I’m dying.
Figuratively, of course. Maybe literally. Ask me again in two hours.
An ankle hooks around mine below the table, and I barely resist the urge to drag my hands down my face. I clear my throat, unhook my leg, and carefully tuck both of my feet below the safety of my chair. I take a sip of my red wine, set it down, and then pick it right back up and throw back the rest of the nine-year-old pinot noir when the tip of Alessia’s heeled foot touches mine again.
“You really like wine, huh?” she asks, blue eyes hooded, lashes batting.
“That obvious, huh?” I don’t think I’ve ever tossed back two glasses in less than ten minutes.
I need to quit this and quit it hard.
The dating, not the wine. The wine stays, the girl goes.
I don’t know why I keep thinking this one might be different, that the more time I spend out here in the dating pool, the quicker I’ll find the one. Jaxon says I’m delusional, to just enjoy the dates, take them home, and have some fun. I don’t think he and I have the same idea of fun.
Look, would I like to have sex? Obviously. It’s been over a year. I’m developing premature arthritis in my wrist, and I’ve only recently turned twenty-six. But by the time every date ends, I’d rather be subjected to a lifetime of wearing a wrist brace and giving up my career as a top-paid goalie in the NHL than spend any more time with these women.
Plus, they’re not even in it for the sex. That’s the problem a lot of guys on my team have: women who just want to say they’ve had sex with a famous hockey player.
My problem is they want more. I want more, too, but the more I want is genuine. The more they want is dollar signs.
“Oh! Hey, you!” Alessia waves down our waiter as he passes by with a tray of food. She points at the nearly empty bottle of wine. “Could we get another bottle?”
Scott lifts a brow in my direction, and when I nod, his mouth tips in a small smirk. I come here about twice a month, because Scott respects my privacy and reads my cues. He tends to my dates like royalty, and when things are looking especially grim, he tells me the chef would like to meet me. Then he shoves me out the kitchen door for a five-minute breather while he tries to speed up the rest of the dinner service.
Alessia looks around the restaurant, pouting. “We should ask him to switch our table. We’re tucked all the way in the back.”
“It’s nice back here,” I counter softly, sipping my ice water. “It’s quiet.”
Jesus, can her pout possibly get any bigger? How far out does that bottom lip go? “Barely anyone can see us back here.”
“I like my privacy,” is my simple reply. I don’t feel like getting into all the reasons why she’d rather be front and center with me.
Alessia popped into my inbox on Tinder a week ago. Her profile showed pictures of her with horses and dogs, her with her arms wrapped around her grandma in her nursing home bed, and hiking through the Appalachian Trail. She was sweet and didn’t say a whole lot, just that Bear was cute in my profile picture and that she loved hiking too. Three days ago, I asked her if she’d like to have dinner, and it’s been downhill since. The kissing emojis, the never-ending messages throughout the day asking for constant updates on what I’m doing, who I’m with. The second I saw her out front of the restaurant tonight, she threw her arms around my neck and planted her lipstick on my cheek.
I like physical contact. I like intimacy. But I want it to feel natural. Like it did earlier today when that little honey-and-rose-colored-hair cutie tripped over her own feet and tumbled into me when I told her to shove her handshake.
My mind drifts to Rosie for the hundredth time today, the easy blaze of her cheeks, the flecks of gold that danced in those light green eyes, the way she snorted when she laughed and looked so damned relieved when she thought I didn’t notice.
Everything about her was natural. Her smiles, her giggles, the timid way she kicked off her shoes and waded through the creek with me while watching the beauty around us.
“So you just re-signed your contract with the Vipers,” Alessia says, breaking my thoughts. Her eyes glitter with excitement as she leans closer. “Ten-point-five million a year for the next eight years?”
“I thought you didn’t keep up with hockey.” Specifically, she told me she had to look me up when I told her I played professionally.
