Chapter 27 Noah
TWENTY-SEVEN
NOAH
On the way to morning skate, I can’t help but glance at the door that will soon be Sienna’s. If I thought she had slept there last night, I’d be standing outside with a coffee, waiting to offer her a ride to work.
She may not be here now, but soon enough, it’s going to be damn hard for her to avoid me.
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face last night as I fell asleep. Not only did I kiss Sienna again, but I felt her come around my fingers and swallowed her moans. Then I got to watch her pretty cheeks flush pink as she came against the wall in her office.
That moment alone would have kept me soaring for days. But then the universe stepped in with another message, reminding us that we are fated to be together. Now that she’s my neighbor, I’m not sure I’ll ever come down from this high.
What are the fucking chances we end up not only in the same building but on the same floor?
Damn near impossible, that’s what.
There’s a chance Hannah mentioned the available unit, but from what I can tell, she and Sienna haven’t interacted much. Plus she’s too busy being a mom and an author and a husband-obsessed wife to meddle like that.
Halfway to the elevator, I turn around and stride for her door, just to confirm.
From out here, I can hear some character on their television singing a ridiculous tune and Mav babbling along with the lyrics. Then Daniel calls out—to Hannah, I presume—that he’s leaving in two minutes.
The chaos inside their apartment couldn’t be more different from the mostly quiet existence I lead. Even when I lived with my sister, the apartment only came to life when Daniel and Ollie were there.
My chest pinches with a longing for that kind of disorder.
For a partner to do life with. For more time with my child.
The custody arrangement isn’t the problem; it’s my job.
It’s not seeing Ollie for days at a time when I’m traveling and sitting in silence on Jen’s days with him when I’m not.
Daniel may travel too, but when he comes home, Mav and Hannah are always there waiting.
As long as I play hockey, I’ll never have that kind of life.
It wouldn’t be fair to force a custody arrangement that revolved around my schedule.
Ollie thrives on structure. Interrupting his schedule and asking Jen to jump through hoops to make it work would be a disservice to all of us.
But damn does it suck not having my boy here when I’m not traveling.
As it is, I already miss so much of his life.
The door swings open, but rather than greet me, Daniel practically barrels into me, his bag slung over his shoulder and his head down.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, pulling up short.
I chuckle. “It’s okay. Sounds like you guys had a busy morning.”
In the instant before the door closes, my sister breezes into the living room and drops a kiss on Mav’s head.
That pinch in my chest is back. This time, though, it’s a little softer. It’s accompanied by a gratefulness I wish I could feel in my own life. For so long, Hannah had no one but herself. Daniel and Mav have brought out a side of her I didn’t even know existed.
“You ready?” Daniel glances back at the now-closed door, then gives me a concerned frown.
I blink myself back to reality. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night. I guess I’m still waking up.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Was Ollie over?”
“Um, no.”
“Why the hell didn’t you sleep, then?” Eyes widening, he rears back. “Wait, did you get laid?”
With a shake of my head, I stride toward the elevator. “No.”
“Then I’m not following,” he says, trailing me.
“Sleep can be disrupted even when women and children aren’t involved.” I stab the call button a little too forcefully. After the reminder of how empty my life is, my mood has officially tanked.
Chuckling, Daniel sidles up beside me. “Not me. I sleep like a baby when Mav is quiet and your sister isn’t—”
I jab him in the chest the same way I jabbed the elevator button. “Do not finish that sentence.”
He rubs at the spot, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. I know the look. He’s trying like hell not to blab all the details of what my sister did to him last night.
I don’t think anything could surprise me anymore. In the months I lived with them, I heard far too much. Hannah is not quiet in any facet of her life.
“So were you just craving my company, or did you stop by for a reason?”
I focus forward as we step onto the elevator, keeping my expression neutral. “I ran into Sienna Langfield in the hall last night. Was wondering if Hannah was the one who told her about the building.”
Daniel shrugs. “No idea. She’s moving in here?”
“Guess so.”
“Hmm.” He grins. “That’ll be nice for Hannah.”
