Offensive Plays

A Surprise Baby Hockey Romance

Anne Martin

Copyright © 2024 Anne Martin

Cover Design by GetCovers.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the publisher.

The book is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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This one’s for my mom.

Love—you showed me what that meant first.

Prologue | Libby

Three women have consistently been a voice on my shoulder throughout my life.

The first is my best friend's mom, Sherrie Brooks.

I put her at the top of the list because I wouldn't be half the woman I am today without her constant encouragement.

"You can do the hardest of things, Libby girl."

The second is my own mother. Unfortunately, the only time I've heard her voice is on the occasional interview I happen to stumble upon. The woman gave me up while I was still a baby. So, to say I know her voice would be a gross understatement.

Her actions always spoke louder to me than any actual words she could have spoken.

And if her actions could talk, they'd say, "You're not worth staying for, Libby."

Then there's Mrs. Ferguson. I'm sure she has a first name. But I only know the woman as Mrs. Ferguson.

Her voice, at times, can sometimes be the most unexpected. Every negative thought I have about myself somehow takes root from the words she spoke over me when I was only eighteen.

"You're no good, Libby. And you'll never be enough."

As much as I hate her words—spoken to me with the fury of a woman protecting her young—they're also the words I hear the most vividly. The ones I hear echo through my head as I delete another post I don't have the nerve to share.

Somehow, the only relief I get from the constant need to perform and look my best is the adoration of faceless men from a dating app I recently signed up for.

Well, dating is a bit of a stretch. It's a hook-up app. And my last hurrah before I give up on dating altogether and focus solely on my career.

I tend to get derailed when I’m in a relationship with someone wielding a penis. And lately, I don't need much help getting derailed. I do, however, need a lot of help in getting railed.

Just railed. No relationship. Hence, the hookup app.

There's a knock on my door and I can't help but jump at the sudden interruption.

"Ms. O'Connor, the photographer is ready for you."

I slide my phone onto the dressing room table and check myself in the mirror before following the photoshoot assistant to the open studio space.

"Well, well, well," the photographer, Jacques Pierce, says as he takes me in. "Gigi didn't do you justice. You're gorgeous. You'll steal the show."

I smile, taking Jacques's outstretched hands into my own as we give each other pecks on the cheeks. He's famous for photographing some of the top models in the industry, and thanks to my good friend and fellow model, Giselle Murray, I recently connected with him.

"Let me have a good look at you," he says, taking my face into his hands and inspecting me.

"Ah, yes. You'll be perfect for this. Let's get started, shall we?"

Taking a step back, he holds a hand out for me to take my place in front of the camera. I've never been shy in front of the camera. It's where I come the most alive. Knowing that faces I'll never have to meet in real life are watching me. There's something hypnotic about it.

I move and pose effortlessly, taking extra care to show off the couture dresses that the assistants help me change into between shots.

After almost two hours, I'm exhausted and ready to head back to my hotel. Hopefully I still have time to FaceTime with my nephew before he falls asleep for the night back in the states.

"Only one more look, my dear,” Jacques says, adjusting the settings on his camera.

I look to the wardrobe rack and there are no outfits left. I assumed we were done. But sure, one more look.

"I'll need you in only the Valentino," he says. "Everything else can go."

I shake my head trying to understand what he's saying. "As in only the Valentino jeans?"

"Yes, love. Everything else can go. Top, bra, oh, and ensure her hair is pinned only to one side," he directs one of the assistants.

"Uh..."

"Hurry up, please. I need to be across town in less than an hour. Quickly," Jacques insists.

Hands are on me before I can even decide if I'm comfortable with the idea. They're tugging off the top I'm wearing and undoing my bra. The cool air on my exposed breasts cause my nipples to pebble. Instinctively my hands go up to cover myself as an assistant reaches for my feet and removes my shoes.

"Tu es prêt à partir," the assistant says. You're good to go.

Good to go? I'm topless. Practically naked if not for the jeans.

Jacques looks up from his camera when he sees my hesitation. "Something the matter, Libby?"

"I've just never—“

His eyes widen as he recognizes what I'm trying to say.

"Well, my dear, you better get used to it. This is Paris. Breasts are a part of our daily life."

Ok, but not my breasts. My breasts are very happy staying inside my shirt.

He looks at his watch again and motions for me to step forward.

"Right." I take a tentative step in front of the camera. Nervous for the first time.

"You'll need to drop your arms, Libby," he coaches me. I do as he says. And I've never felt more awkward.

What does one do with their hands when posing half-naked?

"Arm over your head and look directly into the lens, Libby."

I do so. And I feel the most exposed I've ever been. "Relax," he breathes out in irritation. He's been so great to work with, until this moment.

Just pretend I'm alone. Pretend nobody is watching. My eyes drift up to the camera as I take a deep breath and pose.

"Beautiful, Libby.” He snaps a few photos from different angles. “Now turn and look over your shoulder."

Thank god it's not a frontal shot. The assistant pulls my hair forward exposing my entire back.

"Gorgeous. Now both arms over your head and face me."

Too personal. Too personal. My brain screams at me. But this is Paris, and this is what modeling is like. I should know better.

As soon as it's begun it's over and I’m dismissed. I quickly grab the nearest robe.

"These are beautiful, Libby. You're a natural."

I want to say thank you. To take what he's saying as a compliment. But it's hard to do so when everything in me screams to get out.

I give him a faint smile, grab my things, and head back to my dressing room to change.

This is normal. I need to get used to it.

But in truth, I don't know if I'll ever get used to a stranger watching my naked body through a camera lens.

There are some things I don’t have to get used to.

And this might be one of them.

Chapter 1

Michael

Two Months Later

Male Commentator: Paige, this is one for the books. By some miracle on the ice, the Heatwave have been able to come back from a three-point deficit in the final four minutes.

Female Commentator: I've never seen anything like it, Hank. That has got to be one of hockey's all-time best playoff comebacks.

Male Commentator: History in the making. In case you're just tuning in, we're in the final minute of Round two, Game six of the Stanley Cup playoffs live from Space City Arena in Houston, Texas.

Female Commentator: And there goes the puck drop. Keelan Landry battles it out, and the Heatwave wins the face-off.

Male Commentator: It's been good to see Landry back on the ice after nearly six months on long-term injured reserve. It's like he never left.

Female Commentator: According to his teammates, he never did. He was at every practice and every game. A true captain through and through.

Male Commentator: What a comeback. And here goes Joshua Hicks, the Heatwave's first-line left winger, who just scored that last rebound shot. He passes it back to an open Landry. They're heading straight to the Nashville goaltender.

Female Commentator: Hicks makes a quick pass to his lineman, Michael Ferguson. Ferguson lines it up. Oh, Nashville steals it back.

Male Commentator: You can just see the frustration in Ferguson's body language. He turns to skate back across the neutral zone. Oh, Nashville receives a check on the boards from defenseman Zane O'Connor. Tell you what, Paige, I wouldn't want to be caught in that position.

Female Commentator: Speak for yourself, Hank.

Both: (chuckle)

Male Commentator: The puck is loose. And there goes Hicks taking it back across the Houston offensive zone. The arena is the loudest it's been all night. Fans are on their feet.

Female Commentator: Hicks passes it to Ferguson. Ferguson lines it up with seven seconds left on the clock.

Male Commentator: What is he doing?

Female Commentator: Something distracted him, but he takes the shot...and it...hits the iron! No goal.

Male Commentator: Oh! And there's our buzzer.

Female Commentator: Nashville wins this one, Hank. The boys were so close. That last shot would've won them the series. But now they're tied with their rivals. What do you think was the hesitation there just before Ferguson took that shot and missed?

Male Commentator: The amount of pressure these players face in the final seconds of a game like this...one could only imagine, Paige.

Female Commentator: Well, they have one more shot to make it into the conference finals. Let's hope they can get it together for Monday night in Nashville.

"Ican't believe I missed that shot!"

The words rip out of my throat like a roar as I yank off my helmet and toss it to the waiting equipment manager.

"It happens to the best of us, man," Zane says from behind me.

I shake my head as we round the corner into the locker room.

Just before I took the shot, I could feel the reverberations from the crowd's cheers inside my chest. We were right there. The fans were counting on me.

And then, I saw...her. And I fumbled. One split second was all it took. Now, I've let my team and my city down.

We're all quiet as we take off our gear. I don't even bother to look at our team captain. We both know I screwed up. I don't need his heated glares reminding me.

Coach Murray doesn't even announce himself like he usually does. He strolls in, hands in his suit pocket followed by the assistant coaches.

"Chin up, boys. This isn't over."

"Sure feels like it is," the rookie defenseman says, looking defeated.

My eyes shift around the room. One shot. I had one shot. And I blew it—and worse, they all know it.

"It's not over until it's over. And even then...you fight to the last possible second, you understand?” Coach says. “One game isn't going to change the fact that this was the least likely team to make it to the playoffs at the beginning of the season. Well, look around. You made it. That's a packed barn screaming for their team to win this thing. Keep fighting." He holds a fist out to emphasize.

"We'll review tapes tomorrow," says one of the assistant coaches. "Tonight, just rest up."

Rest? Yeah right.

I can already feel my brain doing re-runs of that stupid play. I look around the locker room and see our goaltender, Ryker Balinger, with his head hanging low between his knees.

He had a rough night, too.

"Rest up," Coach reiterates before walking out.

Our PR manager, Rina Lopez, steps in next. All stilettos and business. "Landry, Balinger, and Ferguson. We need you for interviews."

And this is the worst part. Like rubbing salt in the wounds, the press will ask us how we feel and how we think we can improve. Our answers are always the same. But somehow today, it feels like an even bigger hit to my already bruised ego.

"Five minutes," Rina says before clacking out into the hall and not saying anything else.

We're all quiet again—this group is never quiet—but we’ve been running ragged. We've played eleven games in the last twenty-two days with no break. Normally, with the regular season being over, we'd be enjoying a long-awaited vacation.

But it's our first playoff season and getting this close and potentially losing our chance of making it into the conference finals feels wrong. The only sounds are the swishing of jerseys and the shuffling of tired feet, followed by the zipping of bags.

"I fucked up," I finally say. I can't let this awkward silence go on.

Tired faces look up all around me from what they're doing.

"It's not just on you," Ryker says. "We all had a part to play."

Ryker’s one of the older guys. A veteran on the team. And if Ryker's okay with the loss, then maybe I should be too. But a bag slams onto the floor just as the thought leaves me.

I turn to my left to see Landry huffing as he rips off his equipment, replacing it with an orange heatwave tech shirt.

"What's your problem?" Ryker asks him. His best friend doesn't mince words with the team captain like the rest of us might.

"Nothing," he says, unlacing his skates. But his eyes meet mine in a quick heated glare.

"It was a mistake, Kee,” Ryker says.

"Of course it was," Zane says on the opposite side of the room. "So we need to let it go and move on. Don't we, Cap?"

"Yep, let it go. I'll just," he slams a fist into the wall of his stall. "Let. It. Go." He punches with each word. His chest is heaving, but he takes a few deep breaths and finally calms down.

Hicks says under his breath, "I don't think he's gonna let it go."

We all get undressed in silence, knowing Rina will be waiting with her heel tapping in front of the press room if we're even a second late. Keelan and Ryker both head out the second they're done. And I take just a little longer, trying to delay the inevitable.

Zane is looking down at his phone when he gets up from his place on the bench and brings it over to me, screen first. He doesn't say anything but holds it out for me to see.

It's a clip of me when I hesitated to take the shot. A fan must've taken it from the stands because, from the angle...it's very clear what distracted me. My eyes trace back up to my teammate, who's looking at me with what I think might be pity.

"It's not..." my words trail off before I finish the thought.

He nods toward the hall, and we walk out into it, away from the rest of the team.

"Fergie," he begins. "Your little crush is about to cost us the playoffs." He sighs when he says it.

Is he serious right now? This is coming from the guy who avoided telling the girl he pined after for years exactly how he felt about her, until just recently.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I tense. "I'm telling you this as a friend, Ferg. Libby isn't like other girls."

I stare at him blankly. "I don't know why you're telling me this."

"Because," he says, lowering his hand and leaning against the wall behind him. "I don't want to see you risk it all for a girl who, truth be told, is kind of a man-eater."

I think my jaw just dropped. I run a hand over my chin...yep. It did.

"All I'm saying," Zane continues, "Is maybe to set your sights on someone that isn't going to make your life hell. Man to man? Libby will eat you alive and use your bones to pick her teeth."

"I'm not interested in your sister, Zane." It comes out a little too zealous, but he's got a lot of nerve.

He puts his hands up in surrender, "Ok, bud. I'm just sayin'"

I look at the time on my phone. Gah! I'm late.

"Good talk," I say over my shoulder as I power walk away from the defensemen.

"Yep, good talk," he calls back to me. And in his tone I know that this conversation isn't over.

I don't know if I'm embarrassed because he's right—I do have a crush on Zane's sister. An epic one. Or if it's because our whole team is paying for it, and he knows.

Either way, the last thing I want to do is be interviewed about the shot heard around the world while I'm still reeling from it.

Rina's waiting for me outside the press room, arms crossed and face scowling. Great. Someone else I can add to my people I've pissed off today list.

"Fergie," she says with a warning in her tone.

"Hi, Rina. Lovely to see you as always."

"You're next. Hurry up," she whispers, opening the door and following me inside.

The second I step inside, cameras are whirling on me—flashes, questions, and eager faces pushing mics into my face.

I struggle to clear my throat as I make my way to the front to join my teammates.

"Michael, were you licking your wounds in the locker room just now?"

“Mr. Ferguson, do you think you failed your team by missing that shot?"

"Did you have a stroke out there, Fergie?"

Coach Murray shakes his head and says to the crowd, "Ok, ok. One question at a time. You know how this works, folks."

I take my seat next to Ryker who gives me a reassuring smile. Landry still looks pissed next to him.

Pulling my mic toward me, I lean forward. “First of all, Mr. Ferguson is my father. Though, I’m sure you’re all well aware of that. And second, I'm also sure you're all aware that I missed the game-winning shot."

There are chuckles all around the now quiet room.

“That's hockey,” I continue. “It happens. It's just part of the game. We take shots, and sometimes we get a goal, and sometimes we don't."

"Yeah, but this is the playoffs. Every shot counts," one guy says from the back.

"Oh, I didn't realize we were in the playoffs. I really should've just scored then, yeah?" More chuckles at my smart ass remark.

"Look. I hate letting down my team. But all we can do is review the tapes. See what we can do better and hit them hard in the next game."

"We'll get them in Nashville," Ryker adds, patting me on the back.

With that, the heat on me seems to die down, and the attention goes back onto my team captain; where I would much rather it be.

"Landry, can you tell us about your first game back and what it's been like?"

Keelan fields the questions like a pro, and I zone out until some flashing lights from the cameras wake me up from my stupor.

Finally, it's over. And it wasn't too bad. Outside the press room, Keelan stops me.

"Hey, Fergie. Wait up." I turn to see him jogging down the hall toward me. Ryker is taking his time talking to Rina and his fiancee, Izzy, outside the room.

"I was a dick back there. It's like I forgot how to be a team player. Sorry about that, man."

Is my team captain actually apologizing to me? Being off the roster for a while has changed him.

"Thanks, Lando."

He shrugs and slaps a hand onto my shoulder. "We'll get 'em in Nashville. So what are you doing tonight?"

I know exactly what I'll be doing tonight. It's the same thing I've been doing every night for the last few months. But I'm not about to tell him that. Not until I'm ready.

"Rest," I guess.

"Yeah, we're going to need it," Keelan agrees.

Chapter 2

Libby

The action on the theater screen reaches a climax—the engines roar, the music thrums with urgency—but my attention strays.

My gaze flits between the gripping chase on screen and the bag of popcorn crushed in the tightening grip of my bestie, Kesley, as my brother Zane's hand ventures further up her thigh, his face nuzzling her neck on the other side of her.

I school my face into submission when it involuntarily scrunches up in disgust.

Don't get me wrong, they both deserve this.

For so long, I watched Kesley endure an endless parade of romantic misfires while raising the sweetest child as a single mother. I was always there with a shoulder to cry on and a plate full of chicken nuggets for us all to dive into when she inevitably announced that she had found yet another dud.

She had good reason to be picky. Her little boy, Liam, who had been my third roommate for the last six years, is the best human being in the world. So who better than the man who was always meant to be his daddy to be the one absently teasing her neck right now?

I shift in my seat, accidentally nudging her, and it's like a domino effect. She closes her mouth and straightens uncomfortably, and then Zane shifts in his seat, too, his hand slowly slipping off his wife's thigh.

I didn't mean to break up their little peck fest. I just need an excuse to leave so they can have their fun.

I grab my drink and swish it around—empty. My phone vibrates in my back pocket with the familiar feel of my app’s notifications. The app.

I should...probably go pee.

Yes. I'll go to the bathroom, check my phone, get a refill, and hopefully, that'll be enough time for Zane and Kesley to finally just go ham with each other without my presence interfering. Maybe I'll get another nephew out of it.

I lean over and whisper to Kesley. "I need to pee. Refill?"

She cinches her brow, "Now?" And motions toward the screen. It's the moment of the movie we've all been waiting for.

I shake my giant empty cup at her, and she nods her understanding. Zane leans over and grabs my wrist, "Grab me a cup of ice. Will you, Lib?"

"Just ice?" I whisper back, confused.

The lady seated in front of us shushes us.

He nods with a smirk, and I notice Kesley go beet red like she knows exactly why he wants it. Something tells me he doesn't intend to eat the ice. I roll my eyes and pull my arm away, slowly maneuvering over the strangers next to us until I get to the end of the row and can finally make my escape.

My phone buzzes again in my back pocket. I'm careful not to make a mockery of my profession by tripping in these damn heels, but I can barely see the steps in front of me.

When I make it down without looking like an idiot in front of this packed theater, I confidently walk the rest of the way to the theater exit. I pull out my phone and open the notification for my dating app.

A new photo has been received.

I lose all my senses when I open it and see what it is.

Tripping over nothing at all, my phone goes flying through the air with a picture of a very pierced, very well-endowed schlong open for all to see. I nearly fall flat on my face, but strong arms are there to catch me just as my phone hits the floor—screen up—a few feet away.

"Woah, woah. You ok there—Oh! Libby!"

The man holds me by my shoulders until I'm face to face with—Oh, good lord.

"Jonah...wow."

Fuck.

My ex-boyfriend smiles brightly, and a corner of his mouth quirks up as his eyes give me a swift assessment.

I'm dressed in what I would consider normal Libby day wear: a cropped semi-see-through shirt to show off my pink couture bra and a leather mini skirt finished off with a fun heeled knee-high boot. Simple. Cute.

But under the pastoral gaze of the man in front of me, I may as well be naked.

"Excuse me, ma'am, is this yours?" I turn my attention away from the dark-haired devil to a sweet-faced woman in a billowy white sundress holding up my phone with the dick pic on full display.

Jonah's eyes take in the picture on the phone just as I snatch it from the clueless woman's hand and stuff it right back into my pocket. "Thank you." I nod at her before turning to bolt.

I hear the woman say to Jonah, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Wait, Libby. I...want you to meet my fiancee," Jonah calls back to me.

I breathe in a quick gush of air before returning to the ideal couple with their flowy dresses and ironed slacks.

"This is Lillian," he says hesitantly.

Turning on my heel, I give the woman my hand. "So sorry, where are my manners? Hi, Lillian. I’m—“

"Libby," Lillian says. "Yes, I've...heard about you." She sounds almost suspicious of me.

