“Yeah. We all have it. Got it when we were seniors. Right after Booker got drafted, actually.” Unconsciously, he rubbed it.
“I love that. Kurt’s not in it?”
He got up so quickly, he knocked the album off his lap. Ignoring it, he headed to a framed photograph on the bookshelf. Before he sat back down, he handed it to her.
She didn’t miss the distance he’d put between them. Yeah, I get it, okay? Not interested in the hot British mess. That’s fine. It wasn’t like she’d have a relationship with the guy she was competing against.
He tapped the glass. “Kurt took it.”
She turned her attention to the stunning photograph. Taken at night, a glowing moon poured molten silver into the lake. Four boys glided across a frozen pond, their sticks cocked back, ready to fire. “You’re all represented here. The four of you, plus Kurt. He’s always with you, watching you.” She smiled. “That’s incredibly poetic.” He had more depth than she’d imagined. He was still close enough to feel the heat from his body and see the scar at his temple. Another one—longer, deeper—on his jaw snagged her attention. She gently touched it. “Hockey’s a brutal sport.”
His hand closed over her wrist, holding it in place. “That’s not from hockey. It’s from dirt biking. I crashed, and my face landed on a rock.” His growly voice and intense gaze made her uncomfortable.
Declan Cadell was pure sex.
This man didn’t make love. He fucked.
And she’d never been fucked before in her life.
Had never even considered the difference.
She was totally out of her element. And yet…desire surged, making her restless. Making her bold. What if she slid her hand across his thigh, dipped between his legs, and let the back of her hand brush against his cock? She was tired of men being gentle and polite with her. She needed someone who wanted her so much he lost control.
But he clearly wasn’t interested, so she picked up the album he’d dropped and looked through the pictures. One in particular drew her attention. “Look at you.” The other guys were laughing, easy with each other, but Declan stood apart. He was taller, more muscular. But it wasn’t his physique that intrigued her. It was his earnestness.
The guy with the surfer hair exuded confidence, as if he’d had all the advantages in life. “Who’s that one?”
“Booker.”
“And this one?” The dark-haired guy with blue eyes was gorgeous.
“Cole.” He tapped the fourth guy. “And that’s Jaime.”
“They’re all so happy and easy-going, and you…” She didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“I what?”
“You’re the handsome guy in school that everyone wants to know, but he has enough friends and he’s not looking for anyone new.”
He seemed to give it some thought but didn’t respond.
“You’re self-contained. You don’t need anything or anyone.” She pointed to the golden boy in the picture. “He’s the one I’d have gone for.” She said it just to tease him.
“Booker?” But he didn’t take the bait. “Figures. Everyone liked him.”
See that? Totally unaffected. Not the least bit hurt or jealous. “All that gorgeous blond hair, those dreamy dimples.” She made her voice sound all swoony just to rile him up.
“Dreamy dimples?” Declan chuckled. “That guy’s an enforcer. If Booker slammed you into the wall, you didn’t get up. ‘Dreamy.’” He shook his head. “That should’ve been his nickname.”
Oh, my God. The man literally has zero interest in me. “Well, I’m glad I finally get to see the boys he traded me for.” She tried to close the book, but he held onto it.
“Why do you say he traded you for us? That’s a weird way to look at it.”
It was hard to concentrate when she was getting hit by all the pheromones wafting off him. “It’s not weird at all. After he gave up his custodial rights, he devoted his time to you guys instead.”
Declan set it on the floor. “It’s not like he came looking for us. He wasn’t trying to replace you. You don’t know the story, do you?”
She stood up. “It wasn’t a complaint. It’s just what happened. Look, I didn’t like coming out here, so good for him that he found you. Looks like you became the family he didn’t have.”
He gripped her wrist and pulled. “Before you get all butt-hurt, why don’t you listen to someone else’s side of the story?”
She was curious enough to sit back down.
“My friends and I used to make dirt bike courses on other people’s property. We always looked for remote places, so most of the time, nobody noticed. Well, that all ended with Kurt. We figured his place was hundreds of thousands of acres, so no way would he ever notice if we tore up one little hidden corner.”
“He noticed?” Why did she like that about her father?
“Hell, yeah. He was all over his land. We didn’t get more than a few days on the best course we’d ever made before he caught us. And, man, he was pissed. Turns out, though, he wasn’t pissed about the dirt. It was the fact that we could’ve gotten hurt, and no one would’ve been around to help us. Emergency vehicles couldn’t get to this location.”
“And yet he found you.”
“Yeah, and you know what he did? He didn’t blow up or yell at us. He didn’t call the police. He told us to come for a meeting at his house with our parents.”
“Why didn’t he call them himself?” Who would trust little kids?
“He didn’t need to. Your dad was a scary dude. And not because he was a famous hockey player. He was big and powerful, and you knew he didn’t fuck around, so when he said something, we listened. He didn’t argue, he didn’t fight. He dropped a statement and walked away. And you just knew he had the resources to follow up and crush you.”
“Was he an enforcer?” She grinned. “See, I know some hockey terms.”
“I’m impressed, but no. Believe it or not, he didn’t like violence. He liked strategy. That was his thing. Your dad was an intellectual.”
The low recessed lights cast a golden glow on his tan skin. Every time he shifted on the ottoman, his biceps rounded, and his pecs and abs flexed. She wanted to run her hands all over him, feel the dips and contours, the heat of his skin, and the power in his muscles.
“So, anyhow, we get to his house. We’re all shitting our pants—no idea what to expect. And instead of him going off on us, he tells our parents a story about how he was an only child, how he’d gotten in with the wrong crowd when he was a kid. Our parents were giving us side-eye, wondering what the fuck we’d done, but Kurt just goes on, telling them how his dad never lectured or punished him, how he’d taken him ice skating on their pond. It became a thing they did every day after school. His dad would walk him there, give him some drills to work on, and go back to work. And Kurt became obsessed with it, with getting better.”
“With making his dad proud.”
A flash of surprise crossed his handsome features. “I never thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess you’re right. And then, by the time he got to high school, he realized his dad had been training him to make the team. So that night, he told our parents he wouldn’t press charges for the damage done to his property if we learned how to play hockey.”