I dip my chin, leaving it at that. He’ll find out eventually why Sienna’s whereabouts concern me, but I’m not ready to lay my cards out just yet.
Hours later, as I lace up my skates, I’m focused and ready to win tonight’s game.
Everyone has their own pregame ritual. Aiden sings, Daniel dances, War plays cards, Brooks puts his headphones on and zones out, and I do a crossword puzzle.
Yup. I’m aware that it’s a weird fucking ritual, but pouring all my focus into the task keeps me from worrying about what’s going to happen on the ice. Once I step into the arena, I divert my full attention to the game ahead. The routine allows me to channel all my energy more efficiently, I guess.
“Nervous about playing Minnesota tonight, boys?” Camden crows.
War chuckles as he deals a hand of cards. “When have you ever seen me nervous?”
Daniel surveys him. “Every time your wife yells at you.”
My best friend’s lips kick up on one side. “I love when my wife is vicious, so I assure you, that doesn’t bother me.”
Camden picks up the cards in front of him and eyes me, like he’s waiting for me to respond.
I shake my head at the kid. He was traded to Las Vegas shortly after I came to Boston, but a year later, he came back.
He and Daniel are really tight. He’s a winger like the three of us, but War and I have ten years on Daniel and Camden.
While we’re coming close to the tail end of our careers, they’re just getting started.
“I’m not worried,” I tell him. “Vetters is weak on his left side,” I say of the defenseman that Cam or I will face tonight. “And Tatty hates when people play with the puck.” Minnesota’s goalie is adamant that hockey is a serious sport. He despises the tricks the younger guys love.
I may not play with the puck, but the showmanship doesn’t bother me. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the biscuit into the back of the net. And if playing with the food is the way to make it happen, I’ll manage.
When a commotion rises near the front of the locker room, I fold my crossword puzzle over and turn toward the sounds.
“Looks like Ezra’s bringing the new girl around.” Cam sets his cards face down on the bench in front of him.
War knees him, his blue eyes hard. “Drop the new girl shit and show some respect. She’s the fucking owner of this team.”
Aiden and Brooks pass by, headed that way, though I’ve yet to set eyes on my girl.
Because make no mistake about it, Sienna Langfield may be their sister, and she might be the owner and CEO of this team, but she’s mine.
Just need to get her on board with that little fact.
I hang back and join in with the guys, studying my cards.
I try to distract myself by chatting with them, by visualizing the way the game will go, and then flip back to the crossword puzzle I was working on.
But Sienna’s mere presence disrupts my peace.
Then her scent hits me, beckoning me to look up.
In a locker room full of smelly fucking equipment and men—seriously, hockey is hands-down the worst-smelling sport—she’s like a breath of fresh air.
The black Louboutin boots register first. Fuck. The sight takes me back to how good they looked on her when she spread her legs wide so I could fuck her with my fingers.
Not much is more uncomfortable than an erection in hockey gear, but I’m a masochist. So rather than look away, I assess her slowly, taking in all her curves.
And when a shock of blue peeks out from beneath her black blazer, I give up all hope of remaining unaffected. There’s a goddamn hockey jersey beneath that jacket. Tucked into those tight black leather pants. My mouth waters.
Could the number on the back of the jersey belong to one of her brothers? Sure. But which one? How would she choose?
Knowing Sienna, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
That knowledge gives me a full-on chub.
I drop my puzzle book and stand to greet our new CEO. It’s only polite. Good business. The cup pinches my thickened cock, but with the way my heart is racing, I barely notice the discomfort.
“No need to get up, boys. Just saying hello.” She offers a smile, though she pointedly avoids looking at me.
Camden, who’s dressed from the waist down only, gives her a boyish grin.
Irritation flares hot in my veins. He’s not all that close to any of the Langfields. He’s also enough of a player not to care about the sort of rules that would deter him from hooking up with a superior. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Camden Snow. I handle your left side.”
War stands and smacks him on the back of the head. “Shut up.” With a glare at the kid, he steps in front of him. “Sienna, if any of these idiots give you trouble, let me know.”
