Chapter 2
NORA
Wow, he just caught me. With one arm. He just scooped it right under my ass while still holding onto the duffel bag he has over his other shoulder.
I mean, I’m glad he did. If he hadn’t, I would’ve bounced off his broad, hard chest, and that would’ve been embarrassing.
Still, this whole move was poorly thought out by me, so I’m very glad Alex Olsen has impeccable athletic reflexes.
Plus, damn, he smells good.
Keeping up with my I’m-here-to-greet-my-boyfriend ruse, I press my cheek to his. “You have to come with me. They’re going to take you to a cabin on the bayou and leave you there,” I say near his ear.
He rears back and stares at me. “Who are?”
“The guys waiting around the corner with the big sign.”
His expression goes from alarmed to oh, you’re nuts.
He lets me go, and I slide down his body. I’m five-seven so it’s not too far before my feet touch the floor, but it’s a nice few inches of contact, I’m not gonna lie.
“I take it you’re the one who’s been texting me?”
“Yes! You got my messages? I was sure I typed in the wrong number!” Then I think about that. I plant my hands on my hips. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
“Because I don’t know you. Or your number.”
His gaze sweeps over me from head to toe. Then back up again. Hmmm. Tingles. I like that. That’s weird. I don’t usually like being ogled.
But…am I being ogled? Or is he checking for weapons? Because now I’m very aware that I’m in yellow overalls, my flower-covered Converse tennis shoes, and…my hands fly up and pull the floppy pink straw hat with the big yellow flower on the front off my head.
I didn’t have time to go home and change between the text from Andi saying L, B and W picking up *hockey stick emoji* taking him to the cabin and me jumping in my truck and driving like a bat out of hell to get here.
I glance down and see the glob of dried mud on the brim of my hat. I look further down. Yep, there are streaks of mud on my overalls and the bare skin of my shins between the hem of the capri length pants and the tops of my shoes.
I know better than to step between Patty and Muriel when they’re fighting, but I’m not the only one who left Garden Club with mud-fight remnants on them today.
So maybe he’s not ogling me. Maybe that look is what the hell is going on with this woman?
“Who are you?” Alex asks when his eyes are back on mine.
I give him a bright I-promise-I’m-not-going-to-kill-you smile. “I’m Nora. Delaune.”
He stares at me blankly. He’s got gorgeous brown eyes. Which I already knew. I’ve seen dozens of photos of this man. But he’s even more devastatingly good-looking up close.
“Why did you jump on me?”
“I was calling your name, but you weren’t paying attention and didn’t hear me.”
“It’s crazy in here!” he exclaims, looking around.
He’s not wrong.
“Yeah. And I was afraid to yell any louder or they would’ve heard.
” I incline my head toward where Leo, Wilson, and Brewser are holding a huge sign that says WELCOME ALEX OLSEN.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure they stole poster board and markers from me to make that sign.
“I wanted to get your attention without them noticing.”
“So you decided to jump on me?”
It was spontaneous, I’ll admit. But the situation seemed to call for more than just walking up and sticking my hand out for a handshake. And I couldn’t risk him doing something like running in the other direction, thinking I’m a crazy stalker fan.
Oh, I know all of his stats and am thrilled he’s here, but not like that.
I don’t want to tie him up in my basement and turn him into my sex slave.
Well, the teeny tiny part of my primitive brain may want the sex slave thing a little bit.
But that’s just because the man is gorgeous.
He just exudes that something that makes women want to get closer to him.
It’s nature. Instinct. Survival of the species.
Our species should definitely want more Alex Olsens in it. It’s not my fault.
And yeah, it’s been a while—a long while—since I did anything with anyone that was even remotely sex slavish…
No. That’s not why I need Alex Olsen to get his fine ass in my truck and let me drive him to my tiny hometown.
He’s here to save my town and get Harley re-elected as mayor.
And I don’t need Leo, Brewser, and Wilson scaring him off before he’s even out of the airport.
I smile. “We’re in an airport. People are jumping into each other’s arms everywhere. It helped us blend in.”
He sighs. “This has to be the most chaotic place I’ve ever been.”
It’s an airport. Airports are probably in the top three most chaotic places anyone has ever been.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of neon green. I grab the front of Alex’s shirt and pull him around the corner of the escalator.
It might not have been Brewser, but it also might have been.
“What the hell?” Alex asks as I push him up against the wall.
I think the element of surprise was the only reason I was able to move the guy. He’s really big. Solid. Big hands…
I shake my head. “I can’t let them see you. They’ll make a big commotion.”
He looks around again. “How would you be able to tell?”
I grin. He has no idea. “I’m here to give you a ride to Rebel. We just need to avoid them until we can get to town and get you settled. And make sure other people actually see you there. That way, if you disappear, lots of people will notice, and we can start searching for you right away.”
He looks properly horrified. “Who are they?” he asks, flinging his arm in the general direction of the three men who are in so much trouble later.
“I’ll tell you in the truck,” I say. I glance toward the baggage carousel. “Grab your bag.”
“You realize that getting into a truck with you also seems like a bad idea. I don’t know you. You could just be a stalker fan. Especially with the way you jumped on me.”
I tip my head. “You’re mad about that? Okay, sorry. You’re right. That was probably too much.”
“I didn’t say I was mad about it,” he says. His gaze sweeps over me again. “It’s just kind of stalker-fan-like.”
I nod. “Good point.”
Suddenly, he grumbles something that sounds like, “Jesus Christ,” and steps around me. He heads to the baggage claim carousel, where there’s now only one bag circulating. He pulls the big black garment bag up and hefts it over his shoulder.
Did he bring suits?