My eyes shoot to Jonah, who slips his arm over her shoulders as she drops her hand from our handshake. His expression isn't giving anything away.

"Have you now?" I say, still looking at Jonah and failing miserably to hold back my glare.

"Yes, when Jonah and I first started dating...gosh...how long ago was that, honey?" She looks up at Jonah.

"Uh...what, like, seven or eight years ago?" he offers, scratching the hairs on his jaw.

Jeez. Seven or eight years and he still hasn’t tied the knot?

"Well, he told me all about your summer of...fun."

Okay. It's awkward enough to run into an ex I'd really rather never see again in my life. But now I have to meet his soon-to-be wife, who clearly has me pegged as her man’s ex-hussy.

Or maybe Jonah told her…

I laugh out loud, hardly able to contain myself. "Summer of fun?" I cross my arms over my chest wanting her to elaborate.

"Oh, you know. The one where you two..." she pauses and looks around before cupping a hand to the side of her mouth and whispering, "Lost your v-cards?"

So no...he didn't tell her.

Jonah squeezes her shoulder abruptly. "Ok, hon. We don't...we don't have to talk about that."

"No, no. Of course not," Lillian says, running a hand down her dress as if attempting to straighten it more than it already is. "That was all...before. The Lord has forgiven you both," she says with a smile. "So, naturally, I will, too."

"Naturally," I parrot.

I haven't moved from my spot a few feet from them. My mind is swirling with memories of the summer she's talking about. Only, I wouldn't have called it fun.

Hell. Torment. Guilt. All would be more suitable than fun.

"Well, this has all been so—“

"Great," Jonah says, cutting me off and clearing his throat. He seems to be as uncomfortable as I am. "So great to see you, Libby."

"Yes, Libby. So great to finally get to meet you. Oh, you know what?" Lillian says excitedly. "Our wedding's in just a few weeks. June 1st, 5 pm in the church gardens. You should come!"

She smiles sweetly, and I'm more than confused by this sudden invite.

"Uh..ha, that's so nice of you to invite me, but I just don't think—“

"Oh," she tosses a hand in the air. "The past is in the past. I know you're an old family friend. It would be an honor to have you there wouldn't it, J?"

Family friend? That's a long shot.

According to Jonah's mother, I'm more like the woman who nearly single-handedly destroyed the Ferguson name.

"Honey," Jonah says to her, pulling her deeper into his side embrace. "It's probably just a little uncomfortable for Libby to be around us. That's okay, Libby. There's no pressure at all."

Yeah, no. I feel absolutely no pressure. The last thing I want to do is be around Jonah and any of his family, and much less at his wedding.

"Well, who knows? Maybe you can find yourself a decent man there," Lillian says, motioning toward the phone. And no doubt referencing the aforementioned schlong. "There'll be a bunch of single guys from the church there." She gives me a wink.

"You want me to come to your wedding to see if I'll hit it off with someone from your church?" I clarify.

Lillian shrugs and holds an effortless smile in response.

"Thanks, but I think I'm better off alone," I say, returning her smile. "Decent men seem to have a hard time with me. The not-so-decent ones, too, apparently."

Jonah clears his throat again. "Hon, we should get going. Our movie will be starting any minute. Uh, it was good seeing you, Lib."

"Think about it." Lillian gives me a faint wave just as Jonah ushers her along to their theater.

They disappear through the doors of a theater playing a sequel to Kung Fu Panda. What grown adults go to a theater to see a kid's movie?

I think about it alright. For a total of two seconds before doing my best to shake off the awkward exchange and push open the door to the bathroom like I had planned to all along.

I lean against the stall door and take a deep breath, opening the app that just made an uncomfortable exchange nearly unbearable.

Since graduation from college, my biggest priority has been taking care of my nephew, Liam. But now that Zane and Kesley are together, it's time to have some fun before getting serious about my own life goals.

This particular app filters out any facial features until we are within the same vicinity for our first date and agree to share. It's dumb, but it's new. And I've tried everything else you could possibly find on the internet to meet a man. Though I’m not really in the market for a decent man like Lady Lillian seems to think I need.

I just need a really good lay. The questions that were asked during the sign-up process were just interesting enough to convince me that it might be worth a try. And this guy I've been talking to seems to be able to deliver just what I need.

I open the picture again and let out a whistle before typing out my reply.

LeaveHerWild: When I asked you for proof, I didn't expect to see all that.

His response comes in right away.

strangerDanger23: You asked.

strangerDanger23: Anyways, I figured I'd return the favor.

I smile, remembering the barely-there outfit I wore out last night. I felt sexy and snapped a picture of it with my hand between my thighs when I got home from a party last night. I may or may not have been slightly buzzed.

I've been messaging strangerDanger23 for over a week, and we're finally getting into "we should hook up" territory.

He checks all the boxes.

Smart—he's a software developer.

Nice body—he enjoys working out.

Kinky—he has a metal-laden cock, for goodness' sake.

I'm totally going to let this guy do unspeakable things to me.

I zoom in on his picture and try to count the number of rungs he has on his ladder. Seven. Of course, the perfect number. I've had my fair share of dong. But a pierced man...this is new even for me.

LeaveHerWild: So you have some features, but do you know how to use them?

strangerDanger23: Lol. I was beginning to wonder if I scared you off.

LeaveHerWild: No. But the ex I just ran into did.

strangerDanger23: What an idiot he is.

LeaveHerWild: You don't even know him?

strangerDanger23: I don't need to. Any man who could even come close to having a chance with you and blows it...is an idiot.

He makes me smile again. Rare for a guy from a hookup app.

strangerDanger23: Was it awkward?

LeaveHerWild: What's worse, I met his prim and proper fiancee, and she knows about things we used to do together. Awkward doesn't begin to describe that interaction.

strangerDanger23: I bet he feels like such a dumbass for ever letting you go. Are you still wearing that skirt?

I take a picture of my outfit.

LeaveHerWild sent a photo.

strangerDanger23: Fuck. Beautiful and smart. You can't be real.

LeaveHerWild: Neither are you. Be honest. You stole that dick pic from the internet, didn't you?

strangerDanger23: Wouldn't you like to know, butterfly?

I would. I very much would.

LeaveHerWild: butterfly?

strangerDanger23: The picture you sent me last night. You have a butterfly birthmark.

That sends electric pulses straight to my core. It's a small birthmark on the inside of my right thigh. That he picked up on it means he must have really been looking.

LeaveHerWild: Let's meet. I'm free tonight.

strangerDanger23: You're a forward one. But I can't tonight.

strangerDanger23: As much as I'd love to.

I take a quick mental inventory of my schedule. I promised Kesley I'd go skating with her and Liam tomorrow for the Heatwave after-school skate program. On Saturday night, we have the Heatwave charity auction. But that's at six, so maybe I can make an early break.

LeaveHerWild: Saturday night, then?

strangerDanger23: Saturday works. But I want to take you to dinner first.

I roll my eyes.

LeaveHerWild: The app is called BlindBang, stranger. I think we both know where this is going. You can drop the gentleman act.

strangerDanger23: And where exactly do you think this is going?

I zip down my top even more until my hot pink bra is fully displayed, snap a photo, and send it to him.

LeaveHerWild sent a photo.

strangerDanger23: Fuck, butterfly. At least let me buy you a drink.

A drink I could do. But then I immediately need to spend the rest of the night wrapped up in this guy's sheets.

LeaveHerWild: The Breakaway bar downtown... 9 pm?

strangerDanger23: I'll be there.

strangerDanger23: Don't send those pictures to anyone else.

LeaveHerWild: Possessive much?

strangerDanger23 sent a photo.

strangerDanger23: You have no idea. I'm going to need a cold shower now. Thanks.

I open the image, and his bionic schlong is now at attention hardened against washboard abs. I lean my back onto the stall door and hit it with the back of my head a few times.

How will I be able to hold on until Saturday? I make a mental note to grab fresh batteries for my toy collection in my nightstand on the way home. This is going to be a rough couple of nights.

Making plans like this makes me feel alive. I don't just bang random guys from dating apps. Then again, I've never wanted to so badly without even seeing what the man looks like.

At this point, he could look like Dobby for all I care. All he'd need to do is wave that magical dong wand in my direction, and I'd be the one serving him.

strangerDanger23: You're quiet.

strangerDanger23: What are you thinking about?

Oh my god. This is why I'm so wound up. This mystery man with the eight-pack abs and rippled cock has been driving me to insanity, and he doesn't even know it.

LeaveHerWild: Locked in a bathroom stall. Counting the rungs on your ladder.

strangerDanger23: Have you ever felt a pierced cock, butterfly?

LeaveHerWild: no...

strangerDanger23: There's so much it can do for you.

LeaveHerWild: So you do know how to use it. Tell me how, stranger.

strangerDanger23: Well first...I'd kneel in front of you.

Oh god. I look through the slit of the door to make sure I'm alone. The bathroom is empty.

Yeah, this is happening.

I'm about to do this in a movie theater stall. I'm sure it's seen worse. Look out, world! Libby O'Connor is finally getting some sexual relief.

I slide my panties down my thighs, grateful that I opted for a mini skirt today, and run my fingers slowly back up my thigh as I stare down at his incoming text.

strangerDanger23: I'll pull you toward me and own that beautiful slick pussy of yours with my mouth.

I imagine him on his knees before me. Head turned. Licking me like I was his favorite dessert. My fingers find the warmth between my legs, and I throw my head back as I work my clit.

strangerDanger23: I'll taste and suck and lick you until I have you riding your pleasure out on my face, butterfly. And when you think you've felt as amazing as you can...

My brows cinch as the powerful image he's painting in my mind has me feeling everything through the tip of my finger. My lips part, and I look down at the phone when another message comes through.

strangerDanger23: I'll sit you on my lap facing me, spread those beautiful legs of yours, and rock your pretty clit over the ridges of my cock until you're begging me to take you.

My eyes shoot closed as I take in the words in his messages. One hand holding the phone, the second bringing me to the edge of ecstasy.

strangerDanger23: I hope you're quiet because you're touching yourself.

LeaveHerWild: Keep talking...

strangerDanger23: *smirk emoji*

strangerDanger23: And only when I hear your begging and whimpering for me will I toss you on the bed and claim that pretty pussy.

strangerDanger23: You'll feel me fill you up inch by inch. The ridges of my piercings lighting you up from the inside out while I keep pressure right where you want it.

I imagine him doing just that and my lips part, unable to stop the wave that's about to crest.

strangerDanger23: I'll keep thrusting and you'll take my cock like the good girl you are, butterfly. And I won't stop until I hear you shattering all around me and screaming out my name.

I'm shattering now. The thought of him pounding into me. The mixed moans and sweaty limbs. Good god. I want this. I need this.

My breathing goes ragged as I hold back a whimper. The sudden burst takes me under, and I stare down at my phone once I've recovered from the onslaught. Finally, I'm able to breathe. Some relief.

LeaveHerWild: I can't believe I just had an explosive orgasm in a public restroom.

strangerDanger23: I'll make sure it's not your last.

Ok. This guy is frisky, flirty, so fucking dirty...I'm in. I'm all in.

I clean up and open the stall to wash my hands when I see a steely-eyed blonde leaning on the counter with arms crossed and staring me down.

"Oh, shit," I breathe out, with a palm to my chest."I didn't think anyone was in here."

"So I heard," she smirks at me.

I scoff. "Seriously, Kes? Pervy much? How long have you been standing there?"

I brush past her and squirt way too much soap into my hands.

"Who is it?" she says, facing me in the mirror.

I deadpan into the mirror, meeting her eyes.

"Who's got you so worked up, Lib? You've been staring at your phone and giggling all week. If you've found a new bestie, I need to know."

I rinse my hands and reach behind her to grab the tiny amount of paper the dispenser has allotted. I wave my hand frantically, but only a few more inches come out before I grab it with gusto.

"Nobody's ever gonna replace you, Kes. You're my ride-or-die. My best bitch, ok?" I tilt my head and wait for her to be satisfied.

"But you're jealous." It's a statement, not a question.

I groan. "I don't mean to be...it's just... I kinda miss you and Zane bickering and me getting to swoop in and save the day. Now I feel like an extra. Nobody needs me." I sigh. I sound like a mother whose kids have just moved away from home, and I'm left with the realization that I have no hobbies or friends and don't even know who I am without them.

Kesley drops her arms and reaches for my hand. "You're never an extra, Lib. You've got main character energy down pack."

"I mean, I know I'm cute and all," I say, tossing my red locks back.

"It's true," she smiles. "And we'll always need you. But right now, we need you to be happy. And to find out what that means for you. You've put everyone else around you first, and right now, it's about you. What does Libby need?"

I purse my lips and think of the stranger with the pierced dong. Right now, that's what I need.

A smile tugs on my lips and Kesley turns to the mirror and fixes her hair. "He must be good if he has you doing bad things in public places."

Her eyes meet mine in a knowing glance.

"Oh...he's good," I assure her.

Chapter 3

Michael

"Hicks! Hurry up, we're waiting on you...again," I call up to my perpetually late roommate.

Landry, the owner of this house we all call home, rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Every freakin' time," he mumbles. "He's worse than my sister."

I pull back the sleeve of my suit to check my watch. If we don't leave right now, we'll catch traffic and end up doing extra laps next practice thanks to our time-challenged left winger.

"Forget it. Let's leave him," he says, grabbing the keys to his Bronco.

I look up the stairs one last time and say, "We're leaving you behind, molasses. You'll have to take your hunk of junk."

"Goddamnit," Hicks cries out.

Landry and I exchange glances before both screaming up, "Jar!"

Hicks appears at the top of the steps with his bow tie still placed around his neck.

"Seriously, that's what's taking you so long?" Landry says to him.

"I'm sorry. Did you guys take some kind of bow tie class in college that I happened to miss?" he says sarcastically as he rips it off and stomps down the steps.

"It's called the internet...you get it for free by mooching off of me," Landry deadpans. "Now let's go, we'll fix it when we get there. Rina's gonna ream our asses."

I grab the growing swear jar off the kitchen counter and slide it toward them both.

"Nope. I covered my fee for the week when Zane gave me that wedgie at the BBQ. I threw in that fifty,” Hicks points to the Benjamin sitting at the top of the jar change.

"Wait, that's my Benji!" Landry protests. "I tossed it in when we were playing Never have I ever, and Ryker and the rookie both drank to 'I've never made out with a teammate's sister.'"

I try to hold back a laugh remembering the interaction, considering both of them had technically made out with Landry's sister at one point or another.

But they stare each other down. Tensions have been high since beating Nashville on their home ice earlier this week, securing our spot in the conference finals. We try to relax and have fun as much as we can. But between practices, workouts and public relations events—we're all running on fumes.

We just need some relief.

"You know what...fuck the jar," I say.

They both turn to me. "What?"

I grab the swear jar that's been a staple since we all moved in together last summer and empty it onto the counter. The bills all float down as the coins clank against the marble counters and clammer onto the tile floor.

"Fuck the jar," I say again. "Let's just go."

Landry tilts his head and assesses me. "Are you ok?"

"Maybe he's getting a fever?" Hicks says, placing the back of his hand on my forehead.

I swat him away.

"Look, it’s served its purpose. I’ve had my fun. But let's be real, I really don't give a shit what my dad thinks anymore."

My dad—he’s the reason we have this swear jar in the house in the first place. I was seven when I told him I wanted to play hockey. He'd never been a big sports guy, preferring to spend his evenings diving into the words of an ancient book to which he'd devoted his life, and I respected him for it.

But I didn't want to be a pastor like him, nor did my older brother at one point in our lives. We wanted to make our own way in this life.

Dad accepted that I wouldn't be like him but insisted that if I were to play hockey, I'd need to keep my testimony intact, at the very least.

That's church talk for: don't act a fool. No swearing, drinking heavily, or sleeping around.

He would insist that you can be in this world and not be of it. At seven, I didn't care what I agreed to as long as I could play the game I desperately loved.

But now, I just want my life back.

It's not like he ever comes to any of my games. And if it weren't for our weekly Sunday dinner, I'd rarely see the man. He's made it clear that he thinks I'm losing myself. The only thing keeping him from making me his full-time project is my brother.

The prodigal son returned from his worldly ways to be groomed to take over the church a few years ago. So, really, I'm not needed anymore. I'm free from the responsibility of being my dad's replacement. The true heir is where he needs to be.

"So we can say fuck now? In the house?" Hicks asks as he slips on his suit jacket. "'Cause you know I love saying fuck."

"And shit. And damn. And all the four-letter words you can imagine," I clarify.

Landry scrunches his face.

"What?" I ask him.

He shrugs, "Nothing. It's just...I kind of liked the swear jar."

"Are you kidding me right now?" I open the front door, and they both brush past me. "You liked me swindling you for your use of cuss words?" I ask, genuinely confused.

He pushes the remote start button on his keys, and the bright yellow Bronco purrs to life.

"I mean, no, it's not that. It was just nice to have something to keep us all...connected."

I shake my head, "Landry, what the hell are you talking about?"

We all slide into our usual seats. I'm in the back alone, Hicks is in the passenger seat, and Landry is driving.

"I get what he's saying," Hicks adds. "It was like a team-building thing, right Cap?"

Landry pulls the vehicle around the circular driveway and onto the road that leads out of this gated community for the rich and entitled.

"Yeah, it's like our roommate thing. You know, like my 'my house, my rules, roommate dinner' or BBQ game nights with the team." He shrugs again. "It's our thing."

I shake my head again. "Unbelievable. You all complain every single time I ask you to pay up, but you secretly enjoy it? I live with masochists."

"I don't enjoy it one fucking bit," Hicks admits. "I'd like to keep my loose change, thank you very much."

“And that was a lot of loose change. You collected enough from us all to fill that jar fifty times over. What did you even do with all that money?" Landry asks me, watching me through the rearview mirror as he drives toward the downtown hotel where we're meeting up with the rest of the team.

I laugh. "You guys would think it's stupid."

"Then you definitely have to tell us. Technically we were your angel investors in this stupid thing you did," Hicks says, rolling down his window and letting his arm hang out.

I run a hand through my hair. It's not like Keelan Landry's, nice and slicked back, looking like a debonair secret agent man. Nor like Joshua Hicks, who clearly spent the last hour perfectly coaxing his locks into place with hair spray.

My brown hair reflects exactly how I feel—unruly, especially after secretly launching my own dating app over the last few months. Late nights, lots of Zoom meetings with team members worldwide, and keeping it all a secret from my nosy teammates will do that.

I open the app on my phone and slide it to them on the center console. Landry eyes the phone as Hicks picks it up to get a better look.

"You paid for a membership for a hookup app?" Hicks laughs as he says it. "That's nothing new, preacher boy. We all know your luck on these things."

"He what?" Landry tries to examine the app. "Is that BlindBang?"

I groan before admitting to them, "I didn't pay for a membership...I made it."

Hicks turns in his seat to look me in the eye, my phone still in his hand. "You made...what exactly?"

"The app. I developed the app."

Landry stays quiet for a second as Hicks just stares at me blankly.

"I told you it was stupid," I say, reaching for my phone.

"Wait, you made a hookup app? H-how the fuck did you do that?" he asks, holding the phone away from me as he scrolls through the app.

"Well...you said it yourself. You were my angel investors."

Landry chuckles, low at first, but it grows into a full-on laugh. "You made a hookup app using the money from our swear jar? Fergie! Dude, who even are you?"

