Chapter 19 Leland
LELAND
She’s prettier every time I see her. Or maybe that’s just the well-loved glow on her skin. Knowing how Henrik feels about her.
We’d always joked the four of us needed a woman who could love all of us. But I gave up on that dream ages ago when my own marriage fell apart.
Darby blushes like a teenager, but it makes her blue eyes sparkle like starbursts in perfect sapphires. Her lustrous hair is loose, falling around her shoulders. Even in jeans and a basic hoodie without a touch of makeup as far as I can tell, she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
Then she plants her fists on her hips and levels a hard glare on Henrik that would make any sensible man straighten with alarm. Or in my case, give me a hard on I hope isn’t as obvious as the nose on my face. “Why the fuck would you buy all this? It must have cost you a fortune.”
Henrik never claimed to be sensible. I’ve never seen the big guy grin as easily as Ren’s trademark cocky smile. “You need it. You got it.”
“I don’t even know what all of this is, but I can’t possibly need it.”
The dog yips excitedly, as if she knows exactly what’s in all the boxes. Or maybe she just likes surprises.
Henrik shrugs. “Christmas came early, not that we really celebrate the holidays much in Mooseville.”
She turns those stunning blue eyes on me. “What part did you play in all of this?”
Down, boy, I mutter to myself, clearing my throat before I answer. “He provided the shopping list. I just delivered what he ordered.” Plus a few things I might have added. Just from me. Not that I’ll tell her.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Lee,” Henrik replies. “He flew to Denver and back this morning plus did the shopping himself. We guessed on sizes, babe, so we can exchange whatever doesn’t fit.”
Her mouth sags open for a moment, her gaze flickering to Henrik and then back to me. “You flew. To Denver. This morning?”
“I make the trip every other week. More often if we need something. It’s no big deal.”
“Are you game to fly us to Vegas sometime next week?” Henrik asks.
“Sure thing. My schedule’s clear until after the holidays.”
“Me too,” Ren adds.
Her pretty pink cheeks are even brighter, and she bites her lip.
Fucking hell, I almost groan out loud. Luckily, they’re too busy ripping boxes open and explaining what everything is to notice.
It’s been a while since I got laid, sure. But this is fucking ridiculous. I should have taken Ren up on his offer to set me up a year or two ago. Maybe I wouldn’t be so… starved. I feel like a caveman ready to toss her over my shoulder and haul her off to bed.
That’s Henrik’s job. Not mine.
“But I’ve already got a coat,” she says, staring at the brand-new expensive as fuck Helly-Hansen jacket and pants. I have to give the man credit. He knows his gear, and he picked nothing but the best for her.
“That pink puffer coat isn’t waterproofed.” Henrik snorts with disdain. “This is ski gear.”
“I don’t know how to ski. I hate snow, remember?”
His lips twitch. “Maybe I’m trying to change your mind.”
She rolls her eyes as Ren sets another box on her lap. This one contains thick wool socks and well-made long johns.
“You’ll be cozy and warm when we take you to the Ice tonight.”
My eyes flare. So he’s going to tell her. Not sure how Doyle’s going to take having a stranger know our secret, but that’s for Henrik to worry about.
“Damn,” Ren says, shaking his head. “If I knew you were getting gear, I’d have asked you to get her skates so she can join us on the ice.”
Henrik looks over at me, one eyebrow raised expectantly. I remember exactly which box he needs. I grab it and toss it to Ren.
“No way.” He opens the box rather than handing it to Darby, and I swear, the man looks like he’s about to blubber like a baby. “You thought of everything.”
Henrik slaps him on the back. “The Mighty Zon always has a plan.”
“I don’t know how to skate either,” Darby says stoutly. “Or snowshoe or snowmobile or any other ridiculous outdoor activity this time of the year. There’s a reason I’m going to Vegas, remember?”
“I remember everything, babe.” Henrik gives her a heavy-lidded look of pure sex. “You’ve never had fun in the snow because you’ve never hung out with us. At least let us show you how we celebrate the ice in Mooseville.”
“We pretty much worship ice around here,” Ren adds.
“Damned straight.”
She doesn’t understand Henrik’s easy grin or the knowing wink he gives Ren, but it tells me a whole hell of a lot. The Zon by himself is a formidable player, whether on the ice or off. Add in the Hotshot center…
And they’re impossible to beat.
Luckily for me, I’m on their team. Though I’ll only find myself warming up the bench while they tag team.
I’ll be fine with that as long as I get to see them be happy.
They deserve it, especially Henrik. I’ve never seen him fall head over heels for a woman like this, but love—or at least lust—suits the big guy.
