4. Laur
Chapter four
Laur
M y sore back didn’t love the flight to the beach, but at least I wasn’t five rows back where Blake, Tyler, and Keith were squished into one row.
They looked like they could barely breathe.
The flight felt so much longer than just two-and-a-half hours.
My eyes kept threatening to close. I had to fight myself to stay awake on the plan to review all of Libby and Bren’s top twenty candidates to join the marketing and PR team.
Sadly, I didn’t even get through them all.
When planning for this trip, I was giddy with excitement at the opportunity to have a relaxing, stress-free time.
Bren and I easily convinced a group of guys from the hockey team to come.
Once Lucas and Keith were onboard, Blake, Silas and Brooks were easily convinced.
Tyler took no convincing. Brooks told Blaine about the trip, so we had to invite him too.
But now it seems like I’ll have more work than I anticipated. At least I’ll have multiple days of being out in the sun, tanning with the sparkling sand between my toes. Seeing Lucas without a shirt most of the trip doesn’t sound too bad either.
The massive white trimmed front porch of Lucas’ aunt’s house comes into view as we turn into the excessively long driveway.
There's even an overside porch swing. She graciously let us use her beach house in Gulf Shores free of charge.
The elaborate structure more resembles a mansion rather than a simple beach house.
A grin spreads from ear to ear when my eyes fall to the glittering beach that is practically in the backyard.
The beach reminds me of my childhood. My parents tried to take Nick and me every other year when we were kids.
There’s even a grill area, which is truthfully much more of a large outdoor kitchen and in-ground pool with lounge chairs and daybeds. Our own little slice of heaven.
My eyes widen as I walk through the garage and into the massive kitchen, complete with shiny high end appliances and a grand table that will definitely seat us all.
The living room is decked out with tasteful upscale seaside decor complete with an oversized, white sectional sofa that I pray no one spills on.
“If anyone even thinks about trying to claim the master, you better think twice,” Lucas yells as everyone scrambles into the house to claim a room. “And the room next to the master is off limits!”
“Why the room next to the master? Don’t want anyone to hear me moaning your name every night?” I cheekily nudge him.
“It’s for Ryder King, if he shows up,” Lucas mumbles, running his hand through his hair. “But now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t have picked the room right next to ours . . . It’s one of the three with a king bed. Figured I would need to give him his own room.”
“Wow, that’s very kind of you, Captain,” I tease. “Already saving the best for your new star player.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out. “We’ll see.”
He winks at me and grabs my hand, pulling me close. Inhaling his familiar scent of freshly laundered clothes mixed with sandalwood, citrus, and other woodsy scents, calms me—he smells and feels like home.
Delicately placing a kiss on my forehead, he leans in closer to whisper in my ear, “There’s a very large, built-in bench in the master shower. Perfect for you to sit back with my head between your legs, tasting your pu—”
“Libby!” I shriek, cutting him off, not wanting anyone to hear his plans for me later and praying I can keep quiet enough. My face turns the color of a freshly ripe tomato.
“Why the long face, Lib?” I ask Libby, her lips turned down with a frown .
“I’m sharing a room with Mitchell,” she complains, making a retching, gagging noise.
“I’m not that bad,” Blaine protests as he comes down the stairs. “At least there’s two queen size beds instead of one.” He lowers his gaze, and his words barely reach my ears as he rubs at the back of his neck.
“Just don’t bring anyone home,” Libby mandates. Her pout turns into a demanding glare. “I refuse to deal with that.”
“No promises, Lib,” Blaine replies cooly. “I can’t always plan for that.”
Libby makes an exaggerated throwing up noise. Bren and Tyler come down the hallway.
“Tyler and I are sharing bunk beds. How fun!” Bren shrieks enthusiastically, coming into the living room.
No hint of sarcasm detected. Unsurprisingly, Bren appears genuinely elated to be sharing bunk beds as a fresh college graduate.
Her go-with-the-flow, bubbly attitude is the exact opposite of Libby’s frustration.
“See Libby, at least we don’t have bunk beds. Wouldn’t want you to hear what I’m doing on the top bunk at night,” Blaine remarks with a wink at Libby.
Libby winces in disgust.
My stomach rumbles, ready to finally eat something. “I’ll start making the margs,” I declare and clasp my hands together. “Lucas, can you start the grill while Bren and Libby unpack the food?”
Everyone starts moving, following my lead and moving outside. Maybe I need to give myself more credit for being a promising lead for the PR team.
