Blocking Heat (The Forbidden Heat #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

~HENDRIX ~

The elevator jolts to a stop.

Not the gentle kind of stop. The kind that makes me pause and grip the box tighter. I carefully jostle the box around in one hand, while steadying myself with my other hand. I steal a glance at the ceiling to see if I can actually see the cables fraying through the panels.

“Seriously?” I mutter.

Beside me, August shifts the box he’s carrying in his arms, hitting the button again. Nothing. Just the soft whir of machinery dying.

“Don’t panic,” August replies, grinning at me.

“I’m not panicking,” I snap at him. “I’m trapped in a metal box with my ex. That’s not panic, that’s karma.”

He turns towards me, his brown eyes shining. “Technically, I’m your boss now.”

“Technically, I can still punch you.”

Dex was finally moving into this place on the first floor of August’s building. The reason we are here. The reason I agreed to help Dex move out of August’s penthouse—because I knew it meant a lot to Amelia, Dex’s girlfriend and one of my very best friends.

I should have known better, I think to myself.

I let out an irritated sigh as I place the box labeled “bedroom” down the on the elevator floor.

I stretch my arms overhead, arching my back until the tightness in my shoulders rolls loose.

Muscles honed from years on the pitch protest slightly, but I breathe through it.

I’m 5'5", athletic and curvy, built to dive, sprint, and hold my ground. My very long, dark brown hair is twisted into a braid that’s already starting to fray. And my eyes—wide, chocolate-colored—catch everything, even when I pretend they don’t.

August Cromwell, my boss and the owner of the National Women’s Soccer League (NWSL) team that I play for, the Tampa Bay Blaze, sets the kitchen box down carefully, then leans against the wall, arms crossed.

I don’t miss the way his strong broad shoulders flex.

His body always reminded me of chiseled stone.

All those hours he spent weight training and putting his body through the paces of football workouts has really paid off.

And he’s maintained it. He pushes a bit of his brown hair from his eyes.

Those dark brown eyes, that I always said were full of shit, find mine.

“You always get mean when you’re nervous. ”

“And you’re always smug when you’re cornered,” I snap back.

Silence stretches between us, thick with old memories and the hum of broken machinery.

I stare at the floor numbers. “You had to live on the top floor.” I shake my head, exasperated with him.

“It’s the best,” he replies with a simple shrug.

We’re frozen between fourteen and fifteen. “How long do these things usually take?”

He shrugs, “Depends. Could be ten minutes. Could be an hour.”

I exhale slowly. Sixty seconds in and I want to claw my way out.

He watches me, his eyes softening. “You look good, Hen.”

He used the nickname that only my friends call me.

My parents named me Hendrix, which I always thought was because my dad had albums of Jimi Hendrix.

Turns out he didn’t. That’s what his second son would have been named.

My older brother by ten years got the name Ash.

But me being a girl didn’t change my name. I was still named Hendrix Monroe.

I refuse to answer. Another lie. I’m literally wearing a black athletic top with grey shorts. Nothing special or good about that.

“You still wear the necklace,” he adds.

My hand flies up to my throat instinctively.

The sliver chain. The one that he gave me the night my college soccer team, the University of North Carolina, clinched a spot in the NCAA Tournament, the College Cup.

I hadn’t even realized I put it on. Sometimes it’s a routine that I fall into.

He never seemed to noticed it until now.

“Habit,” I reply.

“Right,” he says, smirking at me.

The elevator creaks again but doesn’t move.

I look at him then—really look at his plain white T-shirt, grey sweat shorts, that same stupid dimple that used to make me forgive everything.

“I’m not here for this,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be.

I’m just helping Amelia and Dex. Especially because Amelia is still laid up and can’t walk without crutches.

” Amelia tore her meniscus during a game and has been stuck with a brace and crutches ever since.

I knew it killed her that she couldn’t help, which is why our friend group of Mac, Cassie and I agreed to help Dex and August with the move.

“I’m not here to make it anything,” he says quietly. “But you’re here. And I’m here. And maybe that means something.”

I turn away, my heart thudding. Or maybe it means nothing at all.

The lights flicker.

Once. Twice. Then dim to a low, barely visible glow.

