He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “When I couldn’t stop thinking about her and worrying, wondering if she was okay. When I realized the time I had spent with her was the most satisfying and happiest I could remember.”
It makes sense. Carter has never looked so deliriously happy. Kendall and the kids have totally changed how he views the world and his life. He’s a playboy pilot no longer, and even though part of me mourns the loss of my wingman and the carefree lifestyle he used to lead, I have to admit there’s a tiny bit of jealousy there, too.
“I never thought that would be something I want—to settle down and have kids and give up the sport.”
His eyebrows fly up. “You would give it up?”
“I would have to. You know what it was like growing up the way we did. I wouldn’t do that to a woman I was in love with or to a kid.”
He nods sympathetically. “It certainly wasn’t easy on any of you.”
That’s an understatement, but I know he understands. He saw Jameson and Rach struggling to get Dad’s attention when he was home. He saw Mom and me struggling to hide from them how bad things really were between them. He helped me distract them from the fact that Dad cared more about the sport than he did us.
“No. It wasn’t. And the whole marriage and kids thing sure as hell isn't anything I want anytime soon. I'm at the height of my career. Giving that up is out of the question.”
“So, where does that leave things with you and Greer, then?”
I pop another couple of fries in my mouth as I consider his question. “I don't know. Do I really have to put a name on it or decide what it means right now?”
He laughs. “For someone who gets laid so much, you sure don't know very much about women.”
I grin at him. “I think those women I've been with would beg to differ.”
“You may know something about a woman's body, but in terms of what they're thinking and feeling, you’re pretty clueless, brother.”
“Maybe I am.” I shrug and sip my beer. “But I think Greer and I are on the same page.”
He scoffs and gives me an incredulous look. “What makes you think that?”
“She never gave any indication she was looking for anything more than just a good time.”
Carter shakes his head and downs the rest of his beer. “You are in so much trouble, Bash.”
I want to believe he's wrong and I can just keep things casual without it getting complicated. But something in my gut tells me he's right.
Greer isn't the type of girl a guy can sleep with without there being more.
That does leave me in quite the predicament because I don’t think it’s possible to stay away from that woman.
Chapter Fourteen
GREER
Sixty exhausting minutes of play have worn me the fuck out, and I wasn't even on the ice. I flop down onto the hotel room bed and release a groan as I kick off my heels.
Who thought it was a good idea to wear heels to every game?
I could probably get away with wearing flats to be more comfortable, but I feel like it looks more professional to be heeled. Even though no one can really see them. It’s just become a habit. My coaches always made their players dress up game days, and they were always in suits and dress shoes. My being a woman shouldn’t change that. No sneakers for me.
Just really sore feet.
Between the late flight here from San Diego after the loss, and the brutal game, I’m just done.
It was like for every step forward we took, they took four. And it was even harder because we’re still missing Bash. We managed to win the first couple games of his suspension, but then, it was like we fell apart.
And his suspension isn't technically over until after tonight's game.
Which means he'll be arriving here in L.A tomorrow in time for practice so we can use him against the Stingrays.
We need him. There are only a handful of games left before the end of the season, and with tonight's win in their game and our loss, they’re only two points back. We can't let them gain any more ground. Having Bash back will help—a lot.
As long as he can keep himself under control.
While I don't condone the actions that got him suspended, I can at least understand why he did it. He was defending me, in his own completely inappropriate way. And now, I can't wait to have him back—at least, on the ice.
On the personal front, I have no clue how to deal with the awkwardness of seeing him for the first time since we slept together. I thought a couple weeks would be enough time to figure out what I want to tell him, but it all still feels like nothing more than a jumbled mass of confusing emotions.
My body and my head are warring worse than the Flyers and Penguins. All I want right now is to have a drink and take a long, hot shower to relax away the tension in my back and shoulders. But that would mean moving from the bed, which I definitely don't want to do.
A loud knock at the door has me jerking up, and I glance around the room.
Where did that come from?
The knock comes again.
That wasn't the hallway door.
It's the door that leads to the adjoining room.
What the hell?
I slide off the bed and make my way over to the door on aching feet. This is like the start of a horror movie where the stupid girl opens the door to a serial-killer stalker in the room next to her.
Really dumb, Greer. Don’t answer it.
My hand curls around the lamp on the dresser running along the wall next to the door. At least if someone tries to murder me, I have some sort of a weapon to defend myself.
I stare at the door. The knock makes me jump again. I swallow thickly and take a step closer. “Who is it?”
A familiar deep chuckle comes under the crack in the door. “It's me, Coach.”
My heart flips in my chest. “Bash?”
I twist the lock on the door and pull it open. The devil himself leans against the jamb in the adjoining room, a grin occupying his lips and a glimmer of that arrogance in his eyes.
Damn. He looks good.
The time off didn’t change a thing or weaken my reaction to him. Heat flares in my belly, and a dull ache forms between my legs.
I thought I had more time to consider this entire situation.
I need another day!
I’m not ready to have this discussion, but he’s standing only two feet in front of me. It’s not like I can slam the door in his smug face, even if part of me may want to. “What are you doing here?”
He raises an eyebrow. “My suspension is over. I'm back tomorrow.”
I sigh and wave my hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know that. I meant what are you doing here.” I point to his room. “You weren’t supposed to arrive until morning.”
Bash takes a step toward me, his dark eyes raking over me in a way that suddenly makes me feel naked, even though I'm still wearing a blouse and my suit skirt.
“I decided to come early. And, when I checked in, I asked for an adjoining room.”
My mouth drops open. “And they just gave it to you? What if you had been some kind of stalker or pervert?”
He grins and takes another step toward me. I step back until my knees hit the bed behind me.
“I'm not a stalker, Coach, but I'm definitely a pervert.” His tongue snakes out and over his lips like he's remembering the taste of something he really enjoyed. He winks at me. “But you already knew that.”