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On a date, though, Darcy should be more than fine. This guy should be falling at her feet, doing whatever he can for her attention. Darcy Andersen’s the full package. Smart, hilarious, and gorgeous, with pretty, pale-blond hair, sea-green eyes, and an adorable nose that turns up at the tip.
“He said I’m from a big family, and we have big babies, with big heads.” She catches sight of me doubled over, laughing, and gives me a hard look, although her mouth is twitching. “Stop laughing.”
She’s Kit’s ex. She’s off-limits, and she’s her own person who can make her own decisions, but I think about some guy’s hands all over her, and I want to break something.
“I just want a fun distraction. Where are those guys?” I wink at her. “Right here, babe.” She snorts. “My god. You’re like their leader. Bring me to them.”
“I want to be like you.” “Devastatingly handsome?” She grins wider. “No, a player. Hayden, I want you to teach me to be a player.”
“You can be my wingman.” I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Hayden Owens—otherworldly handsome, rich hockey star, life of the party, all-around incredibly lovable person, and the biggest player I know.
He’s miles out of my league. He dates supermodels, actresses, and influencers, and every single one of them is tall, with dark hair and huge boobs. Nothing like me, with my short stature, pale hair and eyes, and complete lack of curves. Not that I care. We’re friends.
His mouth slides into a lazy, flirty smile. “You want flowers, Darcy? I’ll buy you flowers.”
“You know what I mean. I want to get all dressed up, go to a nice restaurant, be told I look pretty, and then go home and have sex against a wall.”
His big hand surrounds mine as we shake, and a zing of electricity runs through my blood at the contact of his warm palm against mine. Our eyes meet, and my breath catches. Whatever charisma Hayden has, I want some of it. “This is going to be so much fun,” I tell him. “And I’m a fast learner.” He wears a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can’t wait.”
It shouldn’t be so hot, watching my friend play hockey, especially since I’m freshly single. It is, though. There’s something about Hayden playing this brutal contact sport that has me captivated.
Hazel rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “He said the same thing to me. You and Hayden are a match made in heaven.”
I rake my hand back through my hair. The trade deadline is in March, and I’m not interested in leaving. Volkov, Miller, Streicher, Hazel, Pippa—these people are my family. Darcy’s here in Vancouver now, too, and the thought of having to move away from her again sends a streak of resolve through me.
“Cheers.” He makes pointed eye contact with me. I stare back, widening my eyes. “Cheers.” “What are you doing?” Hazel asks, glancing between us with an amused smile. “You have to make eye contact when you toast,” Hayden explains, like it’s obvious. I nod. “Or you have seven years of bad sex.” Hayden adopts a stricken expression. “We can’t take the risk.”
Jamie just stares at Pippa like she’s a snack he wants to eat.
She chose Kit over me, after all. If she wanted me, wouldn’t she have made a move at some point in the last eight years?
Mr. Right Now, I was voted in high school. I still remember the way Kit laughed until he was red in the face, doubled over with his yearbook open. Women don’t pick a guy like me, not long term. I’m fine with it, and I accepted it a long time ago.
I shoot him a confident grin. “And you’re forgetting one thing, Miller.” “Yeah?” He arches a brow, mouth tilted in that fucking annoying knowing way of his. “What’s that?” “She’s not my type,” I lie. “I like tall, dark hair, and curvy.” That’s the type of woman I date, but it’s not my type. My type is Darcy Andersen.
Hayden’s the biggest player you’ll ever meet, Kit told her at the party, grinning at me. He said it like it was a good thing, when really, it crushed my chances with the first girl I’d ever really connected with.
She hums, absorbing this. She looks pretty tonight, with her hair loose and a little wavy around her shoulders. She always looks pretty, though, with her small, sloped nose, high cheekbones, and heart-shaped mouth.
“If a guy’s interested, he’ll let you know.” The words come out with more force than I mean. “Don’t settle for anything less than a guy who worships the ground you walk on.” Like me, the voice in my head says, but I ignore it.
If I think about the situation from his perspective, though, maybe watching his best friend’s ex hit on guys isn’t his idea of a fun time. I broke his best friend’s heart, and now I’m moving on. He probably thinks I’m heartless. Maybe he resents me for it. My stomach clenches at the thought of Hayden harboring frustrations with me. He’s so kind; he’d never say anything to upset me. It still doesn’t sit well with me, though.
He’s definitely avoiding touching me. He’s mad that I dumped Kit and broke his best friend’s heart.
My heart’s beating faster and I’m suddenly aware of how male Hayden is. How much space he takes up and how big his hands are. How good he smells.
Say you want to compare hand sizes.” I arch an eyebrow. “That old trick? That can’t actually work.” He gives me a knowing smile, and I get a weird stab of unease picturing him trying it on other girls. “My, what tiny hands you have.” I hold my palm out. “I bet my hands are twice the size of yours.” He snorts and begrudgingly gives me his hand, pressing our palms together. Oh. That’s interesting. Awareness rolls through me at the sensation of his calloused palm against mine. Every nerve on my hand lights up, tingling, snagging all my attention. It’s not even funny how much bigger his hand is
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He chuckles, but when I sink my fingers into his thick hair, he lets out a deep sigh, eyelids falling halfway closed. Delight flutters in my chest. He likes me playing with his hair. I wonder what else he likes.
