Rookie (Seattle Sharks 4)

I chuckled.

Paige, Jeannine, and Bailey had always been good to me.

Too much, sometimes, because it reminded me that I once had a girl who looked at me the way they looked at their husbands.

The same girl who was still staring at me.

“Let me take that from you, Chloe,” Bailey said, taking the platter of cookies from her hands.

Chloe blinked a few times. “Thank you so much for inviting me,” she said. “You have a gorgeous home.”

Bailey smiled, motioning behind her to Gage. “It’s all his. He just lets me live here.” She chuckled and walked away to place the platter on the table with the other food.

And then it was just the two of us standing there.

The giggles and chatter faded from the backyard party, everything in me zeroing in on the woman before me. All sharp angles and soft curves. Her pink lips just as pouty as I remembered them.

She was a girl when she’d refused to come with me to college, but a woman stood before me now. There was still that sweetness in her eyes, but matched by something harder—exhaustion and pain and . . . regret?

Maybe Rory had knocked my brain loose.

“Hi, Bent.” She smoothed back some of that jet-black hair, taking a step toward me almost like she couldn’t help it.

“Hi, Chlo.”

“It’s good to see you with your clothes on,” she blurted, then laughed as she clenched her eyes shut. “I mean, you looked great with your clothes off. I just . . . I mean—”

My laugh cut her off, the tension in my lungs loosening. “So, you would rather I be in a towel again or not? I’m not clear on what you want,” I teased.

She let out a breath and shook her head. “I only meant it’s nice to see you. Here. At this party.”

“Is it now?” I wondered how much was truth and how much was the required polite etiquette when seeing someone from your past.

Because that’s all I was.

Someone she used to know.

Someone not worth following around the world—hard to blame her but it still fucking stung.

“It is,” she said, her tone soft, her hazel eyes sincere.

A hot ball formed in my throat and I swallowed it down. I gestured to the grill where the guys were doing a horrible job pretending not to be watching our exchange. “You got an invite to a Shark’s barbecue your first week on the job,” I said, nodding.

She glanced at the grill, waving at Warren. “Mainly Kinley’s doing, I think,” she said. “We worked well together when he came to my camp.”

I nodded, remembering him talking about it when he’d gotten back. Remembering how I’d nearly lost it when he’d said her name, even in a platonic way.

“Not bad,” I said, forcing the thoughts away. “Took me over a year to get invited.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Why is that?”

I shrugged. “You know I’ve always had a mouth on me.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her eyes falling to mine. “Yes, I remember your mouth very well.” Her words were breathless, almost as if they rushed out of her without her approval.

I smirked, a chuckle leaving my lips.

“You must be happy,” I said.

She furrowed her brow like she couldn’t possibly understand what I’d meant.

“About being invited?” I meant to say it as a statement but it came out a question. “Goes a long way to gaining their trust.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Yes.” She sighed. “I was surprised, but happy. Yes.”

I stepped closer, looking down at her with sharp eyes.

Same old Chloe, terrible at hiding things from me. There was something there, beneath her smiles and nervous talk. Something that haunted her, and I hated that I wanted to dig it out of her. Soothe it.

“You all right, Chlo?” I whispered, the space between us crackling with energy that begged to be played with. Fuck, she smelled good—like green tea and honey. I wondered if she was still addicted to those drinks like she had been before.

“I’m great,” she said, her eyes fluttering up to mine.

Didn’t believe it for a second.

Those flecks of green blazed out from the blue, churning with intensity.

Could she feel it too?

The string between us going taut.

Hot.

Aching.

“I better go chat with the other players,” she said when I’d stared into those eyes just a breath too long.

Or maybe she doesn’t feel it.

Maybe I’m a fucking idiot.

“Yeah,” I said, walking away before she could, electing to sit next to Nine and Paige, offering to hold Katherine so Nine could go get a plate. Anything to get me away from Chloe—not that I minded holding the kids—but it was a safe space.

A barrier between what I wanted and what I needed.

Because I wanted Chloe from the second I set eyes on her.

Wanted her just as bad as if I was sixteen again, nervous and fumbling with the condom wrapper.

Wanted to hear her say those three words that had shaped my world when I was a teenager. When we’d been everything to each other.

Best friends.

Lovers.

My heart beats for yours.

I gently patted Katherine’s back, helping her fall back asleep against my chest.

Completely ignoring the way Chloe smiled and shook the hands of every Shark in the yard.

The way she nodded and listened intently to what they said.

The way she laughed at some things and frowned in concentration at others.

The way she made a point to connect with every single person at the party . . . everyone but me.

Chapter 4

Chloe

“This been giving you any trouble?” I asked Gage as I smoothed my hands over his bare shoulder.

He shook his head as he sat on my table in nothing but his Under Armour briefs. A flicker of his eyebrows—just a twitch I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t known to look.

I added a bit more pressure where my thumb rubbed his muscled shoulder.

“Gah.” He flinched away from the touch.

I raised a brow at him. “It’s my job to listen to your body—not your mouth.”

He sighed.

“You think I can’t tell by now when one of my players is lying to me?” I slid my hand down his arm and lifted it over his head, watching his face carefully.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes it hurts. Locks up. But only after a lucky hit or if I overwork it in the gym.”

I prodded the muscle with his arm raised, kneading my fingers over the shoulder and down his back. The scar tissue had healed nicely.

I’d seen countless other teammates already today—my inspections part of my own process of getting to know them better.

I saved Gage and his friends for last. They seemed to be the apex of the group, the ones the other’s looked to when a decision needed to be made.

I let Gage’s arm drop gently on his thigh. “That’s normal,” I said. “I know you’ve healed, but you still need to be cautious on the ice. A too lucky hit and it could re-damage the muscle.”

He nodded, full understanding flashing in his eyes like he’d worried about it before.

If I’d been on the team for months, I would’ve pushed him about the thoughts furrowing his brow right now. But I’d only been here two weeks. And even though I’d been invited to his barbecue last week and bonded with a good amount of the players, we hadn’t formed that trustworthy and easy communication yet.

Eventually.

Hopefully.

I resisted the urge to sigh.

I’d been with Ontario for years. The Shark’s rivals in every single way. There were even some off-ice feuds that stemmed from the long-standing team brawl. It made me wonder if they would ever, truly trust me.

Gage—a leader in so many ways—had taken a giant step when inviting me to his house, though I’m sure Warren kno

wing me had helped. Meeting Gage’s wife and family, his friends, it had been wonderful—especially because I didn’t know anyone out here.

Anyone except for Bentley.

A warm shiver danced up my spine, and it had nothing to do with half-naked Gage sitting on my table.

It had everything to do with the current of energy that buzzed around Bent. The memories that pulsed from his skin, and the man he’d grown into that stared at me with eyes that could still see right through me.

I’d forced myself to avoid him the entire party after our brief encounter.

Because I knew if I spent too much time with him, I’d end up crossing a line . . . somehow.

“Anything else giving you trouble?” I asked Gage, returning my focus to him.

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” he admitted.

“Anxiousness?”

“Overcrowded bed,” he said, chuckling. “At any given time, I either have a six-year-old’s foot in my face or an eighteen-month-old drooling onto my chest.”

“Sounds pretty incredible,” I said, flashing him a smile as I motioned for him to stand.

“It is.” He glanced down at me. “Am I good to go?”