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“I met him at the Captain’s funeral,” Levi pauses. “The funeral you were not at.” He draws that last sentence out like he is just recalling this, and his curiosity is piqued.
When Carter’s dad, Brady’s stepdad, died of cancer, not attending that funeral had been a hard choice. Sort of. After all, making sure all pre-season activities went smoothly in Buffalo was the best thing I could do for Brady. He was coaching there then. We had been side-by-side for his entire coaching career, so when Colorado released him, I went to Buffalo with him. That was where I stayed that summer. That was what he needed most then, to be relieved of worries.
That’s what I told myself, and I damn near believed it.
“I stayed in Buffalo to hold things down so Brady could take the time he needed.” It sounds great, even to me.
“Huh,” Levi says. But apparently, he isn’t falling for it.
“What does that mean?”
Levi smirks ever so slightly and shrugs as finally looks away from me.
“Keep him away from me,” I say.
No longer amused, Levi’s expression darkens. He pulls his 6-2 frame back out of his chair and leans across his desk. “It’s not my job to keep him away from you. I suggest you both behave like adults and figure whatever it is between you the fuck out.”
This time I meet his stare head on. This man gets more and more like Brady every damn day.
“Fine,” I spit out, sounding like a petulant schoolgirl, even to me.
I exhale and try to relax. Levi watches me. He says nothing more. I glance around his office and make no move to leave. Unsure how to handle this, I look at the door, but I’m unable to move toward it. What should I do now? Outside of that door, I’m going to have to deal with this and do exactly what Levi said—figure it the fuck out. Until now, my past with Carter, our connection, had been a deeply held secret. But now… how the hell are we going to keep it that way? And why in the hell does Carter seem unfazed by this?
I meet Levi’s gaze and run my fingers through my hair. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to either of the people you share a bed with.”
He eyes me with an expression I can’t read, but I’m certain somewhere deep inside he is enjoying having this power over me.
“Please,” I say.
He nods. I hope like hell I can trust him.
Chapter two
I can’t imagine that is going well. I chuckle to myself as I step out into the bright January Colorado sun, which is doing its best to turn the fresh snow to slush.
I hoped to see Davis alone, so that I’d be able to give him a slight heads-up about my being here, and maybe ease him into the idea of this being a permanent move for me. I hadn’t meant to blindside him like that, and certainly not in front of Levi. So why am I finding some measure of amusement in his discomfort?
I fall back against my car and lift my face to the sun. A few deep breaths are all I need to remind myself I am not the Carter Hughes he knew in college and sure as hell not the Carter Hughes from seven years ago.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He demands to know, stomping across the parking lot toward me.
I take one more deep breath and turn away from the warmth of the sun to meet Davis’s chilly stare. Excuse me, Davey. He does look more like a Davey, but it irks him so much when I call him Davis, it’s damn hard to resist doing it.
“My job.”
“How convenient that you take a job in the same damn city and with the same organization that I work for.”
His face is red with rage. A red that even his golden skin can’t hide. But damn, he looks good. He’s all polish and perfection in that dark suit. Those pants hugging his muscular thighs. That crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest and red power tie. He must have had meetings today of some sort today. I don’t know a business executive alive who pulls out the red tie for just a regular day. But that face. Those sharp features and that perfectly trimmed short beard. How in the hell did he fail to land a million endorsement deals during his career? I’ll never understand. In my humble opinion, he could have done wonders for the league, that California-movie-star-looking boy bringing the heat to such a brutal winter sport.
Then that polish and perfection meets those golden waves and neatly trimmed beard. His hair is pulled back today, in a neat man-bun that does not look at all ridiculous on him. Not one damn bit. Fuck me. My body tingles with the desire to fuck him again. To grab hold of the bun and make him moan my name.
“Davis…”
“Stop fucking calling me that.”
A grin spreads across my lips before I can contain it. “I thought that’s what you preferred I call you.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks. I can only imagine what might be happening between his thighs, because I recognize that look. It might be a hazy, distant memory. One way hazier than I wish it was, but it is a memory seared into my brain, nonetheless. He tugs his suit jacket closed so that it hides his body from me. It keeps me from seeing the effect I’m having on his cock. I know that look in his eyes and it tells me something is happening down there.
