Chapter 10
Lola
I hear him shift again on the couch, even though most of my head is under the blankets.
The power still hasn’t come back on. It’s almost three in the morning, or it was the last time I glanced at his dying phone, and the candle he lit is getting dimmer as it gets lower.
Also, the loft is very, very cold. Those are all the reasons I force myself to sit up and say, “Get your ass into this bed.”
“I’m fine,” he says. He’s a lump on the couch I can barely see, but I can tell all the throw blankets he has piled on him aren’t keeping him warm.
“If you don’t come here, I’ll go lie next to you there,” I tell him. “Body heat is an actual thing, you know. Plus, the candle is burning out, and if I’m going to be plunged into darkness, I need to be holding onto your perfect ass.”
He chuckles but doesn’t move. I’m about to get up and do what I threatened when he finally moves.
A few seconds later, I’m holding the blankets up, and the chilly air is stealing the small bit of warmth I’d managed to create.
He slips in beside me, and I drop the covers.
We’re both on our backs, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the small flicker of light the candle on his dresser is creating on the ceiling.
I sigh. “This is ridiculous. Come here.”
I roll toward him, grab fistfuls of his Riptide hoodie, and pull him until he’s on his side facing me.
I take his arm, which is dead weight, and drop it over my side and then snuggle into him, my face nuzzling into the top of his sweatshirt.
It smells like laundry soap and aftershave, which has hints of leather and vanilla.
It’s sexy and instantly makes my blood run warmer.
He’s stiff for a second, then I feel him loosen up, and he slides a leg between mine.
We’re comfortably tangled up in each other now. It’s both relaxing and a turn-on.
“I’ve never slept with a woman I haven’t had sex with.”
“No girlfriends who just spent the night with no action?”
“No girlfriends since high school. Just hook-ups and recurring bed buddies,” he says, and his voice sounds sleepy. “Hockey and drinking were the priorities.”
“And now it’s hockey and sobriety,” I say. “So you should find yourself a bed buddy, Theo. Because a healthy sexual relationship, even when it’s not an emotional relationship, is important.”
“You’re like a teeny, tiny sex therapist, aren’t you?”
“Nope. I’m a doula.” I explain.
“What’s a doula?”
“Doulas provide emotional, physical, and non-medical support during pregnancy, birth, and postpartum.”
“Have you seen a baby being born? In person?”
“A few.”
“That’s freaking cool.” I feel his lips brush my hair and try not to read into it.
Snuggling doesn’t have to lead anywhere…
But I wish it would. I’m really attracted to Theo, and he’s a whole bunch of green flags, which I’m not used to, but clearly could use in my life.
It’s probably why the universe is cockblocking me.
It’s a bitch that way. “So do you want kids of your own or just to deliver everyone else’s? ”
My heart pinches with pain. “I want lots of them, but I don’t think life wants that for me.”
“Nah, don’t say that. Don’t let a couple bad guys screw with your confidence,” Theo says, then his arms tighten around me.
“I used to want a few kids, like three or even four, but then I realized that alcoholism is genetic. And I saw what I’ve put my parents through this year and…
I don’t know if it’s a good idea anymore. ”
“Ask your parents if they’d have changed their mind about kids, even after this year,” suggests as sleep finally starts to make my eyelids heavy.
He’s so warm and even with the candle sputtering with the last of the light it can give, I don’t feel panic.
I feel safe and protected. “They’d have you ten times over, faults and all. ”
“Mmm…” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Plus, you’re hockey royalty, so you basically have to continue the line,” I mutter. “What will the world do without another Richard blocking shots and winning cups?”
“I haven’t won a Cup.”
“You will.”
“I like your attitude, Casco.”
I smile into his sweatshirt. “I like your body heat.”
He laughs and pulls me closer.
When I wake up, it’s bright. The sun is pouring in through the windows we never bothered to cover. It’s blindingly bright due to the piles of stark white snow it’s reflecting off. I squint and stretch, and my butt rubs right into Theo Richard’s very well-endowed, rock-solid cock. Whoa.
A flood of desire roars through me so suddenly and so strongly that my whole body flushes.
I take a deep breath and try to beat my hormones into submission as Theo starts to stir and wake up behind me.
His hand, which was slung over my hip, flexes and moves to splay across my belly.