"Michael Ferguson, you dirty, dirty dog, you." Hicks finally hands me my phone, and I snatch it back.

"I figured if I controlled the outcome, it might actually work out for me."

Landry is still laughing, hitting the steering wheel as he maneuvers through downtown traffic. "So, does it? Does it work?"

I shrug, opening my conversation with KeepHerWild and scrolling through the photos she sent me over the last week.

I still don't know what the girl looks like. But that's the point. I made an app that connects people based on their interests in a very thorough questionnaire that they get to answer privately. The algorithm matches them up based on what they're looking for. Kinks. Fantasies. Fetishes. All of them are kept a secret from the users. But the algorithm knows. Therefore, you get to date people who automatically fit your most secretly held fantasies.

There are safety features to ensure that only serious people use the app. I'd never want to put people in compromising situations so users don't see the facial features of a person they match with until they meet up for an agreed-upon date. Our soft launch was a few weeks ago, and we already have over two million users.

"So?" Hicks presses.

"I guess we'll find out." I leave out the part about my first date tonight. I'll need to sneak away after this event to make it, but it'll be worth it.

"Wow, I swear you guys never cease to amaze me. We got Ryker having a baby with my sister. Zane suddenly married to the love of his life. You're about to match with your perfect sexual fantasy girl," Landry says, turning to Hicks. "Soon, it'll be just you and me."

"And then there were two," Hicks says, slapping a hand on Landry's shoulder.

"You're both so dramatic. This is why I didn't say anything. And it goes without saying, but you’re both sworn to secrecy, got it?”

“I agree to nothing of the sort. I will use this information as emotional blackmail however I see fit,” Hicks says.

I flip him off and he smirks.

"Look, I'm just glad you took matters into your own hands. If I had to see you get catfished on one of those other apps one more time, I was going to start an app of my own," Hicks admits. "I'd call it Save the Pastor's Son. You'd be the only male user, and real girls with sympathy in their hearts would sign up to bang the misery out of you."

Landry lets out another boisterous laugh, shaking his head next to him.

"Wow. Revolutionary," I say. "Really appreciate the sentiment."

"That's what friends are for," Hicks says, flashing one of his charming smiles.

"And if I were to start one, I'd call it Chiclets for Dicklets," Landry says. "That way fuckboys with missing teeth would have a chance at true love."

He smiles wide and looks over at Hicks, who punches him in the shoulder.

"I got them fixed, okay. Nobody can even tell. It's the greatest disappearing act. I sleep with a girl, and as soon as I want her to leave, boom. Remove the teeth. She bolts before I even say another word."

"One day, you'll find one that prefers you with missing teeth. Then you'll be stuck marrying her," I tell him.

"Maybe, but until that happens. I'm going to have my fun."

We stay quiet the rest of the drive. Tonight isn't about any of us. Tonight is about serving our city. As our PR manager, Rina Lopez, so nicely put it—giving the rich ladies of Houston what they want for the sake of the children.

And apparently, what the rich ladies want is a chance at claiming their favorite Heatwave hockey player for a date all to themselves.

We pull up to the hotel. The parking lot is full and the front doors are adorned with signs and balloons that tell everyone exactly what's taking place inside.

Welcome to the Date-a-Player Heatwave Charity Auction.

Landry glances down at his phone. "Shit, Rina's already sending her search dogs. Let's go boys."

Chapter 4

Libby

"Excuse me, sir,” I shake my empty glass, and the man turns around and places a full one in front of me.

"This is fun," Kesley says in the chair beside me.

Zane has his arm over the back of her chair as he scans the room.

"It's a full house. I didn't think a bunch of smelly hockey players would attract so much attention," he says.

I sip my newest glass of champagne and savor the bubbles as they fizz down my throat, opening my BlindBang app to check for messages from strangerDanger23—nothing.

I want to message him. To tell him I can't wait for our date tonight. For him to make good on all his filthy promises. But I also don't want to let on just how desperate I am for it.

So I suck down another glass.

"You wanna...slow down there, Lib?" my brother warns me. "The auction hasn't even started."

I place the now empty glass on the table and give a hard and powerful "Aaah," just to get on his nerves.

He doesn't get to fix his life up in a matter of weeks and then turn on me. No sir-ee. I was the responsible one long before he was.

He rolls his eyes and Kesley chuckles to herself.

Ryker strolls up to our table and slaps Zane on the back. "Should we take bets on who'll bring in the highest bids?"

Zane smirks. My brother loves a good bet.

"Not everything has to be a game," Kesley says. But she pulls out her clutch from under the table and opens it, presenting a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "But my money's on Landry."

I laugh as Zane and Ryker both drop their faces. "Landry?" Zane asks. "Why him?"

"He's the team captain,” I answer for her. “And he's been out most of the season. It's like every woman's fantasy to snag the team captain. Supply and demand, bro."

Zane raises a brow and asks his wife, "And is it your fantasy?"

"No, caveman," she reaches for his cheek. "I prefer hot-headed defensemen. Obviously."

Zane settles down and kisses her on the neck. I turn to scan the room again. There's chatter all around us. Women are dressed to the nines, some accompanied by their husbands who, no doubt, are looking for a good tax deduction and figured this would be as good a cause as any.

"These ladies do know they're not actually going to sleep with any of them, right?" Zane asks nobody in particular.

"Have you met your teammates?" I reply. "Don't put it past them. Some of these guys would sleep with them just to say they banged the dude's wife from the Houston's Hugest Overstock Warehouse commercial." I mimic the loud announcer that everyone recognizes from his over the top voice.

"Shhh," Kesley chuckles and nudges me. "He's right there."

I look at the table she motioned toward and sure enough, there's Houston's Hugest Overstock Warehouse guy.

"It's like seeing a celebrity for the first time," I smirk, as I watch him interact with the other well-known patrons at his table.

You have to have money to be here tonight. PR Queen Rina Lopez made sure to invite the Who's Who of Houston. You had to be willing to drop eight grand on a plate just for a seat.

But as Rina says, it's for the children.

The music lowers, and the lights go down as the mic gives feedback, and Rina steps onto the stage.

She's dressed in an all-black glimmering ensemble that perfectly hugs her curves and towers over everyone in four-inch heels. Her sleek black hair is pulled into a high pony that shows off her high cheekbones. In another life, Rina could have been a model.

"That's my cue," Ryker says, taking his seat on the other side of our table. Izzy, his fiancee, is snapping photos near the stage. She, too, looks like a vision. Her dark hair tumbles down her back. Her teeny baby bump just barely poking out under her mermaid gown. I almost never see her dressed up. The girl is a walking billboard for #yogapantlife.

The crowd dies down as Rina begins. "Ladies and gentlemen, in partnership with the Children's Hospital of Greater Houston, the Heatwave and their staff want to thank you for participating in tonight's first annual Date-a-Player Charity Auction."

The room erupts into applause as Rina takes a moment to acknowledge everyone who made it happen.

"First annual? You mean we gotta sit through this shit once a year?" Ryker complains.

Only three guys on the team are exempt from being auctioned off—and that's only because they have significant others. Tonight, all the Heatwave singles will be sold to the highest bidder for a date of their choosing.

"You gonna bid?" Kesley whispers to me as Rina continues thanking sponsors.

I snort, "Are you kidding? I'm desperate but not that desperate," I whisper back. "I'd never date a hockey player. No offense."

Kesley smirks, "None taken."

"Some taken," Zane admits, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, please. Would you want me to date one of your teammates? That'd be your worst nightmare."

“No, you're right. You definitely can't date one of my teammates. We need you and your cheers. And if it didn't work out—I’d have to find a way to get rid of them and that would suck. Don’t ever put me in that situation.”

I laugh a little too loud. “You'd pick me over a teammate? Aww." I place a hand on my chest and give him puppy dog eyes.

"Shut up," he mutters.

Rina continues, "So without any further adieu, let's meet our players for tonight's auction!"

Cheers erupt around the room, followed by whistles and women waving their napkins in the air.

"Wow, excited crowd, " I remark.

"First on tonight's roster, we have Trevor Sincaid," she continues as Sincaid appears from behind the curtain and swaggers onto the stage in a three-piece suit, his curly hair barely controlled. I've only ever seen him as the youngster of the group. But somehow, between the three champagne glasses I just inhaled and the handsome swagger of a man in a suit, I admit—these boys sure do clean up nicely.

"Trevor is the Heatwave's rookie defenseman. He's twenty-two and has quite the date planned, ladies. He enjoys sunset horseback rides through the beachfront sands of Mustang Island off the Texas coast. Our Cali-born star always finds his way back to the water, and on his date, he wants to take you on a ride you won't soon forget. So pack a bathing suit and sundress," Rina recites from the card in her hand.

The whistles continue with one woman shouting, "Will he be shirtless?"

The women whistle all around me, and I can't help but laugh as I flag down another waiter for another glass of champagne.

I'm not here to participate. I'm just here to give my donation and drunkenly gawk at the very excited bidders in the crowd.

"That'll be up to our player," Rina laughs, giving Trevor a glance as he shrugs and purses his lips in consideration.

He reaches for the mic and says in a low voice, "I guess that depends on how high the bid is."

The women whoop and holler all around the room, as the waiter drops off another glass. I give him a grateful smile, and he gives me a wary side glance.

"We'll start the bidding at $500. Do we have $500?" Rina begins from the stage.

A woman who could be my grandmother raises her paddle excitedly.

"Five hundred. Do I hear six? Six hundred?" Another excited paddle waves in the crowd.

Paddles go up all around me, and I snort again. Kesley kicks me lightly under the table.

"Sorry, this is just so funny to me."

"It's for the kids," Kesley whispers to me.

Zane reaches behind him and produces his wallet, pulling out another hundred-dollar bill. "I say Hicks."

"If the rookie is getting this much attention, then I can't imagine what they'd do to get their hands on our playboy."

Ryker looks at the money on the table. "Seriously?"

"Well, who do you think will get the highest bid?" I ask Ryker.

"You first," he eggs me on.

I look at the pictures of all the men on the rotating slides near the stage. They're all handsome in their own right. They used the team photos Izzy shot just before the playoffs, all fierce and looking their best.

Landry is the obvious choice. Hicks is cute. He has that silly charm. A picture of Michael Ferguson flashes across the screen next. His bright blue eyes catch my attention. And the simple, boy next door smile of his is warm. I wonder what a guy like Fergie would offer for a date?

The good boy. He probably wants to serenade you with a hymn and give you a tour of his daddy's mega-church.

I scoff, mostly to myself, remembering the way his brother used to avoid that place like the plague. I grew up living next door to the Ferguson boys. Both have changed so much since our childhood.

Just as the thought passes, my brother's voice tears me back to the present, "Hey, isn't that Jonah Ferguson?"

The champagne glass making its way to my lips halts as I freeze. My eyes shift around the room before I turn to my brother, "Where?"

He tilts his head to the far corner of the room where, no doubt, Jonah and his perfect fiancee are seated at a table surrounded by other well-known Houston business owners.

They're all laughing at something Rina just said from the stage, and as if some inexplicable thread connects us, Jonah's gaze wanders and lands right on me.

Shit. Twice in one week. That's got to be bad juju.

He probably noticed when three people at my table stared in his direction simultaneously.

"Who are we looking at?" Izzy takes her seat next to Ryker and grabs a glass of water from the table.

"Nobody," I say, clipped, turning back to my table mates and sucking down more of my champagne.

"Well, Nobody is coming this way," Kesley announces.

"What?" I nearly spit out what's in my mouth. When I hear the deep timbre of his voice just a few feet behind me.

"Hello, there. You all must be Mikey's friends," Jonah says. The pretty, doe-eyed Lillian is still laughing with the other attendees at their table. But her eyes are on me.

"Yeah, only we call him Fergie," Zane says, stiffening beside Kesley. Something about Michael's brother always put Zane on edge. He didn't like him much when we were dating. Maybe deep down, Zane knows that he's hiding something.

"Fergie," Jonah repeats. "Cute. Well, let's hope he wins himself a good date tonight. That boy needs all the help he can get."

Ugh. He's so smug. I don't care what kind of title he totes these days...he's still a slime ball.

"I'm sure he will," I say, before turning my back to him.

Rina finishes the bid for Sincaid. "Six thousand dollars—sold!" she hits the mallet against the podium. We all look up.

"Damn. The rookie brought in six g's. Not too shabby," Zane says.

Rina introduces the next player. And feeling Jonah's presence behind me has me wanting to do something.

"My money's on Fergie," I announce to the table as I dig out my Amex and toss it into the pile of cash.

Jonah coughs from behind me. "Like I said, he needs all the help he can get."

I flush with anger at his comment. I hate arrogant pricks, and Jonah Ferguson might be the most arrogant of all the pricks I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Much less have inside of me. I shiver at the memory.

He might have everyone else fooled. But not me, I know just what he's capable of.

"Your brother is twice the man you could ever hope to be," I say, rising from my chair and brushing past him as I head to the auction table to grab the paddle I left behind when I walked in.

I'm going to make sure Michael Ferguson gets the highest bid tonight if it's the last thing I do. And I can't wait to see Jonah's look when I walk up to claim my prize.

How do you beat an arrogant asshole? You gotta play like one.

Chapter 5

Michael

"How do I look?" Hicks asks, as he straightens the bow tie around his neck.

"Like you're about to be pimped out in the name of charity," I say to him with a smirk.

"It's for a good cause," he reminds me. "Wish me luck."

He steps onto the stage just as Rina announces, "Next up, we have left-winger, Number Fourteen, Joshua Hicks!"

The crowd bursts into applause as Hicks' chosen song blasts through the speakers. He strolls onto the stage and snaps his fingers to the crowd.

Some of the women in the crowd whistle at him as he approaches the mallet-wielding Rina.

"Number fourteen plans to woo his date with a visit to the aquarium followed by a moonlit dinner in the marina."

I pull the curtain slightly to get a better look at the room again. We're in a fancy hotel meeting space at the Four Seasons. The Heatwave team colors of orange, yellow, and black accent the room, and candlelight flickers from every round table, casting dancing shadows on our enthusiastic bidders.

Several women in the crowd wave their paddles excitedly.

"Five hundred. Do I hear six? Six hundred?" Another excited paddle waves in the crowd.

There are only two of us left in this auction now. The rest of the Heatwave singles on the team are already sitting with their respective dates. I look to our team captain behind me. He's the prize of the night. They're saving the best for last.

"You nervous, Fergie?" he asks with his cocky smile.

"Not in the least," I lie.

"It'll be fine," he whispers from behind me. "We used to do these on my old team. One of these sweet foxy mamas will pay an exorbitant amount of money to take us out on a date of our choosing. You take pictures. Sign some autographs for their grandkids. Bada bing bada boom. You get to go home with a good conscience knowing you've helped support the Houston Children's Hospital and are a hero for those kids."

He slaps me on the back and massages my neck. "Do it for the kids, Fergie."

I groan and shake him off. Somehow this seems like the opposite of being a hero. "And what if these dates expect more than what we agree to?"

He raises a brow, considering it for a moment.

"Then I'd say you can thank you're lucky stars. Your dry spell is over. And you won't need that app you've made after all." He bows with a flourish, and I shove his shoulder.

He laughs, and Rina shoots us a death glare as bidders fight over our teammate.

"Thirty-five hundred. Do I hear four thousand?" Rina continues with the auction. The familiar flash from the cameras is coming from different angles in the room. The press is here, which is the real purpose behind the event.

Though fierce on the ice, the Houston Heatwave NHL hockey team doesn't have the best reputation off the ice. Fights amongst rivals. Fights amongst ourselves. We even had a bar brawl with a group of "fan-emies," as Landry called them. They hated that we had been last in our division at the time.

But this is the reason we've turned things around. This is why Rina has stacked our calendars with these community events through the end of the playoffs. We have some major competition when it comes to the other big sports here in Texas, with football reigning king.

Let's be real. Ice hockey and Houston aren't two things that typically go hand in hand.

Hence—why we're here. Being pimped out for charity. In the hopes that the great people of Houston will see that we're trying to do some good. Which is why my older brother insisted on coming out tonight to support us. He's on some kind of a charity kick lately and thought it would be good for the church to be apart of tonight's event. Even if just to give some money to the cause.

Hicks looks over at us and wriggles his brows. The two women who originally bid on him are battling back and forth, and he's soaking up all the attention.

"Twelve thousand dollars!" One of them screams.

The crowd gasps.

"That's the most anyone's brought in tonight," Keelan says in awe from behind me. "Fucking Hicks and his toothless charm."

"Twelve thousand going once. Going twice," Rina slams the mallet onto the podium. "Sold to Mrs. Nandina Chandra with Chandra Automotives."

The man sitting next to the elated woman has his arms crossed in front of his chest and looks like he'd pay twelve thousand dollars just to be able to walk out of here right now. Must be the husband.

Mrs. Chandra claps excitedly as she makes her way to the stage and hoops her arm into Hicks now waiting at the steps.

"I have three daughters who would just die for this chance with you. I can't wait to rub it in their faces," she says to the forward as they walk past.

Hicks laughs with her making their way to her table.

"Up next, we have the equally handsome counterpart of the Heatwave's first line: the very single..."

She just had to emphasize that?

"Number twenty-three, Michael Ferguson."

The crowd erupts into unexpected cheers. I didn't know I had such a boisterous fan club.

I take a deep breath and tug at my lapels to make sure I don't look ridiculous. But when I look up, my feet don't want to move.

"Come on up, Fergie," Rina waves me over with her mic.

I don't move. But it's not from nerves. It's that at this exact moment in the back of the room, I see the girl that causes me to lose my focus anytime I see her occupying a seat at a table with my teammates.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Of course, Libby O'Connor would be here tonight. She's the Heatwave's biggest supporter. She never misses a home game. Is the loudest to cheer from the crowd. And tonight, she's looking especially exquisite in an Emerald green and black gown that seems to make her red locks pop.

My stomach twists knowing tonight I plan to forget all about this stupid crush by finally hooking up with someone else.

"Number Twenty-three has chosen to take his date to an intimate ice skating lesson in our very own Space City Arena followed by a very special dinner at his favorite local restaurant. One lucky lady will get an exclusive tour of the new arena updates and get to skate with Ferguson himself."

Oohs and aahs erupt in the crowd. And I think I underestimated the amount of older women that would love the opportunity to skate with an NHL player. Or maybe it's the chance to get to see what's been happening behind the tarps that have been keeping the remodel taking place over the last few months under wraps?

"Bidding will start at two thousand dollars."

Immediately the paddles go up. Yeah, I severely underestimated it.

"Two thousand. Do I have three thousand? Three thousand in the front. Four thousand. Do I have four thousand?" Rina is surprisingly good as an auctioneer. I wonder if in another life she was selling livestock at the Fort Worth Stockyards.

"I'll double it," a woman in a red dress and feathered boa calls from the back.

"Oh, that puts us at eight thousand. Do I have nine?"

"Nine!" Another woman calls from the middle. The woman in red shoots daggers at her. And raises her paddle again. I feel myself starting to sweat through my suit.

"Fifteen thousand," boa lady says, rising from her seat.

Hicks’ mouth drops open next to his date at the same table.

I see Keelan in my peripheral, pumping his fist behind the curtain.

"Wow, ok. Do I have sixteen thousand?" Rina asks the excited crowd. A third woman rises but another voice calls out from the back.

"Twenty-five thousand," it rings out.

My eyes land on the mass of red hair in the emerald dress casually waving her paddle.