“Laur,” Lucas calls to me from outside, “is everyone here? Just trying to get a head count on burgers.”
“Almost! Ryan just texted that he is thirty minutes out with Harlan and the Ryder King. I’m ready to fangirl,” I joke playfully.
Lucas rolls his eyes at Libby and Sydney, who both squeal in excitement at the mention of Ryder’s name. Sydney is one of Libby’s best friends from her classes. We’ve recently recruited her to come to hockey games, but she cares much more about the players than the game.
Ryder King definitely merits some fangirling, but I’m already a fully dedicated fangirl to Lucas Donato.
“Don’t worry,” I assure Lucas. “It won’t make me less of a dedicated Donato fangirl.” Sauntering over to him, I kiss him passionately on the lips. His hands grip my hips, pinning my body against his.
“Focus on grilling our burgers and less on your girlfriend’s mouth, Donato,” Tyler bristles with impatience. “I’m fucking starving.”
Out of nowhere, a lime flies out of Lucas’ hand, hitting Tyler square in the nose.
“Your lucky margaritas aren’t made with grapefruits, Barret,” Lucas growls at Tyler.
A girlish giggle escapes me at Lucas’ corny joke. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy another lime flying through the air again, this time from Tyler’s hand. I catch it before it makes contact with Lucas.
“Stop wasting my limes, or you won’t get any margaritas,” I threaten, shaking my fist clenched around the lime.
Lucas lets out a low chuckle. “Barret can’t have any until after a post-dinner workout anyways.”
“Are you kidding me, bro?” Tyler complains with a drawn out grown.
“Your choice.” Lucas tilts his head towards Tyler, raising both eyebrows. “But as your captain, I would recommend it. And as your friend, I would still recommend it.” A stern look briefly crosses Lucas’ face, before he turns back to ready the grill.
Waiting to make drinks didn’t even cross my mind. Guilt warms my cheeks. I feel like such an idiot. I knew Lucas would take the vacation workout regime very seriously, but it never occurred to me that the rest of the team would be less dedicated or complain about it.
As soon as my pitcher of fresh margaritas is ready, Tyler greedily hands me glasses to fill. He snatches one for himself and downs half of it in one sip. Blaine and Keith lounge poolside. Neither of them fazed by the drinks, staying put in their seats .
Tyler’s eyes find his willing victim in another senior, Blake. Tyler nods his head toward the drinks, encouraging Blake to go against the captain’s recommendation with him. Blake takes a glass, toasting Tyler in solidarity.
Basking in the glorious warmth of the summer sun, the girls and I chat. Libby and Sydney haven’t stopped spilling the newest tea.
About twenty minutes later, the delicious grill master calls out that the food is ready. Swaying sluggishly when I stand, I realize I’ve had two strong margaritas on an empty stomach. Talking with the girls distracted me, but at least I’m enjoying the vacation already.
“I bet he’s really a playboy,” Libby declares. Practically drooling at the thought of the new player.“You would think that, Libby,” Syd rolls her eyes. “I doubt he is.”
“With a face, name, and reputation for being the most sought after college hockey freshman, I have no doubt he is,” Bren adds her take.
Tyler hands Blake another margarita, pouring one of himself too, while he chimes in to the Ryder King rumors. “I heard from a buddy of mine that he could have gone pro but wanted to play college for a year or two first.”
Great. Now all the lushes are gossiping over our newest player. Too loudly to hear the creak of the front door. Too tipsy to notice the three new males arrive—one of which chuckles and saunters down the steps of the outdoor patio.
“You know, ladies—” a lilting voice calls “—and gentlemen too, you could just ask the most sought after college hockey freshman of this season whatever it is you want to know.” Ryder drops his duffle back on the patio with a dramatic thud .
A gasp escapes Libby’s lips as she takes in the dark eyed, black-haired newcomer. Despite his features, dark and mysterious doesn’t describe him in the slightest. The air around him crackles with an energetic buzz.
His tousled, midnight hair swishes to one side, almost covering his eyes. Ryder is devilishly handsome mixed equally with boyish charm .
At eighteen, he is still a boy after all. But judging from the looks of thirst and lust on Libby and Sydney’s faces, they don’t seem to notice the same way I do. Even Bren looks him up and down, giving him much more than a once over.
The girls are not the only ones stuck in a daze. An eerie quiet surrounds us as the guys take in their new teammate. My mind drifts, starting to wonder if Tyler or Blaine could take Ryder in a fight. Ryder might be young, but his lean and agile muscles stretch over every inch of his body.