Chapter 14
Hunter
I crowd onto the seaplane with the rest of the starting lineup and a couple of rookies: Thorne, Silas, Jett, Grayson, Beck, Shane, and Connor.
Coach Ryan also enters at the last minute, hustling his flame-haired fiancée Wren with him.
The salt wind sneaks through the open hatch.
The team’s packed in here like sardines.
The ladies who work for the team, Jessa, Ivy, and Juliet, stuff themselves in the very back of the plane. Connor claims the spot next to Juliet until I growl at him, making him move to the front of the plane.
I have eyes only for Juliet, who’s gripping her seat like the plane might fall apart at any second. We take off without incident and she relaxes incrementally.
“Better?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She arches her brow and leans close to my ear. “Think you can handle sharing one bed without making it weird?”
I fire back, “Adults have self-control, Firecracker.”
Her cheeks warm. “That’s a way better nickname than Ace.”
I give her hand a squeeze. Under the banter sits an electric hum I’m not ready to name. Something that’s been building since that kiss in our hallway, something that makes the air between us feel charged every time we’re in the same room.
Going on this weekend will be interesting. It’ll be a view of how Juliet acts around me, not just because cameras will watch, not because we have to pretend. I know I told her I’m trying to keep our fake relationship under wraps from my team, but it will be an interesting litmus test.
Orcas Island is part of the San Juan Islands, a cluster of rugged, forested gems tucked between the Washington coastline and the Canadian border.
It’s about a hundred miles northwest of Seattle, accessible only by ferry or seaplane.
We skim over the Puget Sound in a tiny plane that buzzes like a dragonfly before landing with a splash in the harbor.
The island itself feels like another world.
Everything is wild and green and cinematic.
Towering firs crowd the shoreline. Jagged cliffs drop into the deep, inky water that somehow always looks cold, even when the sun hits it just right.
The air smells of pine needles and salt and wood-smoke.
It’s nature in high definition, dramatic and moody and so beautiful it almost feels rude.
We hop on the golf cart shuttle to Orcas Point.
The place that we’re staying is absolutely obscene.
A cedar and glass main lodge perched over slate cliffs, five guest cottages tucked into the fir trees, private docks stretching out into silver water that looks like a postcard.
There’s a heated pool and a hot tub steaming in the October chill, fire bowls already lit and crackling.
“How much does this weekend cost per person?” Juliet whispers as we put our things down in the main house.
I wave a dismissive hand. “Basically nothing. Greene’s yacht club buddy basically comped the whole thing as a favor. As long as we don’t break anything or set the place on fire, we’re golden.”
“It must be nice to be so rich you can just let a hockey team stay in one of your weekend vacation compounds.”
“Right? I earn a lot of money, but I’ll never have that billionaire yacht vacation estate kind of cash.”
She wrinkles her nose at that, her dark eyes sparkling. She’s in a good mood today. With the gorgeous Orcas Island surrounding us, who wouldn’t be?
Our entire party cozies up in hoodies and fleece jackets and gathers on the lawn of the main house like we’re at summer camp.
The plan is to hike up the trail outlined in the binder for the estate.
The party ambles, Ivy leading the charge, Jessa and Jett close on her heels.
Grayson and Beck are right behind them, strolling more than hiking.
Silas hangs back to spot the rookies who are struggling with the incline.
I end up in the middle beside Juliet, matching her shorter stride.
She’s wearing a dark gray Seattle Havoc hoodie that I’ve never seen her wear before, a pair of stretchy black yoga pants, and a pair of weird-looking high heel-slash-boots on her feet.
Her legs pump twice as fast as mine just to keep up. “You walk like a giant,” she mutters.
I grin. “You’re five feet tall, Juliet. You’re tiny.”
“I’m not tiny.” She glares at me, breathing hard. “I should have stayed in the house with Ryan and Wren. This is way too much exercise for me.”
“You’re tough. You can do it.” I smirk and pretend not to enjoy the flush creeping up her throat.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she pants.
“What? Watching you struggle up a hill? Never.”
“Sadist.”
“You’re the one who packed heels for a camping trip.”
“These are hiking boots,” she protests. “I got them especially for this trip.”
“They look extremely uncomfortable.”
Juliet sticks her tongue out at me, and I let out a bark of laughter. She’s usually all stiff and formal, but trudging uphill through the woods seems to strip away a layer of her starchiness.
