Down to Puck (Buffalo Tempest Hockey Book 2) Page 5

  “I’m on the pill.”

  Henny blew out another breath, nodding.

  “And I haven’t been with anyone since—”

  “I know,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s okay. We’re good.”

  Typical Henny.

  Bex tugged the towel from her hair, squeezing out the excess moisture and wrapping her curls up in a quick bun. Henny just sat there, spacing out on her bed.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. Sex had always been an off topic for them. She could joke with him to an extent, but he’d usually shut it down before she went too far. And even though there hadn’t been many men in her life, Henny never liked hearing about them. Not in detail.

  Still, she wished they could sit down and talk about this.

  Turning to face him again, she said, “Henny, I was—”

  “I’m—”

  “But—”

  “You’re—”

  “Sorry.” Bex held up her hands. “You go first.”

  “I was just gonna hop in the shower. Is that… okay?”

  No, it’s not okay, Henny. I’m pretty sure we had sex last night but I can’t remember and everything is about to fall apart and I really, really can’t deal with this right now and you’re asking me about the shower? Seriously?

  “Bex?”

  “Huh?” She blinked back to reality. “No. I mean yeah, of course. Go ahead. You remember where the towels are, right?”

  Remember where the towels are?

  God. Bex was pretty sure she couldn’t get any more pathetic.

  Henny didn’t move from the bed, just continued to watch her, waiting. “Um…”

  “Oh! Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll make us some food. In the kitchen. Out there.” She clamped her mouth shut and scooted out to give him some privacy, not that it mattered anymore.

  Because they’d seen each other naked.

  Because they’d almost definitely had sex.

  Because everything was a disaster of epic proportions.

  While Henny showered, Bex made some extra-strong coffee and popped a couple of sesame bagels into the toaster. Last night, Henny’d promised her a big breakfast today, but she didn’t think either of them could handle it.

  What had they done?

  It’s just Henny. Come on, girl.

  She let out a soft sigh, staring at a magnet on the fridge—a stuffed pink shrimp she’d gotten at the Bubba Gump restaurant back in San Francisco. She’d picked it out for Henny a year ago, thinking he’d get a good laugh, only she’d never sent it to him.

  Now, it seemed to be laughing at her.

  Bex closed her eyes. So they’d had a few too many shots, fooled around, possibly slept together. No need to get all soap opera on each other. They weren’t teenagers anymore. They were thirty-year-old adults, and they’d seen each other through the best and worst times of their lives, emerging unbroken every time.

  This would be no different. Another funny story in the lifelong history of Bex and Henny, no more or less significant than the time they dared each other to eat worms, the time they ditched their respective prom dates to go watch a meteor shower together, the time they got two weeks’ detention for recreating the When Harry Met Sally orgasm scene in the school cafeteria.

  They just had to get through this awkward morning, maybe take a break from seeing each other for a few days, then everything would go back to normal.

  So what if the thought of sleeping with Henny sent a warm current rippling through her body.

  So what if she was tingling and breathless.

  So what if she was wet again just thinking about his hands on her body…

  “You good?” Henny appeared in the kitchen doorway, damp hair curling over his ears. He was dressed in last night’s clothes—rumpled jeans, light gray Henley that clung to his muscular chest.

  Stop noticing his muscular chest!

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Bex turned around, stretching up on her tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard above the sink.

  “Jesus,” Henny whispered. Suddenly he was right behind her, his breath hot on her exposed nape. With the lightest touch, he ran his thumb down the back of her neck, making her shiver. “You, ah… you might wanna wear your hair down today. Or put on a turtleneck. And a scarf.”

  She turned around to face him. “Why?”

  Henny’s eyes were dark, his pupils dilated. He touched the back of his neck, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “There’s something…”

  Bex stalked into the bathroom and grabbed her compact, angling herself to see the back of her neck in the mirror over the sink.

