Chapter 5 #2
"Anyway." She gives me a small smile. "I should get these inside before they wilt, and I've taken up enough of your time already. Thanks for the help… Cillian."
I can only nod. We look at each other for a long moment and I’d swear there’s an electric current vibrating in the inches between us.
She holds my gaze, her brow furrowing slightly, and for a second I think maybe she’s drowning in it just as much as I am.
Then she clears her throat and turns back toward the building, leaving me standing there with my hands in my pockets, watching her go.
And just like that, I’m fucking hooked.
I'm finishing a late dinner on the couch in San Francisco, plate balanced on my knee, when Brennan comes on the TV screen. My fucking rival is starting to feel like a recurring villain in a graphic novel. And he's got my name in his mouth again.
"And you're certain you can take him?” The interviewer leans in, practically salivating for a soundbite. “That's a bold claim mid-season."
“Yep.” Brennan shrugs with a cocky grin, his face looking particularly punchable in HD. "I just think O'Rourke's on his last legs for this kind of run. I'm confident we can take the Cup."
He keeps going and I feel the heat climbing my chest. I sink deeper into the couch, my apartment too quiet around me, and the rink ten minutes down the road a constant reminder of all the ways I've been falling short.
Before I can do something stupid like launch the remote across the room, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime request. My sister, Fiadh.
She is the eldest and I am right behind her, less than two years apart, and growing up the two of us were inseparable.
Well, aside from the time she chased me through the house with a steak knife for nicking her last Wagon Wheel.
But hey, that's sibling love for you. I'd give her my kidney if she needed it.
"Please tell me you're not watching that arrogant little gobshite's interview too," she says the second I accept the call, her face filling the screen.
"I am, actually." I glance at the time. "And what are you doing up so early? It's not even six in the morning over there."
“A bit of insomnia and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I'd get a jump on paperwork for the case I’m working on.” She shrugs. "Then I made the stellar decision to check the sports news. Now I'm pissed."
"You and me both." I stretch my legs across the cushions. "I was nearly ready to sacrifice my remote to the cause. The best I can do is dismantle his game when the time comes."
"Good. Do exactly that." She crunches into a biscuit, looking thoughtful. "Listen, while I've got you. Any chance you're making it over for the fundraiser next month? I know you mentioned the schedule was tight, but I wanted to see if there was any update."
I wince, because I already know what the answer is.
The youth charity back home in Ireland is one I helped build, to help kids who don't come from money get into sport and spend more time outdoors.
The whole thing runs without me day to day, but my name's on it, and I make a point of showing up for the big events.
Unfortunately, the upcoming one falls right in the heart of the playoffs.
"I don't think so, Fee. I was hoping I could swing a forty-eight-hour run, but with the way I've been playing recently, I can't justify the absence. I’d just be handing Brennan his next headline."
She nods, her disappointment visible despite her best efforts to mask it. "No, I get it. I do. We're all in your corner over here, you know that. I just selfishly miss your big dumb face, that's all."
"Boring without me, is it?" I grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Need the entertainment value to keep things interesting?"
"Don't be an absolute eejit. Auntie Cath was asking me to head up to Donegal for the weekend around that time, but I'd have told her no if you were actually going to be home in Dublin."
I chuckle. "Nah. You just plain miss me, Fee."
"Fine, maybe a small bit. It's been ages since you were back, Cillian."
"I know. I miss all of you as well. Once the season wraps, I'm planning to trim the marketing schedule so it's easier to split my time between here and the States."
"I'll believe that when I see you here in the flesh." She smiles. "Speaking of the endorsements, though, how's the whole wine partnership thing going?"
My mind goes straight to Margot.
The last week I've been back and forth to Solstice between practice sessions for endless marketing meetings and photoshoots, and Margot's been at every single one. Which means the ridiculous pull I feel whenever she's near has only gotten worse.
"Better than I expected," I say. "The wine is great, people are nice, and the money is nothing to complain about."
"You know Mam's already looking to secure a few bottles. She told Auntie Cath you're in the wine trade now, like you've bought a chateau."
"Of course she did." I laugh, shaking my head. "Let her know I'll have a case sent over. I'll mention setting one aside to Margot."
"That’s the sommelier from the launch campaign photos, then?” she asks. “My goodness, she is soooo pretty. Such a striking face, I couldn’t look at anything else!”
That’s putting it mildly.
"I guess," I say, trying for a tone that suggests I haven't noticed.
Fiadh smirks. "Oh, you guess, do you?"
"That's what I said."
"Mm." She crunches into a biscuit, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You're usually an open book about women. Love 'em and leave 'em has always been your MO, but I've never seen you get tight-lipped about a girl before. Which means this one's different."
"You're imagining things."
Fiadh leans in, her gaze sharpening as she studies me through the screen. "So tell me, is she nice? This Margot?"
In the handful of meetings I've survived this week, Margot appears to be the kindest person in existence, well, to everyone but me.
I watched her coordinate a meal delivery schedule for a woman who's about to go on maternity leave while we were waiting for a briefing to start.
Later, she shut down a cluster of marketing sharks who were talking over a nervous new hire, and she showed up to another meeting with a mountain of donuts when the whole room looked ready to cave from exhaustion.
She's a damn saint, all while being ridiculously sexy and clever as hell, and it’s doing absolutely fuck-all for my growing obsession with her.
"Aye, she's grand, but I think she's not a fan of me," I admit, swirling my beer. "Besides, even if I had noticed how gorgeous she is, the woman has a strict 'no athletes' policy."
"Lord, I love her already," Fiadh laughs. "Must be doing wonders for your ego, Cillian. Finally met a girl who isn't impressed by the dimples or the whole hockey-star thing, have you?"
"Shouldn't you be trying for another hour of sleep, Fee?"
"Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your pining. For now." She points a finger toward the screen, her expression softening. "Talk soon, you big dope. Love you."
"Love you too."
I hang up and the apartment goes quiet around me. The television has moved on from Brennan, cycling through other interviews, and I watch the time drag with a hollow sort of focus. My phone buzzes on the cushion, but it isn't the name I was hoping for.
It's Kayla, a girl I've slept with a handful of times over the last year or so. She reaches out when she's bored and looking for a distraction, and I'm usually happy to provide it. Last I heard she was tied up with some finance guy, so it's been months since we last crossed paths.
Kayla: Still awake? Thinking about you. And that thing you do with your tongue… Single again, by the way. Come over.
Beneath the message is a photo of her in bed, on her back, thighs spread wide. Her bra is shoved down, exposing her tits, and she has two fingers buried deep between her legs, panties yanked to the side and her mouth open in a silent moan.
A few weeks ago I'd have already had my keys in hand and been halfway to the car. She is gorgeous, uncomplicated, and exactly the kind of no strings distraction that I thrive on.
But I just toss the phone onto the cushion. I'll type out some polite brush-off later, because tonight I don't feel so much as a flicker of temptation. The only name I'm actually desperate to see on that screen isn't hers, and nothing Kayla’s offering is going to be enough.