She waves my words away. “So, what are you gonna do with all that money? Buy a new house? Where do you live now? How many bedrooms? Can you see the mountains?” Her eyes widen, and she grips my hand in both of hers. “Oh my God, have you ever been to Paris? It’s so beautiful, especially in the fall. We should totally go.”
“I have hockey,” I remind her, trying to pull my hand back. Alessia laces our fingers together, and I swallow a groan when a flash from a phone goes off from across the restaurant.
“Can you book a week off?”
“That’s not how it—” I sigh. “That’s not really how hockey works, not with a contract.”
“Oh.” She frowns, then grins. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful at Christmas too.”
“You told me you spend the day with your grandma at the nursing home.”
“Grams will probably be dead by then. If she’s not, I’ll just skip. It’s not like she’ll know.” She fishes her phone out of her purse and promptly shows me a series of pictures of her posing next to her sleeping grandma, giving the peace sign while she grins or purses her lips.
What in the sweet fuck have I gotten myself into?
“Um…” I pour the remainder of bottle number one into my glass, then toss it back, hoping it’ll burn the memory of this conversation. “So you hiked the Appalachian Trail.”
She rolls her eyes and folds over the table, clapping her hands to it. “Oh-em-gee, it was the absolute worst . I hate nature. I hate bugs. I hate walking. I treated myself to a five-day spa vacation after that nightmare.”
Whatever was left of my heart sinks to my gut, churning.
“Your bottle,” Scott murmurs, appearing at our table. He uncorks the wine, pours a sample into each glass, and smiles. “Mr. Lockwood, if you’d be so kind, our head chef would love to meet you. He’s a big fan of yours.”
I leap to my feet, my knees colliding with the table, shaking the dishes. I catch the wine glasses before they can topple over. “Absolutely. For sure. Yes, of course. I love meeting fans.” I touch Alessia’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Scott leads me through the restaurant and into a dark hallway.
“Next time I down half a bottle of two-hundred-dollar wine in ten minutes, I need you to pretend there’s a kitchen fire and escort all the guests out. I’ll cover the bills. Got it?”
Scott chuckles. “Loud and clear, Mr. Lockwood.”
“So you kissed her.”
“I did not kiss her. Have you been listening to me at all?”
Carter shrugs. “That picture on Instagram says you kissed her.”
I shove Carter’s shoulder, and he trips sideways in his rollerblades, stepping over the curb and shuffling onto the grass, where he catches himself against a tree.
“Motherfucker,” he bites out, leaping back onto the road, tearing after me at full speed as I take off ahead of him.
Before he can catch me, Emmett wraps an arm around his head, pulling him back against him. “Don’t poke the bear. Adam’s gone grizzly mode.”
Garrett barks out a laugh. “Adam never goes full grizzly.”
Jaxon loops around me and turns, skating backward so he can smirk at me. “I went full grizzly on three girls in his parents’ bedroom on Friday night.”
I point at him. “You’re at the top of my shitlist.”
He wags his brows and spins, the five of us settling into stride together, coasting down the quiet road. “So you didn’t kiss her?”
I tug on my ball cap at the uncomfy memory of last night. I walked Alessia to her car, thanked her for the nice/awful time, but when I opened her door, she slung her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. I stood there in shock before her tongue wormed its way into my mouth.
I’m not entirely proud to say that, for a whole three seconds, I considered it. I let her tongue glide against mine, and my mind wandered to a place where I wondered what it would be like to give it up for one night, to forget about what I want and get some release for once in so damn long.
But I came crashing back down to reality with the flash of her phone as she took a fucking selfie of us mid-kiss, and thank fuck for that.
“I stopped the kiss and said I didn’t feel a connection and that it would be best if we went our separate ways.” I stroke my cheek, where I can still feel the sting of her palm. “She slapped me and said, ‘Thanks for wasting my time,’ before she got into her car, slammed her door, and drove off.”
Carter chuckles. “Never thought it’d be you getting slapped out of all of us.”