I know a bunch of his personal belongings were delivered earlier this week and are already at the apartment we’ve set up for him. Still this bag is surprisingly huge and unless he hangs jeans and t-shirts, he’s got slacks and jackets in there.
Wow, Alex really doesn’t understand small-town Louisiana.
He strides back toward me quickly.
“Okay, so—”
All of a sudden, he drops the bag and wraps a big arm around my waist, hauls me up against his body, my feet off the floor, and seals his mouth over mine.
Shocked isn’t even the right word.
I have no idea what’s happening.
Except that Alex Olson doesn’t just look good and smell good, he tastes damned good too.
He had to have been chewing gum or something. Or do hockey gods just automatically taste like spearmint?
Doesn’t matter. When he tips his head and relaxes his mouth against mine, slightly opening his lips, I do the same.
Then his tongue strokes over my bottom lip and I think I sigh.
Because at that point his tongue slips in along mine, and the tingles from earlier are a thousand times stronger as they race from my scalp all the way down my body to my toes.
But just as abruptly, he pulls his head back and stares at me.
I stare back. I don’t know what to say. My first instinct is to start kissing him again.
He takes a deep breath and then puts me down.
“So. People in Louisiana are very friendly, but that’s not generally how we greet strangers here,” I say, smoothing down the front of my overalls. And not commenting on the dirt streak he now has on his white t-shirt.
He glances to his left. “I saw the guy in the hat come around the corner. I figured this was a good way to hide both of our faces. If he’s going to recognize me, I assume he will definitely recognize you.”
I take note of the fact that we are now standing with my back against the wall, and Alex’s back to the rest of the airport. He is blocking me from anyone else’s view, and no, I don’t think anyone would be able to tell who either one of us is.
I peek around his very broad shoulder.
I see Wilson’s back, yes, including one of his usual hats. He’s facing away from us scanning the area.
I blow out a little breath. “Good thinking.”
Alex hasn’t moved back away from me, and I have to tip my head back to see his eyes.
“I guess we should just stay here until the coast is clear,” he says.
No complaints from me.
“You swear you’re not a crazy stalker?”
“I can prove it.”
“Go,” he says simply.
“I can tell you something that proves I’m here to save you from them rather than just some random fan.”
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Go,” he says again.
“Do you remember the last time you were here in New Orleans? When you played the Jazz?”
“Of course. Worst night of my life. Career-ending knee injury.”
I wince slightly. Yes. I’m aware of that injury. Now. We weren’t that night, of course. We saw him get hit and go down and knew that he didn’t return to the game. But the Grays were tight-lipped about what happened to him for three weeks afterward.
“Do you remember that you were supposed to do a meet-and-greet afterwards? With a guy who’d had a stroke?
The guy was a huge fan of yours, and his friends used meeting you as an incentive for him to work hard in rehab on his rough days.
His physical therapist also incorporated hockey drills into his exercise program. ”
Alex’s brow furrows, and I find myself scanning from his thick brows, over his ridiculously long eyelashes, down his not-quite-straight nose to those lips. Damn, I really like his lips.
“Yeah, his physical therapist knew the trainer for the Jazz who knew our trainer,” he says. “I remember all of that.”
“Do you also remember blowing him off?”
His eyes narrow. “I remember getting really hurt and not being able to do it.”
“Do you remember a little girl running up to you in the parking lot on your way from the locker room to the bus afterward and begging you to take five minutes to talk to her great-grandfather?”
I can see in his eyes that he does remember Ruth.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember telling her, ‘just leave me the fuck alone, kid, it’s been a long night’?”
He sighs and his eyes slide for a moment, but then he nods and opens them again. “It was not my best night.”
“For her, either. You were her hero. You broke her heart. Also, her great-grandfather was that stroke survivor. You massively disappointed him. She came back and told everybody about it, and his three best friends hate you for it.” I gesture in the general direction where Wilson was standing, but has now moved off, clearly searching the wider area for Alex.
“Wow,” Alex says, blowing out a breath. “You ‘friendly’ people down here in Louisiana really know how to hold a grudge, huh?”
“We’re very loyal. And a little unreasonable at times.”
I noticed how his gaze goes to my mouth as well, and the tingles start up all over again.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, let’s get you to Rebel. You have practice tonight, and I assume you want to see your apartment, check in with your sister, stuff like that.”
“My sister is sending someone to pick me up.”
“Yeah, those are the guys she sent.”
“Why would my sister send guys who want to take me to a cabin and leave me there?”
“Because your sister thinks they’re sweet and doesn’t realize how mad they are at you. Or that Leo has a cabin on the bayou that you can only get to by boat.”
Now he looks truly concerned. “Let me guess—it’s surrounded by alligators?”
“There are definitely alligators out there,” I confirm.
“But they would eventually come back for me?”
I laugh. “Someone would come for you. But that’s not the first impression I want you to have of Rebel and its people. We need you. This hockey team means a lot to…all of us.” I hate the way I stumble over all of us.
So fine, it’s not the entire town that’s excited about the team.
And there are a few players who haven’t fully bought in.
But Alex is going to change all of that.
He is a star. One of the best centers to ever play the game, he absolutely has the talent, but on top of that, he has the charm and that special something that makes people love him.
Even the little town that started a petition to ban him from the city limits when they found out he was coming to play for our hockey team.
They can’t control who Astrid puts on the team, but they figured if they could make it illegal for him to be anywhere in town other than the hockey arena, they wouldn’t have to be around him or be nice to him.
Harley, the current Mayor, wouldn’t acknowledge the petition. Even though it was on his behalf.
But that didn’t help his re-election chances.
I decide not to tell Alex about the Keep Alex Olsen Out of Rebel petition.