He holds me in place and grinds himself against me.
I don’t think he’s fully aware of who I am or where he is because he’s not really awake, but I can’t help myself—I arch into it.
He growls against my ear, and his breath tickles my skin.
I don’t even feel bad about it. I don’t care if he’s on a team with my stupid brothers. He’s hot, and I want him.
His lips ghost my neck, and his hand starts a lazy, slow journey up to my breasts. My nipples harden in anticipation, and I press my ass into him again. He rolls his hips, rubbing himself shamelessly against me, and then, with his hand an inch from cupping one of my breasts, he freezes. “Lola.”
“Morning, sunshine.”
He’s gone, pulling away and rolling onto his back. I let out a frustrated sigh. “Sorry. I’m… I—”
“You’re horny because I’m just the hottest thing ever?” I look over at him, flashing a joking smile, but he just stares, his dark eyes heated. His bottom lip juts out like he’s pouting.
“Yeah. You’re so hot my dick is leaking.”
I blink, and my smile falls away. “You don’t get to say that and pull your hard-on away from me.”
“Teammate’s sister,” he says, and I think it’s more to himself than me. “D-partner’s twin. Not a woman who needs to be subjected to my bumbling attempts at sober sex.”
“Oh, for fucks sake.” I sit up and huff in frustration. “Is the power back?”
“Yes.” He reaches for a pillow, flops back on the bed, and uses the pillow to cover the tent in his sweats.
I climb over him, so I’m straddling him, but unfortunately, that pillow is a decent barrier.
Despite sitting right on his crotch, I can’t feel his arousal.
He grabs my hips and tries to lift me off, but I don’t let him, and I reach for his phone on the dresser next to the bed. “What in the hell are you doing?”
I turn the phone to him, and it unlocks when it registers his face.
I turn it back toward me and deftly scroll until I get to the App Store, where I immediately download a hook-up app I’ve used in the past. And by “used,” I mean downloaded, registered, and window-shopped. I am yet to try for a hook-up.
“What are you doing?” he asks again, but he’s not freaking out that I have his phone, and he’s not even trying to take it back.
His hands are still on my hips. It’s nice to have his strong, tight grip on me.
God, maybe I should use the app too. I definitely need sex and to wipe the memory of Pete being my last lay out of my head.
The dating app loads, so I open it and start to create a profile. I use a fake name because, of course. “Do you speak French?”
“Oui. Mon père est francais et ma première équipe était au Québec.”
I move the phone aside to gape at him. “Well, that’s fucking hot.”
He smirks and winks. I snap his photo. I purposely do it off-center so it’s like one eye winking and half a smirk with a whole lot of naked chest because his sweatshirt disappeared at some point in his sleep.
It gives him anonymity while remaining intriguing.
“Your hook-up name is T.R. Francois. You’re a French major at Colby College. ”
“What?’ He grabs the phone from me. His eyes widen as he stares at the screen. “I’m on an app? What the fuck, Lola?”
I lean down, my whole upper body pressing into his. “You need to try out sober sex, and since you don’t want to date and you don’t want me…”
I tilt my hips once, and I think—I think—I feel his erection—just a little bit—under the way too fluffy pillow. I smile when his lips part almost against his will. Then I roll off him and stand beside the bed. “This will be good for you. It’s not a dating app. It’s a hook-up app.”
I walk to the bathroom, holding up the sweatpants he gave me to wear last night because if I don’t, they’ll fall right off. I’m almost there when he says, “It’s not that I don’t want you. I can’t have you.”
I look over my shoulder and smile. “I’m not booze, honey. You can have me.”
And then I let go of the sweats, and they drop to my ankles. He groans like he’s in physical pain, even though the sweatshirt he also lent me is so big it covers me to just below my ass. He’s not seeing anything but my long, bare legs. “Showering! Feel free to join!”
He groans again, and I laugh, knowing full well sober Theo is too good a boy to take me up on that offer. It’s probably for the best. I don’t mess around with hockey players, as a rule, since Ryan. There’s enough of that stupid sport in my life already.
When I’m done showering, I change into my clothes from last night, which I left neatly folded on his vanity because the bathroom is where I changed into his borrowed sweats.
I emerge with wet hair and no makeup and find Theo in the kitchen with two cups of coffee in front of him.