I still, one hand braced on the wall again. “If this thing drops, I swear to god—”

“It won’t,” he replies, but his voice has lost some of its calm.

We both stand still, listening to the mechanical nothingness.

Then he sighs and slides down the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor like we have all the time in the world. “Might as well get comfortable.”

I hesitate. Then, with a muttered curse, I join him on the floor of the elevator. I draw my knees up and wrap my arms tight around them.

For a moment, neither of us speak.

Then he says, “You still hate me.”

I don’t look at him. “I don’t have the energy to hate you.”

“That’s worse.”

I shrug. Although, I’m surprised he doesn’t call me on my bullshit. I’m never short of an insult for the owner of the Tampa Bay Blaze. The team that I just happen to play goalie for. August claims that his dad, Maxwell Cromwell, made the decision to draft me because he had no idea who I was.

He leans his head back against the wall, “I didn’t think it would be this hard seeing you again. Having you on the team.”

“You thought I’d be what? Grateful? Flattered?”

“I thought you’d moved on,” he remarks.

“I did. Until I ended up on your team. Opened up all the old wounds.”

He looks over at me, really looking at me. Brown eyes study me, making me uncomfortable and wishing I had somewhere else to go in the small space. “I didn’t do it to get close to you.”

“No,” I spit out. “You did it because you always want control. Your dad had you approve the roster; everyone knows that. You knew I was coming.”

That landed. August doesn’t deny it.

The lights flicker again and for a second, we’re in darkness. Just breath and memory and the buzz of old tension.

When the lights come back on, I keep my eyes glued to the floor.

“I loved you,” I remind him quietly. “And you left like it was so easy.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then why did it look like it?”

He doesn’t answer me right away. “Because it thought if I made it clean, it would hurt less.”

I turn towards him, my eyes sharp. “For whom?”

He swallows. “For both of us.”

I shake my head, my eyes finding his. “You don’t get to rewrite it.”

“I’m not trying to. I just—” He exhales. “I miss you. Even when I’m trying not to and even when you’re treating me like you could murder me.”

I look away from him. “You should try harder.”

My voice cracks on the last word.

And he heard it.

The lights flicker again, casting our faces in pale, uneven glow. I can see the shadow of his jaw, the way his fingers flex against his knee like he wants to reach for me.

I stay quiet and so does he.

Minutes pass. Maybe more. The silence isn’t comfortable, but it’s not hostile either. It was the kind that held too much history to be empty.

He shifts. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.”

I don’t answer him right away. I swallow. Some nights that’s all I think about. But I don’t give him that. “Sometimes,” I say with a noncommittal shrug.

“And?” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“And?” I reply, my voice thick with sarcasm. I look at him, “I don’t let myself stay there long.”

He nods. “I still remember the way you used to warm up in college,” he says, looking out past me into the wall of the elevator. “That bounce on your toes. The way you tap the crossbar twice before kickoff. You still do it.”

I blink. “You remembered?”

“I remember everything.”

I turn away, heart thudding. Don’t believe him, don’t play into his game.

The elevator creaks again, louder this time. Then—mercifully—the lights steady. A soft chime rings out and the floor numbers blink back to life. The elevator begins the slow descent to the bottom floor, thankfully.

We both stand, instinctively brushing off our clothes like we haven’t been sitting in memories.

The doors slide open.

I step out first, box in hand, and my spine straight.

He follows a beat after. I can feel him behind me.

The air between us feels different now, charged, unfinished and waiting.

I walk quickly down the hallway to where I know our friends are waiting for us. I throw open the door to Dex’s new apartment. I immediately notice that it’s got an open floor plan like August’s. High ceiling and what looks like a little patio off the kitchen.

“Nice place, Dex,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even.

“Did you two sneak off for a quickie or something?” Danny teases us as he looks at me and where August must be standing behind me.

“No,” I say curtly.

“They couldn’t have. He’s alive. I’m pretty sure that she would have killed him, not fucked him,” Jase, my goalie coach, drawls out in his English accent.

I force a smile, but I can tell it falls flat.

“Are you okay?” Mac asks, coming over to me. She places a comforting hand on my shoulder. Her blue eyes study mine.

“The elevator got stuck,” I tell her, hoping it explains away my awkwardness.

