Chapter 12
NO GENTLEMEN
Ivy
I successfully avoid both guys at the next home game.
It’s not hard. I don’t need to go into the locker room, or the media room, or the workout rooms. I don’t need to get my hammies stretched, or my sore muscles worked on with an athletic trainer.
And I’m never on the ice at the same time as the players.
I avoid them both in the building too. Stealth Ivy is in the house.
I keep busy writing for my newsletter and posting on social, including a piece on the best finds in secondhand fashion, and another about clothes that make you feel strong.
I’ll need an outfit to do that when I have to face Simone again soon.
She emailed asking me to meet about her wedding coverage, so that date at the end of the month looms on my calendar.
Planning my clothing armor helps, so I use my new idea pen to write down possible outfits of the day in my notebook with the woman in the old-timey red evening dress on the cover.
I plan to avoid the guys on the plane to Vegas, too. Books are truly a girl’s best friend, and I’ve brought a paperback, a Kindle, and the aforementioned notebook. A triumvirate of Do Not Fucking Disturb signs.
At the airport, I keep busy, chatting with Oliver at the gate.
He tells me about the plan to test out new names for the team soon after we return to San Francisco.
Marketing has selected two new options for the Avengers and is working on a third.
I sincerely hope the costume for the mascot is better than the ink splotch I wore in the first two home games.
We board together, and I don’t gawk at the size of the seats or the legroom.
I’m cool Ivy too. But damn, those seats are big.
There are three in each row, and Oliver points to the first of them.
“Grab a seat by the front. The guys take freaking forever to deplane. You don’t want to deal with their shenanigans. ”
“I’ll consider myself warned.” I claim a seat in the second row. The window seat.
Ha. Men don’t like middle seats, so no one will sit next to me.
Just try, motherfuckers. Try.
“And mum’s the word on the new names,” Oliver whispers from the aisle.
I mime zipping my lips. “I’m a vault,” I say as I toss my imaginary key away.
As he grabs a spot in the third row, I settle in, busying myself with my phone and the latest pick for Trina’s book club that we’ll discuss when I return. It’s a small-town romance set at a lavender farm, and the blurb promises the couple will bang in the bushes. Bring it on, bangathon.
I’m no less than ten seconds into the heroine learning the handyman she’s been daydreaming of is actually the farm owner when a big man is parking his ass next to me.
I groan privately. But when I look up, I give a genuine smile. “Hi, Dev.”
“Not gonna miss my chance to bond with Blob.”
I close the chapter on my phone. “Yes, team bonding with the mascot is sooo important.” I arch a skeptical brow. “Ryker sent you, didn’t he?”
Dev feigns shock. “Why would you think that?” He gives me a conspiratorial wink and I laugh. “Seriously, how’s the new gig treating you? Are any of the guys being jerks?”
“Ryker definitely sent you.”
“Of course he did.”
“So why do you assume they’d be jerks?”
He scoffs. “Because I know pro athletes.”
“Are you a jerk? Is Ryker a jerk?” I counter.
Dev hums as if weighing the question. “I plead the fifth…So, is anyone being a dick?”
Stefan strides past the galley and into the aisle with Hayes right behind him.
Hayes is wearing the hell out of a slate-blue suit that’s just a touch tight in the arms. Stefan’s is a dark gray, the color of a stormy sky, and it makes his blue eyes look even brighter.
I swear whoever made the rule about pro athletes wearing suits when they travel did not have to endure the view.
I fight the urge to undress both of them with my eyes and focus on answering Dev’s question. “Gentlemen all around,” I say.
Stefan must have heard me. He stops at our row, scans behind him, then up ahead.
“Nope. No gentlemen in sight,” he says, lifting his cup of coffee like he’s toasting to his own brand of trouble as he meets my gaze and holds it.
My pulse skips one beat and then another when Hayes shoots me a knowing grin.
“Especially not the guy you’re talking to,” Stefan adds, eyeing Dev.
Dev raises his middle finger above his head, not even looking Stefan’s way.
“Aww, it’s Dev’s love language,” Stefan says.
“It’s my only language,” Dev adds.
But Dev’s a lover, not a fighter. Goalies don’t fight often, after all. Plus, he’s a fun guy, so I know he’s just teasing.
Hayes is quiet through the exchange, his expression more serious. I get that—it’s his first flight with his new team. He probably just wants to blend in.
Dev stands and stretches. “All right. Don’t cause any trouble for Ivy or I’ll have Ryker after my head. That goes for you, Viking. And for Hey You.”