Jaxon touches his cheek and smiles. “I’ve earned my fair share. It’s fueled by some wild energy. Normally ends back in bed, or against a wall. Once, we even dropped right to the—”
“I don’t need to hear it,” I cut him off. “And now there’s a picture of me and her floating around the internet forever.”
Garrett pulls his phone out, snickering at the photo I’ve seen a hundred times today, the one Alessia tagged me in at the crack of dawn. “The caption is the worst part.”
Emmett takes the phone, clearing his throat before reading Alessia’s words out loud in the voice he reserves for his impression of his wife, Cara. “Had the best night with this man, but was so sad when I had to tell him I didn’t feel a love connection. Sad emoji. Three out of five on the kiss scale. Needs some tongue work.”
“Needs some tongue work, my ass,” I grumble, skating up my driveway. Giggles and shrieks flow from the backyard as I flip the lock on my gate. “And I told her I didn’t feel the connection!”
“Grizzly mode activated.” Carter makes claws with his hand. “Rawr .” His eyes light as they land on his daughter, but before he can get there, Garrett races by, scoops her up, and hugs her against his chest.
“Hi, angel,” he coos, dotting her face with kisses while she squeals with laughter. “Uncle Gare is here.”
Carter groans, balls his fists, and starts yanking his rollerblades off. “Jennie ! Come get your boyfriend!”
Cara rolls her eyes from where she’s sunbathing on her stomach. “Act your age, Carter, not your shoe size.” She grins up at Emmett as he claps a hand to her ass. “Hi, baby.”
My patio door slides open, and Jennie and Olivia slip out. Both their eyes light up at the sight of their men, shirtless, sweaty, and fighting over the sweetest baby. Garrett finally gives Ireland up in favor of sweeping Jennie into his arms, burying his face in her neck.
“Keep your hands above the waist, Andersen,” Carter grumbles as Garrett squeezes Jennie’s butt. “That’s my sister.” He sandwiches a babbling Ireland between him and Olivia. “My two princesses.”
Jaxon steals the spotlight as he tears by everyone, screaming, “Cannonball !” before disappearing into my pool with a six-foot splash.
Olivia follows me into my kitchen, where I fill a glass with ice water and drain it in seconds.
“Date didn’t go well, huh?” she asks, pulling a fruit tray from my fridge.
“What, that picture of us kissing didn’t convince you?” I pop a piece of cantaloupe into my mouth as she snickers.
“You looked like a deer caught in headlights.”
“Maybe that’s why she only gave me a three out of five on the kiss scale.”
Olivia snorts, but so much genuine compassion shines in her eyes. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
I shrug. “It’s cool. I’m getting used to the idea that there’s no one out there for me.”
She frowns. “I don’t believe that, Adam. Not a single bit.”
“I’m tired of looking,” I admit quietly.
“Maybe that’s the point. Maybe when you stop looking and just live…maybe that’s when you find your magic.”
I smile at the thought as I hug Olivia’s tiny frame to mine before she heads outside. Magic sounds nice.
My phone rings as I pull burgers and sausages from the fridge, my mom’s face staring up at me from the screen. Her deep brown eyes and wide grin as she stands next to me after my first NHL game, proud as ever and barely reaching my shoulders, bring me a level of comfort that’s hard to find anywhere else.
I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I set the meat on a board. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. What are you up to?”
“About to start the barbecue,” I tell her as a shriek and a splash sound through the door.
“Wish Dad and I were there to join you.” She hesitates, her tone somber when she speaks next. “Maybe we need to visit sooner than later.”
My chest tightens. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, your dad and I are worried, because…” Another pause, and is that—
“Are you laughing?”
“No,” she snickers. “It’s just, we’re really worried about you because—” giggle “—apparently you’re only a—” snort “—three out of five on the kiss scale,” she finally chokes out, nearly drowned by the boom of my dad’s laughter.
“For fuck’s sake. You two are brutal.”
