old socks and cheap cologne. I usually avoided coming here.
I knocked and waited, tugging on an end of my scarf. Would it be Luke or V who opened the door? Tapping my foot in anticipation, I wondered if anyone was even awake as nearly a minute passed. I’d texted V that I was dropping by so I figured he was expecting me.
When the door finally opened, it wasn’t Luke or V standing in the doorway. It was a dark haired woman wearing only a team jersey. My heart leapt into my throat. What the hell had I been thinking? There was a 50/50 chance she’d just crawled out of Luke’s bed.
“Hey, can I help you?” she asked with a yawn.
“Um … yeah. Is V here?”
“He’s in the shower.”
“What about Luke?”
She furrowed her brow. “No one’s here but me and V.”
A male voice called from inside the apartment and she turned her head.
“I don’t know who it is!” she yelled, turning back to me. “Who are you?”
“Dell.”
“It’s Dell!”
V came through the living room and approached the door, a towel around his waist. “Hey, Dell, what’s up?”
“I’ve got your …” I held up the bag from the pharmacy. “Sorry, I texted so I thought you knew I was coming.”
“Didn’t see it,” he said, grinning. “I was distracted.”
The woman turned and I saw ‘Vanderschmidt’ lettered across the back of the jersey she wore. My relief was overshadowed by a nagging worry. Where was Luke?
“I could’ve left it with Luke,” I said, handing over the bag. “You didn’t have to jump out of the shower.
“He didn’t come home last night.” V scratched his balls through the towel. This was the downside to being one of the guys. “Bet he gets unlimited ass, being rich and looking like he does.”
“Right.” I tried to smile. “See you at the rink.”
He waved the paper bag in the air. “Thanks for getting this.”
“Sure.”
I turned, sighing when I looked down and caught a glimpse of my scarf. I pulled it off and tossed it on the passenger seat of my car when I got in.
Stupid. I was stupid and naïve for thinking the flirting between me and Luke Hudson was enough for him. Of course he’d screwed a random last night – that was what most of the guys did after playing lousy.
He’d told me he was drunk when I texted him last night. And how did drunken nights always end for hot hockey players? I of all people knew the answer to that.
I wiped a single tear from the corner of my eye and took a deep breath. Fortunately, no one but me knew I was stupid enough to think a hot, multimillionaire pro athlete would be wowed by my lip gloss and pink scarf.
With a glance at the parking lot of a fast food joint, I braked hard and turned in. I drove up to a garbage can, threw my car in park and tossed the scarf in. Why had I let myself think our hands-off flirtation would compare with the dirty sex other women were dying to have with him?
I had to get my head on straight. With his sporadic play, Luke could end up with our team for a while. And I couldn’t afford to be emotionally unbalanced in his presence. I needed to distance myself from him, and from the way he made me feel. Right now the scarf wasn’t the only thing I never wanted to see again.
***
Luke
The dull ache in the back of my head wouldn’t fucking go away. It was worse than getting hit in a game because those hits hurt like hell and then went away. This pain had been with me since this morning, and the aspirin I’d swallowed hadn’t made a dent.
So much for my plan to be sharp for tonight’s game. I was hungover. When I’d told the guy at the front desk of the hotel I didn’t need a receipt for the room, Niko had asked me on the elevator ride upstairs just how much money I made. When I told him, he’d flipped me off and said he was cleaning out the entire stock of booze and food in the room – along with the robes and towels.
And that was how we’d ended up doing several shots while we waited for our food to arrive.
I knocked and waited, tugging on an end of my scarf. Would it be Luke or V who opened the door? Tapping my foot in anticipation, I wondered if anyone was even awake as nearly a minute passed. I’d texted V that I was dropping by so I figured he was expecting me.
When the door finally opened, it wasn’t Luke or V standing in the doorway. It was a dark haired woman wearing only a team jersey. My heart leapt into my throat. What the hell had I been thinking? There was a 50/50 chance she’d just crawled out of Luke’s bed.
“Hey, can I help you?” she asked with a yawn.
“Um … yeah. Is V here?”
“He’s in the shower.”
“What about Luke?”
She furrowed her brow. “No one’s here but me and V.”
A male voice called from inside the apartment and she turned her head.
“I don’t know who it is!” she yelled, turning back to me. “Who are you?”
“Dell.”
“It’s Dell!”
V came through the living room and approached the door, a towel around his waist. “Hey, Dell, what’s up?”
“I’ve got your …” I held up the bag from the pharmacy. “Sorry, I texted so I thought you knew I was coming.”
“Didn’t see it,” he said, grinning. “I was distracted.”
The woman turned and I saw ‘Vanderschmidt’ lettered across the back of the jersey she wore. My relief was overshadowed by a nagging worry. Where was Luke?
“I could’ve left it with Luke,” I said, handing over the bag. “You didn’t have to jump out of the shower.
“He didn’t come home last night.” V scratched his balls through the towel. This was the downside to being one of the guys. “Bet he gets unlimited ass, being rich and looking like he does.”
“Right.” I tried to smile. “See you at the rink.”
He waved the paper bag in the air. “Thanks for getting this.”
“Sure.”
I turned, sighing when I looked down and caught a glimpse of my scarf. I pulled it off and tossed it on the passenger seat of my car when I got in.
Stupid. I was stupid and naïve for thinking the flirting between me and Luke Hudson was enough for him. Of course he’d screwed a random last night – that was what most of the guys did after playing lousy.
He’d told me he was drunk when I texted him last night. And how did drunken nights always end for hot hockey players? I of all people knew the answer to that.
I wiped a single tear from the corner of my eye and took a deep breath. Fortunately, no one but me knew I was stupid enough to think a hot, multimillionaire pro athlete would be wowed by my lip gloss and pink scarf.
With a glance at the parking lot of a fast food joint, I braked hard and turned in. I drove up to a garbage can, threw my car in park and tossed the scarf in. Why had I let myself think our hands-off flirtation would compare with the dirty sex other women were dying to have with him?
I had to get my head on straight. With his sporadic play, Luke could end up with our team for a while. And I couldn’t afford to be emotionally unbalanced in his presence. I needed to distance myself from him, and from the way he made me feel. Right now the scarf wasn’t the only thing I never wanted to see again.
***
Luke
The dull ache in the back of my head wouldn’t fucking go away. It was worse than getting hit in a game because those hits hurt like hell and then went away. This pain had been with me since this morning, and the aspirin I’d swallowed hadn’t made a dent.
So much for my plan to be sharp for tonight’s game. I was hungover. When I’d told the guy at the front desk of the hotel I didn’t need a receipt for the room, Niko had asked me on the elevator ride upstairs just how much money I made. When I told him, he’d flipped me off and said he was cleaning out the entire stock of booze and food in the room – along with the robes and towels.
And that was how we’d ended up doing several shots while we waited for our food to arrive.
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