“Oh no. And you got stuck with August.” Cassie comes over to join our conversation.

“I sure did,” I confirm.

“And you let him live. That’s got to be progress,” Cassie says, grinning at me.

I shake my head, fighting the urge to smack her shoulder in disgust. She winks a blue eye at me before running her hands through her shoulder-length brown hair. “I’m only teasing.”

I nod. They all know how angry August still makes me after all these years.

The only good thing to come of it was when Mackenzie (Mac) Dixon, our team captain, used the situation as leverage after he fired Cassie Monroe for dating Jase, August agreed to allow her back on the team.

I think Mac used the leverage that he owed me to get back at him.

Either way, it worked. And Mac and Jase became privy to the story of how August and I dated in college while I was at UNC.

But his father didn’t like that very much.

He wanted his son in an Ivy League school, so he swooped August up and made him enroll in Brown.

August told me an ultimatum was thrown down but I think his father just came to get August and he agreed to leave me.

All alone. And in love with him.

I shake my head, wishing the memories would dissipate.

Being trapped in such a small space with him tonight didn’t help.

I’m the last of my friend group who is left single, as is August. Mac is dating Danny, the reporter who did a story on her.

The first one in our Blaze team to mix business with pleasure and get Danny fired.

Now he coaches the swim team at Tampa University.

Cassie has Jase. And now Amelia is dating Dex, who August conveniently appointed as her roommate in her three-bedroom apartment in team housing when he showed up without a place to stay.

Now they are dating. Although, I’m pretty sure they’ll be living together much like Cassie and Mac do with their guys.

Team housing is only a place they stay some of the time.

The thought makes my chest tighten. It used to be Amelia and me hanging out before Dex.

Mac and Cassie would be off with their guys, and I had her for movie nights or talks.

Now, I’ll be all alone over there. Not entirely, the whole team is there in team housing, but it’s the not the same.

These are the girls I’m closest with. And now they all went and found someone.

“You okay?” Mac asks, doing her best with her smaller frame to pull me into her side.

I nod. “Yeah, just a weird day, you know.”

She nods back at me and says, “I do.”

I look over at her and see she’s watching August, who has his eyes on me. I flip him off. He just shakes his head, heading in the direction of Dex, Danny and Jase, who are putting together Dex’s TV stand.

I see Amelia where she’s sprawled out on his couch, watching the men work. When she notices me watching, she motions for us to join her.

We all make our way over.

“Dex sure furnished this place fast,” I remark. Looking around I can see that he has a small table near the kitchen, the couch that Amelia is lying on, a love seat and another oversized chair.

“Yeah, we went furniture shopping, and he just kept on picking things out,” she says with a shrug.

“None of this was waiting in storage?” Cassie asks her.

I’ll admit I’m surprised too. He just got the green light on this place two weeks ago.

“Nope,” Amelia tells us. “Remember, his divorce didn’t leave him with any furniture.”

I nod, remembering that now. When Dex left New England to come down here to Tampa to be our trainer, he only brought his clothing and a few possessions. His ex-wife got their brownstone and the dog. Which explains why this place is so sparsely decorated, I think to myself as I look around.

“Anyone hungry?” Dex asks, standing up and looking to us girls. “I can order some food.”

The TV stand looks like it’s finished and August and I had the last load, so everything is all moved in.

“I think we are just going to let you both enjoy this apartment together,” Danny says, getting up and pulling Mac to his side.

Everyone else agrees. Any hope I had of getting some time with my friends dies in my chest. I have to head on home. Back to the housing alone while my friends spend time with their boyfriends.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Thank you all for your help. We really appreciate it.” Dex comes over and places a hand on Amelia’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

There is a string of you’re welcomes and byes said before we’re all heading out the door to our cars.

“Hendrix, you want to come up for a drink?” August asks.

My head snaps in his direction. “Fuck no.”

He nods and grins. “I guess our civility was only for a brief moment.”

“If that’s what you want to call that,” I respond and head down the hallway quickly, away from him and my friends. “See you later,” I reply, throwing my hand up in the air in a wave of goodbye.

Once I’m out at the visitors parking spots, I climb into my black BMW and peel out of the parking lot. I’m not sure why I’m in such a hurry to head home, or if it’s that I want to put some space between me and August.