She lets out a raspy laugh and shakes her head. “I’ll be fine, Warren, but thank you.”
Ezra appears, decked out in a suit, with his hair slicked back, and rests his hand on Sienna’s lower back. “Everyone behaving for you?” he asks. “And dressed?” Eyes narrowed, he surveys us all, stopping at Camden. “At least for the most part?”
Ezra was an okay player fifteen years ago. He retired before I was drafted, but I’ve heard he could be a cocky bastard. The majority of hockey players are, I guess. It comes with the territory, so I never really minded.
But the way he’s touching Sienna right now has my nerves on edge.
I’d be itching to push any man away from her, but as she stands stock-still, wearing an expressionless mask, like she doesn’t want him to touch her, my vision goes red.
I’m not a fighter. In fact, I’ve got a pretty chill temperament for a hockey player.
But I want to rip this guy’s arm out of its socket and beat him with it.
“Good luck tonight,” the fucker tacks on as he guides an uncomfortable Sienna toward the center of the locker room where Gavin is now standing.
“Damn, baby Langfield is fine,” Cam drawls.
War smacks him so hard the sound echoes off the walls. “What did I say about respect?”
“We all called Millie Baby Hall,” Cam points out, rubbing the back of his blond head.
Daniel puffs up, his usually easygoing expression going sour.
“Oh, stop,” Cam goes on. Clearly the kid doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. “We know your wife calls you that in bed—”
This time I’m the one who smacks the back of his head. “Please, she’s my sister.”
Daniel grimaces like he’s in pain. “That’s what I’m saying about Millie.”
“The point is—” War drags out. “Sisters are off-limits.”
The four of us focus on the sister in question.
Sienna is smiling as Ezra and Gavin speak, but I know her well enough to know when it’s forced.
And Ezra still has his hand on her back.
It takes effort to fight the urge to storm over and scoop her up.
How the fuck hasn’t Gavin noticed that she’s uncomfortable?
“Someone should let Ezra know that she’s off-limits, then,” Cam grumbles.
Brooks wanders over to the group, his pads all in place, chuckling.
I grind my teeth. What’s with her brothers’ inability to show even an ounce of protective instinct where their sister is concerned? “Why are you laughing?”
“I love my sister to death, but she’s an ice queen. I’ve never seen her with a man.” He drops onto the bench and slides his headphones over his ears.
“Maybe she’s a virgin like you were until you were thirty,” War teases.
Brooks blinks slowly, unimpressed. “I’ll pretend that’s true.”
“Works for me,” Aiden chirps, sliding down the bench and knocking into his brother.
A little niggle of guilt pops up, but I tamp it down quick. If they only knew how wrong they are. Though if she doesn’t bring men around, then there’s hope that whoever that British guy was, he didn’t last long.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, I still mean as much to her as she does to me.
She and Ezra hang around while Gavin gives us our game-day talking-to. I only half listen, too caught up in studying every inch of her I can see. Even as I head out of the locker room, I don’t look away from her.
Nothing but hockey. For years, that was my motto. Ollie changed my mentality quickly. Now Sienna is here, doing the same. With her near, I can’t focus on anything but her. I let the guys go ahead of me, and as I step up beside her, I pause and lean in.
She turns her head away, a poor attempt at looking like she’s focused on something on the other side of the room.
I move another inch closer, then another, until my lips ghost over the shell of her ear, and croak, “Whose name is on the back of your jersey?”
Her body locks up and she whips around, annoyance radiating from her. “What’s it to you?” she seethes, her mouth a breath from mine.
I inhale deeply through my nose and hold my breath, savoring her scent. I’ve never been possessive like this. And I’ve never understood this need to see a woman in my damn jersey. “Is it mine?”
She coughs out a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I’m pushed forward and herded out the door before I can respond. Before I can demand she take off the damn jacket and show me.
Without confirmation, there’s no way I’ll focus on anything but that lingering question, even once I hit the ice.
Fuck.