Chapter 17
Isla
My stomach tangles in knots on the drive over to the rink, thoughts of last night with Wes replaying in my mind.
That was the hottest sexual experience of my life, and now I don’t know how to act around him.
It’s not like our relationship has changed.
He’s still my boss and my partner’s brother, the man who aggravates me like no other.
But instead of avoiding those unwanted, lusty feelings for him, I can work them out with him.
If I dare.
I heave a sigh of relief when my rideshare pulls into the empty parking lot without a Ford pickup truck in sight. Spencer and I warm up on-ice, and my brain starts to quiet as it always does.
That is, until Spence opens his mouth. “I heard my brother whistling this morning.”
His words catch me off guard, causing me to stumble out of my forward crossover. My head swivels around the arena as if Wes might pop up from somewhere in the stands.
Spencer’s eyebrow raises, and his lips twist into a smile at whatever he sees in my expression.
I lock it down, attempting to project boredom instead. “Should I alert the press?”
He glides toward me. “Yeah, Wes doesn't whistle.”
“Good for him for finally learning, I guess.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
I narrow my eyes, forcing my face to remain otherwise neutral despite the jump kick to my heart at the implication. “What are you talking about?”
“Isla. People talk in this town, as you know. And this morning, they were talking about seeing Wes with a woman last night.”
“Okay…” I say, drawing out the word, playing dumb.
He points to me. “You.”
“Sorry to ruin your gotcha moment, Spence, but I was out with Max last night.”
I resume my warm-up. Nothing to see here.
“So, the rumor that you and Wes stayed for a wildly long time in the back of the bar was off base?”
Shit. I switch to backward crossovers, forcing myself to keep moving to prevent him from realizing I’m full of crap.
“Do you know how many women look like me? I'm a dime a dozen.”
“Apparently not to my brother.”
Spencer skates into my path about ten feet ahead, stopping me in my tracks. I open my mouth to attempt to throw him off the scent, but he holds up his hand.
I shut my mouth.
“Don't think of telling me another lie,” he says. “I know one strawberry-blond figure skater in town who gets under his skin.”
I cross my arms. “Okay, I know you’re lying. No way anyone gave you that description.”
Spencer snorts. “I think you underestimate how much people pay attention. Wes doesn’t whistle or smile into his coffee or ask me about my morning until caffeine has hit his bloodstream.”
“Someone being willing to look past his curmudgeon-y exterior for what I’m sure is mediocre dick—”
“Based on what someone overheard, I think you’re underselling it.”
The blood drains from my face. People heard us?
I wish the ice would open beneath my feet and swallow me whole.
Spencer knows almost my entire romantic history because I needed him to understand the context behind the comments that Sebastian made about me after we dissolved our partnership.
Every critique about my work ethic, talent, and emotionality stemmed from my rejection of him and wasn’t true.
I made it clear that I have zero interest in a romantic relationship and want nothing to interfere with my skating. But after all of that, I hook up with his brother. Spencer must think my reputation is warranted, and that I’m full of shit.
“I can explain.” I let my hands fall to my side, defenses down.
Spencer gives me a wry smile. “I'd rather you didn't.”
“But—”
“I don't care what you and Wes do together as long as you're both consenting adults.”
A breath eases out of me. “You don't?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know, it’s your brother, and I made a big deal about not wanting anything to distract us from skating.
Wes thought it was a good idea not to say anything so I assumed you wouldn’t be on board.
” Even if I’m the one who beat him to the punch by asking to keep quiet about us.
I didn’t want Wes to ask me to pretend it didn’t happen.
Spence shakes his head. “He's so damn predictable.”
“I'd disagree.”
My mind drifts to the bar hallway, Wes walking toward me until my back hit the wall.
His intense brown eyes tracing over my face as he said, Use me, Isla.
That command in the deep scratch of his voice unraveled the knot of tension in my core.
I can’t stop thinking about how he let me ride his thigh for as long as I needed to come.
I’ve never been with someone so focused on meeting my needs, and for it to be this man…
“Really?” Spencer gives me a round-eyed expression.
“It's blowing off steam,” I insist. “It's nothing.”
But as the words leave my lips, I’m not sure it’s the truth. It’s hard to separate the Wes I now know from the one I met when I was a kid. That version of him has lingered in my mind, going dormant for years before his admission made the memories resurface. And now I can’t forget them.
“We don't like each other,” I try to deflect again, and again, it falls flat.
“Like I haven't said that one before.”
I roll my eyes and offer the dazzling response of, “Whatever.”
Spencer’s hands land on my shoulders, turning me to face him. “Be careful with him. Casual isn't something he's done before. So promise me you'll walk away if he's getting too attached before it breaks his heart, all right?”
