Hot Shot (Hot as Puck Book 2)

10. Branton

When I finally ventured inside this morning to find no sign of Blake and her door firmly shut, I was disappointed.

Relieved.

I knew, if I wanted to make things right, tell her the details of my life since I cut her out of it, I had to give us both some space. A breather. For now.

Well, mainly me but I’m sure she appreciates not having to deal with me for a while.

After putting together an omelet and leaving half in the oven with a note on the counter for Blake, I packed a bag with water and a couple of protein bars and set out on a four-hour hike.

Once I broke free of the trees bordering the back of the property, I stuck to the shoreline, walked for two hours, my mind running over everything that had happened in the last day, before I turned around and headed back to the house. The same thoughts swirling in my head.

I’d like to say the walk did me good—cleared my mind—but other than getting in some physical exercise, I’m still left with a head full of confusion and a heartache so sharp if I hadn’t already lived with the pain for the last few years, I’d think I was having a heart attack.

As I move through the trees, getting closer to the house, anxiety tightens my chest, squeezes my lungs. There’s a thread of excitement too. So many mixed emotions at the thought of seeing Blake again.

Of not seeing her.

The closer I get, the quicker my steps and heart rate, the pulse pounding in my ears masking every other sound. It’s not until I’m about fifty feet deep in the trees at the back of the house that I realize I can hear music. A thumping beat that mimics my heart.

I know neither of my neighbors are close enough for the sound to travel this far and I’ve never heard more than the occasional door or axe hitting wood from either of them anyway.

It has to be Blake.

And relief washes over me so fast I stumble.

She didn’t leave.

I had hoped my return might go unnoticed, the fleeting thought of slipping inside and going directly to my room without bumping into her had crossed my mind, not that I want to avoid her. Although she sure as shit probably wants to avoid me.

And while I want to give her space, I’m more than thankful she’s still here. I didn’t know what to expect when I got back to the house, but I need to be honest with myself—and her—finding her gone wouldn’t have surprised me.

I’d hate it but I know, once again, it would be me that pushed her away.

Then again, I should know better.

It’s Blake.

She isn’t one to back away from a challenge or when she thinks I’m being an idiot and need some sense talked into me. The numerous unanswered phone calls over the last few years are proof of that.

In spite of the depressing thoughts I’ve lived with all day, that last one brings a smile to my face.

How different would my life be, would things have gone, if I’d answered just one of her calls? If I’d let her tell me all the ways I was fucking up?

I’m not sure what it says about me that I got off—hell, still get off—on Blake Watts giving me a lecture on the ways I’m being dumb. Anyone else giving me a stern talking to—calling me on my bullshit—always gets my back up, but Blake?

Hell, no.

Blake delivering a dressing-down makes me want to strip us both naked and find a bed to roll around on together.

With the imagined naked Blake in my head, I break through the last of the trees into the backyard to discover what the music is all about. And stop short at the sight before me.

Blake, dressed in nothing but her underwear, which if I could move closer, I’m sure I’d see is not underwear but a set of activewear that no doubt bears the Rogue sportswear label, dancing across the deck.

She has the heaters blazing and the sun has been out most of the day so while it might not be considered warm, it’s not that cold either. Add the heat radiating down from the deck roof and she’s probably toasty with the way she’s busting out her moves.

Instead of getting closer like every instinct is screaming for me to do, I stand perfectly still and watch her. And me and my dick are reminded of how sexy she is—how much I’ve always wanted her.

It’s interesting to note I haven’t had any kind of input from my sex drive in years, can’t remember the last time I rubbed one out—before Celeste?—and now it’s yelling loud and clear how it feels.

“You know in some places you have to pay to watch,” Blake shouts above the music.

I’m startled and a bark of laughter catches in my throat when her words register.

I had no idea she knew I was here. Her back is to me and has been the whole time, and there’s no chance she heard me over the music.

