Chapter 37 #2
I blink. “You’ve, um, thought about this a lot.”
“Yeah.” He laughs, a genuine sound. I haven’t gotten a ton of laughs from him but I love hearing them. “You’re a fantasy come to life, Juliet. And I don’t mean just because you have unbelievable tits. You’re smart and funny and you seem to like me even though I’m…”
He trails off, his amusement falling flat. For a second, I see a flash of pain on his face.
“You’re what?” I ask, lacing his fingers with mine.
“You already know.” When they come, his words are sarcastic. “I’m the Chainsaw.”
I consider him for a long moment. Huxley’s dirty blond hair falls into his face just so. I brush it back, smoothing my hand along his jaw. He has a healing bruise on his right cheek from a few days ago. His blue-gray eyes study me, his brow creased with concern.
“I don’t know who the Chainsaw is,” I say at last. “All I know is you, Hux. You’re kind and you remember stupid things I care about, like my coffee order. You treat me like I matter.” I take a deep breath. “I hope it’s not disappointing to say that I hate your alter ego, but I really like you.”
He shakes his head slowly, the hair falling back into his eyes.
“You let me take what I need, Monroe,” he says, his eyes flashing. “I’m a big brute who needs to be in control. You let me be myself. Not only that, but you seem to enjoy it.”
“Yes, Hux, I do. I’ve loved everything we’ve done so far.”
“Yeah?” He fidgets. It’s odd to see such a big guy be uncomfortable. “I love it too, Firecracker.”
Moving around the booth, he slides to my side and kisses me. He takes up all the damn space but I don’t even care. I tangle my fingers in his overlong hair, sucking in a breath that’s pure him. Burnt vanilla, tobacco, and musk. It makes my mouth water.
He pulls back, looking at my mouth, and rubs his thumb over the fullness of my bottom lip. His thumb comes away bright red. “I can’t wait to fuck this off you, Monroe. I swear, you’ve given me a mouth fetish.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure most guys have a mouth fetish.”
Hux licks his lips. “Not like I do.”
“Oh, yeah?” Heat gathers between my thighs, radiating outward. “You’ll have to show me, I guess.”
“Deal.” He gives me a wickedly dark smile. “Can I take you to bed now?”
My lips twitch. “Almost. Want to pose for a couple of selfies with me? Gotta keep the Gram up to date, you know. It’s my job.”
“All right, all right.” Hunter acts like a Ken doll, letting me move his body around in a variety of poses. I take advantage of his compliance and sneak in a few extras, but he doesn’t complain.
On our way back, I post several new Instagram photos. My ring catches the light as my hand rests over his heart. The two of us in bed together, with him shirtless and me wearing his team hoodie. A mirror selfie of us getting ready for dinner, his arms around me from behind.
I post them because I genuinely want to. Because if this were real, if he’d actually proposed, I wouldn’t ever shut up about it. I’d be that insufferable person posting couple photos every day and not caring who rolled their eyes.
The thought catches me off guard.
“You’re overthinking again,” Hunter murmurs against my temple as we walk back into the hotel.
“How can you tell?”
“You get this little line right here.” He touches the spot between my eyebrows. “And you go silent.”
“I don’t go quiet.”
“You absolutely go quiet. It’s how I know you’re plotting something.”
I’m about to argue when my phone vibrates. Work emergency. I read about Thorne and some girl he hooked up with last week, who is now threatening to go to the press with what she claims are compromising photos and a story about his aggressive behavior.
I swear to god, hockey players have no self-preservation skills. What would they do without a PR team?
I handle it from the hotel room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a half-eaten Caesar salad beside me. Twenty minutes and one very pricey nondisclosure agreement later, I solved the problem.
“Nice work,” Hunter says when I push my phone away. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“You couldn’t afford my rates,” I joke.
Honestly? I love being in the mix with this PR department. During it all, I fix things and keep the machine running smoothly. Being important. Being needed.
It fills some hole deep inside me and leaves me feeling very pleased with myself.
* * *
The next day we’re in Salt Lake City, after a game where the Havoc absolutely demolished their competition.
Hux was an absolute savage, checking and throwing his weight around like he was out for blood.
He set the tone for every single shift. And he did it without once getting called out for rough play.
