Chapter 9
NINE
JULIETTE
Aaron Bishop’s mouth.
Aaron Bishop’s voice.
Aaron Bishop looking like he was trying to resist me…
I unlock my apartment, kick the door shut behind me, and lean back against it like I’ve outrun a ghost. My heart does that stupid floaty thing as I stand there, breathing heavy.
Press a hand to my chest.
Take a few moments before dropping my keys on the little table in my entryway, lifting my hand, and checking to see if my cheeks are as hot as they feel.
They are.
“Get it together, Juliette,” I grumble. “This isn’t amateur hour. You’re a grown woman; you’ve seen plenty of attractive men.”
I kick off my heels, walking farther into my apartment, still irritated with myself for being so affected by Aaron and the shape of his lips.
Human Resources would not care about his sultry, hooded eyes. Or the way his voice had gotten quiet when he called me kind. Or how my nervous system has apparently decided he makes my knees weak.
“This date was a mistake. Huge.” I scowl into a mirror as I work the buttons at the front of my pretty dress—the one I’d thought was demure enough not to give him the wrong idea.
Let it fall to the floor in a puddle and stand in my strapless bra and underwear, palm my phone to dial the one person legally qualified to talk me off a ledge or push me directly off the end of it.
Blaire answers on the second ring. Her face appears on her screen though she’s in bed, and for a few seconds, I’m presented with the ceiling as she gets comfortable.
“If you’re calling to tell me you committed a felony, I fully approve. It’s literally about time you did something illegal.”
“You don’t even know what I’m about to say!” I laugh.
She rolls her eyes. “You have been responsible since birth. You recycle. You separate laundry. Also, remember that time you apologized to a barista for ordering during a rush and tipped her with a Starbucks card? So, whatever you’re about to tell me, I support.”
I hesitate. “I might get fired.”
“So soon?” Blaire sits up straighter, bolstered by a stack of pillows behind her.
I laugh again, walking into my bathroom and flipping on the light.
“I didn’t mention this to you because I wasn’t sure you’d approve, but…” I inhale a gulp of courage. “I had dinner with Aaron Bishop tonight, and when I say I practically had an orgasm from breathing the same air as him, I’m not exaggerating.”
“First of all, I’ve been telling you to fuck him for what—weeks now? Since he became your Hall Pass? Second, I love this for us. I love irresponsible Juliette. Third, who’s going to find out if you don’t tell anyone?”
Lots of people.
These things have a way of getting out—don’t they?
“Start by telling me how you ended up seeing him tonight and why you never warned me, I would have been on call.”
I prop my phone against the mirror while I rummage for a make-up wipe. “Because I wasn’t sure if he’d cancel, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Blaire’s sigh is dreamy. “And he didn’t, because he knows a good thing when he sees it.”
“I work for the team, Blaire,” I insist. “This is against their policy.”
“And he works for your libido, Juliette.”
I scrub mascara off one eye, then the other. My reflection looks flushed. Unhinged. Like someone who spent the evening with the man who could ruin her life in three different departments at work.
“He called me kind,” I tell her. “As if it were a sexy personality trait. Like… it was a compliment. And he fed me ice cream.”
Blaire’s smile is a teasing one. “Ohhh no. Oh shit.”
“What?”
“That’s the voice,” she says. “That’s the I think I’m falling in love with him voice.”
“I am not falling in love with him! Jeez, you cannot fall in love with a man you just met.”
My best friend scoffs. “Uh, agree to disagree. People fall in love at first sight and besides, he’s already seen you half-naked. Admit it, you’re hot and bothered.”
“Because I haven’t had sex in months!” Not that I’m desperate. “Honestly though, his voice alone could make me orgasm.”
“You’ve mentioned as much.” She rolls her eyes again. “Name one man on that hockey team whose voice couldn’t—your brother’s for example.”
“My brother’s voice is not orgasmic, and I’d love it if you wouldn’t imply that it was.”
Blaire shrugs. “The fact that I disdain him because I personally don’t trust him is neither here nor there.” She pauses. “In fact, can any of these guys be trusted? I mean, you’ve seen with your own eyes all the women that throw themselves at these dudes.”
Puck bunnies migrate to the stadium as if it were a pilgrimage, all in the hopes of catching a player’s attention and becoming a WAG.
“Aaron is not Declan,” I maintain. “At all.”
Blaire snorts. “Please, anyone is a better boyfriend than your brother. He’s such a bag of crap—no offense.
He’s your brother, I get it. I was literally there the night he introduced two different girls as ‘my girlfriend’ to two different groups of people and kept them on different sides of the bar. ”
That memory has me cringing.
Yeah, he did do that.