  There, right where the ghost of his touch lingered, was a purplish bruise ringed with small red marks.

  Teeth.

  Oh my God. He bit me.

  A bite like that could only happen one way.

  From behind.

  Bex closed her eyes as another flash shimmered into focus behind her eyelids…

  Bex, pressed up against the wall in her bedroom, her bare nipples aching and hard. Henny, one huge hand pinning her wrists over her head, the other tangled in her hair. He slid his leg between her thighs, growled in her ear, told her all the things he wanted to do to her. Bex had never been so turned on, so needy. She arched her back in response, moaning as he licked and sucked the tender skin of her neck and back, crying out in sheer ecstasy when he finally bit down.

  Her core pulsed as the memory replayed…

  “I’m sorry,” Henny said from the doorway. “I guess things got a little… intense.”

  Her compact hit the floor, the small mirror popping out.

  “You’re lucky that didn’t break,” Bex snapped. “The last thing I need is seven years of bad luck.” She stormed past him, but Henny was faster, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

  “Hey,” Henny said. Then, softer, “It’s me. Us.”

  Bex sighed. Henny was right. She was acting like she’d woken up with a stranger, not a man she trusted with her life.

  “It’s crazy, but it’s over,” he continued. “We were drunk. We did… whatever we did. Doesn’t mean anything has to change between us. Right?”

  She nodded automatically, but was that even possible? Sex always changed things, no matter what the circumstances. Would they ever be able to hang out, have a few drinks together without thinking about last night? Without worrying that it might happen again?

  Without wanting it to happen again?

  Taking a deep breath, she locked all those thoughts away and pulled him into a hug. Forget not touching, forget the fragile bubble. They’d been friends for too long for something like this to come between them.

  “Just… don’t be weird, okay?” she said, her words muffled against his chest. He smelled different today, like her soap and shampoo instead of his, but it was still Henny. Still her best friend. “I can’t handle it if you get weird on me now.”

  His chest shook with a small laugh. “I’m not the one being weird, Bex.”

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t being weird, exactly. Just distant. But that almost bugged her more. Why wasn’t he freaking out? Whether he could remember it or not, was the idea of sex with her really so inconsequential to him? Was sex in general inconsequential to him? How many women had be been with? How many mornings had he woken up just like this, hazy and hungover, eager to make his escape?

  Slow down, crazy train.

  “Sorry,” Bex said, finally drawing herself up. She was being ridiculous. Henny was the only man in her life who’d never disappointed her, twenty-five years and counting. That wasn’t about to start now. “You’re right.”

  He flashed his trademark smirk. “Care to put it in writing?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  “Listen, I need to take off,” he said, checking his phone. “Gotta hit the gym, then run some errands. You guys opening the pub today?”

  “Fee’s uncle gave us the green light on the plumbing, so we should be okay.”

  “I’
ll stop in later. Sound good?”

  The knot inside her chest loosened, and Bex finally allowed a smile. Working out? Stopping in at Big Laurie’s? That was all normal. Normal was good. Normal was just perfect.

  “Good,” she repeated, nodding for emphasis. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince Henny or herself, but she was already feeling a little better about the whole thing. Meeting Henny’s eyes again, she said, “So we’re… okay?”

  He cupped the back of her head, stroking her ear with his thumb. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but now it made her shiver. Suddenly she was noticing things about him she’d never paid much attention to before—the violet ring around his ocean-blue irises, the brush of his calloused fingers on her ear, the perfect cupid’s bow of his full lips—lips that had probably closed around her nipples last night, sucking and teasing…

  He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.

  “We are always okay,” he whispered.

  After a beat, he pulled back and kissed her forehead—something he’d done hundreds of times. Maybe even thousands. It was a gesture so familiar she couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t done it.

  So why, after all these years of hellos and goodbyes, was she suddenly trembling?

  Chapter Six

  “Don’t tell me we lost the bet.” Walker skated up to Henny the moment he stepped onto the ice, punching him in the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here? Thought you were on house arrest.”

