My Athlete Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #2)

Chapter Six

A few days later, she walked into the apartment complex's fitness center. But she'd forgotten about hockey players and their ridiculous practice schedules.

Kane was already there, his broad back to her as he did pull-ups on the bar near the window. Dawn hadn't quite broken yet, and the dim lights cast dramatic shadows across his shoulders. He wore a sleeveless Charm City Chill training shirt that showed off arms she'd been trying very hard not to think about since their kiss in her apartment.

She considered turning around. The children's library wouldn't open for hours—she could come back later. But then Kane dropped from the bar, caught sight of her in the mirror, and smiled that damn smile that made her forget all the reasons this was complicated.

"Morning." He grabbed a towel, making no effort to hide the way his gaze traveled from her running shoes to her ponytail. "Nice shorts."

"Nice... form." The words came out more breathless than she'd intended. She busied herself with her water bottle, trying to remember why she'd thought working out this early in the morning was a good idea.

"I could say the same about yours." He moved closer, voice dropping. "But I should probably check your technique. You know, as a professional athlete."

"I know how to use gym equipment."

"Do you?"

Before she could protest, he'd guided her to the weight rack. "Here." His hands settled on her hips, allegedly adjusting her form but really just setting her skin on fire through the thin material of her shorts. "You want to keep your core engaged."

"My core is plenty engaged." Especially with him standing so close, his chest barely brushing her back.

"Hmm." His breath tickled her ear. "What about your grip?" His hands slid down her arms to demonstrate proper hand positioning on the weights, and she had to bite back a gasp at the contact.

"Kane..."

"Just being helpful." But she could hear the smile in his voice, feel the way his thumbs traced small circles on her wrists.

The fitness center door banged open.

They jumped apart like guilty teenagers as Oliver Chen and Dmitri Volkov strolled in, already mid-argument.

"Ice ballet is essential for agility," Dmitri was saying in his thick Russian accent. "You try doing triple axel on ice, then tell me it won’t help your game."

"It's too early for this debate." Oliver noticed Allison and Kane, his eyes narrowing with interest. "Oh hey, didn't expect anyone else to be here. Especially not our lucky charm."

"I'm not—" Allison started, but Dmitri cut her off with a dramatic gesture.

"Ah! The puck witch." He curtsied with a ballet plie squat. "Your magic has been holding on this week. I got goals in practice.”

"I’m not a witch.” She looked to Kane for help, but he was suddenly very interested in re-racking weights.

"Don't mind Dmitri." Oliver started up a treadmill. "He's convinced you're some kind of hockey fairy godmother. Says the ice feels different now.”

"Ice always tells truth," Dmitri said solemnly, then ruined the effect with an exaggerated wink. "Like how it knows when Kane is distracted checking his phone between drills."

The weights clanked as Kane fumbled them. "I'm not distracted."

"No?" Oliver's grin turned wicked. "So you regularly miss Coach's plays because you're too busy scanning the library’s website? Because yesterday, when you kept checking if story time was over so you could 'accidentally' run into someone in the lobby..."

"I wasn't—that wasn't—" Kane grabbed his towel, the tips of his ears burning red against his tousled brown hair. Their eyes met briefly, and Allison's breath caught at the mix of embarrassment and heat in his gaze. "I'm hitting the showers."

"Running away only proves point," Dmitri called after him. "Like frightened baby deer on ice."

"I should go too." Allison headed for the door, workout forgotten. "I need to... catalog... things."

"The library doesn't open for three hours," Oliver pointed out helpfully.

"Early cataloging. Very important."

She practically fled, face burning. Behind her, she heard Dmitri say, "Young love is beautiful thing. Like perfect triple lutz."

"It's too early your shit," Oliver groaned. "Just spot me on bench press."

Allison meant to go back to her apartment. Really, she did. But somehow she found herself in the equipment room adjacent to the gym, heart pounding as she tried to catch her breath. The small space smelled like leather and rubber, metal racks holding various weights and resistance bands.

The door opened behind her.

"Cataloging, huh?" Kane's voice was amused. "In the equipment room?"

“Checking library hours? Stalking much?”

She turned to face him, ready for battle, but the words died in her throat. He was still flushed from working out, his hair damp with sweat, and the look in his eyes made her forget why they were trying to keep their distance in the first place.

“Guilty as charged.”

"We shouldn't," she managed, even as he stepped closer.

"Probably not." His hands found her waist, backing her against the weight rack. "But I've been thinking about kissing you again all week."

"The guys are right outside," she protested halfheartedly.

"Then we'll have to be quiet." His lips brushed her jaw, then her neck, making her shiver. "Think you can manage that?"

She meant to say something smart, but then he was kissing her properly, and all she could do was hold on. He tasted like mint and coffee, and his skin was hot under her palms when she slid her hands under his shirt. He made that sound again, the one that drove her crazy, and pressed her against the shelving unit for better access.

A loud laugh from the gym made them freeze.

"—where's Kane?" Oliver's voice carried through the door. "Coach wants him to look at the practice schedule."

Kane's forehead dropped to her shoulder with a groan. "To be continued?"

"To be continued." She straightened her shirt with shaking hands. "Though maybe somewhere with fewer interruptions next time."

They tried to look casual when Oliver stuck his head in, though Allison was pretty sure her face was still red. Kane was suddenly very interested in his phone.

"There you are," Oliver said, his knowing look saying he wasn't fooled. "Coach Vicky wants us at the arena in an hour."

Kane's ears went red. "An hour, yeah got it."

Oliver disappeared back into the gym. Through the door, they heard him tell Dmitri, "You owe me twenty bucks. They were totally making out in there."

"Damn." Dmitri's voice carried clearly. "Was hoping they finally admit feelings like adults. Making out in storage is amateur move."

"We should..." Kane gestured vaguely at the door.

Allison smoothed her ponytail. "I actually do need to get ready for work."

"Right." He hesitated, then stole one more quick kiss. "Have dinner with me tonight? Somewhere not in the equipment room?"

She should say no. The team was on a winning streak, media attention was growing, and Coach Vicky was already suspicious of Kane's focus. Adding a real date to the mix would only complicate things.

But Kane was looking at her with those blue eyes, still slightly dazed from kissing, and she found herself nodding.

"Good." His smile was brilliant. "I'll text you the details. And Allison?" He paused at the door. "Dmitri's right about one thing."

"What's that?"

"The ice does feel different when you’re there."

He was gone before she could respond, leaving her perched on the weight rack with burning cheeks and a racing heart. Through the wall, she heard Dmitri start humming what sounded suspiciously like the wedding march.

"Too early for that," Oliver complained.

"Is never too early for love," Dmitri declared.

Allison buried her face in her hands, but she was smiling. Maybe complicated wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Later while she was at work, her phone buzzed with a text from Kane: Coach is going to kill me for texting now, but worth it. I made reservations for dinner at O’Conner’s tonight. Wear something nice. No gym clothes allowed (unfortunately).

Another buzz: Though those shorts should be illegal anyway.

And another: Dmitri says we have no romance, making out in equipment room like teenagers. He's offering to teach me a proper courtship ice ballet. Send help.

She felt herself grinning like an idiot. Her workout might have been a bust this morning, but somehow she didn't think she'd have any trouble getting her heart rate up today.

One more text from Kane: Forgot to mention - Coach scheduled a press conference after practice. Any chance you could bring my lucky charm? (That's you, not the puck. Though maybe bring that too.)

And there it was—reality crashing back in. The puck. The team. The media. All the complications they'd been trying to ignore in the equipment room.