“He’s tall and ridiculously good-looking, and that mustache during No Shave November?” Blaire blows out a puff of air. “That’s what he brings to the table.”
“Blaire…”
She changes the subject as my frown deepens. “Okay, new topic. Did Aaron at least get your phone number at the end of the date?”
I nod and bite my lip. “But he’s not going to text me.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I say bashfully. “I googled him.”
“So?”
“So… I saw what his last girlfriend looks like. She has big, blonde hair, incredible boobs, and a tiny waist, and I can confidently say I am probably not that man’s type.”
Blaire waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t know what his type is.”
“I know what his ex looks like.”
“Sometimes a man’s type of woman is ‘alive and breathing.’”
I crack a reluctant smile.
“Or,” she continues, “maybe he’s finally ready for a responsible womb to put his baby in.”
“Oh my god.” I laugh, covering my face so she can’t see me blushing. “Stop it.”
My best friend laughs, too. “You’re totally imagining him impregnating you right now, aren’t you? Admit it!”
I am.
But I won’t ever admit it.
“Did he kiss you at the end of the date?”
“No.”
Blaire hums. “Hmm. I wonder why?”
“He barely touched me all night except when he was feeding me.” I recount how I accidentally put my hand on his thigh and he jumped half a mile into the air.
“Did he eat garlic? Onion? Onion rings?”
I think back to our meal. “Yes?”
She slaps her leg and cackles. “There you go, that’s the reason! Bad breath.”
“Uhh, that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“I’m telling you, he didn’t want to put his mouth on you because he stank. Chivalry is not dead after all.” Her chin is notched with an air of authority.
I roll my eyes and continue washing my face. “Whatever you say.”
“I do say.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t let a man near me if I had garlic breath. Girl, that shit makes me smell for days.”
Yeah, same.
“Anyway. My point is, he’s going to text you—he wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.”
“Want to make a bet?” I love the cheap thrill a bet brings.
“Obviously. What are the stakes?”
“If he doesn’t text—and I don’t think he will—I have to go back on the dating apps and swipe on at least ten new dudes.”
Blaire scoffs. “That is so lame. You’re probably going to be swiping later anyway.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I haven’t swiped in at least two months. Not since I matched with Preston.”
“Do not mention that loser…”
I giggle at her disgusted tone.
“And if he does text you? What do I win?”
Garrett’s face pops into my mind. “I’ll set you up on a date with one of Aaron’s teammates.”
She sits up straight, glaring into the phone. “You could have done that at any point these last two years. What the hell!”
I laugh. “I know, but I’ll be more confident about it now—I won’t just be Declan’s annoying younger sister.”
“You’re not annoying,” she corrects, then sighs dramatically. “All this time I could have been a WAG, getting spray tans and veneers and wearing blinged out jerseys in the box suites? You’ve been holding out…”
“I have been. I don’t need you to become more unbearable.”
Blaire flutters her lashes. “Aww, you do love me!”
I open my mouth to argue with her when my phone buzzes in my hand.
Once.
Twice.
My soul leaves my body.
Blaire’s eyes go enormous. “Was that…?”
I tap the screen so my friend momentarily disappears and stare:
UNKNOWN NUMBER
A text preview lights up:
You make it home okay?
I stop breathing. “Oh shit.”
“I knew it! I freaking knew it!” Blaire hisses triumphantly. “It’s him, isn’t it? Dang girl, now you owe me…”
My thumbs hover over the keypad, shaking. “I can’t look.”
“Juliette,” Blaire demands. “You’ve already broken your human resources policy. Don’t waste an opportunity by being chicken shit about it.”
“But I could get fired,” I whisper.
“Or. He could fall madly in love with you, and you’ll have babies that look like you, and you’ll raise hockey players of your own, and be like Mama Kelce.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
She’s right, I have already broken the rules—there is no going back, is there? Doesn’t mean I can’t feel guilty about it, though. A girl can have doubts, especially when it comes to a man like him; one who’s larger than life and twice as sexy.
I ordered ice cream on our date, for God’s sake.
And not to drip down my naked body so he could lick it off—to eat. Who does that?
The least I could have done was order it after our meal, right?
“Juliette, you better be looking at that text message,” Blaire scolds through the phone.
“I am.”
“What does it say?”
“He’s asking if I made it home okay.”
She leans back against her pillows, grinning. “That’s such a classic.” Then her face and tone get serious. “You respond to that man right now or we are done, do you hear me? I’m breaking up with you.”
Slowly, I nod, fingers tapping out the most mundane response I can muster. But hey, at least it’s something?
Juliette: I did make it home okay, thank you for asking. Still slightly embarrassed by all the ice cream I ate…
Hold my breath as three dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.