"Twenty-five thousand going once," Rina waits. The woman in red and the church hat lady both purse their lips and shake their heads. "Going twice." Nobody moves. "Sold to..." Rina puts her hands over her eyes to see who made the bid.

"Liberty O'Connor," my bidder calls out.

My eyes rake across the room and land on my brother, who stares at her in disbelief.

"Oh! Libby," Rina says, surprised. “Come on up and claim your prize," Rina motions to me like I'm the new car she just won on a game show.

I am dumbfounded.

Why the hell would Zane's sister bid twenty-five G's to go on a date with me? She doesn't even like me? Every time I’ve attempted to make a move she’s without fail put me in the friend-zone.

Libby rises from her seat. The room full of disappointed bidders hesitates but ultimately claps as she makes her way to the stage. My eyes flash to Keelan, who's shrugging at me.

"Just take the win," he whispers.

Libby's heels click on the wood floor as she nears me, and I jump down from the stage, avoiding the stairs. I quickly produce my arm for her to take.

The beautiful red-haired goddess gives me a piercing glare with those hazel eyes, and I feel a weird satisfaction. I don't know what Libby is up to, but a woman like her on my arm—a guy could get used to this.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," she says through gritted teeth as she loops her arm into mine. The entire room is watching us and cameras are pointed our way.

"I know. I get it. It's for charity," I say, pulling her closer to me as I lean my head toward her. We both smile for the cameras. I catch a whiff of her perfume. It's light but sweet and smells like candy.

"You must really care about those kids," I say to her as we walk past the cameras, and she pulls away slightly.

I tighten my arm, locking her in place at my side.

"Maybe I like ice skating," she says.

I cock a brow up, and she looks at my confused expression.

"And I might've wanted to get back at your brother."

"Ah, the truth at last,” I say to her. “Your revenge is expensive.”

"It's not revenge," she snaps.

"Mmhmm."

She turns on me with a glare. "I just needed to prove a point, Fergie."

"I get it. I should thank you really. Now I don't have to worry about going on a date with a handsy fan."

"Yep, you definitely don't have to worry about that," she confirms.

Of course, I wouldn't have to worry about that. Because Libby, for all the trouble I've gone to to try to get her to notice me, doesn't want anything to do with me. And for good reason, I guess. Considering…my brother.

We get to the table, and my teammates stare at us slack-jawed, just as confused as I was.

Rina is introducing Landry to the room full of eager women. He's the last of us to get auctioned.

Ryker whistles as I walk by him, "Way to bring in the big ones, Fergie." He throws an arm around his girl.

Libby drops into the seat at the right of her. She looks just as ready to be out of here as Mr. Chandra from Chandra Automotives.

The crowd cheers behind us as Landry does the moonwalk onto the stage. It's announced that his date will get to go on his favorite things to do in Houston tour, which will include five epic stops and a dance at his favorite club.

Seems like overkill. But it's Keelan Landry. Everything the guy does is over the top.

I look to Libby who picks up a champagne flute and takes a long drink, avoiding my gaze. I try not to stare as her slender neck swallows the liquid down gracefully.

Next to me, Zane clears his throat.

"What?" I say to him.

"Look...but don't touch," he warns.

"You do realize your sister was the one to bid on me, right?"

He lowers his voice and leans into me. "Just remember what I told you, Ferg. We need you focused."

I shake my head. I didn't ask for this.

Besides, Libby still isn't looking at me.

Whatever. I'll be her little pawn to use to get back at my brother for whatever the hell he did to piss her off.

I know they have history, and I'm not about to get in the middle of it.

Getting up to grab a drink at the bar, the crowd around me is riled up as the bids continue to pour in for our team captain on stage.

"So...Liberty O'Connor," a rough voice says behind me. I turn to my older brother who has his hands in his pockets and is wearing that smirk I've grown up with my entire life.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

The bartender hands me my root beer, and Jonah eyes the drink.

"Some things never change, huh, little brother? Libby always did have a taste for Ferguson boys."

"You're not jealous, are you, Jo? I mean, you're about to get married."

A corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. "I just came over to congratulate you."

"On?"

"Everything," he says, spreading his arms out. "Pursuing your dreams, your team making it into the conference finals, now, scoring a date with one of the hottest girls to exist."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't think Lillian would appreciate it if she heard you talking like that about another woman?"

He's right. Some things never change. Jonah Ferguson's tactlessness is one of them.

He waves it off, "I'm just stating a fact."

"Right. Well, thanks, but I don't need your congratulations. And Libby's just a friend." I brush past him, and he grabs me by the bicep.

Lowering his voice, he says, "Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Mikey. I know that's what you're used to."

I shake my arm loose from his grip. "You're disgusting, Jo."

A low chuckle escapes him. "I'm just messing with you. You're always so serious," he says, patting me on the shoulder. "Anyways, are you coming to dinner tomorrow? We're going over the final details. I need my best man there."

"I don't know," my eyes float over to the table full of my friends.

Right now, I regret agreeing to be my brother's best man. We were estranged for so long, and this was his attempt to smooth things over again between us.

"Come on, Mikey. Mom's getting worried. You haven't been around."

"Says the guy who wasn't around for nearly a decade."

"Ouch. Hey, I had my low points. But that was another life."

His eyes reflect the genuine hurt in them. "I know...I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just promise you'll be there man."

"I'll do what I can."

He nods and accepts that. "Tell Libby I say...hi," he grins before returning to his table. His wife watches him as he approaches and announces they should go. Lillian smiles at me and waves.

I give her a small wave back. My soon-to-be sister-in-law has a lot to deal with in Jonah Ferguson. The woman is a saint.

"Sold for fifty thousand dollars to Mackenzie Stratton," Rina's voice rings out into the speakers.

What?

Our team's owner rises from the table she's seated at and approaches the stage, as Landry jumps down and joins her.

Rina stares at them for a beat before gathering her thoughts again and rushing through the last bit.

"Anyways, that concludes tonight's auction. Players and bidders, thank you for participating. Our media team will be reaching out to you to plan the best date and time for them to be able to document your special outings. Enjoy the food."

Rina drops the mic on the podium and storms off the stage.

I make it back to the table with my teammates. "That was weird, right?" I point to the stage.

Izzy and Ryker look at each other but don't say anything.

"What is it?"

"Don't read too much into it," Izzy insists.

"Alright losers," Kesley says flexing her fingers. "Pay up."

Everyone groans as they slide cash toward Kesley and I realize our friends have been running side bets all night.

"You guys really enjoy making money off each other."

Zane looks over at me, "Says the guy with the swear jar."

I shake my head. "Not anymore."

Ryker's head swivels toward me, too. "What? No more swear jar?"

"Nah, swear jar needs a revamp. Something else," I say.

“Like what?” They both ask.

“How about a dirty sock jar?” Izzy offers. Having been a past roommate, she knows exactly the dirty sock epidemic we face at the house.

“A stinky gear jar?” Kesley adds.

Zane looks at her. “My gear doesn’t stink.”

All the girls exchange looks and laugh.

“That’s because you’re all nose blind,” Izzy says.

“You guys need a cringe jar,” Libby finally says. All the eyes at the table go to her. “That way anytime someone does something cringey…instant payment. And create a digital payment system. They don’t carry enough cash to cover the amount of cringey things you guys do at that house.”

“It’s genius,” Kesley says, admiring her friend.

I nod in agreement. “A cringe jar. That’s it.”

The food is served, and everyone is distracted by their dishes.

"Fucking finally," Zane breathes out when they place the steak in front of him.

I look over at his sister. She ordered the same thing that I did. Salmon.

"Shit," Libby says under her breath. "I didn't realize it had nuts."

"Have them take it back," Kesley says next to her.

"I hate sending stuff back. You know that."

"Well, you can't eat it, Lib?"

I turn to one of the waiters, "Excuse me. Would you please have the chef prepare a salmon dish without nuts?"

The waiter nods, "Of course, sir. My apologies, I'll just take that for you."

"Oh, not for me." I motion toward Libby.

Her eyes go wide, and the waiter reaches for her plate. "My apologies, ma'am. We'll get you a fresh dish in no time."

Libby stutters, “It's ok. I don't mean to be a bother."

"It's no bother at all. It'd be my pleasure," the waiter says.

Her cheeks are flushed, and I'm genuinely surprised. For such an outspoken woman, Libby doesn't seem like the type that would be afraid to send back food.

"Ok," she relents. Then looks back at me and mouths, "Thank you."

I give her a nod and push around the food on my plate, replaying my brother's words in my head.

"Enjoy my sloppy seconds, brother. I know that's what you're used to."

I hate that Jonah knows exactly what to say to get under my skin. Being the second-born son in a very traditional and conservative family meant that Jonah always got the shiny and new while I was stuck using everything after him.

When he decided that he needed to break away from life as a pastor's son, he was the long-awaited prodigal son my parents spent years praying for to return.

My teammates and their girls continue to chat around me but I'm too distracted with thoughts of my family to engage.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

And I smile, knowing exactly who it is.

Chapter 6

Libby

LeaveHerWild: Thinking of you.

strangerDanger23: Of me? Or parts of me?

LeaveHerWild: Let's just go with all of you, hmm?

strangerDanger23: What exactly are you thinking about that involves all of me?

LeaveHerWild: That would be very inappropriate to discuss right now.

strangerDanger23: Are you in a public place again, butterfly? We already know what you're capable of doing in public places.

LeaveHerWild: Stop making me blush.

strangerDanger23: I'm going to do so much more than just make you blush.

strangerDanger23: Send me a picture.

He wants a picture. The conversation around the table is casual. The excitement from the auction has died down, and now my brother and his teammates are making plans to hit up the local bar—the same bar I've agreed to meet stranger at in exactly...I check the time... forty-five minutes!

Shit. I lost track of time.

I panic and type out a response.

LeaveHerWild: No picture. You'll just have to wait to see me in person.

I look up from my phone just as my salmon dish gets placed in front of me.

"We should go now," I offer to the group. They all look up at me.

"To the bar?" my brother asks.

"Yes, let's go now."

Kesley looks down at my plate. "But you haven't even touched your food."

I look down at the perfectly cooked salmon they brought out to me and touch it as I look at her. "There. Feel better? Let's go."

They don't argue much. We're all desperate to get away from this forced fun activity. So they gather their belongings and we all sneak out through the back of the room.

"Anybody gonna text Hicks and Landry?" Ryker asks as we walk out the main entrance to the hotel.

"Oh yeah, we should probably wait for them," Zane agrees.

"Nope, they can meet us there," Fergie insists. Ushering them out the door.

He seems just as desperate as I am.

"You're acting like you've never been on a date before." Kesley watches me fluff up my hair in the bathroom mirror.

"I know," I puff out air from my cheeks. "Honestly...it's just been so long since I've had a real crush on someone. You know?" I touch-up my lipstick and pop my lips before turning to her for approval.

"Well, you look amazing as always."

I look back into the mirror at my reflection. I want to believe it—I want to believe it with everything I have. But Kesley is my best friend. Of course, she'll say things like that—that's what best friends do.

What she doesn't know is that I don't feel amazing. The words from the photographer at the shoot earlier have lingered in my brain all day.

"You have such an exotic look, Libby. If only were ten pounds lighter..."

Ten pounds lighter. I already hardly eat as it stands. But now, anything I might even remotely enjoy just dies as a thought long before I ever put it in my mouth.

"What's wrong?" Kesley says, putting both hands on my shoulder and looking at me in the mirror.

"How'd you know Zane was the one?" I say as a divergence.

She pauses momentarily, glaring at me suspiciously in our reflections before answering.

"Is this a trick question?"

I turn to face her. "No, I'm genuinely curious. Because I have a really good feeling about this guy, and he's only supposed to be a weekend hookup. But what if it becomes more? What if he's everything I could ever hope for? What happens then? To me....to my career?"

"Libby, chill. It's just a date. You're not going to just marry the guy on your first date."

"You're one to talk," I smirk.

"That's different, and you know it. Just take a moment at a time, okay? And I'll be just a glance away if he turns out to be a serial killer."

I nod, taking in a deep breath. I say all this, but really, I just have one question on my mind: Will he like me once he sees me? Or will I just be another disappointment.

It's two minutes before we agreed to meet up.

"I'll be at the bar," Kesley says, opening the door to exit the bathroom.

A ping comes through on my phone.

strangerDanger23: At the bar, I'm wearing a black tux. Don't be intimidated.

LeaveHerWild: Do you have the minister on standby?

strangerDanger23: Are you proposing before we've even met?

LeaveHerWild: No. The only thing I'm proposing is drinks and a quick escape. Full disclosure: My friends are here lurking for my safety.

strangerDanger23: Full disclosure...mine too.

I drop my phone into my gold clutch and open the door to destiny. If nothing else, I'm going to let a thick, pierced schlong do unspeakable things to me until I forget that I'm not good enough for this modeling world.

The bar is filling up. Typical for a Saturday night. And more of the Heatwave players have found their way here post-charity event. It's packed with overly dressed men in suits.

But my eyes land on the one man sitting on a barstool chatting up the bartender.

I look down at the messages on my phone.

At the bar, I'm wearing a black tux. Don't be intimidated.

Full disclosure: My friends are here lurking for my safety.

Full disclosure...mine too.

No. No. No. No. NO. This can't be right. strangerDanger23 can't be...

OMG...twenty-three! That's Fergie's jersey number. It's him. The man I've been sexting with all week is Michael-freakin-Ferguson.

I'm going to need the earth to swallow me whole right now and make me disappear. Michael looks down at his phone and looks around.

I quickly turn away from the bar and make a bee-line to the exit.

I'm deleting my account. That's the only way out of this. If I delete my account, he can't trace me. He'll never know it was me he was sexting with and we can just go back to normal.

Whatever normal even is for us.

The muggy Houston air hits me as I push the door open, and a message comes through.

It's the app.

strangerDanger23 is at your location. Would you like to share your photo?

Nooooo. Absolutely not.

How do I cancel? Dismiss? Is there a ghosting option? I feel like there should be a ghosting option.

"Lib? Is something wrong?" Kesley's waiting by the door watching me. She must’ve seen me leave.

I can't tell her. I can't tell her that my mystery guy with the bionic dong is sitting at the bar right now and that it's Fergie. Sweet, innocent, never harm a fly, Fergie.

"He...uh...had to cancel," I say, trying hard to conceal the ridiculous amount of embarrassment I’m feeling.

"Bummer," she says, stepping out toward me.

"Yeah. But you know...maybe it's for the best. He would've been a distraction anyway."

"Do you think he's avoiding you?" she cocks her head.

It's more like I'm avoiding him. "I don't know. But I'm just not feeling like being out right now. I'm going to catch a cab."

"Then, I'm coming with you," she turns abruptly to open the door. “Let me tell, Zane.”

"No, Kes. You stay. Have fun. You guys are always home with Liam. This is mommy and daddy night out. Enjoy it."

She chews on her bottom lip as she considers it.

"I guess you're right."

"Good, I'll see you soon. Take care of my brother." I lean in to give her a hug and she squeezes me.

"I always do." Then she turns and disappears, leaving me in a floor-length gown on a wet sidewalk all alone in downtown Houston. I didn't even notice it had rained since getting to the bar.

I step up to the curb and watch as car after car zooms by.

It's fine. I'll be fine. I can just forget anything ever happened. I have an array of toys in my nightstand. I can take care of myself. I really don't need a man.

Even as I'm thinking it, the thought of Michael being the man behind the screen creeps into my mind again.

"You leaving too?" A husky voice interrupts my dirty thoughts.

I turn, and my stomach drops into my vagina at the sight of the very man I was just thinking about.

Oh, good Lord. Why?

I quickly turn away from him and focus my attention back to the street.

"Yep, I need to rest up. Got a photoshoot."

Michael joins me near the curb. His blue eyes are scanning my profile. "On a Sunday?"

Shit. I can't lie to the man. He talks to God for goodness sake. He'd know it the second I did.

"The photoshoot is next week,” I admit. “I just don't want to look haggard for it."

"Ah," he says like that explains it. He looks at his phone and types something out really quick before storing it away in his back pocket.

A split second later, I feel my notifications vibrate in my hand. I don't dare look—not with him standing right next to me. I'm a statue as a black SUV pulls up right in front of me, and Michael steps up to it opening the back door.

"Do you need a ride to your place?" he asks.

A ride. Right. I was supposed to be getting a cab. Drops of rain start pattering onto my skin.

"I'll be okay," I assure him. "I'll catch a rideshare."

He looks at the driver of the SUV. "That's what this is, Libby."

The sky opens up and starts soaking me. The trail of drops dripping down onto my face.

Michael jumps inside and pats the empty seat next to him, "Libby, get in."

I cross my arms. "I'm okay."

When I don't move and just stay standing there like a wet idiot. He rolls his head and gets out. Now he's getting soaked too.

Without another word he gathers me into his arms and carries me over to the SUV.

I yelp, "What are you doing?"

"You'll get sick," he says, as he sets me inside and shoves in next to me before slamming the door.

Inside, away from the rain, I'm able to catch a whiff of his cologne again. And I hate that I did. Because I might not ever be able to smell that scent without thinking of how good it smells on him.

"117 King's Court," Michael rattles off my address to the driver like it's his own.

The man nods and maneuvers the vehicle out of the parking spot.

"How do you know where I live?"

He looks over at me. The rain having soaked his hair to the point that it's now dripping onto his face.

"Seriously? You're my neighbor. Just like old times."

Ever since Kesley and Zane got married, we all moved out of the condos where we used to live. Zane took Kesley and Liam to the O'Connor estate just outside of Houston and they're now settling in there. They offered me a room in the giant house but I insisted they needed their space as a family.

So...I'm now staying with a model friend of mine. She's been connecting me with opportunities and I'm paying her in company. She hates being alone. And since I'm out a best friend and a big brother....I could use the company too.

"We live in the same neighborhood. That doesn't make us neighbors," I point out to him.

"You're staying with Giselle Murray, right?"

"Um...yes, for the time being."

"Well, her house backs up to Landry's house. You're our neighbor."

How did I not put this together? Now how am I supposed to get away from this guy?

I swallow, wondering if he's watched me when I didn't know. I wonder if he knows I'm the girl he was supposed to meet tonight.

I hold both my arms and try to warm up.

He notices and reaches forward, turning the heat up using the buttons in front of us.

"Gigi seems pretty cool," he says. “From what Coach has said about her.”

My new roommate is something. Bubbly. Sweet. Totally charismatic. She's also the daughter of the Heatwave's head coach. I'm used to having a quiet, book nerd as a companion. But Gigi is anything but quiet.

"Gigi is...Gigi," I say. He smiles and looks out the window. Clearly, out of small talk conversation starters.

I'm relieved to not have to engage.

"So about that date," he says out of nowhere.

Ohmigawd. He knows.

Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves and confront him I turn to him. "Michael," I begin. "I had no idea."

His head swivels towards me. "That you were bidding on me?"

Wait...what?! The auction, you idiot, he's talking about the auction.

"No..." I catch myself. "I had no idea...that you...liked ice skating so much."

He chuckles to himself and looks at me with amusement in his eyes. "You've known me since we were twelve. And I've played hockey that entire time. Of course, I like ice skating."

Welp, that was a dumb attempt.

"Well, yeah, but skating in hockey is one thing. But just ice skating to ice skate...I mean, that's what I do for fun."

"So that’s why you bid on me?"

No. I bid on you because your brother is an arrogant asshole who needs to be taken down a few notches.

When I don't say anything, he adds, "Oh, right. Jonah."