“And she didn’t feel a love connection !” She wheezes, gasping for air, and my eyes find a permanent space in the back of my head.
“Don’t forget the tongue work!” Dad shouts. “He needs some serious tongue work!”
“I hate you,” I grumble.
When she finally gets a handle on her laughter—she might be crying—she says, “I’m sorry, honey. Keeping up with your love life on social media is our favorite way to spend Sunday mornings.”
“Not much of a love life.”
“Maybe you need to step back for a bit,” she suggests.
“Yeah, Ollie was just saying the same thing.”
“You’ve got a great bunch surrounding you, honey. If you’re looking for love, take a look at the people who show up for you every day. When you find someone who makes you feel like that, an extension of your family, you’ll know.”
I know she’s right. The laughter that surrounds me on my best and worst days brings me a contentment I couldn’t live without, and as I head outside and watch my friends make my home their own, I know that if they were all I had for the rest of this life, I’d be okay.
But it still doesn’t stop me from wishing for someone to call my own at nighttime when the quiet sets in.
“Hi, princess,” I whisper, scooping Ireland up and kissing her tiny nose. I tug on the strap of her pink gingham sun hat, and she beams up at me, toothless, pulling in those Beckett dimples in her frilly bathing suit. “Jesus, you’re cute as fuck.”
“That’s a Beckett trait,” Carter says, swimming to the edge of the pool. “Ireland, baby, look! Look at Daddy! Watch what I can do!” He presses his feet against the pool wall and launches himself backward, flipping underwater, emerging with a gasp. “Did you see me, princess? Did you see Daddy? Ten outta ten, right, baby?”
I tickle her cheek. “Wasn’t watching.”
“Aw, man.” Carter slaps the water and swims away.
“Your daddy is too much sometimes, isn’t he?” I murmur to Ireland, setting her back down on her blanket, stretching out beside her.
Her innocent green eyes stare up at me as I drive her favorite light-up bug car around her, and I can’t help letting my mind wander back to another set of green eyes. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this, let my thoughts drift to Rosie. That sweet smile, those honey blonde locks with streaks of soft pink, the gold freckles splashed across her cheekbones, the way that dog looked up at her like she was her whole world.
Hours later, when I’m sitting at the edge of the pool, watching the sun sink behind the spectacular backdrop, when it’s quiet and my dog’s head rests on my thigh, I’m still thinking about her.
My patio door slides open, and Jaxon sits beside me, handing me a beer and dipping his legs in the water. “I’ll never get tired of this view.”
“Me neither.” I take a long pull on my drink, licking the taste from my lips, and for the hundredth time, I wonder what Rosie’s mouth tastes like. Jaxon’s probably not the one to talk to about this, but he’s the only other single one in our group, so he’s the only one still here tonight. “I met someone yesterday.”
“Yeah, dude, I know. That picture has two-hundred-and-fifty thousand likes on Instagram. Everyone knows.”
I chuckle, an exhausted sound, and scrub my eyes. “Someone else. Yesterday, when Bear and I went for a hike.”
His brows rise. “Oh? And? Spill the tea.”
“She was…I donno.” I palm the back of my neck, thinking back on Rosie. “So cute. She’s in vet school, and she was walking a dog from the animal shelter. She’d made special treats for the dog, and she shared some with Bear. Shared her lunch with me too. The dog she was with has had a rough life, she said, and she was just so patient with her.” I shrug. “She was just really sweet.”
“You’re telling me you found someone who actually likes dogs and isn’t just pretending? You hit the jackpot, buddy.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
He laughs, sips his beer. “Seriously. Sounds like something worth exploring.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“And how was she about the hockey stuff?”
“Didn’t come up.” I remember the way I searched her eyes for any hint of excitement when I introduced myself, how her wide gaze gave nothing away. “I don’t think she recognized me.”
“Not a huge hockey fan, then. That’s okay. Kinda what you wanted, right?”
“Would be nice to know if she likes me for me, that’s for sure.”