  Henny took a slug of Gatorade. He was cotton-mouthed and dizzy as hell, but after a failed attempt to work out at his home gym, he found himself driving over to the practice arena. Gallagher hadn’t really said one way or the other about practices during his suspension, so he’d decided to take the chance.

  Forcing a grin, Henny said, “Guess I’m just a sucker for your love, Walker Dunn. Where’s Gallagher?”

  “Conference call,” Dunn said. “Eva’s in charge.”

  “You must love that,” Henny said.

  “I let her have her way on the ice, she let’s me have my way in the bedroom. Win-win.”

  Henny grunted. “Don’t let her hear you say that. You’ll be sleeping with the dog.”

  “Speaking of having your way in the bedroom, how was your night, sunshine?”

  “Fine.” Henny finished the Gatorade, then chucked the bottle into the trash.“I need to warm up. Catch you in a few.”

  After a couple laps around the rink, Henny slid back into formation with Dunn and the rest of the guys, lining up for Eva’s power skating and edgework drill combos. Her particular brand of torture was exactly what Henny needed today. Something hard, painful, and punishing to blast the lingering booze from his system and obliterate all thoughts of Bex.

  Naked.

  Touching herself.

  In her bed.

  Next to him.

  Jesus.

  His dick bulged at the memory, even as his brain warned him to cut it out. He hadn’t even begun to process what had happened between them. The fact that neither of them could remember the details might’ve been a blessing… if only Henny hadn’t woken up to an eyeful of her sweet, creamy flesh…

  Lock it down, asshole.

  Refocusing on the ice, he watched as Eva demonstrated the newest drill, then launched himself toward the other end of the rink with the rest of the pack. The snap of cold air made his eyes water, but he pushed on, slashing over the ice, pumping harder and faster, getting himself into the zone.

  The slash of blades, the hum of the ice machines, the shouts of his teammates, Eva’s shrill whistle… the sounds of the Tempest practice arena were familiar and comforting, but no matter how hard he worked, all thoughts led back to Bex.

  How the fuck did we end up in bed last night?

  He replayed everything he could recall, but things got real fuzzy after the tequila. Was there a kiss? He remembered looking at her mouth, remembered the shot of desire he’d felt when she licked the lime from his thumb. There were a few more shots after that, her laughter, the silky brush of her hair in his fingers, the taste of her skin… Did she climb into his lap? Had he grabbed her, pinned her against the wall as she begged for more, or was that a dream?

  Fuck. Putting the pieces together was like trying to hold water.

  “Feel free to join us any time, nineteen!” Eva shouted from the goal line. The rest of his team members were already lined up for another drill, leaving Henny in the dust. He’d completely missed the whistle.

  When he got into the lineup, Dunn nudged him. “What the fuck happened last night? Looks like you went three rounds with a yeti and lost.”

  “Smells like it to," Roscoe said. “Weren’t you with Bex last night?"

  “So you're my secretary now?" Henny asked. "You need to know my schedule?"

  Dunn and Roscoe exchanged a look, but before Henny could defend himself, Eva was shouting at him to get moving.

  Whatever.

  He took off down the ice. On the outside, he was all sharp turns and adrenaline, pushing himself faster and harder, keeping up with Eva's demands. But inside he was in knots. Guilt burned a hot path straight to his gut.

  He’d gotten his best friend shitfaced, in all likelihood fucked her senseless, didn't remember a goddamn thing, then bailed on her before breakfast because he didn't have the balls to sit down and talk it out like a man. If some other asshole had done that to her, he’d make damn sure that guy wouldn't mess with her again. Hell, that guy wouldn’t even be able to walk.

  But now that guy was him.

  How the fuck was he supposed to kick his own ass?

  He skated over to the bench and grabbed a water bottle, pouring it over his face and mouth. When he shook it off and opened his eyes, Dunn and Roscoe were standing in front of him, gaping.

