Blocker (Seattle Sharks 5)

Fuck Mason and all that first love bullshit.

This wasn’t high school, and I wasn’t a kid.

I could keep my hands to myself, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting his on her.

Chapter 4

Pepper

“Wait,” I said as we entered my apartment. I’d texted Ivy on the way over about the movie night, and she was already in the kitchen on the hunt for junk-food.

I set my bag down on the kitchen island, spinning to face Eric. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “My father basically ordered you to hang out with me?”

Eric had spilled his confession in the truck on the way over like he couldn’t stand having a secret between us despite us barely knowing each other. After I got over the shock, I’m sure I would find that endearing as hell.

“Not exactly,” he said, motioning toward the couch with a questioning glance.

I chuckled. “Of course,” I said. “I’m not going to throw you out.”

He actually looked relieved as he sat down.

“Coach just wants to keep certain players from you.”

“You said all players in the truck.”

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. He wants you protected. Focused. You are employed by the Sharks after all, it’s not that…crazy.”

I snorted. “Sure, not being an overprotective dad at all. Or an insane boss. Brilliant.”

“Ugh,” Ivy grunted from our kitchen. “That is so Dad.” She opened and shut the cabinets a little harder than necessary, plopping down bags of chips, gummy bears, popcorn, and chocolate covered pretzels as she went.

“True,” I said, sinking onto the couch—the same one Eric’s cut body took up more than half of as he sat patiently next to me. Captain America was already queued up on the TV. “He should know better. Well, in my case, at least.” I shot Ivy a teasing look, and she flipped me off.

“Yeah, we all know your rule on hockey players,” Ivy said, grabbing three cans of soda from the fridge and setting it next to the goods on the counter. Eric shifted slightly on the couch next to me but didn’t dare interrupt Ivy. “But, this is ridiculous,” she continued, pointing at him. “Dad’s made him your official cockblocker.” She laughed, reaching for her haul. “Get it? Cause you’re a blocker?” She giggled, and I bit down my lip to stop a laugh.

Eric’s strong jaw was smooth, free of any tension, and his smile was genuine as he hopped up and stopped Ivy from picking up the junk-food-loot. “Let’s leave it at blocker,” he said, gathering up everything Ivy had set out and carried it to the small coffee table in front of the couch. “And maybe, when you feel like it, friend.”

He’d spoken to Ivy, but his green eyes were on me. The intensity in the look was somewhere between flirty-funny and sincere. It sent a chill straight through my center, which was only amplified when he reclaimed the seat next to me, the warmth from his body heating up my right side.

God, he smelled better than the sweet-haven of junk food before us. Something like crisp clean soap and fresh cut cedar. My mouth watered so I quickly shoved a handful of popcorn in it.

“We’ll see if you earn the friend title after we finish the movie marathon,” I teased after swallowing.

“How many are there again?” He asked, stretching out his long, muscled legs, settling in for the long haul. The slight action alone made my stomach flip.

Friends. Coworkers. Nothing else.

Funny, I’d never had to repeat this mantra so much before.

“Twenty,” Ivy said, sinking onto the couch on my other side.

Eric whistled, shaking his head. “That’s a long time to decide if we’re friends or not,” he teased.

I couldn’t stop the stupid grin on my face. “Maybe I’ll decide before it’s over,” I said, reaching for the remote. “If you react the right way.”

“What’s the right way?” he looked genuinely concerned which made my belly all kinds of warm.

I smirked and pressed play.

“Ivy?” He asked, glancing around me to look at her. “What’s the right way?”

Ivy chuckled and grabbed the bag of chips closest to her. “Let’s just say the only reason I watch these is to look at the hot guys. I’m not into all the comic crap like Pepper.”

I hissed at her.

“See? That’s the wrong way,” Ivy said, crunching down on a chip.

“Noted,” Eric said, “Thank—”

“Shh,” I cut him off. “It’s starting.”

Lucky for me, I’d seen Captain America over a dozen times because watching it with Eric? So damn distracting. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing peeks, checking to see if he was genuinely enjoying it or if he thought it was lame, like Ivy.

I think it would’ve been easier for me if he did.

Because, damn him, he laughed at the correct parts. He tensed during the action scenes and he did the whole guy-fist-bump-the-air-thing when Cap kicked some serious ass.

Watching him watch it for the first time was almost better than the movie itself.

“Wait, what?” Eric’s brow pinched together. “He dies? What the hell? He can’t die.”

He looked genuinely upset.

Oh, I’m so screwed. This guy is perfect.

“Just wait,” I patted his leg, the gesture meant to be an innocent comfort, but the way he stilled under my touch and planted me with those green eyes…it was anything but.

“For what?” He asked, his voice lower, more hushed.

“After credits BS.” Ivy bolted off the couch, groaning as she stretched her arms over her head. “They do it every time. Stringing you along.”

“Ivy,” I practically growled. “I’ve never forced you to watch these.”

She gave me a knowing look.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Once. I made you watch them, once. And it was clear you weren’t into them so I’ve never asked again.”

“And?”

“And, don’t harp on my happiness just because you’re not artistically inclined to understand the complexity of writing that occurs between these films.”

Ivy rolled her eyes and laughed. “Whatever. Not everyone can be as big a nerd as you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, standing to gather the wrappers and empty bags from the table. Eric’s hands were there, helping with the destroyed haul.

“It is what it is,” she said, prancing to her room. “I have to get ready now. Thanks for the Chris Evans pick-me-up!”

“You’re welcome!” I snapped as she shut her bedroom door behind her. I laughed, tossing the garbage in the bin, Eric following seconds after me.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” he said as we finished cleaning up—an act way too comfortable for this only being his second time in my apartment. Maybe we were on the road to being friends. So far, being around him was easy and fun. If I co

uld just lock down those uncontrollable swooning moments…

“What?” I finally asked, snapping out of it. I had to crane my head to meet his eyes. He was so damn tall.

“Being a nerd,” he said and shrugged. “I think it’s a compliment.”

I grinned. “Do you now?”

“Yeah.”

“Goalie star, celebrity athlete. What would you know about being a nerd?”

He chuckled and raised his hands. “I didn’t realize you were president of the nerd club. What does it take to get in?” He took a step closer to me, his hip leaning against the counter.

“Um…” I fumbled for words. “For starters, knowing and loving the MCU is a must.”

He smirked. “Thanks to you I’m already on my way there. Anything else?”

“Loads,” I said. “You’re definitely not a nerd until someone makes fun of you for doing something you’re amazing at. And I seriously doubt anyone has ever given you crap for blocking a shot.”

He pressed his lips together, nodding. “Give me your keys.”

“What?”

He held out his hand, palm up. I hated that I wanted to slip mine into his, just to see what his skin felt like.

“Your car is parked in the garage, right?”

“Broken, remember? Ferocious squirrels? I haven’t had time to get it into the shop since we moved back.”

“Exactly. Keys please.”

I arched a brow at him but spun around and grabbed my keys from my bag that rested on the counter. “Now what?” I asked, dropping them into his hand.

“Follow me.”

And I did.

He jogged to his truck first, parked in the visitor spaces just outside our garage unit, and brought back a small toolbox.

“You always carry tools in your truck?” I asked, opening the garage when he prompted me to.

“Yes?” He said it like a question. “I grew up on a farm, Pepper,” he said, setting the tools in front of my dormant car in the garage.

“Really?”

“Yes. And it taught me—well, it taught me a lot of things—but one is to always be prepared.”

I bit back my smile as he popped the hood of my car, the garage light flooding over the destroyed interior. “There is that hero thing again.”