The Wingman (Vancouver Storm, #3)

by Stephanie Archer

“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.”

This winter, Hayden whispered to me that he suspected they were just pretending to date to make her awful ex jealous, but there’s nothing fake about the way she looks at him or the sparkling diamond ring on her finger.

Tate Ward is in his late thirties, young for an NHL coach and probably too good-looking, too, if you read the comments on Storm social media posts.

Rory Miller pretends to be cocky and showy, but he loves his team and he wants the best for his players.

“Everything I wear is made of Lycra. Easy to move in.” Rory’s eyes flicker with interest. “I’m not complaining.” “Don’t be gross,” she says to him, but she’s smiling, and my heart does a funny thump.

He chuckles, but when I sink my fingers into his thick hair, he lets out a deep sigh, eyelids falling halfway closed.

“And I’d like someone a bit friendlier,” I add. “Like Hayden.” Her mouth tips up. “No, not like Hayden.” My face goes red. “We’re just friends.” What is it about me that makes people jump to that conclusion constantly?

Maybe this is who I was the whole time, and I think I like her.

Oh. Oh, no. I’m developing a crush on Hayden.

I touch one of the blooms, brushing my fingertip over the smooth petal while delight courses through me. I count the vases on the counter. “Eight.” He looks away, folding his arms over his chest. “One for each year we’ve been friends.”

My crush is stronger than ever, and I really, really want to fuck my best friend.

“Okay.” She nods. “We should kiss, then.” I bring a hand up beneath her chin and tip her face up to mine. Our eyes lock and my heart races, and I wonder if this is a mistake before I lower my mouth to hers.

So this is what a kiss is supposed to be like, a tiny voice whispers in my head. It’s not just one single kiss, it’s a hundred, in a hundred different places on my body.

“God, Darcy,” he groans against my lips. “Fucking finally.”

When he scores a goal in the second period, I jump to my feet, whooping and cheering. Rory and Alexei skate over to him to celebrate, but he grins through the glass at me. My good luck charm, he mouths, pointing at me.

This is the kind of porn Hayden’s into? I thought it would be something fast, hot, and frantic.

“Maybe you could use it on me,” I clarify.

and now 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.

Darcy sets the flowers on the kitchen table, admiring them. “So pretty. I love getting flowers.” I’m buying her flowers every day for the rest of eternity.

“You should leave.” He drops his gaze, but his focus stays on mine. “Before I make a mistake.”

“You want to know why I don’t touch you?” His blue eyes grow a shade darker. “Because if I start, I won’t stop.”

“You know why I dated women who look nothing like you?” Speechless, I shake my head. “Because I didn’t want to be reminded of you. Because I was trying to convince myself I didn’t have feelings for you.”

He says we like we’re a couple. It should send darts of terror through me, but it doesn’t. I like the idea of us buying lingerie together, of his eyes flashing with heat when he sees me in it.

“Everyone can see us,” I whisper. “Mhm.” He pulls me into a hug and presses his mouth to my temple in a sweet kiss. On the other side of the room, Hazel, Rory, and Alexei watch us. Hazel wiggles her eyebrows, smiling, Rory’s grinning broadly, and even Alexei’s expression looks warmer than usual.

“You look like Austin Powers.” If Austin Powers was played by a life-sized Ken doll with perfect teeth. He winks. “Oh, behave.”

“Who knew you’d react like this to a dress.” “It’s not the dress, Darce.” His breath is warm on my neck. “It’s you.”

Since we started hooking up, I’ve learned that Hayden is even more physically affectionate than I thought. I thought he was touchy-feely when we were friends? No. That was his affection on light mode.

Volkov mutters something to Walker—I catch Darcy’s ex in there—and as Kit approaches and rears his fist back, the two Storm defensemen block him, shoving him down to the ice.

“I’ve wanted this for years, Darcy, and somehow it’s better than I thought it could be.”

Hayden’s eyes meet mine and he sucks in a tight breath. “That I was serious about you. That I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.” My skin is tingling. How could I have been so, so fucking wrong about Hayden? All these years, I saw what everyone else did.

“Maybe some people say you’re a player,” I whisper against his lips, “but I know the truth. You’re so much more.”

“I don’t want what we’re doing to end.” I drag a deep breath in, meeting his gaze, and my stomach flips over at the affection in his expression. “I’m falling for you.”

We watch our friends Jamie Streicher and Pippa Hartley marry,

After the media shitstorm, rumors that Kit didn’t get along with his teammates anymore were only amplified when his contract ended without renewal. He’s a free agent now, but no team has picked him up.

“Yes, honey, I know what kind of ring you’re talking about. I’ve had it for months.”

Jordan winks at me, mixing cocktails, and on the specials board above her, there’s a new cocktail. The Wingman—strong, sweet, and cheeky. The drink you didn’t know you needed!

“I got married,” she says lightly. “Married?” My jaw drops. “To who? When? Why? I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.” I will never get married, she said last year during our double date. Her pale throat works as she swallows, and finally, she meets my gaze. “Volkov.”