“Will do,” Hayes says, taking Dev seriously. Stefan just laughs.
Mayday! Where is Dev going? He was supposed to be my goalie.
“Enjoy the tenth row, aisle seat,” Stefan says to him.
Hayes lifts a brow. “He’s superstitious?”
“Like you’ve never seen before,” Stefan says, then shrugs. “But I’m not.”
Stefan drops down into the aisle seat. Well, someone is staking his claim on me. Hayes gives a chin nod. As the new guy, I doubt he wants to get into a seat scuffle. But Stefan pats the middle seat for Hayes.
The taller man scoffs. “I’ll find an aisle.”
I roll my eyes, unbuckle, and stand up. “I’ll take the middle.”
I’m a regular girl, after all, and I don’t want Hayes to feel uncomfortable.
Hayes’s lips curve up. “Yeah?”
“I don’t mind,” I say.
I don’t want to be rude and leave. What reason would I give anyway? The two of you give off hungry wolf vibes and I want to be your prey, so I need to run to the back of the plane to avoid your dirty, flirty gazes.
The flight’s only about an hour.
I can handle the tension. Because it’s just that—tension. Hayes has already made it clear that we’d be a bad idea. Stefan seems more persistent but does that matter?
Besides the obvious problems with anything more than flirtation when we all work together, I don’t trust my judgment with men.
My dad had treated my mom badly, and I’d missed the same signs in Xander.
Even before he cheated on me, Xander didn’t value me or appreciate my attempts to include him in my life.
But I didn’t see his critical comments for the put-downs they were.
I foolishly thought he was being constructive and encouraging when, really, he was judging me and undermining my confidence.
My throat tightens. I liked him so much when we were together. Without my rose-colored glasses, I see the flaws in my judgment. It strengthens my resolve.
I can handle lust when I remember I’m not getting involved with either of these guys, so sitting with them is no big deal.
“Off we go to the city of sin,” I say, making small talk. “Will you play the penny slots in your free time, Stefan? Bet it all on black, Hayes?”
Hayes dips his face, smiles softly. “I’d definitely bet it all. I love to gamble, more than I should.”
“What about you, Ivy?” Stefan asks after he takes a drink of his coffee. “What’s your Vegas poison? Blackjack? A show? A roller-coaster ride? Late-night clubbing?”
I tap my chin as if considering. “You left out staying in and ordering room service.”
Hayes chuckles. Stefan scoffs.
“What? You don’t believe me?” I look from one to the other.
Stefan tilts his face and locks eyes with me, holding my gaze. “I’m calling your bluff,” he says in a smoky voice that makes my insides melt a little.
I fight back against these feelings, sitting up straighter, trying to keep my cool. “Fine. What do you think I like to do?”
But Stefan doesn’t answer. He looks around me at Hayes, tipping his forehead to his teammate. “What do you think?”
With a soft hum, Hayes tilts his face toward me, studying my expression.
He takes his time roaming those soulful brown eyes over me, like he’s undressing me, body and mind.
It’s sexual and also…knowing. Like he’s both looking at me and wanting me.
It’s unnerving, but in an exciting way. Warmth flows through my veins.
My chest swoops with each second his eyes linger on me.
And everything feels a little fizzy, a little…
hazy. Like I’m caught in a mirage between two men.
“I bet she’d like a show,” Hayes says, as if he knows my secrets.
And really, he does.
But only some of them.
I have other secrets now. Like this one—I’m attracted to two men at the same time, and I don’t think either one of them is bothered by that.
Especially when Stefan says, “Is that so, Ivy? Would you like that?”
My shoulders rise and fall. My breath comes faster. What are they doing to me? Is this on purpose? Are they flirting with me? Toying with me? Is this just how they are? Are they just the type of guys who exude sensuality like it’s their cologne?
Suddenly, this middle seat feels smaller than it was before. One shoulder brushes against Hayes; the other is pressed against Stefan. I’m sandwiched between them—and something sparks in my chest, the start of a sizzle.
I swallow, look to Stefan, turn to Hayes, then at last answer them with a shot of courage. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”
I close my eyes as if I have the upper hand when really, I’m just treading water, trying to get control of my heart that’s beating far too fast.
* * *
Normally, the team flies in and out quickly to nearby cities, but since they’re doing a charity breakfast tomorrow morning for a youth hockey organization the Avengers and the Sabers both support, everyone is staying overnight.
I don’t have to go to the breakfast, but I still get to stay since I’m traveling on the team jet.
Which means I get time to myself in the morning.
Translation: I’ll wake up early and work on content and chasing freelance gigs.