"What's his deal anyway? You'd think him taking over your dad's church would finally force him to grow up.”

He shakes his head. "Jonah is....he's just cut from a different cloth."

"Is that cloth made of assholes?"

Michael holds back a grin at my remark. "Sometimes I wonder."

Quiet again.

There's history between Michael and me. Yes, we grew up together. Yes, we were friends once. And yes, in high school, I ended up dating his older brother—the one we both agree can be an asshole.

But as adults, we haven't talked much. And I have my reasons for that.

The car maneuvers through the streets leading up to our gated community. Houston is big, but being connected to the Heatwave makes it seem so small. I run into my brother’s people everywhere.

He pulls up his phone again, and I remember that I have a message from him waiting in my inbox.

He stares at the screen and then puts his phone back on his lap.

This car ride couldn't go any slower if the driver were trying.

"So you're just going to go to sleep then?" he asks.

I think about the texts we exchanged on the app. We both fully expected to be doing the dirty tonight.

And even though I can't be with him. I can at least...I don't know. Be a good friend.

The car pulls up in front of Gigi's house.

The lights are off, and I remember she won't be home for a few days. She has photoshoots in New York and LA this week.

"Do you...wanna come in for some hot chocolate?"

He looks at his phone one more time before he answers. "Hot chocolate sounds great."

He says meeting my gaze. There's sadness on his face. And I can't help but feel that I'm the one that's caused it.

"Cool," I say, reaching for my bag to pull out my card.

He places a hand over mine, "I've got this."

His warm hand on mine sends bolts of desire coursing through my veins, and I know instantly that I've made a mistake in inviting him in.

Chapter 7

Michael

"The cleaning lady won't be in until Monday," Libby says.

I scan the house. "It's so...quiet."

I'm used to living in a home with two other teammates. The TV is always blasting with a game on or the sound system out back with one of them lounging by the pool.

But here in this big, empty house...it's peaceful.

"Yeah, I mean it's just me and Gigi."

There's a small purring I hear from the corner of the living room.

"Oh and Lady."

The kitten meows. "Hi, Lady."

She steps toward me cautiously. She's fluffy with white and black patches.

"Careful," Libby warns. "She's got claws."

"Most ladies do," I say with a smirk.

Libby inspects her manicure and nods to confirm.

"I'm going to take my claws and make us that hot chocolate."

She lifts the hem of her dress and walks over to the kitchen. Pulling her hair out from the updo she has it in and letting it tumble down her shoulders.

That beautiful red hair of hers. It's fiery and soft against her porcelain skin.

I look around the living area when… wait a minute.

I turn to Libby, who’s now pulling mugs down from the cabinet. Her hair curling at the ends and dancing with each motion.

I open the app on my phone and scroll through the pictures exchanged with LeaveHerWild.

There's one taken in front of a fireplace. I lift the phone up and hold it up against the fireplace in front of me. Black marble. No mantle. Goes all the way to the ceiling.

LeaveHerWild is showing off her cute little outfit in the photo. The pixels covering her hair are light. She could be a red-head.

"How hot do you like it?" Libby calls from the kitchen.

I get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen to stand beside her.

"As hot as you'll give it to me, Libby.”

Her back is to me, but she stills at my voice.

"You scared me," she says letting out a whoosh of air. "I thought you were still in the living room."

"Your clothes are wet, you don't want to go change?"

She shakes her head.

"You’re wet, too," she points out.

I walk up behind her and place a hand on her lower back. "Go, get changed. I'll finish up here."

I see the way her skin breaks out into goosebumps at my touch.

"Okay," she breathes out. "Milk's on the stove. When it's done boiling you can pour it into each mug."

"I think I can make hot chocolate, Libby."

She smirks, "Of course. I'll be right back."

Leaving me alone again, I open the app. LeaveHerWild had porcelain skin, like Libby. She lived in a similar home to Libby. She was at the Breakaway with friends, like Libby.

I open my emails and type out a message to my software supervisor.

Barry, I need you to look into an account for me.

Screen name: LeaveHerWild

Stat.

-Michael

The milk on the stove starts bubbling and I quickly move it off the flames to keep it from boiling over.

I look back and Libby is still nowhere in sight.

If she is LeaveHerWild...then I'm so screwed.

We've been quietly sipping our hot chocolate in front of the fire.

Libby would say something. I reason. She's not a quiet girl.

But if she found out it was me and deliberately decided to not show up. Then why would she invite me in?

"So..." I say at the same time she says, "Do you.."

"Go ahead," I tell her.

"You first," she insists.

"What were you going to say?"

"You first," she says, bringing the mug to her lap and shooting me daggers.

"I was going to say… so how do you feel about your best friend marrying your brother?”

She licks her lips before she answers and the motion draws my full attention to the softness of them.

"I'm happy for them. Like, really happy. I've known they were into each other since the day they met."

"Would you ever date a hockey player?" I ask her out of nowhere.

"No," she says plainly. "Which is why everyone thought it was so funny I went to a date-a-player charity auction and actually bid on you."

"Next to Landry, you gave me the highest bid."

She shrugs.

"What did Jonah do, Libby?" My brother's words from earlier in the night swirling through my head. "He's still caught up on you."

"What do you mean?" she says, her eyes shooting up at me.

"I just mean...he's made some comments."

"Like?" she presses.

"He said you're the hottest girl around."

Her nose scrunches in disgust. "Why would he say that?"

"It's not because it's not true," I tell her.

She blushes at that.

"But you're right," I add. "He's about to be married and has no respect."

"His fiancee invited me to their wedding,” she blurts out like she’s been wanting to tell someone all night.

I do a double take, "Lillian? When?"

"It's coming up in a few weeks, I think."

"No, I’m the best man. But, when did she invite you?"

Libby hesitates before answering, "I've seen her around. Why do you think the team owner bet on Landry?"

She's changing the subject.

"Is that what you were going to say earlier?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure it was just to do her part in giving to the organization," I offer.

We silently sip again when an email notification comes through on my phone.

I open it to see the email reply from Barry.

Sure thing, boss.

Name: Liberty O'Connor

Age: 28 years old

Scored high in the following for the fantasy questionnaire:

submissive, role play, toys, light rope play, praise and degradation kink

Is she causing trouble? Do I need to disable her account? -B

Got her. My eyes rove up to Libby, absentmindedly sipping on her hot chocolate and watching the rain come down from the back window.

I type a quick reply to Barry.

No.

Ok. Libby O'Connor is LeaveHerWild. The woman I planned on taking to bed tonight sits right across from me. The same woman who makes me miss shots at very important playoff games and whose brother warned me about. The woman my own brother called his sloppy seconds.

And she may or may not know that I'm the person she stood up tonight.

Maybe she freaked out at the thought of sleeping with a stranger. Maybe she bailed before finding out it was me waiting for her at the bar.

Maybe.

But maybe she knew exactly what she was doing and willingly left me hanging.

"So this date...I have few days open this week. Conference finals start on Saturday."

She lowers her mug onto her lap.

"We're not going on the date, Fergie."

"I beg to differ, Libby. Rina plans to send the team photographer to capture each date for her Public Relations conquest."

She rolls her eyes. "I got what I needed out of bidding on you."

"So you've said...getting back at my brother."

"Yes. He's kind of a walking asshole as we’ve already established,” she takes another sip.

"Is that why you guys broke up?"

"I'd rather not talk about that time if you don't mind."

She's a tough egg to crack. Always has been. All I know about her dating my brother is that it was brief and things ended badly. Neither of them cares to share exactly why.

"Ok...well how about now? How's your dating life?"

"Wow, just going right for the kill huh?"

"Life is short," I shrug.

"My dating life is...non-existent."

Isn't that interesting, considering I am her dating life lately.

"So there's really nobody that's caught your eye?"

"Between reviving my modeling career and being Zane's lucky charm during the playoffs...no. Nobody's caught my eye."

Liar.

"Have you tried...dating apps?"

She pauses for a second and meets my eyes. "Yes, with no luck."

Oh, really?

"What are you looking for that you're not getting?"

She sighs. "I don't know." She seems almost bored with the topic.

I don't know what comes over me when she says that. Part of me is upset that she didn't give me a chance to show her what she's missing. But she's here now. And I know we have chemistry even if she doesn't want to admit it. Matching on a very specific app that I happen to know all the criteria for is a pretty obvious thing.

"Describe him," I say.

She looks over at me. “I don't understand what you're asking..."

"Your perfect man. Describe him."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead."

She hesitates then tucks her legs under herself on the chair. "Fine. My perfect guy is....well attractive.”

“Hmm,” I nod. “And what makes a guy attractive to you?”

“He’s really into his fitness. But not too into it to the point that he doesn't have time for me because he's always after getting them gains," she mocks who I think is her brother.

"Okay...what else?"

"He's kind with a dangerous side. Keeps me on my toes."

"So far I'm getting Arnold Schwarzenegger in his sixties meets Groot."

A grin stretches across her face.

"I'm not opposed to either, if I'm being honest."

"You're weird," I tell her.

"Kinky and weird are two different things," she states.

"And are you?...Kinky?" Of course, I already know the answer to this. I just want to hear her admit it.

"That's not something you'd need to concern yourself with, Fergie."

And shot down.

"So let's just get this straight. Your ideal guy is a muscular man or tree who treats people with respect but would get into a fight if necessary. Am I getting that right?"

"Pretty much."

"Sounds like your perfect match would be a hockey player."

She nearly does a spit-take right at me.

"Absolutely not," she says with a chuckle.

"Why not?"

"Are you offering?"

"To what?"

"To date me?"

"You're the one that paid 25k to go on a date with me, remember?"

She lifts a brow.

"I spend enough time at hockey games, as is. I'd hate to have to be around it 24/7. It loses its charm. Trust me, been there done that when I was dragged to Zane's every practice as a kid. No thanks."

"WAGS don't need to be at practices."

"Are you trying to convince me?"

"I'm playing devil's advocate."

"The devil in this scenario being...."

"Hockey players."

"Which I don't date."

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear."

"Good," she says with finality. "Now, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Whose your ideal girl?"

It's hard to say when my ideal girl is sitting right in front of me.

Chapter 8

Libby

"Someone unexpected, I would think," he replies.

"Why do you say that?"

And why do I get the feeling he might be talking about me?

"Ever since I was a kid, my mom had this idea of my perfect woman, and she drilled it into me that that's who I should marry. I mean, just look at Jonah and Lillian; I think that's what she would expect for me, but I don't really care for…predictable girls."

A long answer and still doesn't answer my question.

"Fergie, I asked you your ideal woman...not your mom's."

He stares at me and doesn't look away. My skin prickles at the intensity of his look. But just as he's about to say something a bright flash of lightning outside draws our attention to the window followed by the loud boom of thunder and suddenly, we're plunged in darkness.

"Shit," I say under my breath.

We wait a few seconds, and when there's no sign of the lights coming back on, Fergie stands and turns on the flashlight on his phone. "Do you know where the breaker box is?"

I wrack my brain, trying to remember if Gigi ever showed me that.

She showed me how the laundry works, where her spare blow dryers are kept, and where to find the wine glasses...but the breaker box? No dice.

"Uh..."

"Where's your garage? We can start there."

"Right, ok. This way." He follows me through the darkened hall. The only light coming from the lightening that keeps pulsing outside only to be followed by more loud booms.

It's even darker inside the garage, and I stay close to him. Like if I stay too far behind, someone might snatch me up. He notices.

"Libby, are you afraid of the dark?" He turns his light on me, and I cover my eyes.

"No..." I scoff.

The thunder booms again, and I jump even closer to him.

He chuckles softly as he rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I've got you, ok? Come, on."

Those words coming from him carry so much weight.

We scan every wall of the four car garage and don't find anything resembling a breaker box.

"So like, how big is this box supposed to be? Are we talking the size of a small animal or like...a fridge?"

He turns back with his brows cinched and lips quirked up, as he finds me looking at the ground.

"Wait...do you think a breaker box is an actual box?"

"Why would they call it a box if it wasn't an actual box?"

He purses his lips in thought. It's cute.

"I mean, it is a box just not like..." he flashes the light toward a cardboard box marked 'Christmas decor' sitting in the corner of the garage. "A box box."

"Got it. So the breaker box is more like an enigma. A box-like thing?"

He full on laughs now.

"Where's the primary bedroom?" he asks me.

My stomach sinks. Why? Am I that endearing that he just wants to take me to bed?

When I don't answer right away he adds, "Sometimes it's in the primary bedroom closet."

"That would be my room," I say, motioning to the door.

"Lead the way then."

He hands me his phone and I take it from him and turn back toward the interior of the home. The storm outside is still raging as we make our way up the steps. I can feel his eyes on me. Like they have some kind of magnetic pulse that makes my own skin react.

The picture of his—um—man parts pops into my mind. And it takes everything in me not to let the little fantasy I have in my head play out in real life.

So what if he's my ex's brother? What if I let him take me to pound town and then we just act like nothing ever happened? I don't need a relationship after all. Life is finally going the way I want it. Sort of. I’m not living under the shadow of who my uncle was. I'm not just Zane O'Connor's little sister. The last thing I need right now is a relationship that will put me right back into the passenger seat of my life.

Which is why I signed up for a hookup app...not a dating app. And the man who promised a night to remember is currently staring at my ass as I take him to my bedroom.

You need to keep your distance.

That one thought halts all the others. It's true. I can't be with a Ferguson. Much less, this particular Ferguson. It’s too messy.

"Right down that hall," I point and hand him back his phone.

"Are you...not coming?"

"I'll wait here."

Bemused, he takes his phone and walks down the hall to my bedroom only stopping to glance back at me for a moment before stepping inside.

When he's out of my line of sight I can finally breathe.

It was a horrible idea to bring him here. It's bad enough I left him hanging earlier, but now I've led him to my room, where anything could possibly give me away. I'd rather wait here and face him than stand next to him while I watch that shoe drop.

He steps back out a moment later, shaking his head.

Shit.

"No luck. Looks like the power might be out in the whole neighborhood."

Ok. I'm still in the clear.

"You got candles or something we can light?"

"Candles? Um...I don't know where Gigi keeps them. But..." Oh. " We have the fireplace!"

He tenses for a moment, then says, "Ok. Let's light it up."

Sitting in front of the warm fire, we sit next to each other. If we get too close, we might actually combust. And from the thoughts I've been having this week about him, I just might.

"Your clothes are still wet. I'm sure I have a t-shirt big enough for you somewhere up there." I move to get up and he places a firm hand on my thigh.

"Don't, it's dark. I'll just dry them here by the fireplace. You mind?" He moves to unbutton his white dress shirt. His jacket has long been hung up to dry.

"By all means," I say, drawing my eyes away from him.

But the moment he gets to the last button and slips it off, I can't help but look at the way the fire dances across his toned body.

Michael Ferguson has an actual eight pack. He really does. I thought only the most disciplined of all people could do that. How in the world does he have such a rock hard body? I mean besides being a professional athlete and all.

And now I'm gawking. I tear my eyes away from him and focus on the fire taunting me.

I can see the whisper of a grin stretch across his face from the corner of my eye, but he holds it back as he hangs the shirt nearby and returns to his spot next to me. This time just slightly closer. Enough that his leg is touching mine.

"We need to address the elephant in the room," he says, leaning back on one hand and placing the other on his bent knee. He looks so relaxed—shirtless and sitting by the roaring fire.

I look around the room. "I don't see any elephants here."

He smirks before saying, "You don't like me."

That takes me by surprise.

"That's an unfair assumption."

"Is it? Because I get the feeling that I make you uncomfortable."

Says the half-naked man sitting just mere inches from me.

"You don't make me uncomfortable." Just horny. Stop it, Libby. You are a grown-ass woman. Act like it.

"Ever since Zane joined the team, I've been trying to figure out how to talk to you about what happened between us, and it just never felt like the right time."

"And now seems right? You with no shirt and me...in my pajamas." That I caught you checking out my ass in.

He shrugs.

"Fine, let's talk," I relent.

He sits up and moves even closer to me, and my heart starts to pick up speed as he does. I swallow hard as he brings his face up to mine, our breaths intermingling. What is he doing?

"I didn't say talk. I said address," he says sternly before placing a hand on my hip and pulling me toward him.

"Michael...“ his given name slips from my lips. Up until this moment, I haven't been able to call him this. He's Fergie. Only Fergie. Michael is too... personal.

"Libby," he whispers onto my lips.

With the heat of the fire behind me, the rain pattering against my window and the man I shouldn't want drawing me to him—it's a losing battle.

My phone goes off, Avicii's Hey Brother bleating through it's speakers doing the work of a cold shower all in a matter of seconds.

"That's Zane," I breathe out.

Michael shifts back to his original seated position and nods.

I reach for it and try to shake the fogginess of whatever was just happening.

"Hey!" I say into the phone.

"You okay?" Zane asks.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I look over at Michael, who is watching my every move.

"Electricity's out in half the city. Some electrical storm." I can hear the whoosh of windshield wipers as he speaks.

"Yeah, here too."

"Kes said you were going home. We're all heading to Landry's place now. Meet us there."

"Now?" I squeal out.

"Yeah, half the team will be there. He has a back up generator and a bunch of rooms that were just renovated. That way you don't have to be alone."

I'm not alone...but thanks for your concern brother.

"Right. Yeah. That sounds good, we—I’ll meet you there."

Zane hesitates on the other line, "Okay, see you in a few, Lib."

I disconnect and look at Michael.

"Put your shirt on Magic Mike. We're going to your place...Landry's place. Whatever that place is called."

He rises and reaches for his shirt, "What? Why?"

"He's got a generator, everyone's heading there now."

The heat between us feels like it's vaporized and as he slips his shirt back on, I remember that this man is totally off-limits.

"I'll go change into something..." I look down at my silk pajama shorts. "Less...this."

Michael waits for me at the bottom of the steps as I rush down the stairs and grab my keys off the entryway and reach for the door.

"Libby, wait," he says.

I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I wait for him to say something. He looks like he’s at war with himself.

Then, he looks up at me and mutters, “Fuck it.”

Without a second thought, he closes the distance between us and brings his hands up to my neck and takes my lips into his.

I still for a second, caught totally off guard by this unexpected kiss. But the feel of his lips moving against mine. The way my body reacts to him. It all feels so right. I drop my arm holding my keys and meet his savage kiss stroke for stroke.

I want this. So bad.

But as soon as it starts, it's over. He pulls back and takes the keys from my hand. "I'll drive," he says, opening the front door. I've barely caught my breath when he grabs the umbrella by the door and holds it open for me to step under.

"You don't have to—“

"Go, Libby." His voice is gruff and so fucking sexy. I can't do anything but obey.

So I step outside as he walks me to my parked car in the circular driveway. An empty four car garage and I couldn't think to park in there and avoid this rain.

But I have to admit, I love the feeling of his warm hand on my back ushering me into the car.

Once we're both inside, he turns the car on and it purrs to life.

"A red corvette," he says smirking. "It suits you."

"Thank you," I smile sheepishly.

He quickly turns the corner from my road that leads to the house where he lives with his teammates. Thank goodness it looks like nobody is home yet when he parks the car. The giant water feature in the middle is splashing with the heavy rain pouring down.

"You ready?" he asks before reaching for the door handle.

I look at him. "You go ahead. I'll wait here until everyone arrives."

He looks almost deflated at that comment. Like I'm telling him that I don't want to be seen alone with him.