He hands me one, and I smile gratefully, taking a sip.
It’s got just the right amount of sugar and cream in it. “Delicious. Thanks.”
“Your phone has been buzzing,” he says and nods toward my bag.
“Probably Landon checking in,” I tell him. “I should get home.”
“I checked the news, and the roads have all been cleared and salted.” He sips his own coffee, which is black.
“Thank you for last night,” I say quietly. “Not just giving me a place to crash but handling the Pete thing and just, you know, being someone to talk to.”
“Thank you,” he replies, and his eyes soften, and my heart shifts to fluttering instead of beating. “I think last night would have been really hard on me if I’d been here alone. I’d have thought about booze most of the night. Or all the stupid things I did because of booze.”
“Instead, you got a make-out session and more blue balls.” I raise my hand for a high-five, and he honors it while he laughs. I finish my coffee.
“No blue balls,” he replies a second later when I move to put my empty cup in the sink. “I tapped one out while you showered.”
I spin to stare at him, and he winks, his cheeks a pale shade of guilty pink. “I missed it!”
“It was not my finest moment,” he confesses, finishing his coffee. “It was quick and dirty.”
“Did you at least think of me?” I ask softly, and our eyes meet, but only for a second, and then he looks away, shaking his head.
“I’ll walk you to your car, trouble,” he says.
“We’re doing nicknames?” I ask.
“Yes. And yours is trouble.”
I giggle. “I gotta think of a good one for you.”
The walk to my car is lovely. The sun is shining, and the air is crisp. We make small talk about winter in Maine, and then he asks me if I’m going to the Garrison Thanksgiving in Silver Bay. “I’m supposed to work.”
“At the bar?” he asks. “The bar where that deluded hook-up likes to stalk you?”
I nod. “I’ve been contemplating quitting. Even before the thing with Pete. The money is great, but it was better in the summer with the tourists, and I’m not loving the late nights, and the winter commute is gonna be a problem, as last night showed.”
“Do you need a job?” he asks, and his tone is gentle because he, being the son of rich parents himself, probably knows what a touchy subject it can be.
“I’m still trying to get clients as a Doula,” I tell him honestly. “It’s not a well-known birth option in Maine. Also, I’m already taking enough help from family. My parents paid for school, and Callan lets me live with him rent-free.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Theo says easily. “Family is supposed to help each other. I don’t know where I’d be if mine hadn’t stuck with me.”
We step into the parking garage, and I lead him to my car, which is at the far end. “You can go back home. I’m good now.”
“Nope. I’m not leaving until you’re in your car,” Theo says. “I’m a gentleman.”
“Then it’s good we didn’t sleep together,” I kid. “That sounds boring.”
“One of us has to be boring,” he snarks back. “You promised to be last night but didn’t deliver.”
I start to laugh, but it catches in my throat because my car comes into view. I stop walking so quickly Theo clips my shoulder. He turns to look at me, and the cocky smirk on his face evaporates. When he looks back at the car, it’s replaced with anger. “Holy shit. Is that yours?’
“Yeah.”
“We need to call the police.”
“O-Okay,” I stutter as I take a step toward my SUV. The taillights are in pieces on the pavement. The side windows are blown out, and there is glass everywhere. The back tires… I move closer … and the front tires are all deflated. Theo takes my hand and pulls me away from the car.
He’s got his phone to his ear, telling someone what happened. As he explains where the parking garage is, he pulls me into his chest in a one-armed hug. I shouldn’t need a hug, but I do, so I wrap my arms around him and hold on. “Police are on their way.”
I close my eyes. “Fucking hell. That’s what I get for leaving my car in a public garage overnight.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Theo says cautiously, and he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and cups the back of my head. “I think we both know this might not be random.”
“But it might be,” I argue, because I can’t fathom that Pete would do this. I mean, it’s extreme and evil, but why would you do that over a one—or two—night stand?
“We’ll drop his name with the cops and see what they think,” Theo says calmly.
I nod and step away from him. “Sure. Whatever. I should call Landon and Callan.”
I swallow down my fear and embarrassment and dig my phone out of my bag. I don’t know why I feel embarrassed, but I do. If Pete did this, then I truly attract the worst kind of men, and I’m too stupid to realize it. That’s on me.