Laughing softly under his breath, Dakota shook his head, mildly amused with himself. Okay, so maybe Taylor Cunningham was a level past cute and up to attractive, but in a way that was boyish and sweet. Which wasn’t something Dakota was normally attracted to, so he didn’t know why he was giving the picture a second glance except that it had been a long time since his dick had seen any action other than his own hand.
Voices outside the room had him sitting up. Was his refuge about to be invaded?
“I’ve got to get more cash out of my wallet,” someone said from the next room over. “Fucking Xappa’s milking this for all he’s worth.”
“Shoulda put a cap on it,” someone else said.
“Lesson learned.”
There was the sound of hangers squeaking across metal bars, then a curse as one of them appeared to trip over something.
“Where the fuck’s my coat?”
“Dunno.” That one sounded wholly unconcerned. “Try another room. I’m gonna get more cake. See you out there.”
Footsteps retreated. Seconds later, a second set followed, only to detour into Dakota’s room.
And speak of the damn devil. Taylor Cunningham, in the flesh, cheeks flushed from dancing or drinking, maybe both, hair side-parted similarly to Andy’s. Even his suit was almost the same blue as Andy’s, something Dakota had missed in the photo.
Upon seeing Dakota, Tay stood straighter, taller, shoulders pulled back. “Oh, hey.” In person, Tay’s smile flashed brighter. He raked Dakota up and down, lingering on his lips, the exposed column of his throat, the way his pants stretched taut over his crotch, something flaring behind his eyes.
Well, hey there. Into men and apparently not afraid to show it. Dakota returned the look, taking in Tay’s smooth jaw, the cut of his unbuttoned suit jacket fitted to his wide shoulders, the stretch of his shirt over a chest that appeared firm, and the suit pants that hugged long legs.
Tay leaned against the nearest support column, a smirk playing about his lips that made his eyes gleam, and shoved his hands in his pockets, pulling the material across his groin. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“No problem.” Dakota blanked his cell phone screen. Tay didn’t need to see him ogling his photo.
Seeming to shake himself out of it, Tay went back to going through the coats. “You know what’s annoying?” he asked. “Everyone’s coat is the same color. How am I ever supposed to find mine?”
It was very much a sea of black, blue, and gray.
“Next year, I’m buying a red one.”
You’d look good in red. Dakota sipped his scotch, swallowing the words. “Do you have a distinctly patterned scarf maybe?”
“It’s fucking blue like everything else. That’s a good idea, though.” Giving up, he sank onto the bench across from Dakota, popping up again a second later. “We need cake. I’ll be right back. Wish me luck that I don’t bump into Xappa.”
He was gone before Dakota could wish him luck or tell him he didn’t want cake. Dakota snorted a small laugh and shook his head. Had he ever been that . . . youthfully exuberant? He didn’t think so. As the oldest of five boys, he’d always been level-headed and sensible. Still was. Tay’s energy was electric in comparison. Let him have it, though. Dakota would much rather spend an evening decorating his cakes or spending time with Andy or catching the game on TV.
Less than a minute later, Tay was back, bearing a plated slice of cake in each hand and a bottle of water tucked into his armpit.
“Thanks.” Dakota forked a bite into his mouth; it’d be rude not to after Tay had gone to the trouble. The marble cake was moist and rich, just like all of Calder’s cakes. “Xappa?”
Tay grinned. “Successfully avoided.”
“What do you owe him money for?”
“I don’t. I owe him drinks as payment for taking over the streamers when we decorated earlier.”
Dakota moved fondant off his cake before taking another small bite, unsure what taking over the streamers meant. “I didn’t realize you decorated.”
Mouth full, Tay nodded. Swallowing, he said, “The whole team pitched in. We all get to stay late and take it down too. At least, those of us not roaring drunk. I’m half afraid a couple of the guys will sleep through family skate tomorrow even though it’s in the afternoon.” He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth without seeming to pause for breath. “Will I see you there?”
“Mm-hmm. With Andy and Calder. My son and my cousin,” Dakota explained, although it turned out he didn’t need to; Tay was already nodding.
“I met them earlier. Took a photo with your kid. He’s adorable.”
“He is. But then, I’m biased.”
Tay chuckled and uncapped his water bottle. Took a sip.
Forcing his gaze off his bobbing Adam’s apple, Dakota said, “Thanks for that, by the way. The photo. Andy’s a huge fan.”
“And you’re not?” Tay’s smirk was teasing.
“No, I am.” Setting his plate aside, cake barely touched, Dakota picked up his beverage. A small swallow had Tay’s gaze focusing on his lips again. “Which is why I don’t feel bad telling you that you guys have been playing like crap the last few games.”
“Ugh.” Tay slumped. “I know. I think the upcoming trade deadline has all of us on edge and playing for shit.”
“Can’t be easy knowing your whole life and career can change at the whim of what someone else wants or needs.”
“Yes.” Tay blinked at him, the hand holding his plate at torso-level dropping to his lap. “Yes, exactly. You get it.”
“My brother plays for the NHL, in Vermont.”
Another blink, slower, Tay’s brow furrowing in a way that was not cute; damn Dakota’s under-utilized libido.
“The Vermont Trailblazers?” Tay said. “Owen Cotton’s your brother?”
Dakota nodded.
“Huh. Cool. We were drafted the same year.” Tay poked at something on his plate.
“It’s fondant,” Dakota informed him.
“It’s not very good.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “No, it’s generally used for decorating, but it doesn’t taste great.”
“Why use it at all then?”
“It’s like play dough, easily pliable so you can make things with it. Like those nets on the cake.”
“I saw those.” Tay was still poking the fondant. “They’re edible?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How d’you know?”
“’Cause I made it. Or decorated it, I should say. Calder made the cake.”
Tay’s head jerked up. “Shut the fuck up. You decorated that?” A pause, then, “Do you take custom orders?”
Raising a brow at him, Dakota sipped his scotch.
“I’m serious. We’re celebrating my mom’s sixtieth birthday in a few weeks. Big party, lots of people. I’m in charge of the cake.”
“If you’re serious, then here.” Out of his pocket, Dakota pulled out a slim case and extracted a business card for his and Calder’s custom cake business. “Get in touch and we’ll talk.” Their fingers brushed when Tay took the card, sending a zing up Dakota’s arm.