And it’s true. My brother can’t see us. Not after all my talk of never being caught dead with a hockey player. I may have loose morals, but I refuse to be a liar. Liars, I can’t stand.

He just nods, before opening the door and running inside, leaving me alone in the car with still swollen lips from that stolen kiss.

Chapter 9

Michael

"Those fit you like a glove," Hicks hoots as Zane walks down the stairs wearing his too-tight joggers.

"Shut the fuck up," Zane growls out quickly.

Our top defenseman is by far the biggest guy on our team, followed closely by Ryker, our bear in the net. Both of them don't have clothes here and both of them have resorted to wearing their smaller teammates' attire to get out of their stuffy suits.

When they get to the main living room, we all burst into a fit of laughter, watching them try to pull out wedgies and pull-down shirts that are riding up on them.

Landry, Hicks, and I doled out comfy clothes to everyone as they arrived since they were all still in suits and floor-length dresses.

All except for Libby who opted to wear fluffy pajama pants and a camisole that is showing off her cleavage in a way that is currently driving me wild.

Not that she'd notice. Since walking into the house she's barely looked at me.

“Welp," Landry says, kicking his feet off the table to rise like the king of his house. "We should play a little game since you’re all here."

"It's midnight," his sister, Izzy, says with a yawn, her hand gently rubbing her growing belly.

"Even more reason to play. Everyone's delirious."

"And some of us are drunk," Hicks says, raising a beer to confirm.

"What game do you want to play?" Libby asks where she's perched next to her bestie on the armrest of one of the couches.

"Hmm..." Landry thinks. "Spin the bottle?"

Ryker and Zane laugh as they sit next to their significant others.

"That's a horrible idea, considering your sister and his sister," Ryker says, motioning toward Zane, are both the only women here besides Kesley.

"Excellent point, my friend. Do we have any other suggestions?" he asks everyone around the room.

"Uno?"

"Monopoly?"

"Childish and too intense. Nope and nope," Landry says, vetoing both. "Anything else?"

"What about truth or dare?" I offer.

Everyone looks at me from where I'm leaning over the couch opposite Libby.

"Ooh, juicy. I like it," Landry approves. "Truth or dare, it is. All in favor?"

"Aye!" voices call out.

"I-I'm...going to bed," Izzy announces. "Sorry guys, I can barely keep my eyes open. Nugget’s zapping all my energy these days."

"I'll come with you," Ryker says, moving to rise from his seat next to her.

"No stay," she insists, touching his chest. "Have fun with your boys."

"I'll be up in a little bit then." They kiss, and the exchange is so sweet that I feel something moving in my chest.

I didn't realize how badly I wanted that for myself. I catch Libby looking at me before she looks at Izzy and her belly going up the stairs.

"Night, Iz. Alright, everyone knows how this works, right?" Landry starts.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," Libby says. "Who doesn't know truth or dare?"

"Ok, but House Rules," I add.

"House rules!" Landry and Hicks both bark out.

"Wait, what are house rules?" Zane asks. "I'm scared."

"You should be," Ryker says next to him.

"OK, house rules. Hicks, would you do us the honors," Landry points to Hicks, who is currently downing his beer.

Hicks pops up from his place on the floor and holds the beer bottle up. "Rrrrrule number one," he says, rolling the R theatrically. "If the bottle lands on you, you must play. No forfeiting."

"Here, here," a few of us say.

Kesley and Libby exchange a look before laughing amongst themselves.

"I thought we weren't playing spin the bottle," Libby quips.

"The bottle is just to keep things random. There will be no kissing. Unless, of course, it's dared. Not that I'm suggesting that there should be. Rather, I'm just stating—“

"Ok, Hicks," Landry says, almost bored. "Rule number two."

"Rrrrrule number two," Hicks continues. "You can only choose the same option twice in a row before you must select the second option."

"Wait," Kesley protests. "That's not fair. You’re taking away our autonomy.”

"House rules are house rules," Landry says with finality.

"Rrrrrule number three: The game isn't over until everyone has had a turn to answer. Aye?"

"Aye!" almost everyone replies.

"Aye," Libby says last and less enthusiastically.

"Rule number four—don't be a downer, Libby," Hicks says in his normal voice.

Libby sticks her tongue out at him before smirking. God, even being a brat, she's so fucking gorgeous.

"Alright," Landry takes over again. "Fergie, since it was your idea to play. Would you give us the honor of kicking things off?"

Hicks turns to me and presents the now empty beer bottle as if it were Excalibur.

"It would be my highest honor," I say with a hand to my chest before taking the bottle. "But we should probably move the coffee table first.”

"On it," Zane says as he releases his hold on his wife to help Ryker move the table.

I look around after everyone is settled in and sitting comfortably on the floor. "You know, this really does feel like high school all over again," I smirk.

"Just spin it," Libby insists.

"Fine." I hold her gaze for a second before spinning the bottle in front of me.

It lands on...Kesley. Her best friend.

"Ok, Kesley. Truth or dare?" I ask her.

The blonde considers it. "Truth."

She knows Libby better than most. This is my chance.

"Who is your best friend's real-life crush?"

"Ooh, that's a good one," Hicks says next to me.

Kesley smirks as she looks at Libby who is giving her a sidelong glance.

"That's easy because nobody here would know him."

There's a panicked look in Libby's eyes that flashes to me and then back to her best friend.

"It's this guy on a dating app. Creepy username that makes me think he might be a stalker, but get this, he has a pie—“

"Penis!" Libby shouts as she shoves her in the rib. "Yep. He's got a peen."

She's blushing feverishly now. A guy on a dating app...so she's talked about me to her best friend.

"I guess that's important to note," Landry says, chuckling.

Hicks laughs. "Wait, an app? You mean like BlindBang? Fergie's on that! He actually—“ I shove Hicks in the side.

"It's not your turn, Hicks. And also, 2018."

"Oh," he says with a wink.

"What's 2018?" Kesley asks.

"Shhh," the guys hiss out.

"We don't talk about 2018," Ryker says.

Kesley looks at her friend for clarification as she so often does. "It was the worst year for the Heatwave. We don't talk about 2018."

"I'm still new to all this," Kesley says.

Zane scoots her closer to him. "You'll learn, little lion."

Ugh. I can't with my teammates and their cute little pet names. I gave Libby a pet name. My dumb thoughts remind me.

"Anyways," I try to bring the game back. "Kesley, you're up."

"Ok," she sits up excitedly and spins the bottle. It lands on Landry.

"Do your worst," he says.

"Alright, Keelan. Truth or dare?"

Landry thinks for a second. "Dare!"

"Of course," Hicks says.

"I dare you...to tell us who your crush is!" Kesley says, pleased with herself.

"She can't do that," Hicks protests. "Wait, can she?"

"Leave it up to Kesley to find the loophole in the game," Libby says. "House rules Landry. You gotta answer."

"Easy," Landry says. "Lucy Hale."

"You can't pick a celebrity," Kesley insists.

"Why not? Technically, we're celebrities."

"Wait, whose Lucy Hale?" Zane asks.

"She's that cute actress with the pretty doe eyes, short dark hair, supple lips. She was in Pretty Little Liars," Kesley says.

"And The Hating Game?" I offer.

"Oh! Yeah, the one that looks like Rina," Zane says casually.

Landry stares blankly at his teammate.

Zane, clueless, says, "What?"

"Ok, Kee, your turn to spin," Ryker says.

The game continues for a few more rounds. The dares get a little outlandish, like running into the rain and howling for a full minute. Luckily, Hicks was down for that challenge.

Finally, Hicks lands on Libby. And dares her to kiss someone on the lips. Considering Zane is her brother. Ryker’s long since gone up to accompany Izzy. That would leave Hicks, Landry and... me.

"Seriously, Hicks? You're the one who said no kissing," I say.

"Unless dared," he clarifies.

"I'll allow it," Landry interjects.

"Whose it going to be?" Kesley asks her.

She rules out the obvious ones.

"And not you, Hicks; you kissed Kesley once, so that's just weird."

"What, she kissed me!"

Zane tilts his head menacingly at Hicks and says, "2018."

"Well, Fergie's your ex's brother," Zane says. "So naturally, he's out."

Libby clears her throat.

"Fine." She gets up and stalks over to Landry and quickly pecks him on the lips before returning to her place next to Kesley.

"Welp, I think that was everyone," Landry says like the girl of my dreams didn't just walk up to him and kiss him in front of everyone.

A peck, sure. But she just did it. No questions asked.

A fire burns in my belly, and I know I'm going to have a hard time sleeping tonight.

"Mi casa es su casa," Landry says, "Help yourselves to whatever you want, but I'm going to bed. Everyone good on rooms?"

"Yes, Cap. Thanks for letting us crash here," Zane says, helping a yawning Kesley off the floor.

Everyone disperses, and the lights are turned off.

I go into the kitchen, grab a root beer, and notice that Libby hasn't left. She's still sitting on the couch.

"Aren't you tired?" I ask her.

She looks up at me. "I'm sorry about that. It was...just a game. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I know. I was the one that chose it." And looking back now, I should've just stayed quiet.

"Seriously, it didn't mean anything," she insists.

Probably like the kisses we shared earlier didn't mean anything either. "Right. Well, I'm going to bed."

"Ok," she says softly.

I go up the stairs and don't look back. Because as much as I like Libby. She's done this to me before. And I don't want to get caught up in another game of “Pick me, please." We’re not teenagers anymore.

I don't have time to be somebody's option. Even if it's the girl I've secretly had a crush on since I was a kid.

I shut the door to my room and rip the sheets off the bed. I can let her go. I've done it before.

That's what I tell myself, just as I'm opening my BlindBang app and pulling up our old messages.

I know it's her on the other side of the screen. But does she know it's me? Hicks almost gave me away earlier.

strangerDanger23: I'm going to assume you chickened out.

A few seconds later, her message comes through.

LeaveHerWild: I guess you could call it that.

strangerDanger23: What changed?

LeaveHerWild: Nothing.

LeaveHerWild: Everything.

LeaveHerWild: I don't think I can do this.

strangerDanger23: Do what, butterfly?

It takes her minute to reply.

LeaveHerWild: I like you…but

I stop reading because that's the fucking problem right there. She likes me. My very breath hangs on every word she says. I would burn the world down twenty times over if it meant making her mine.

But Libby...she just likes me. And that will always be our fucking problem.

Chapter 10

Libby

The lightning and thunder haven't let up.

I toss in my bed, still unable to find rest. And it's not all due to the chaos raging outside. I have to admit, my own internal storm feels much more destructive. In the form of messages left unanswered by Michael...well, strangerDanger23... but it's Michael.

He can't possibly know it's me on the other side of the screen. Unless Kesley's little slip up somehow clued him in.

Pulling the pillow over my face, I try to find sleep, but it continues to elude me. Instead, memories of us as teenagers play out like a movie in my head. One moment in particular from a summer evening when I was eighteen stands out.

"Why are you crying, Libby?"

"I'm not. I'm fine. Just go away, Michael."

"No, you're not. Did Jonah do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

Not me. He didn't hurt me.

"Go away."

"I'm going to go talk to him." I pull him by the arm to face me.

"Michael, listen to me. You and I can't be friends, okay? I'm no good for you. And I can't be with Jonah. So just...just pretend I don't exist, okay?"

"I can't do that, Libby."

"Just promise me you'll stay away."

"No."

"Then, I will."

The thunder outside makes me sit up straight from my bed, and I've already decided I'm not getting any sleep tonight. Even in this house, surrounded by people I care about... I feel so alone.

I throw the covers off me and decide to grab a drink of water. My phone's batteries are dead. Maybe I can find a charger somewhere in the house. Maybe Michael responded to my messages after all, and I just haven't been able to see them.

I find my rain boots and tug them on. I can always grab the charger from my car.

Tiptoeing down the hall past rooms of snoring hockey players, I try my best not to make any noise as I make my way down the stairs, only turning on the kitchen light once I've made sure nobody else was sleeping nearby.

I open and close drawers and inspect wall outlets trying to find a charger somewhere. When I've exhausted all possibilities, I decide to brace myself for a run into the rainy night.

I find an umbrella and hesitate at the open front door for a minute before I make a run for it.

The lights on my corvette blink twice as I unlock it. The wind is so strong that it's making the rain hit sideways, rendering my umbrella totally useless.

Even more so, when a gust snaps it out of my hand and sends it flying into the street.

Well, shit. Guess I owe Landry a new umbrella. I quickly rip my charger from it's place in my center console and slam the door shut, beelining to the open front door.

Once inside again I shut the door and lean against it. I'm soaked from head to toe and shivering.

"Are you insane?" Michael's voice calls from the darkness.

I look around, unable to see where his voice is coming from. But in a moment, he's in front of me with a towel and wrapping me up in it.

"W-what are you doing up?"

"Light sleeper," he says, pulling me up from the ground. "What are you doing running in the rain, Lib?"

I pull my charger up from under the towel. "M-my p-hone died."

"You're shivering," he says, rubbing his hands up and down the side of my arms to create friction.

"I'm f-fine."

"No, you're not. Come on, I have some spare clothes you can use." He tugs me by the towel and leads me to the laundry room just down the hall.

Once inside, he picks me up by my waist and hoists me onto the dryer. Reaching behind him, he sifts through a basket of what looks like his clothes and produces a t-shirt and shorts. The t-shirt has the number twenty-three displayed prominently on the front.

"Take your shirt off," he demands.

"W-what?"

He takes the towel from me and holds it up like a curtain to block the view. I do as he says and rip the camisole off. I'm not wearing a bra underneath but it's better than a wet top. He tosses me the dry t-shirt and I slip it on. So much better.

My pajama pants are also soaked. I reach down and pull them past my ankles. Still holding the towel up, Michael watches as they plop down to the ground, followed by my panties.

He swallows hard but doesn't drop the towel.

"C-can I use the towel to dry off?" I ask him.

He clears his throat. "Yes, sorry. Here." He gingerly lowers it onto my lap, but doesn't move his hands. Instead, he dries me off himself.

I nearly gasp at the feel of his hands over the towel. My body aches with the need of his touch. And I can feel my heart rate picking up as he moves the towel lower and lower down my legs until...

His eyes meet mine. Without exchanging any words, we make a silent oath.

He drops the towel and steps in between my legs, his hands coming up to the back of my head and drawing me toward him.

He hesitates a moment, his gaze dropping down to my lips and back to my eyes. I nod and he kisses me again. This time it's frantic and needy. And I respond to it, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him to me.

"Libby," he whispers between kisses.

"Don't," I warn. "One night. Let's just give this one night. And we can go back to...whatever we are."

I swear anger pulses through his look. "One night?" he says. "You really think we can do that?"

"Yes," I gasp out as he runs his tongue down my neck.

"You think one night would be enough for me to get my fill of you?"

My eyes widen and I pull back to get a good look at him.

"You're insane if you think one night would be enough," he says.

He kisses me again. "I'm going to make you come so hard. I'll have you begging for more.”

My core clenches, and I can't believe the words coming from him.

He pushes me up away from him on the dryer and spreads my legs wide. I think my heart is beating in my vagina. It has to be. Or am I just that turned on right now?

He's staring down at me with vicious blue eyes before he bends down and picks up my wet clothes. He opens the dryer door and throws them in. Then reaches behind me and turns the dryer on, making it whir to life underneath me.

"What are you—“

"It'd be a little suspicious if our friends saw you wearing my t-shirt in the morning, wouldn't it?" He cocks his head to the side.

"Oh."

Now he puts his hands on either leg and holds me open. Bending to kiss me just above my knee as he works his way up my thigh.

"Libby," he whispers against my skin, his lips trailing higher and higher up.

"Yeah?" I breathe out.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

Oh my god. Those words. The feel of the dryer vibrating under my naked skin. His touch on me.

"I want to feel your mouth on me," I answer.

He smiles, and I feel his lips stretch on my skin as he does. "Where, Libby? Be specific."

He wants me to spell it out for him? "On my... my... "

"Pussy?" He finishes for me.

"Yes," I gasp out.

"Mmmm. I've been dying to taste your sweet pussy, Libby," his voice is raspy.

I moan as he continues to kiss my thigh. His lips are now right at my core as he pauses over my birthmark. "But I need to hear you say it."

He looks up at me, splayed open for him. "I want you to eat my pussy, Michael."

I say it with as much force as I can gather. He smiles wickedly.

“It would be my pleasure, butterfly.”

My world crashes. He does know it was me. But before I can say anything about it he’s swiping his tongue against my skin, holding my legs open wide for him. And he hums his appreciation as he does it again and again.

I'm going to lose it. There's no way I'll be able to last long like this. But he doesn't stop. He continues to lap me up like I'm a dessert.

"Oh my god," I gasp out, throwing my head back. The sensations are overwhelming.

Michael stops suddenly.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

He looks back at the open door and kicks it closed before going back to my center. Almost instantly I'm riding a wave a pleasure brought on by his tongue and I can't help but cry out.

"Atta girl," he rasps, drinking in my pleasure. "You come so beautifully, Libby.”

He steps back still holding my legs open and watches me as I continue to feel the pulsing sensations of my orgasm.

"So beautiful," he breathes out. His eyes finally meet mine once the aftershocks have subsided.

"I... I don't know what to say," I admit, my hands covering my eyes.

He finally pulls back. "You should go get some rest. Wouldn't want you to look haggard for your photoshoot." He repeats the words I told him earlier in the night.

“Michael,” I say, gulping. “We should talk.”

"Goodnight, Libby." He turns and goes out the door, leaving me sated and still half naked on top of the dryer.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter 11

Michael

"And once the photographer arrives, we'll need everyone ready and waiting for photos. Got it, Michael?" Lillian's voice cuts through my thoughts of a wild and panting Libby last night.

"What? Uh, yeah. Yeah," I say, distractedly.

"What did I just say?" Lillian crosses her arms over her chest and waits.

"Photos. You need everyone for photos," I repeat, meeting her suspicious eyes.

"What's wrong with your brother?" Lillian says to Jonah, who's passing out the desserts.

"You do seem rather distant lately, Mikey. Are you okay?" my mother says from the other side of the table.

"I've just got a lot on my mind, Ma," I say truthfully, leaving out that the thoughts are about a certain 5’7” woman with legs for days and a fiery mane.

"Conference finals start this weekend, right Mike? That's a pretty big deal." I look over to my dad at the head of the table.

We haven't always seen eye to eye. But he's trying.

"It is, Pops." Something in me lights up when he mentions my work without me prompting it. “I can... I don't know... get you guys tickets for one of the games if you want."

"That's very nice, Mikey. But these are the final weeks before your brother gets married. We have way too much to wrap up to be wasting time watching a game," my mom says.

And as quickly as it comes, the feeling of finally being accepted in my family passes. And I'm reminded, yet again, that I'm an outsider for choosing hockey over the church.

"Yeah, how stupid of me to even offer," I mutter.

"Oh, I'm sure we can make it out to a game," Lillian says when she sees my reaction.

"Lillian," my mother says. "You of all people won't have time for such games, young lady. You're the bride. This is your moment. Hockey will always be there."

I sigh, remembering why I've avoided coming out to these family dinners. Even if I wasn't in the most demanding time of my career. My family leaves much to be desired.

"We're doing what we can to support Mikey and his team. The donations we're sending are doing a lot of good for the city," Jonah says.

"I'm sure it's doing a lot of good in getting the word out about the church and it’s new campus, too."

"Well, yes, that too," Jonah admits. "Everybody needs God, Mikey. Or have you forgotten that?"

I hate when my brother gets all high and mighty.

