It doesn’t come out as a question and I just smile brighter, leading her toward our destination.
When we stop in front of a nondescript door, she eyes me cautiously.
“Why do I get the feeling I do not want to go in there right now?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Collin…”
“Come on. There’s food waiting.”
That seems to kick her into gear.
We walk through the doors into the dimly lit building. It’s a quiet place that serves a little of everything. Nothing too fancy and nothing too plain.
There’s music thumping through the speakers as we’re guided toward a table. Our server takes our drink order, then promises to be back shortly.
“What is this place?”
“It’s dinner. And a show.”
She quirks a brow. “What kind of show?”
“The fun kind.”
Her lips form a grim line, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Open mind.”
The server reappears, drinks in hand.
“All right, what can I get for you to enjoy with tonight’s entertainment?” They shimmy their shoulders, the fringe on their cowgirl-inspired shirt shaking.
“I’ll have the sampler platter and a basket of fries,” Harper tells them. “Then whatever he’s having.”
“Burger, please. Rare. No veggies. Lots of fries if I could.”
“Sure thing, sugars. I’ll get that order placed and right out for you. Our entertainment will begin shortly. Just remember to please keep your hands to yourselves. Tipping is allowed and encouraged.” They wink. “Have fun, dears.”
“Collin…” Harper starts, staring after our server. “Is this…” She looks over at me. “Did you bring me to a drag show?”
“No. It’s karaoke. You know, in case you wanted to grace the stage with that wonderful vocal range of yours.”
“You ass!” She laughs. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you that story, Fartknocker!”
“Okay, that’s just rude.” She tosses a sugar packet at me. “Hey, no throwing things!”
“I am not singing.”
“God, I hope not. I hear it’s awful.” I grin at her over my beer.
“Are you sure it’s just karaoke?”
“Pretty sure, yeah. I looked it up this morning.”
“But…” She looks around. “Maybe you got the date wrong?”
I follow her eyes. The crowd is filled with old and young people alike. There are people dressed casually, people dressed up, and people…
“Oh. Oh.”
It’s so obvious now, looking around. How I missed this when we first walked in, I’ll never know.
She bursts into laughter. “Oh my gosh. You should see your face right now.”
“I thought… I…”
Harper wipes her eyes. “Do you want to leave?”
“What? No. Why would I?”
“Because this”—she waves a hand around—“is definitely not your scene.”
“If you think this is my first time around queens, you’re wrong.”
“Really?”
“My brother runs an LGBTQ+ safe house. They do drag nights all the time. I help out around there whenever I’m home.”
Her mouth pops open as she regards me.
“What?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze.
“Nothing. You just…surprise me.”
“Good or bad surprise?”
“Good. Very good.”
“Queens, kings, and human beings!” a loud voice booms over the speakers. “Put your hands together because tonight we are joined by the amazing, the vivacious, the downright looking-so-damn-good-it-should-be-illegal Clitney Spears!”
Harper’s mouth drops open. “Did they just say Clitney Spears?”
The lights dim, and all that can be heard is a pair of heels clicking across the stage.
Then the low thrum of a song—presumably something by Britney Spears—begins, and the lights come back on one by one, illuminating the stage. The place goes nuts, screaming and yelling as she begins to sing and dance.
“Oh my gosh,” Harper says, not taking her eyes off the performer. “This might be the best night of my life.”
I wish I could say the set was good.
I wish I could say I experienced something new.
But the whole night, my focus is solely on the woman sitting across from me.
And how I think maybe…maybe she was what I needed all along.
Harper’s laugh fills the otherwise quiet hallway. “And then when she landed on your lap, you about fell out of your chair.”
She slaps at her thighs, laughing harder.
Tonight—which was supposed to be dinner and karaoke—did not go as I planned. Not just because of the schedule flub, but because one of the performers fell off the stage and landed on my lap. Her heel came up and scratched me right above my eyes, slicing the skin open and causing the show to be put on pause so I could get bandaged.
I’m sure it’s already out there on social media somewhere.
Despite the mishaps of the evening, it was still fun. Mostly because watching Harper enjoy herself so much made me happy.
For the first time in a long time, I forgot all about my troubles surrounding the game.
Harper stops in front of her door and all her giggles fade away. She reaches up, running a finger over the cut on my head.
“You’re going to get a lot of questions tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“Eh. Let ’em talk.”
She drops her hands, and I can see the second the reality of this moment settles across her face.
“Well, this is me.”
I tuck my lips together, trying not to laugh at her. “Yes, I do recall that from when I picked you up here a few hours ago.”
That uncomfortable silence I’m really beginning to hate settles between us again. She peers up at me, practically wringing her hands in front of her in anticipation of this moment.
She’s waiting for me to kiss her.
She wants me to kiss her.
“Ah, screw it,” she mutters.
She shoves up onto her tiptoes, slips her hands into my hair, and pulls me to her.
Our mouths collide and I’m stunned.
I don’t think in my entire life has a woman ever taken the initiative to kiss me first.
I wrench my mouth away from her, and she blinks up at me with wide eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Her mouth pops open, surprised. Embarrassed. “I… I… Oh god. I’m sorry. I thought…I—”
I back her into the wall, cutting off her words. She lets out a shriek as I haul her into my arms and her legs lock around my waist like they were made to be there. I hold her up with one arm, the other sliding into her hair, my thumb caressing her cheek. Her blue eyes are big and full of shock, and when I press into her, letting her feel just what she does to me, they widen even more.
“Did you just steal our first kiss from me?”
A grin curls into the corners of her lips. “I was tired of waiting.”
I shake my head, lowering my head back to hers until our lips are barely brushing.
“This is how that was supposed to go.”
I slide my lips over hers, gently at first, tasting her slowly and softly.
Her hands slide up my chest, a low moan passing through her, and I snap.
Gone is the slow and soft. I kiss her hard, my tongue pushing past her lips, and I’m a fucking goner.
She tastes like the sweet wine she was sipping at dinner. It tastes good. She tastes good.
I push my hips into her, and another soft moan fills the quiet hallway. Her hips move, seeking the friction I’m providing. We’re humping each other like a pair of horny teens, and I don’t think I ever want to stop.
I brush my fingers under her shirt, needing to feel if her skin is as soft as it looks. Her hands crash into my hair, pulling me closer and somehow tugging me away all at the same time.
“Collin…” she says against my lips.
I pull away with reluctance, my breaths coming in sharp and fast like I just spent a shift out on the ice, and I’d be hard-fucking-pressed to ever admit it out loud, but this? This is better than anything the ice can give me.
“Come inside.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
I slip out the keys I feel in her back pocket and push one into the door. By some fucking miracle, it works.
I don’t move to carry her inside just yet.
A crinkle forms between her brows as she peeks up at me.
“Are you sure?” I ask her. “Because if we walk into your apartment, there’s no turning back. I’m going to fuck you, Harper.”
She gasps at my words, eyes darkening with lust.
“First it’ll be hard and fast,” I continue. “Then it’ll be soft and slow. And after that, I won’t be done with you. I’ll want more.”
She gulps, her fingers flexing in my hair.
“So, I’m asking you, are you sure?”
Her teeth bite into her bottom lip like she’s thinking it over, and I want to pull it free and suck it into my mouth to soothe away the sting.
But I wait.
She needs to make this decision herself.
Finally, it pops free, and the sweetest word ever leaves her lips.
“Yes.”
