She does a double-take, her eyes making another greedy pass. As she takes in Asher’s blond hair and easy smile, her lips part. Then her gaze drifts to Owen’s broad chest, and she makes a small helpless noise of surprise.
I’ve seen this type of reaction before when we’re all out together—women have checked us out, sure—but there’s usually a hint of subtlety to it. This poor girl’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head, and she doesn’t seem even remotely capable of carrying out her job duties. She’s still staring at Owen’s bulky arms, which are now crossed in front of his chest.
I’ve seen him command this type of female attention before—many times, in fact—but this is the first time I’ve seen it bother him. Maybe it’s because he’s engaged to be married soon, or maybe because he just really wants a beer. Either way, his smile has faded.
I clear my throat, pulling her attention over to me again. “He’s taken, sweetheart,” I murmur gently.
Her face falls, and she stammers out an apology. “So sorry. I was staring, wasn’t I? I’ll be right back with those pitchers.” She hustles away with a flourish, and the guys around me chuckle.
“Speaking of being taken,” Justin says, raising his eyebrows and looking in my direction. “You still off the market, Covey, or did you and Aubree get that shit taken care of?”
“Uh, we’re still married, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Owen scoffs, laughing. “Dude, but why? Surely there were easier ways to get into her panties than putting a ring on it.”
Teddy chuckles into his fist.
“Yeah, what’s the story?” Asher asks, his brows pushed together as he studies me. “How complicated is the annulment process? You don’t have to go back to the great state of Nevada, do you?”
I’m not sure how much to share with them. On one hand, it’s private, my personal business with Aubree, and I don’t particularly feel like airing it. But on the other hand, these guys are my bros, the only family I have in this city, and they’re bound to find out sooner or later anyway.
“Spill it, rookie,” Justin says, eyeing me from across the table.
I shift uncomfortably. “I might want to, I don’t know, see where this goes between me and Aubree.”
“Wait. Hold the fuck up. What are you saying?” Owen asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re going to stay married?”
“I don’t know, but yeah. I guess what I’m saying is before I agree to a divorce, shouldn’t I at least date my wife?”
After these words leave my mouth, there’s nothing but silence—dead-to-the-world, no-one’s-even-breathing silence. And, yeah, I know what I’ve just told them is a little crazy. But with the slack-jawed, wide-eyed looks the guys are giving me, you’d think I just told them I’m an alien on a deep space mission sent to anally probe them.
Then Owen opens his mouth to say, “Plot twist!” and laughs under his breath.
After several more beats of uncomfortable silence, Justin says, “That’s just fucking cr—”
But I hold up one hand, stopping him as I bark out, “You know what? It’s not a big deal, and I’m not looking for opinions.”
“Hey, you don’t owe us an explanation,” Asher says with a trace of sympathy, palms up.
“And Aubree is a cool girl,” Teddy adds, nodding.
I nod once, grunting.
Fuck, why is this so awkward? And of course my choice of seating makes it impossible to escape. I just have to sit here and endure their loud stares and stony silence. Fantastic.
Our waitress chooses this moment to appear beside our table. She’s bright pink when she returns with two pitchers of IPA and half a dozen glasses.
“Thank you, Rachel.” I smile at her, and she lets out a choked gasp. This poor girl’s discomfort shouldn’t distract me from my own, but . . . well, it does. And I’ll take whatever distraction I can get.
I let out a slow exhale and accept the glass of beer Asher’s just poured me.
“We could slip her Grant’s number,” Teddy says with a snicker as she scurries away again.
“Yeah, and he’d kick all our asses,” Asher says.
“Fact,” I say, agreeing.
Our team captain, Grant, is the one person on the team I can’t seem to figure out. He rarely ventures out with us, and when he does, he’s a grumpy bastard. Go figure. I certainly don’t want to get on the dude’s bad side.
“You should’ve seen him at rookie camp last year. I thought he was going to murder Morgan,” Justin says, launching into a story that involves a prank that went south.
Since the conversation has turned to hockey, and off my love life, I take a large gulp of beer, hoping it quenches whatever this weird tight feeling is inside my chest.
By the time I make it back to my place, I’m no more settled than I was sitting in that damn booth, enduring the awkward stares of my teammates. But Teddy was right, Aubree is a cool girl—and she’s also sweet and funny and unbelievably freaking gorgeous.
This just makes sense, right? Dating until we can figure out this thing between us? Or maybe that’s just another lie I tell myself, like I’m only staying for one beer. I had three, for the record.
I go through my bedtime routine on autopilot. Removing my contacts. Brushing my teeth. Stripping out of my jeans and T-shirt and throwing them in the hamper inside my closet. But by the time I fall into bed, I’m nowhere near ready for sleep, because my mind is still spinning on what-ifs.
Everything is jacked right now. From my empty bed to my naked ring finger, to the ridiculous luxury SUV that taunts me from the parking garage every day. Yes, I like Aubree a lot, but who the hell knows what will happen? She says she’s trying, but she’s holding herself back. She wasn’t even going to tell me about her little surgical procedure. I’m really not sure what to make of that.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling as I release a slow sigh. I consider jerking off, wondering if maybe that will relax me. But somehow, I know it won’t satisfy the ache inside me.
11
* * *
Once a Pro, Always a Pro
Aubree
“You have to at least give me a hint.”
It’s Friday night, and I’m riding beside Landon in his car, scanning my surroundings for any hints of our destination.
“No way.” He shakes his head, his resolve firm. “You’ve made it this long without knowing. What’s a few more minutes?”
His masculine, woodsy scent fills the small space between us, and I inhale deeply, nervous excitement bubbling inside me.
“One clue.” I beg shamelessly, batting my eyelashes at him.
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and when we stop at a red light, his blue eyes fix on mine. “Why are you so interested? You’ve barely agreed to date me . . .”
“That’s not true, is it?”
His smile is strained. “I don’t know. You tell me, Aubree.”
The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart stutter. The last time we were together at my place, he was so sweet. And when I called him to tell him the biopsy results from the mole I had removed came back as nothing, he was elated. It was cute.