"Not at all, Jo. You especially, from what I can recall."

"Michael," my mom warns.

My phone vibrates on the table next to me. It's BlindBang. My brother's eyes catch it just before I flip the phone over.

He eyes me warily.

"Tell us, hockey star,” Jonah says. "How are things going for you in the dating world? Have you met any potential wifey candidates?"

"You know, Cassidy Jones from that big Pentecostal church on the other side of the highway has been asking about you," Lillian says wriggling her brows.

"Is that right?" My mother says sitting up straighter.

"Yep, she brought his name up in our women’s bible study just last week."

I know Cassidy Jones. Daughter of the great Reverend Jones. A man more conservative than even my own family. I nearly yawn at the bore it would be to be apart of that family.

"She's such a good girl. I'll need to reach out to Donna and set something up," my mother says. "The hockey season's almost over anyway. Surely you'll have the time, right?"

I groan, "I'm not interested in Cassidy Jones, Ma."

"Don't be ridiculous, Michael. You're nearly thirty. Good girls your age are hard to come by."

Well, what if I don't want a good girl. Bad girls taste so much better.

"I told her you're single," Lillian admits. "So she might actually be reaching out."

"You gave her my number?" I complain.

"No, just your social media accounts.”

Awesome. I'll be sure to delete those the first chance I get.

In the meantime, I have a message waiting.

I excuse myself to use the restroom, and open BlindBang.

You have a new match.

So...not Libby. I sit on the toilet disappointed.

This is ridiculous. We are grown adults. What does it matter anymore what we decide to do as grown adults? Obviously we’re a match. And that wasn’t even my doing.

When I open the door, Jonah is waiting in the hall.

"Can I help you?"

"Don't think I'm so disconnected that I don't know what that app is?"

I roll my eyes. "What does it matter to you, Jo?"

"Mikey, trust me when I say this. I've had my fair share of trying out what the world has to offer. And as intriguing as it is... nothing comes close to living a life dedicated to serving God and people. Things like that..." he motions toward the phone in my hand. "They just lead to heartache and confusion."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Says the great Pastor Jonah Ferguson." I give him a slow clap. "You're doing so great convincing everyone that you've changed. You almost believe it yourself, don't you?"

He shakes his head at me. "I'm praying for you, Mikey. You're going to need it. Especially hanging around with the likes of Libby O'Connor." He pushes himself off the wall and heads back toward the dining room when I call out to him.

"Jonah, what actually happened between you and Libby?"

"What has she told you?" he turns back to me with a glare.

"Nothing that makes sense."

"Well, that's because she doesn't make sense. She's a confused girl. But Libby and I are on good terms. Lillian even invited her to the wedding."

"So I've heard," I say.

"Then, you have nothing to worry about. Now, can you come help me decide where the flower arrangements need to go for the pillars?"

"Sure," I say, following behind him.

But I’m not letting him off the hook that easily.

Chapter 12

Libby

Despite the photoshoot that left me reeling with doubts about my own body on Saturday, I showed up to this one ready to take it on. Only to be shut down...again.

"Veronica, please get Red the four-inch Manolos. She's so much shorter than the other girls. She's throwing off the look," the man says behind his camera.

"JS, do you think Red is tall enough for this look?"

The man called JS just looks at me tilting his head every which way, "Hmm, maybe with the taller heels."

"Maybe with a taller girl," the photographer says not so under his breath. "Red, come here, please."

I wish he’d stop fucking calling me that. But I can’t say anything. Right now I’m at his mercy. And I hate this feeling.

He waves me over and I catch a glance at the other girls looking me up and down like I'm ruining their entire week.

"We're going to try you with the taller heel, but if it doesn't work. I'm afraid you're just not cut out for this style."

Veronica, the wardrobe assistant comes with the new pair of heels.

"Chop, chop," the photographer claps. "We don't have all day."

"He can't just cut you from a shoot," Kesley sneers.

"It's fine. I didn't fit the "look"," I say with air quotes.

Sherrie, my bestie's mama, scoffs from her seat in the clinic. Either Kesley, me or one of her sister's has been by Sherrie's side over the last few weeks as she's received her chemo treatment.

Today, Sherrie is feeling especially spicy.

"How dare he? What's his name? I'm going to talk to his boss."

I laugh, "That's not really how it works, Sherrie. Though I appreciate it.”

Growing up, I didn't have a mother. My own left me and my brother in the care of an uncle when I was just a baby. So when I met Kesley, her parents became like parents to me. They love me like a daughter.

"I'll show him how it works," Sherrie says like a threat.

Kesley looks at me, her shoulders shaking as she laughs to herself, shaking her head.

And ever since getting her diagnosis, Sherrie has taken on an entirely new persona.

She's not the same super mom of the year with delicious shepherd's pie recipes and sweet-looking aprons. No, this woman sitting in front of us is a badass with a mohawk. Yes, an actual mohawk.

"Have I told you how much I love you, Sherrie."

"Only every day," she admits with a wink. "But I can assure you I love you more."

Okay, I'm officially gutted.

An unexpected tear springs forward just as Sherrie's oncologist knocks on the door. I quickly wipe it away.

"Well, if it isn’t' my toughest patient," Dr. Steele says. She flips through Sherrie's chart. "Looks like the treatment has been doing it's job, Sherrie. We're going to run a few tests today and just continue to track your progress. But things are looking up."

"That's great news," Kesley says, reaching for her mom's hand.

Sherrie holds it tightly, then reaches over to me and takes mine in her other hand.

Oh, god. I can't contain my emotions.

"Really great news," Sherrie says.

Back at the house, alone in my room. I get a call from my agent.

"Lib-by," he croons.

"Ronnie," I say with little emotion.

"I got word back from the shoot."

"So then you know it was a disaster," I say.

He pauses, "Nevermind high fashion spreads. We have a proposal from a company that is looking for exactly what you have to offer."

"That's what you said about this last one, Ronnie,” I remind him.

"Well, that was before I realized just how great you would do in a different style of publication."

"Okay, so if it's not high fashion," because I'm too thick and too short apparently, "then what is it?"

"Lingerie ads."

I nearly cough on the tea I'm sipping.

"Lingerie, Ronnie?"

"Yes, Libby, my darling, you would be absolutely spectacular for this. Trust me."

I sigh. I can't believe it's come to this. Fashion has always been my dream. Ever since I saw the woman who gave me up so easily on the cover of Italian Vogue. Her fierce hazel eyes looking back at me for the first time. I promised myself I'd make her take notice. Force her to see me the same way I was able to see her. No context, and on the cover of a famous magazine.

"Libby, are you there? What do you say?" Ronnie says, waiting patiently.

"Is taking this gig going to open up more opportunities?"

"Without a doubt, my dear."

"Fine," I say. "I'll take it."

Hanging up with him I feel a little sleazy for saying yes to a lingerie gig. But what else am I supposed to do? The clothing lines won't hire me. And it’s not like I’d be posing totally nude. I vowed that one time in Paris would be my last.

Too old. Too thick. Too short. The thoughts whirl in my head.

My phone dings next to me and I look at it to see strangerDanger23 has sent me a message.

I sit up straight and open the app.

strangerDanger23: hello, butterfly.

I think about the man on the other side of this screen. His piercing gaze. His face buried between my legs. My body humming from the pleasure he drew out of me.

I shouldn't be playing with fire. I shouldn't want this. Because despite Michael being on this app... I know him. I know his family. And I know that if it ever got back to them that I had corrupted their precious son, I'd have hell to pay.

But what if nobody had to find out?

Shut up, vagina. I need my brain in charge right now. But also...what if nobody had to find out? What if Michael and I just give into this thing we both so badly desire. And we just get it out of systems.

Then we can finally move on. He could finally focus on finding someone who can fit in with the Fergusons. And I....

I don't know what I'd do. Modeling isn't exactly the fulfilling career I was hoping it would be.

My fingers are hesitating over the keyboard. And I'm trying to decide exactly how I should word this message to him, when a text from Rina Lopez comes in.

Rina

Libby, I need your help with something. Call me.

That's interesting. Rina and I are friends, sure. Maybe more like acquaintances. But for her to reach out, it must be something important.

I quickly dial her.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs out.

"Rina? Are you okay?"

"Listen, Libby. I hate to have to ask you for this but I'm desperate here. The boys are in the middle of the playoffs and I'm getting product placement offers and ad execs reaching out like crazy. I’m still looking for a marketing director. You know this world. Would you...I don't know, be willing to help me out for a bit? I'm in over my head here."

She never talks that fast. Rina is slow and calculative. Always in control, but today, her voice sounds stressed and needy.

"I mean, yeah. But what do you need help with?"

"I need someone to manage social media. Think of it like a consulting gig. Just until we're through with the post-season, I can find a full-time person, and everyone can finally take a vacation."

From the sound of her voice, she's in desperate need of one.

"And that would entail?"

"Making sure the players are fulfilling their deals with the companies that sponsor them by actually posting to their social accounts. Getting everyone on board to get the word out about our charity events and work in the city. Making their personalities shine. They're hockey players first and foremost, so I get that this isn't their forte. But it's necessary at this point for our franchise."

It's definitely in my wheelhouse. As a model, I practically live on social media—not so much these days. But how does that old saying go? "Those who can't do..."

"I'll help you, Rina. Just tell me what you need me to do first."

She breathes deeply. "You have no idea how much this means. Ok, well first things first. Our boys have their date-a-player dates that need to be shot and posted. You can start with yours and Fergie's to get a good feel of what to capture."

I nearly drop the phone. "Me and Fergie. Yeah... ok."

"Something wrong?"

"Nope. I'll... yeah I'll get right on that."

"You're my hero, Libby."

I'm something, that's for sure. A people pleaser. A pushover, even. But a hero? I'm a far cry from that.

"We can talk more tomorrow,” she says before we disconnect.

Well, looks like I have something to do after all. And that something is dating Michael Ferguson.

Chapter 13

Michael

The girl of my forbidden desires is currently walking toward me.

She's wearing tight leggings and a light windbreaker looking like she just time-warped from the 90s. Her hair floats behind her as she walks up to me and pauses just a few steps in front of me.

"You ready?"

She eyes the Space City arena before saying, "Lead the way, Fergie."

She knows exactly what to say to get under my skin. Calling me by Fergie and not Michael is one of those ways.

"You know," I say, as I open the door for her. "You were way nicer to me when I was making you come with my tongue."

Her body stiffens as she turns to me, pulling her little purse closer to her body. She's visibly uncomfortable.

“And how do you know I wasn't just faking it to make you feel better?" she says, her nose pointed high as she stares up at me.

I step up to her once inside the building. "The way you dripped all over my mouth told me otherwise,” I lean in closer and whisper to her, "I watched your pussy clench, just aching for me to claim it…. butterfly.”

She clears her throat and looks around. "Well, I think you and I can both agree that that was a one-time thing."

"Doesn't have to be," I croon.

Her eyes glide down my body and shoot back up to my gaze. If I wasn't seeing things, I'd say Libby was just imagining what that might look like.

"Let's just get this over with Ferguson."

Ouch. And now I'm Ferguson. We're definitely going backwards here. She starts to march off in the direction of the ice, but I grab her wrist before she gets too far.

"Tell me you didn't love it, and I'll just forget it ever happened."

She glares at me. And I stare at her. Neither one of us breaks.

"Tell me you haven't thought of what it might feel like for us to take it further, Libby. Off the app. Tell me you don't want this and I'll let it go."

Her eyes look around the quiet arena. "I... can't say that."

A smile tugs on the corner of my lips.

"Good," I tell her, pulling her along with me toward the dressing room. Libby pauses right at the door.

"I can't go in there."

I look around confused. "It's just us."

"Nope," she slashes her arms in front of her. "I can't be in there. You guys are about to head into the conference finals, and I can't have anything interfering with that."

Ok. Now I'm really confused. I look at her and then back to the door. "Libby, are you...superstitious?"

"No," she quips, crossing her arms in front of her.

I think about all the games she attends. How she just recently started sitting in the same seat she sat in since the win that got us into the playoffs. She wears her brother's same jersey for every game. She insists on not stepping foot into our dressing room since it's technically for players and staff only.

"Libby," I smirk. "You're superstitious."

"No, I'm not. I'm just taking precautions. Just in case."

"For someone that claims not to be religious, you sure are religious about your hockey traditions."

"Well, aren't you?"

"No, I believe in something more. And that something will always know what's better in the long run whether I win or lose in the moment."

"Of course, you do. Spoken like a true pastor's son. Well, I'm not into all that faith talk, Fergie."

I nod, totally understanding what she means. I've seen the good and the bad of being in a community of faith. I've seen things twisted for the benefit of the church in spite of the harm it might do to the people. Libby, like so many others I know, chooses to stay away from it all.

I open the door to the room and usher her in. "That's alright. But you believing in all your pregame superstitions takes just as much faith as believing in a higher power. Just saying."

She shakes her head and hesitates before finally taking a step inside. She doesn't go very far into the room before she takes it all in.

I stop her just before her feet touch the Heatwave logo of a puck on fire. "We don't step on that."

She smirks. "Now whose the superstitious one."

"It's out of respect," I clarify.

"Uh-huh," she strolls along the bench and looks at the names and numbers on each stall. She pauses on her brother's. Number eighty-two, O'Connor.

"I never missed a game of his growing up. And you know Frank, he wasn’t our real dad, just the rich uncle who preferred things over family. He'd send us with a driver or chaperone," she touches the nameplate and I can't help but watch her.

"Zane always said I was his lucky charm. That if I missed a game, he'd always play his worst. So I never missed a game. And I went to every practice. Taught the other families the chants that we'd use at the games. I was his biggest cheerleader. Hockey was just as much my sport as it was his." She drops her hand and turns to face me.

"Is it still?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. We have bigger things to live for now, I guess. Him especially."

I step up to her, "So do you."

Her eyes meet mine. "If I'm being totally honest. I don't think I do.”

"You don't think you have bigger things to live for?"

"I know that I can... I just have no idea what it is. I've been Zane's sister. Kesley's best friend. Liam's aunt. But I don't know what it means to just be… me.”

"Maybe it's time you find out," I say taking her hand.

"Maybe," she says solemnly.

She sits down on the bench in front of her brother's stall, still holding onto my hand. I kneel down in front of her and hold her honey colored gaze. In those eyes are sadness and beauty beyond anything I've ever seen.

"What is it that you want, Libby?"

She looks down. "I want my life to mean something."

I want to wrap her in my arms. To tell her that it already does. That to me, she's everything. But I can't.

I nod. "Me too."

She looks up at me again and there's a faint smile. Her eyes bounce from both of my eyes to my lips and back up.

I feel it too. The crackle in the air that I always feel when I'm around her. But this time, without our friends around to cushion it, it's in full force.

I want nothing more than to make Libby mine. But not at the cost of her figuring out herself and who she is. I'd be wrong to give her yet another title—Michael's girl.

She needs something that is all hers. But that doesn't mean I can't be here to help her figure it out.

I stand up and she watches me. "Skate with me, Libby."

On the ice, Libby is one of the most graceful skaters I've ever known. She's effortless. And I see it in an instant.

"You'd make an incredible figure skater," I say as she glides past me on one leg.

She snorts. "Yeah, right. Like I'd be interested in choreographed dance routines."

She does a spin that makes me really wonder why she's never considered it.

"I'm serious." I say skating up next to her.

"Yeah, well. So am I. I love skating sure, but it's just a hobby. I learned it to pass the time."

"Fair. So what got you into modeling then? Was that always your passion?"

She laughs. "Hell no. Modeling was something I picked up to get revenge on my mom for leaving me and Zane."

"What?" I say incredulously.

"Oh yeah," she says slowing down and skating next to me. "She's like this famous European model. Still looks like she's twenty. It's crazy."

"So how does you being a model get revenge on your mom?"

She shakes her head. "When I first saw her on a magazine cover... I just couldn't believe my eyes. My mother. Flesh and blood. There in front of me. No calls. No visits. Just out there living an entire life without her children."

"That's rough."

"Yeah, well... Zane already had hockey. I knew he was going to be something big. That was his way showing her that he didn't need her to make a name for himself. And I thought, what better way to get to her than the same way she did to me. On the cover of a magazine. Let her see the daughter she abandoned. Let her feel the pain of seeing someone that could've meant something to her, just living."

Libby holds resentment. That's clear as day.

"Have you ever tried... I don't know... just talking to her?"

She looks at me with a face that says, "Seriously?"

"Sorry, what was I thinking. That would be too easy? A revenge plot is so much better," I smirk.

"Yes it is, Michael."

"But have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe she'd see your picture and not think twice about it. Just go on living. And you would've wasted all that time holding on to this grudge for what?"

She stops abruptly, and snow sprays out under her skates.

"No," she says softly. "That would somehow be worse."

I stop and turn to her. She looks broken. So beautifully broken. I wish I could take the pain away. The abandonment she feels from the person who should've been her biggest cheerleader.

That's when it hits me. Libby is the way she is with the people that she loves, because she never wants them to know what it feels like to be abandoned. Forgotten. She's chosen the other extreme. To give all of herself freely and without question.

I skate up to her and take her hand. She looks up at me. And for the first time, I see something in her gaze that wasn't there before.

"Looks like you two got an early start," a voice calls out from the stands.

We both let our hands go and look around frantically. Izzy is a few rows up waving at us, a camera already in her hand.

"Hey, Iz, " I wave back.

She brings the camera back up to her face and snaps some photos. How long has she been there?

"Just pretend I'm not even here. You guys are so cute," she whistles.

I look at Libby who shakes her head and whispers, "Uh... I didn't think this through."

My face falls, "What are you talking about?"

"Hey, Izzy?" she calls up to the pregnant team photographer. "You think we can delete those and start over?"

Izzy looks at her camera. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Rina asked me to help with social media stuff so I'd like to work with you for the shots if that's okay."

I turn to her. "She did?"

"Yeah, she did."

"So what does that mean? Are you working for the Heatwave?"

"I mean, temporarily."

Huh. "So, then you going into the dressing room won't matter. You’re staff."

She thinks about it for a second and smiles. "Yeah. I guess I am. Looks like you guys still have a chance to win the conference finals after all."

Izzy comes down to the team bench to greet us.

"Alright, Ms. Social Media Manager. What do you suggest?"

"More laughing."

Izzy nods flipping through the photos. "I think you're right. You heard the girl, Fergie. Make her laugh."

I look at Libby in thought. "Last one to the blue crease flips the dinner bill."

I skate off. And I hear Libby scoff before shooting off in front me.

By the time we make it to the other side we're out of breath and laughing.

She wins but still slaps me on the arm when I get to her.

"Rude," I already paid twenty five big ones you want me to pay for your burger too?"

I huff out a laugh and turn back to Izzy. "How was that?"

Izzy gives a thumbs up. "Perfect! Lots of smiles."

"Awesome. Let's go get dinner then."

Chapter 14

Libby

"Just the two of you," the hostess asks, her eyes lingering on Michael for just a beat too long.

"Yes," he smiles brightly.

"Right this way," the young girl says ushering us to a table in the corner.

"This isn't burgers," I say to him from the corner of my mouth.

"Never said it was. You just assumed."

The woman sets the one page menus down in front of each chair. Michael pulls out my chair and helps me push it up to the table.

"Such a gentleman," I say playfully.

"Only the best for you," he winks, taking his chair across from me.

The woman clears her throat. "Your waiter will be with you shortly." Then turns abruptly.

"What's her problem?" I nod toward the retreating waitress.