She walks faster, intentionally leaving me behind. I don’t complain though, because now I get to stare at her ass in those yoga pants. Damn, if Juliet were my real fiancée, I would count down the minutes until I got to strip those leggings off her and sink my teeth into that ass.
I’m never going to get to take her pants off, but it never hurt anyone to look.
When we get back to the house, Juliet devours a chicken caesar salad wrap that the estate’s private chef makes for lunch. I quirk a brow as she puts down a plate of fruit salad, a huge brown butter cookie, and a bottle of electrolyte sports drink.
“What?” she says, glaring at me.
I shake my head, finishing my second wrap. “Nothing. It’s just that girls rarely eat around me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just burned like a billion calories. Would you prefer I starve?”
I smirk. “With legs that short, I’m shocked you burned any at all.” She kicks me under the table hard enough to make me laugh.
“I’m kidding.” I reach out and touch her hand, getting her to look at me. “It’s cute.”
“You’re being weird.” She stands up and carries her plate into the kitchen.
I watch her go, considering. Am I being weird? Maybe.
I think this relaxed atmosphere is doing funny things to both of our personalities.
After lunch, we mark off end zones with pieces of driftwood and play touch football on the damp grass. Moose cheats constantly, Thorne trash-talks everyone, Jett keeps stealing the ball from Jessa, and Juliet keeps score while chirping me for being overly dramatic when I score a touchdown.
She has to jump to snatch the ball out of my hand when I tease her.
“Give it back, Sasquatch,” she says, stretching uselessly. I hold it just high enough to make her glare.
Her laughter keeps finding me across the field. Every time it does, something tight in my chest loosens, like I’ve been holding my breath without realizing it.
What is going on between us exactly?
Juliet’s eyes sparkle as everyone huddles up for the punch. She’s having fun. Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass is learning that life is more bearable when you don’t treat everything as a task on an endless checklist.
“You know this is supposed to be touch football, right?” she calls out when I level Shane with what might have been excessive force. “Not murder ball.”
“Tell Shane to run faster.”
“Tell yourself to dial it back, Chainsaw.”
The nickname should annoy me. Instead, it makes my lips twitch with humor.
Sunset bleeds orange over the water. Eventually, we circle around the fire pit wrapped in blankets, beers sweating in our gloved hands. Embers pop and spark; someone queues up music from the nineties. Ryan roasts me for losing some bet I don’t remember making.
I lob back a dig about his questionable coaching decisions until Juliet nudges my knee under the blanket.
“Easy, Chainsaw,” she murmurs. “PR is off duty this weekend.”
The simple contact buzzes hotter than the flames. Her knee stays pressed against mine. I try my damnedest not to read too much into it.
Later, there’s a night swim dare that has the rookies cannonballing into the heated pool. Almost everyone jumps in, beers in hand. Silas won’t drink, so I don’t even bother checking with him. He’ll stay and watch the pack. He’s a sheepdog like that.
After a couple of beers, I get antsy. I catch Juliet’s gaze. “Hot tub?”
She bites her lower lip gently, some sort of decision-making process happening in her head. I have to say, I like that about her. At last, she shrugs. “Okay. Let me change into a bathing suit.”
I hurry to change into my trunks, feeling a charge of anticipation. I haven’t ever seen Juliet in a bikini and I have to admit, I’m looking forward to it. Grabbing a big, fluffy towel, I head into the private grotto where the hot tub is situated.
I climb into the steaming tub, instantly groaning. It feels amazing on my stiff right knee and my bruised right ribcage. Okay. When I eventually get a house, a hot tub is going to be on my list of must-haves.
Juliet makes an appearance a few minutes later, wrapped in a fluffy yellow beach towel.
She sends an apprehensive look over her shoulder as she hands the towel over a deck chair, revealing a jaw-dropping little body in a navy high-waisted bikini.
The structured and sleek top lifts and curves in all the right places without showing too much.
Which somehow makes it worse. The fabric clings like a second skin, hugging her waist and hips, dipping just enough at the neckline to short-circuit my brain.
Juliet’s legs look impossibly long. Her skin is smooth and flushed from the cool air.
She pulled up her hair, which leaves her graceful neck bare, and all I can think about is pressing my mouth to the sweet curve where her shoulder meets her neck.