Caspian (Carolina Reapers 8)

I was faking a relationship with her brother to make my ex realize how desirable I was and come back to me. God, could I be any more pathetic? Chuck never once looked at me like Jansen looked at London. Hell, I don’t think he’d ever looked at me the way Caspian had earlier today after scoring that shot.

Was Chuck really worth all the trouble I was going to?

No, you know he’s not, a sad voice in the back of my head whispered.

And he certainly had never kissed me like Caspian, and that was just a show. A game. What would it feel like if he kissed me and actually meant it?

A warm shiver raced down the center of me, and I reached for the champagne on the table next to me. I sipped it, needing the bubbly refreshment to cool me off.

It didn’t matter, either way. He’d never kiss me for real, and the only reason he was helping me was to help his mom. It didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate him while we played our little game, and he certainly didn’t seem like he’d cared when he’d kissed me senseless at the picnic. In fact, he almost looked like he’d enjoyed it as much as I had. He was the one to sneak us off to privacy, anyway, and I was the one who didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to. So, really, it was a win-win. He got to have some fun while helping me prompt Chuck to come to his senses, and when it was all over?

Caspian would go back to his NHL star life, and I’d hopefully go back to mine—with the house and the stability I’d always wanted.

But as London folded me into the conversation, relaying story after story about her family by ice, I couldn’t help the gnawing sensation stinging my chest.

The one that said I was going to miss Caspian a whole hell of a lot more than I should, and that life I’d been dreaming of? It was nothing to the fantasies that stormed my mind now.

And they had nothing to do with Chuck or a house, but everything to do with pick-up games and mind-blowing kisses.

7

Caspian

“Thanks for coming down,” I said to Kolton as we stripped out of our gear in the locker room. Sweat ran off me in rivulets, sending me a not-so-gentle reminder that I needed to keep my body in better shape even during the off-season. “Seriously, we would have had some odd numbers, so I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Kolton answered in a thick southern drawl. “The drive was only a few hours and it was well worth it just to kick your ass.”

I slapped my hand over my chest as if heartbroken.

Axel and Briggs laughed.

“How are you liking Minneapolis?” I chucked my gear into my bag. I’d have to air it out back at the house.

Kolton grinned. “It’s hockey.”

I did a double take. He had been less than thrilled to leave our old team.

“Don’t look at me like that.” His dark brows rose as he chuckled. “I actually like it up there. The snow fucking sucks, and the reporters are relentless, but the guys on the team are great, and when it comes down to it, I’m still playing. Isn’t that all any of us want?”

There was a series of nods from the Reapers in the locker room. Did I love being a Reaper? Hell yes, but Kolton was right. Professional hockey was…professional hockey. Just being on the ice was the realization of every dream. There was no stopping a trade, no real control over where you ended up if you wanted to play badly enough.

“And how is…” I cocked an eyebrow upward.

His jaw locked tight and he raked his hands over his hair. “She’s…wherever she is.”

Subject closed. Got it. Kolton had never been lucky in the love department.

After we showered and changed, we headed for the parking lot, Kolton taking off for Minneapolis and the Reapers splitting between my rental car and Axel’s.

I glanced at my watch and cringed. We’d played longer than we’d intended, which hadn’t bothered the arena—we’d just rented another hour of ice, but it put us in a jam to get back to Cherry Creek.

Back to Ryleigh.

Just thinking about her sent my body into a jumble of overwhelming responses. My chest tightened, remembering how she’d responded to that kiss. Fuck, I could still taste her on my tongue. My pulse quickened in anticipation of seeing her again. My stomach flipped, because at the bottom of it all, none of it mattered. I was leaving in less than a week.

My life wasn’t here.

And it wasn’t like she really wanted me, anyway.

“Are we running late?” Maxim asked, loading his gear into the back of the SUV.

“Not yet. But I told Ryleigh I’d pick her up before the whole drive-in thing, so we need to get back to Cherry Creek.”