She dances over to the table where a few taps on her phone has the music stopping abruptly. “I saw you in the window,” she says at a normal volume as she turns to face me, resting her butt against the table, arms crossed over her chest, the bare expanse of her belly holding my gaze captive for a moment.

When I can pull it away, I glance at the wall of windows and see a perfectly clear reflection of the backyard, myself included. “Oh.”

“Good hike?”

Returning my gaze to her, I find her studying me. “Yeah. Good exercise, fresh air.”

“You hike often?”

“Have since I got here.”

Her gaze moves away from me, traveling along the tree line. “You mind if I tag along next time?”

Something pinches in my chest. I know what it is. Ache and longing and regret. We used to hike all over her parents’ property together. Swallowing hard, I have to force the word out. “Sure.”

“I made lunch. Soup.” She pushes off the table and waves toward the house. “It should be ready in about fifteen minutes if you want to grab a quick shower.”

When I say my walk was good exercise, I’m not talking exercise exercise. In the hours I’ve been gone, I’ve barely worked up a sweat. “I’m good. Took an easy path today.”

“Mind if I jump in real quick? These heaters on high are like a sauna.”

I grin. “Is that why you stripped off?”

“Ha!” Shaking her head she scoops up her phone and a hoodie from the back of a chair. “No. I did a sixty-minute hot yoga session before the rave party started.”

My eyes are now on her thick thighs, my mind wondering how soft the skin is there. It looks silky smooth. Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts and focus on something that isn’t a practically naked Blake. “Need me to do anything to get lunch on the table?”

“Set it?”

“Are you asking me to set it or if I should set it?”

With a shrug she says, “Both, I guess. I was planning to spoon out a bowl and come back out here but now that I have company I should probably put in more effort.”

“You’ve done enough by making the soup. You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t make it for you, Bran. I need to eat too.”

Ouch. The barb is a direct hit I didn’t see coming. Although I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way.

I have no right to take offense at her words, to be hurt by them. Except I am. Because I want to have her care again. I want her to think of me when she does things. I want it with a bone-deep ache that I have no right to feel.

I shut her out of my life. I can’t expect her to come back like nothing happened. Like I didn’t hurt her in the worst way.

I have so much to make up for. So many tattered threads of our friendship I need to mend. A process I know will take time. And if it takes me the rest of my life to do it, I’ll gladly spend my days fixing what I broke because she’s worth it.

Neither of us are the people we were before. What we’ve been through has changed us—me more than her—and the first step to re-establishing our relationship is getting to know each other again.

“Are you still strict with your diet? Now that you’re not playing.”

“Who said I’m not playing?”

“You quit the team, coached the Canadian national team. I just assumed…”

“I play pickup games whenever I can. And I do a lot of one-on-one training with a number of professional players since I quit. I’m probably in better shape now than I was before. It’s amazing what a few extra hours of sleep can do.”

“And now you’re training the Rogues full-time.”

“Not yet. But I will be. Walker and I need to put together our plan. We haven’t had much time to talk about it yet. But I know his style, I think we’ll fit well.”

I know Blake, grew up beside her on the ice, watched her streak across it for years. And the years I played on the same team as Walker have given me insight on how his mind works. “You two are going to crush it.”

“That’s the plan.” Taking a step toward the house she says, “I’ll grab that shower so we can eat.”

“I’ll set the table.”

She eyes me and I can see her mind rolling something around. Pulling in a slow breath I wait, but in the end she gives me a smile laced with sadness before she turns and heads inside.

I don’t know if it’s relief or disappointment that fills my chest. The last few minutes may have felt like old times but I’m not a fool. I know this isn’t what it once was. Our lifelong friendship broke apart when I pushed her and everyone else in my life away.

The minute Celeste came to me and told me she was pregnant, I made the worst decision of my life. I knew it then, but I did it anyway.

And instead of going to the people who had my back, the people I trusted, I went it alone, took a path that led me through the fires of hell before spitting me out here.