Hayden has the thighs of a professional athlete—strong, thick, muscular. From beach vacations and pool parties over the years, I know that, under his jeans, they’re dusted with golden-blond hair.
My gaze lifts to hers, and our eyes hold. I’m thinking about the other night, when she sifted her delicate fingers through my hair and touched my thigh. It felt so fucking good I could hardly stand it. Within seconds, I was painfully hard, and I almost pulled her into my lap right there so she could feel how well her flirting had worked. Instead, I made myself come in the shower, muffling my groan into my hand as I pictured that sweet little mouth wrapped around my cock, swallowing me down.
I grin. “No. I love living with you.” That sounded weird. I should have said I like living with you. Not love. Jesus, Darcy. His throat works, and his smile softens. “I love living with you, too, Darce.”
“No, it’s fine.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to focus on the season.” He looks away for a moment, then meets my eyes again. “And I like hanging out with you.” My heart does a dumb pitter-patter. “I like hanging out with you, too.”
but the idea of Hayden lying on his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock races into my head. I picture his abs rippling, his face tense with pleasure as he watches a video on his phone.
I mean, not my Hayden. The old Hayden I know and love. Like. Whatever.
“Oh my god.” She smiles wider. “Are you jealous?” I scoff. “No.” Her eyes light up. She’s too smart for my bullshit. “Uh, yes, you are. You’re jealous.” I suck in a deep breath, running my hand through my hair. “I need another drink.” “Hayden.” “Okay.” I look down at her. “Yes. I’m jealous. He looked at you like—” I cut myself off. Like he wanted to fuck her. Like he wanted to do all the things I’ve been dreaming and fantasizing about for years.
My pulse picks up, and I vaguely remember vowing not to do shit like this, but he’s over there, staring at her, and she’s right beside me, looking so cute and pretty and sweet, and the smart part of my brain has taken a back seat.
Kissing my best friend feels perfectly natural. I never want to stop, like it’s something I’ve been missing, and the second it’s over, I’m going to have a nagging feeling like I left something at home.
He’s not usually so dominant. He’s my goofy, sweet, fun-loving Hayden, but he’s gripping the back of my hair, moving me however he wants like it’s for his pleasure.
Her eyebrows lift; her mouth goes flat in a muted smile. “And you probably want to shower, right?” I go still. “What?” She knows. My gut hardens. Fuck. How long has she known? How much does she know? Does she know everything? Her mouth twists and she rolls her eyes. “Every time you touch me, you race to the shower after to wash my germs off.” Is that what she thinks? That I think she’s gross or something?
“Sex isn’t supposed to be nice,” I tell
“And it’s not supposed to be predictable.”
“It’s supposed to be all-consuming.”
“I want to tell you something, though.” Her eyebrows pinch together and she looks down. The vulnerability in her expression makes me want to gather her up in my arms and hold her tight. “You’re my best friend.” My heart does a hard thud in my chest. “You’re my best friend, too, Darce.”
Near the end of the video, instead of coming, she pulls at his arm, and he climbs up to hover over her, kissing her sweetly, softly, so lovingly. It’s so tender and affectionate that my heart aches. This is the kind of porn Hayden’s into? I thought it would be something fast, hot, and frantic.
I nod. I want this. An ache builds behind my clit, and my panties are damp. And he smells so good and he’s so hot and handsome and kind and perfect and I want him. I just want him. It’s as simple as that.
I’m sitting on my bed in just my panties and bra while Hayden’s lips part like I’m the hottest woman on the planet.
It’s a powerful feeling, rendering Hayden Owens speechless.
“You need to learn to be patient.” He sounds hoarse. My skin prickles. Where’s my sweet, funny Hayden, and who is this version of him who tells me what to do? “Trust me,” he adds, and when our gazes meet, an electric current fires through me. I didn’t know he had this in him, but I really, really like it.
“Jesus Christ.” There’s a wet spot on the front of his boxers. The thought of making Hayden leak pre-cum from this ratchets up the pressure inside me one more notch.
He sits and regards me with a thoughtful expression. On his desk, there’s a framed photo of a little girl with a big smile and pigtails sticking out the sides of her head.
I imagine it—working for the team as an analyst and playing with my hockey models every day. Working for Ward already seems so much better than my current boss, who cares more about profits than his employees. I see why Hayden and the guys like this man so much.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her smile drops and her gaze swings to the mirror, flashing with uncertainty, and I hate myself. My accusing tone makes me sound like a controlling asshole. “No, fuck. Sorry.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “That came out wrong. It’s just different from what you normally wear.” I gesture at her top. “Red,” I add, because I’m a dumbass who can’t think of words. She arches an eyebrow at her reflection. “Bad different?” “No,” I rush out. “You look beautiful. You always do.”