The rest of the team fed off it, piling on goals until the scoreboard felt almost unfair.
The press events were mercifully short. A good thing too, since I am running out of steam this far into our trip. The girls are all waiting for the team to finish so that we can catch a ride back to the hotel and crash.
It’s been a long week.
Ivy mentions that human resources is final-rounding a new office gopher for the Havoc. A woman, which makes me extremely happy. The team needs more female energy.
I flip through the profile that Ivy hands me. Scout Morelli. The profile picture is cute, one of Scout dressed in tennis gear, smiling at the camera like it’s her best friend. Where do I recognize her name from?
Oh, that’s right. Team manager Jared Duke emailed it to the team leads. Her résumé came across my inbox with a note about “excellent resilience under pressure.” I looked her up, curious.
She is married to Enzo Morelli, a very famous Havoc hockey player who retired and became an agent. He seems like a douchebag, but maybe that’s the sort of people pleasing that will help get things done around here. I would certainly like to throw Enzo’s wife a bone if I can.
“And that’s when I knew I wasn’t meant to live in a city forever,” Mollie says. “I mean, just think of this hair in the rain!”
Everyone laughs, making me look up from the profile. She points to her smooth red tresses. She’s right; I can easily picture her hair getting frizzy in the Seattle humidity.
Mollie looks around the Family Lounge at Ivy, Wren, and Jessa.
Jessa and Mollie get along so well that I’m a teeny bit jealous.
It’s hard to resist their sunny attitudes, though.
The Coven is in full effect, talking animatedly about some ridiculous plan to buy an off-the-grid compound together and raise goats or rescue dogs or both.
“What if we buy a place in eastern Washington?” Ivy asks. “I’m thinking halfway between Seattle and Spokane. It would be in the desert, but I think if we build something new and dig a well, we can sustain ourselves during the apocalypse.”
“That’s very important.” Jessa nods. “Plenty of privacy. Scenic views. We could start a cult. Ivy, you’d make a great cult leader.”
“Interesting.” Ivy taps her chin. “You know, I have always wanted to lead a devoted following to a remote locale.”
“I’d follow you,” Wren chimes in. “If we build a compound, we’re going to have to put a moat around it. Ladies, if we’re going cult, I say we go full cult.”
“All the way, baby!” I agree. Everyone laughs. Just then, Hunter sticks his head into the room, his hair still wet, his dark suit making him look mouthwateringly good. Yu-um.
“There you are, Monroe.” He beckons to me. “Come on. Two rookies got into a fight in the locker room, so Coach Cross is reaming them out. I’m exhausted, so I’m sneaking us out of here.” He purses his lips. “Sorry, girls.”
Ivy waves him off. “I’d be ready to get to the hotel too if I had someone like Juliet to cuddle up to.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Don’t be jealous. I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow when we finally fly home.”
Ivy chuckles, Jessa gives me a quick hug, and then I head out following my very tall, quite dapper fiancé. Should I call him that? I’m not sure how to refer to him now that we’re no longer doing the fake fiancée thing.
“Twenty bucks says Ivy’s the one who ends up actually buying property,” I say to Hunter as we walk out to a waiting SUV.
“You’ve built up quite a community here,” he comments as he tucks me in the back seat before going around to the other side.
I wait for him to climb in beside me before pressing. “What do you mean?”
“The Coven.” His lips twitch. “You all are one TikTok dance away from becoming a girl squad.”
“We’re not that close.” I laugh. “We might have been talking about moving to the desert and starting a cult, though.”
“See? Men aren’t friends that way. I love my brothers and all, but I won’t draw up a floor plan for our shared bunker or pick out Kool-Aid flavors.”
I grin. “Dark.”
He shrugs. “Just saying.”
Hunter’s right, though. It catches me off guard how clearly he sees it. The way the girls have included me in their plans and their inside jokes, how fiercely loyal we are to each other.
“When did you get so observant?” I ask.
“I think you’re always surprised that I notice the most obvious things. You’ve set the bar incredibly low.”
“You’re salty today.”
His eyes sparkle. “I’m just trying to tell you to expect more. I pay attention to what matters, Firecracker.”
The way he says it, like I’m what matters, makes my chest tight. Yeah, Hux is so getting laid when we get back to the hotel.