“Right. Wes Davidson, heartbroken.” I pretend to look skyward as if a scene is playing out before my eyes. “I can see it. Oh, wait, no, that’s hell freezing over.”
“Oh, Isla, you've got him all wrong. I need you to do what's best for him because he never knows how to do it for himself.”
The words stop me dead in my tracks. This is Wes’s brother. Of course he knows him better than I do.
I stare at my right skate, drawing a circular pattern on the ice. “Sorry for being flippant, but it’s shocking that you think I could hurt him.”
“That’s because you don't know my brother. But I guess that will change, huh?” Spencer’s lips slip into a shit-eating grin, fueled with annoying brother energy the likes of which rivals Brooks.
My palms land on my face. “Oh, my God.”
“Hey, you made that choice,” Spencer teases me, his words coated in laughter. “And I'm not judging you, really.”
I drop my hands from my face and take off sprinting toward him. He erupts into laughter while he skates away from me. I catch him as he approaches the curve at one end of the rink. My arms wrap around his middle, and we glide into the boards, both of us out of breath and laughing.
“Hey.”
Wes’s voice sends my stomach into a spin, which goes into overdrive once I spot him. He’s about ten feet from us, further down the boards, hands in the pouch of his gray Palmer City Wolves hockey sweatshirt. There’s an expression on his face that I can’t read as he looks on at our absurdity.
“Brother!” Spencer shouts as we disentangle ourselves.
I pretend to fuss with my clothes to avoid looking at Wes.
“Did you forget what sport you’re practicing?” There’s an unexpected iciness to Wes’s tone.
Spencer knocks into my shoulder. “I think he’s intimidated by our moves.”
I huff out a laugh. “Doubtful.”
“Isla, do you have a second?” The gentle way Wes asks the question causes my stomach to flutter. He doesn’t talk like this to me.
I finally look up at him, and immediately regret it. His gaze bores into mine, reminiscent of the way he stared at me last night. “Um, sure, yeah.”
“Right. I’ll let y’all have your moment,” Spencer says in the most awkward way possible. He skates one stride toward me and leans in. “I’ve never seen my brother this jealous before.”
I hold up a warning finger to Spencer. “Do. Not. Start.”
“Have fun,” he sings, laughing loudly as he retreats away from us.
“What was that about?” Wes asks as he walks toward where I’m standing in the corner of the rink.
I consider lying, but it’s not as if Spencer would suddenly rein it in. Wes will realize at some point that Spencer knows all about us. “Apparently, we’re the talk of the town.”
His signature divot appears between his eyes.
“I guess people noticed how long we were gone last night.”
Wes shakes his head. “Spencer’s stupid smile this morning makes perfect sense now.”
I choose not to mention the whistling, ignoring my instinct to tease him.
“Oh, yeah,” I add, slapping my hand down on the boards, “and someone heard me, so you’re considered a sex god. You’re welcome.”
Wes clears his throat, a blush rising in his cheeks visible above his beard. “Fantastic,” he deadpans.
“You should have no problem getting women now.”
“I didn’t have that problem before, Covington.”
“If you say so.” Apparently, I can’t help myself, teasing him by drawing out that last syllable. “The good news is that we have a head start convincing my family and my ex that we’re together.”
“Listen, about that—”
My stomach sinks. He’s going to bail on me, and I’ll be left to deal with my insane family and my piece of shit ex on my own. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be—”
“I’m not backing out, Isla. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Oh.”
“I’d like to take you up on that favor.”
“Favor,” I repeat.
“For helping you out with this dinner.”
I give him a sly smile. “That was a favor to Spencer, not me.”
Wes shuffles his feet, eyes shifting to the ceiling.
I take mercy on him. “I’m joking. What is it?”
His shoulders sag in relief. “I think it would be good for Thea to spend some time with you. She’s doing okay. No more issues at hockey, and she made some friends, but I don’t know…overhearing you talk with her and seeing how she turned a corner afterward, I think you helped her.”
“I’m sorry, you think I’m a good influence? Spencer was right about the whistling.”
Wes’s forehead furrows. “What?”
“Never mind.”
He holds up a hand. “If you’re too busy—”
“No,” I cut in. “I like Thea. I want to help. What did you have in mind?”
“Can you fit another client into your figure skating schedule?”
“Sure, yeah, not a problem,” I ramble like I’m a silly, nervous girl around her crush, which, for the record, is not the case. It’s leftover endorphins from our hookup last night, that’s all. “Let me know when.”
Wes slaps his open palm on the glass. “Thanks, Isla. See you tomorrow.”
For dinner with my family where Wes and I will pretend to be dating.
I’m even less ready for this night than when Spencer forced it on us days ago.
“Tomorrow, yeah,” I agree, projecting calm into my voice despite the storm stirring in my stomach.