“So you gonna call her and ask her out?”
I cringe. “I would, but, uh…I didn’t get her number.”
“Jesus, Adam, rookie mistake.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I was all…” I run a hand through my hair, tugging. “Bamboozled.”
Jaxon laughs. “So go back next weekend. Same time, same place. Bet she’s there.”
“That’s kinda…logical. But is it too much? It feels stalker-ish. I don’t wanna scare her off.”
“Nah. A guy determined to track down a cutie he connected with? Girls eat that shit up. Plus, if you felt something, something that might be real…” He shrugs again. “You don’t wanna lose that chance. Chase it.”
I watch him quietly for a moment, casually drinking his beer as he stares out at the mountains. “You don’t have a soft spot, Jaxon, do you?”
“Nah, fuck that.”
“Sounds like you’re a softie for love underneath that tough exterior.” My grin grows as he shakes his head. “Sounds like you might know how to actually court a woman, not just sleep with her.”
“All right.” He yanks my beer out of my hands and strides toward the house. “You’ve had enough. I’m making you a coffee.”
I chuckle as he heads inside, and Bear cracks his sleepy eyes, looking up at me beneath the setting sun.
“What do you think, Bear? Do we give it a shot?” I blow out a breath as the sun does its final dip and the stars begin to paint the sky. “Maybe she’ll like us for exactly who we are.”
Did I really let Jaxon talk me into this?
“What am I doing here?” I look down at Bear, where he waits patiently, then back at the small building in front of me. I throw my arms up. “Let’s go. This is stupid. It’s probably not even the right shelter. And she probably won’t even remember us.”
Bear gives me an angry woof , like he’s disagreeing about how memorable I seem to think he is. He takes his leash in his teeth and tugs, trying to lead me toward Wildheart Animal Sanctuary.
“C’mon, buddy. Let’s go. If we’re meant to see her again, then—”
The sound of soft laughter steals my words when the front door opens, and a German Shepherd leaps outside, all but dragging a little thing with honey blonde and rose gold waves tumbling from the messy bun on top of her head.
I watch as Piglet trots forward three quick steps before jumping into the air, like she’s never been so excited, and Rosie can’t get enough of it.
Bear whimpers at the sight of them, those two girls who might have stolen a spot in our hearts a week ago, and two pairs of eyes snap to us. Piglet cowers, hiding between Rosie’s legs until she recognizes us. Slowly, she steps back into the sunshine, looks up at Rosie, back to us, and starts wagging that tail of hers.
Rosie’s eyes flash with recognition, surprise, and the knots in my stomach tighten as I battle between the urge to run and the desire to stay.
“Adam?”
“Hi, Rosie.” It comes out super fucking croaky, and I palm the back of my clammy neck as she approaches me slowly, curiosity dancing in her soft, jade eyes. “I, uh…I wasn’t sure if this was the right shelter, but it’s the closest one, and I figured maybe you normally go at the same time every Saturday, and…” I clear my throat into my fist. “I thought it would be nice if the dogs could hike together again, since they seemed to really like each other. You know, for the dogs.”
That grin grows, so huge, so dazzling, and Rosie bobs her head in agreement. “Oh, yes. Definitely. For the dogs.”
“And maybe me too,” I admit. “I, um…I liked walking with you. And talking with you. And eating you. No, fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I—eating with you. Your sandwiches. Not your…” I gesture at her crotch. Holy fuck, I gestured at her fucking crotch. I’m turning into Garrett.
I need help. I need an intervention. I have a crush, and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s been way too long. Should I call Carter? Is he really my best bet for advice? No, I’ll call Olivia. She’s sensible. She can help me through this. Maybe she can gather the girls.
I point down the sidewalk. “I’ll just go now.”
A burst of laughter chases behind me when I turn around. Everything inside me settles at Rosie’s next words, at her hand wrapping around my wrist, stopping me.
“We’d love to walk with you.”