His smiles are wide and easy, his beefy shoulders relaxed, his eyes glowing and warm with affection.
So much better than grim, stoic, and silent.
What about you? A small, annoying voice whispers in my head. Can you give up being grim, stoic, and silent too?
A peal of laughter draws my attention to her face. I watch as Ren playfully tugs off her shoes, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. Her socks, deliberately tickling her feet. The more she laughs and tugs at her legs, the more he holds on to her. The dog hops around barking with excitement.
And Henrik stands by the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug quirk to his lips. He’s not pissed in the slightest.
His attention lifts to me. One eyebrow rises again. “Well?” He seems to say. “You in?”
What about me indeed. He’s open. If I’m willing to shoot my shot.
The body is certainly willing. But my mind and heart, not so much. I carry a lot of baggage that might spoil what he’s got with Darby. I’d rather bow out and let them be happy than allow my hangups to seep into the water and foul up what they’ve got going.
I lift my shoulders in a casual shrug.
His eyes narrow. His entire upper body seems to swell. Already massive, now his pumped biceps and pecs threaten to pop buttons on his shirt. He doesn’t say anything out loud, but I’ve known the man all my life.
What she wants, she gets.
Thankfully, she doesn’t want me. She’s barely even aware of me. I can be like Doyle, a silent partner on the Ice. Do my job and leave. Keep to myself.
She’s not interested in me anyway.
DARBY
I’m not one for extravagant gifts, or so I always thought. But then again, I’ve never actually had a man buy me anything beyond a hasty gift at the last minute on the celebratory day because he fucking forgot.
The thought Henrik put into all this stuff rattles me to my core.
Not just a coat but warm clothes down to underwear and socks.
Hats and gloves. Multiple pairs of everything.
Indoor cozy pants. Thick wool sweaters and buttery cashmere.
The real stuff I never buy myself. Outdoor waterproof pants.
Walking around boots. Heavy duty ski boots.
I’ve lived in Colorado for fifteen years now and never bought gear like this.
But the ice skates are the cherry on top.
My ankles are already screaming at the thought of trying to balance on such tiny little blades, but I can’t keep from giggling at Ren’s antics. He’s so damned excited to see if the skates fit me, even though there’s no way I can use them.
“They’re perfect,” he declares. “How’d you know what size to get her?”
“Do I look like an amateur?” Henrik growls. “Of course I looked at her shoes and coat by the door to make sure we got the right size.”
Skaldi holds a hat in her mouth and wags her tail vigorously. Of course she can’t wait to drag me outside.
“Go change, babe,” Henrik says. “Then we’ll show you around.”
“The ice?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows. Maybe I’d finally understand what all the hoopla was about.
“Not until dark. But I thought we’d show you some of the trails and drive you by the guys’ houses so you can see where everyone’s at.”
“What time do you want us at the rink?” Leland asks.
“Usual time,” Ren replies.
I’m not sure why Henrik gives Leland a heavy, long stare. “I’m making chili for dinner. Are you coming or not?”
“Count me in,” Ren says immediately, winking up at me. “Henrik’s chili is world famous.”
The big guy scoffs. “Just because one Russian hockey team ate my chili and didn’t die doesn’t mean it’s world famous.”
Ren leans in against my knees, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It does when we were fighting them for the gold medal, and they still loved his chili. Even though we could’ve poisoned them.”
Oh boy. This close, I can’t help but look at his tattoos, especially the ones on his scalp and neck. There’s a swoosh by the thirteen, like a big wave. The symbols I thought might be runes are actually snowflakes.
At least by focusing on them, I’m not noticing his easy, charming smile. Devastating lips. Oops. I’m looking at his mouth.
Staring, actually.
So embarrassing. “Can you take these skates off before I break my neck?”
His fingers move over the laces, but I swear he’s going slower on purpose. “Sure thing.”
“I hate to intrude—” Leland starts to say.
“Dude,” both Henrik and Ren say at the same time, in exactly the same incredulous tones.
“Fine, fine.” Leland throws his hands up, laughing. “What time for dinner?”
“The same time as any other show night,” Henrik says in a gruff snarky tone. “Early, four or so. I’m going to throw everything in the Instant Pot so it’ll cook while we’re out showing Darby the real slopes of Colorado.”
Somehow I feel like I’m auditioning for a new reality show, “The Real Slopes of Colorado,” and I’m about to freeze my tail off.
Finally, Ren has the skate off. I hastily gather up some of the new stuff and flee for the bathroom, my arms overflowing. But I make sure to yell back over my shoulder. “I can’t do bunny slopes, either!”