  “You two want my autograph?" he snapped.

  Dunn kicked ice into his face. “You wanna tell us why you're being such a dick?”

  "I’d rather just be a dick in peace. Keep the mystery alive.” He was about skate away, but Eva was gunning for them across the ice, her eyes lasering in on Henny.

  Great.

  “Are you ladies done chitchatting?” she asked. “Or do you need a few more minutes to powder your delicate asses?”

  Henny cracked a smile—first real one all day. He took great joy in the fact that even though Eva was engaged to Dunn, she busted his balls just as hard as she busted everyone else’s.

  “Thirty-eight, forty-six.” She thumbed toward center ice. “I want you two working on your edges. We’ve got a tough matchup with Carolina tonight, and we’re down a starter.” Then, glaring at Henny, “You should probably call it a day, nineteen. Gallagher’s heading over soon, and he’s in no mood for your shit.”

  “Eva,” Henny began, but before he could say another word, she held up her hand, eyes blazing.

  “I’m not in the mood for you, either,” she said. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

  “Over the Fellino shit?” he asked. Yeah, it was a dick move on his part, putting the team in jeopardy by getting himself suspended. She had a right to be frustrated, but this seemed a little over the top, even for her. “I know I screwed up, but he attacked my boys. Even knowing the outcome, I wouldn't change a thing."

  Eva said nothing, just continued to glower. “Are you leaving?”

  “No. I need the workout.”

  “Then get to work,” she snapped.

  The knots in his gut tightened. “Eva, am I missing something here?”

  “Don’t you pretend like you don’t know what’s going on,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest.

  “But… I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Eva huffed. “Just for that you’re all getting another round of passing drills. And you, Walker Dunn, are sleeping with Bilbo Baggins tonight.”

  Henny actually laughed at that one. Bilbo was her seven-year-old daughter Gracie’s St. Bernard, big fucking drool monster.

  She skated away, lea
ving the air temperature about twenty degrees colder.

  Roscoe followed, close on her heels. “Eva? What about me? Do you still like me?”

  “Great,” Dunn said to Henny. “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

  Henny kicked the ice, heart hammering in his chest as he finally figured it out. This wasn’t about Fellino and the boarding call at all.

  “Fuck,” he said to Dunn, who stood by his side despite the evil glare from his fiancée. “I told you we shouldn’t have gotten those two together.”

  “What two?”

  “Eva and Bex,” Henny said. “They must’ve talked this morning. Christ.”

  “What’s up with Bex? I thought—” Suddenly, Walker’s face fell. “Dude, did she see our texts last night? She knows we’re just fucking around, right? I never meant—”

  “I think we fucking did it.”

  “You… Wait.” Dunn pulled off his helmet, took a step closer. “What?”

  “You need a drawing? Me and Bex. Pretty sure we had sex last night.”

  “Pretty sure? Dude.”

  Roscoe skated back over with three sticks and a puck. “Eva’s on a rampage. Better get—”

  “Henny and Bex finally left the friend zone,” Dunn said, taking his stick from Roscoe. That motherfucker had the nerve to smirk.

  Henny blew out a breath. “Now that we’re all caught up, I gotta go. Good talk.”

  “But what’s this ‘pretty sure’ shit?” Dunn asked.

  “I don’t remember it,” Henny said. “Neither does she. We were drinking, and then… who the fuck knows? We woke up in her bed this morning hungover as shit.”

  He left out the rest of the details of that little wake-up call.

  “Jesus,” Dunn said. “How much did you drink?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Roscoe said. “You finally slept with Bex, making all of our dreams come true, and you don’t fucking remember it?” Roscoe grabbed a handful of Henny’s hair, gave him a good shake. “You sure you weren’t the one who got his bell rung against the boards?”

  “Touch me like that again, and you’ll get your bell rung.” Henny jerked out of his grasp, a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over his head.