He looks back at her. "I don't know. She did kind of look familiar."

"Did you ghost her, Fergie?"

He laughs, "I can assure you that no. I don't ghost people. Though, I can't say the same is true for other people."

Is that a jab at me?

The waiter approaches us and asks us for our orders.

"I'll have the chef's special," Michael announces.

"Excellent choice, sir. And you, ma'am?"

I scan the menu. So many things sound delicious. But the voice of that one photographer echoes in my head.

If only you were ten pounds lighter.

"I'll just take a salad. All greens, please."

Michael shoots me a concerned look as the waiter grabs the menus.

"Are you allergic to meat?"

"No," I scoff. "I'm just... not hungry."

"We just skated for two hours straight and my stomach is about to eat itself alive. How are you not hungry?"

I shrug, bringing the water to my lips and avoiding his gaze.

"Well, feel free to have some of mine," he offers.

The waiter comes back with some small samples of bread and butter.

Michael reaches for them excitedly, "It's like they overheard my stomach rumbling."

I take another gulp of water, eyeing the bread.

"You're not even a little bit hungry?" he asks, popping a piece of bread into his mouth.

"Nope," I say, practically salivating.

He rolls his eyes and grabs another piece of the bread, lathering it with butter. "Ok, but you seriously have to try this. This might be the best bread I've ever had in my life."

I tilt my head. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to share this incredible bread with you. Seriously, you're missing out," he says between bites.

"I'm not hungry," I say again. My stomach rumbling too at the thought of tasting the morsel.

"Just one bite, Lib. It won't ruin your salad appetite, I promise."

I glare at him. "Fine, one bite."

He hands me the piece and I pop it into my mouth. Savoring the feel of the soft carb against my tongue along with... oh my god is that honey butter? This actually is the best bread I've ever had in my life.

"You want another, don't you?" he teases me.

I shake my head, when all I want to do is say, "YES. Yes. Absolutely yes!"

He prepares another piece for me. The same way he did the first and holds it out for me.

"The best bread in the world cannot be denied, Libby."

I roll my eyes and reach for it. He snatches it back.

"Hey!"

"Uh-uh, you need to enjoy it. Close your eyes."

I narrow my eyes at him but do as he says. "Now lean forward and open your mouth."

"People are watching," I remind him.

"Do as your told, Libby." His voice is strong and commanding and I suddenly get a flashback of our messages. The things he said he'd do to me.

I lean forward, opening my mouth open for him.

"Good girl," he says, low and husky.

Oh my god...what is he doing to me? How am I so turned on right now?

He pushes the bread onto my tongue, and I accept it. I lick the tip of his finger as I close my mouth around it.

The bread tastes heavenly. But somehow, being served by Michael takes it to a whole other level.

I open my eyes to see his jaw slightly slacked as he watches me eat.

I lick my lips and he gulps.

Ok…we’ve avoided this long enough.

“I have a proposition for you,” I say, reaching for another piece of bread.

He sits back and tilts his head, waiting for me to continue. “I’m listening.”

“BlindBang,” I say.

“What about it?”

“That wasn’t our doing. We actually matched on there.”

He nods.

“Which means, despite all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together, we have several reasons why we should just… have a little fun.”

“Really? You have several reasons?” He leans forward and rests his head on his hands never breaking his gaze. “Tell me about them.”

“Well, for one. We can trust that neither of us are serial killers. I know you. You know me.”

“That’s valid. I for one am not a serial killer,” he agrees.

“Right, and I can confirm that neither am I. We both aren’t looking for a relationship.”

Something flashes across his features when I say this. “Right?”

“Right,” he says. “I’m way too busy with my career.”

“And I’m about to get busier than ever.”

“So what are you suggesting, Libby?”

I give a quick scan of the restaurant to make sure we’re not being watched.

“Let’s just… use each other for sex. No strings attached. No expectations. No brothers or teammates finding out.”

He leans back and crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at me as he does.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re so sure that we can do that? Sneak around?”

I reach for the butter and slather it onto my bread before popping it into my mouth. “Why not? People do it all the time in the movies.”

“And it never works out. Somebody is guaranteed to fall in love when all is said and done.”

“In the movies,” I emphasize. “This is real life, Michael. We’re in control. Not some movie director or script writer.”

He brings a hand up to his jaw and rubs it while he looks at me.

“So? What do you think?”

“We’ll need to have, you know, ground rules.”

I feel butterflies in my stomach. He didn’t shoot it down.

“Of course,” I say trying not to show my excitement.

Ever since finding out that strangerDanger23 and Michael Ferguson were one and the same, I haven’t been able to look at him without thinking about what could have been.

“Nothing that will give us away in public. People will have to see us as only friends.”

“Only friends,” I agree. “And we should have each other’s numbers saved on our phones as something other than our real names, just in case.”

“Good point,” he says, pulling out his phone and placing it on the table.

He pulls up my contact. He has me saved as Lib. And he changes it to butterfly.

My core pulses.

I pull out my phone and change Fergie to stranger. We look at each other and nod.

“What about… limits?” He asks, his voice low.

I swallow. “Limits?”

He nods. “How far are we willing to go?”

“As long as we don’t get caught… no limits,” I say, reaching for yet another piece of bread.

He clocks the motion and smiles. “No limits,” he repeats.

“I can get pretty creative,” I assure him.

He leans forward, interest piqued. “So can I, butterfly.”

I gulp down the bread and reach for the water.

“And we should always use protection. I’m on birth control but… we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“Agreed,” he says with a nod.

“Okay,” I breathe, watching him over the rim of my glass. “Anything else?”

He thinks a moment. “Yeah. What happens if we meet someone we like? It’s not a relationship after all. It’s just sex.”

He’s got a good point. What if either of us meets someone we want to pursue further?

“Then…we just need to be honest and tell the other person. I’m not a cheater and I refuse to be the other woman. Even if it’s just sex.”

“I would never let you be the other woman, Libby. You deserve to be someone’s only.”

He says it so sternly that I freeze up and cough to clear my throat. “You too.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says reaching for the water in front of him and lifts it up. “To sneaky dirty sex.”

I smile and reach for my glass, “To sneaky dirty sex.”

We clink our glasses and sip while watching each other.

This is going to be fun.

Chapter 15

Michael

Our first game in the conference finals is just two days away.

Which means we need to do everything we can to make sure we stay on top of our game.

Coach Murray is pointing out the different players on our division rival team and the techniques they’re prone to use.

“Vegas has the top defense in the entire NHL. So we’re taking every scoring chance we see. No hesitations.” He looks to me when he says that.

“Got it, Coach.”

He nods his acknowledgment. “Now, in this game when we played them on home ice during the regular season, you’ll see the way they crowded the net…”

In the video, you see can see me, Hicks and Hutchy (Landry’s replacement in the first line during the season) making a play toward the net. The Vegas players create a blockade that makes it nearly impossible to get a puck through. Coach pauses it right before Hicks is about to make a one-timer into the net.

“Notice these two players. They read each other like a book. We’ll need to separate them. Vegas always puts them on the ice together.”

He presses play, Hicks shoots the puck, the duo knocks it away and steals the puck away to their side. It’s fast-paced and caught us all off-guard when it happened.

Coach pauses the video again. “Lights on, please,” he says to one of the assistants leaning against the back wall.

The room is packed. Each of the twenty-one of us on the Heatwave roster are present.

“This isn’t the regular season, boys. We’re playing the top of the top. So play like it.”

Rina pops in at the entrance of the press room where we’re all gathered.

“Coach, the kids have arrived.”

Coach Murray shoots her a salute and she gives us all a terse nod before heading back down the way she came.

“You heard her. Let’s go show these kids how the pros do it,” Coach says.

“When can I go faster?” The little girl I’m skating with cries out.

She can’t be more than five with her hair in pig tails. Her dad is at our side, struggling in his ice skates as well. He’s already lost his balance three times and we haven’t even made a full turn on the rink.

“You know, it might take some time. But as soon as you get a hang of the basics, we can graduate to faster speeds,” I assure her.

Her dad looks at me with weary eyes.

“Both of you,” I say with a smile and he laughs.

A familiar voice calls out from the entrance to the rink,“There he is!”

“Hey bud!” Zane’s voice rings out behind me.

I turn to watch his son Liam skate up to him. He’s not much older than the little girl I’m skating with. But he looks like he skated out of the womb.

“Slow down, would ya?” A mass of red hair is following behind him.

Libby.

Our eyes meet briefly but we both look away after only a second.

I try to focus on the task at hand, and not on the goddess that just appeared on the ice. The same goddess who I had my fingers buried in behind the restaurant we went to last night.

We agreed we’d need to be extra careful with our meetups. And since we both had roommates, we decided that after the Vegas game this Saturday would be our first real hookup.

It’s a little weird. Planning sex. But something about planning it, actually makes me excited. I have the day on my paper calendar circled a hundred times in red marker. The boys would assume it was because of the game. But I know why.

Libby gives Zane a hug when she approaches him.

“Thanks for picking him up. Kesley said the interim CEO of The Pulse called her in today?”

“Yeah, sounds like it could be good news,” Libby’s voice floats over to me.

I’m eavesdropping hard core. The only thing that pulls me away from their convo is this littles girl’s dad falling on his ass for a fourth time with a grunt.

I smile and extend him a hand to help him up.

“I’m helpless,” he admits as he takes my hand.

“Nobody is so helpless that they’re beyond hope,” I tell him. Realizing that I just quoted my dad’s latest book without even trying.

The guy laughs. “I just heard that on a podcast.”

“Let me guess, Turn Your Life Around?”

He shrugs. “I am trying to turn my life around…seemed like a good fit.”

My dad, apart from pastoring one of the biggest churches in the Houston area, also hosts a podcast and writes books. His face lines the shelves of almost any big box store I frequent.

And even though I don’t attend his church anymore, I still make it a point to listen in and read every book of his that comes out.

I love my dad. He’s a good man with strong faith. And anytime I’ve lacked my own, I tend to lean on his.

I’m old enough to realize I shouldn’t. Depending on someone else’s faith to fuel yours is dangerous territory. But it’s the best I can do right now.

“So you and Zane’s girl a thing?” The man says.

I look at him, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s just that I saw you guys went on a date recently.”

I let out a breath. I’d hate for our arrangement to get out before we’ve even had a chance to enjoy it.

“Oh, no. That was just a charity thing. We’re not… together,” I confirm.

I turn to look at Libby skating alongside her nephew and brother. She’s gliding.

“Is she single then?” The guy asks.

Is he serious right now?

“As far as I know,” I mutter.

“She really is gorgeous,” he says tracking her movements. I feel bile rise into my throat at the comment.

“She is,” I admit.

The little girl is listening in because she says to her dad, “You should date her. She skates better than you.”

He laughs and looks at his daughter. “That’s all the more reason why I shouldn’t date her, Carly. She’d skate laps around me. I’d never be able to keep up.”

“Nobody can keep up with Libby O’Connor,” I say from the corner of my mouth.

I hope he takes the hint. I know Libby is a beautiful girl. But now, she’s my girl. At least for all intents and purposes.

“Well maybe she can teach you like Mr. Ferguson is teaching me.”

Carly’s dad looks pensive as we pass the trio. Libby watches us skate by, her arms resting against the boards as she leans back and chats with her companions who are pausing for a break.

“Could you maybe put a good word in for me?” The man asks.

My face shoots in his direction, “Me?”

“Yeah. She’s your teammate’s sister, right? I’m sure you guys talk.”

I rub the back of my head, looking over at her before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, I can… put in a good word, I guess.”

When we’re done with the lesson, Carly and Phil thank me for volunteering my time and ask me to keep them posted on what Libby says.

I bring my hand up to my forehead and hit it a few times. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

There’s no way in a million years I’d willingly convince Libby to pursue another guy. Much less one who admittedly is trying to turn his life around.

But I gave them my word.

So I’m officially the world’s biggest idiot.

Chapter 16

Libby

“You know what they say!” Kesley squeals next to me. “What happens in Vegas…”

“Get’s plastered all over Page Six?” I say with a smirk.

“I mean, I really hope not. Because I intend to do some pretty questionable things with my husband while I’m here.”

“Ew. Please don’t talk about sexy things when it has to do with my brother,” I say, my nose scrunching at her comment.

She giggles to herself as she pulls her luggage behind her.

We don’t fly with the team like Rina and Izzy do. But technically I’m here to help with the Heatwave social media efforts so for the first time I’m not only going to be watching the game—I’m going to be posting about it too.

“Speaking of Page Six…looks like that charity date you and Fergie went on got blown out of proportion,” she says.

I look up at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You seriously haven’t seen it? What kind of social media manager are you?”

“A cheap one, apparently. I’m doing it for free,” I say, my heels clacking in time next to her silent tennis shoes.

“Well, there were a few articles that speculated that you and Fergie were an item. Rina was all over it of course and even asked the Pulse to run a piece about the charity auction using the photos from your shoot with Izzy.”

“Really? She didn’t mention anything to me.”

“Probably because she squashed it. I mean you two are obviously not a thing. You’re the two most opposite people I know.”

“That’s not true,” I snap. “We’re both Houston Heatwave fans.”

She laughs and intertwines her arm through mine. “We’re all Houston Heatwave fans.”

Just as she says it a group of Vegas fans in black jerseys and t-shirts approach the baggage claim area. They’re all obnoxiously high fiving and chest bumping.

“Except those douches,” she clarifies.

I laugh through my nose. One of them winks at us as we walk by, and another licks his lips. “Douches for sure.”

“So you’re telling me that the only way you’re going to a show is if you get to be on stage?” my brother asks.

“Yes, Zane. Why is that so hard to believe.”

“It’s just so unlike you to want to be the center of attention,” he says sarcastically.

I punch him in the arm, just as his teammate’s are strolling up.

As always, Landry, Hicks and Fergie all arrive together.

“You do know that just because you guys live together doesn’t mean you have to do everything together?” Zane offers.

“At this point, these two are my extra limbs. If I don’t have them nearby, I can’t function,” Landry says.

“That’s a problem,” Kesley says. “What are you gonna do when they find the women of their dreams and want to move out?”

Landry makes a pouty face. “Don’t put me in a bad mood before a big game, Kesley. Haven’t you learned the rules yet?”

He pulls out a chair next to Zane and the other guys take the remaining seats at our circular table. Which puts Michael right next to me.

His hand ghosts across my thigh briefly and my breathing hitches. Tonight is our night.

“What rules?” Kesley asks.

“Pre-game rules,” Hicks says. “I’d be happy to list them out for you. Rrrrrule number one,” he begins. But he’s quickly cut off by Zane throwing a bread roll at his face. “Hey!”

“We’re not doing that again,” Zane points to him.

“But seriously, what rules?” Kesley asks again.

“They’re not written rules,” I clarify.

“More like unspoken rules,” Michael adds, his hand now floating onto my bare thigh under the table.

“Yeah,” Keelan says. “Unspoken rules like… thou shall not interrupt the pre-game nap.”

“Or thou shall not disrupt a player’s focus,” Hicks adds.

Thou shall not fuck your brother’s teammate especially when he’s playing in the conference finals.

Michael looks completely relaxed above the table. It doesn’t even look like he’s moving. But little by little his hand is gliding up my thigh. I gulp as he does. And when he reaches the apex of my legs and doesn’t meet resistance, he glances over at me.

That’s right, Ferguson. I’m not wearing any panties.

He mutters something to himself as he wipes his other hand over his jaw. I could’ve sworn he just said, “Fuck me.”

My stomach flutters from the thrill of him realizing it.

“So you’re all sissy little divas that can be thrown off by any little inconvenience,” Kesley blinks at the boys.

I feel my grin slowly spread at my friend’s comment.

“I mean, no,” Landry says thinking about it.

“Basically,” Michael admits, picking up his phone and typing something.

“Thank you,” Kesley says grabbing her wine and taking a sip in celebration.

My phone vibrates in front of me and I look at the text.

stranger

No panties? You’re breaking unspoken rule number two, butterfly.

My heart palpitates. In an instant, another text comes through.

stranger

Meet me near the bathrooms in two minutes. Drink up.

He slides his hand off my thigh and pushes his chair back. “Gotta make a call,” he announces to the group.

Everyone is too busy discussing what to order to even notice. A few of them wave him off. He gives me a pointed look before walking off.

I grab my phone and text him a response.

Me

This isn’t safe. We were going to be careful, remember?

stranger

You weren’t being careful when you decided to go commando.

Come here.

Now.

I huff at his audacity. Who does he think he is?

Me

What happened to hooking up later?

stranger

You happened, Libby.

A picture comes through next and I jump to cover it from Kesley who’s now watching me text. It’s a picture of his pierced hard on.

Normally a dick pic wouldn’t be enough to convince me. But this particular one… has me intrigued.

Kesley gives me a curious look before whispering, “I thought you and stranger weren’t talking anymore.”

I hold the phone to my chest.

“I gotta…”

“Go,” she motions toward the bathrooms with a grin. “Tell stranger I say hi.”

I roll my eyes.

Ok, so my best friend doesn’t know that stranger isn’t actually a stranger. And I do feel pretty shitty knowing that I’m keeping that detail from her.

But she exchanged loyalties the moment she said I do to my brother. She’s his person now.

So… I shouldn’t feel too bad.

“I’ll be back,” I say excusing myself.

The guys are all discussing the upcoming game and are way too enthralled in their conversation to care that I slip away.

Chapter 17

Michael

The moment I hear her heels approaching I brace myself.

“You’re crazy,” she whispers, looking around frantically. I smirk and take her hand in mine, leading her out of the hotel restaurant.

“Where are we going?” She protests.

“I’m sorry, did you think I was just about to do you in a public bathroom when I have a perfectly good hotel room twenty floors up?”

I hit the elevator button and it dings open. Stepping inside the empty elevator I turn to face her. She hesitates a moment before following me in.

She stands next to me, shifting from one leg onto the other as we wait for the doors to close.

The second they do. We both look at each other. And all hell breaks loose.

I put my hands on her waist and back her into the mirrored wall. Our lips meeting just as she thumps against it. Our tongues dance and taste and I can’t help but feel for myself how turned on she’s getting.

I reach between her legs and circle the wetness pooling there.

“So eager for me,” I growl into her mouth.

She nips my lip and I lift her up until her legs are wrapped around my waist. I press my hardened erection against her and she purrs so beautiful for me.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to see you come undone all over my cock, Libby.”

She throws her head back and I nip her neck just as the elevator starts to slow. I set her back on her feet and and grab her hand, leading her past the waiting group just outside the doors.

I’m so blinded with desire that I can’t even think.

We get to my room and the second we’re behind the door, we’re tossing our clothes off.

I undo my shirt and she rips hers off and reaches for my pants.

“I need you inside me,” she says, walking backward toward the bed as I kiss her frantically.

The back of her legs hit the edge of the bed and she falls. Her beautiful breasts bouncing as she does.

I pull my pants down followed my boxer briefs and Libby’s eyes widen at the sight. I look at her with my head cocked.

“What’s wrong, butterfly. You scared of a little hardware?”

She slowly shakes her head, licking her lips as she does.

“No,” she squeaks out.

“Good,” I say, pushing her knees apart as I step in between her. I run my hands up both of her thighs and her lips part for me. Those perfect, pouty lips.

The wetness between her legs glistens for me. “But before I claim that pussy, butterfly. I need you to know something.”

“What’s that?” She frowns. “I’m clean. Are you?”

I nod, “I am. But I can’t finish… not right now.”

She looks at me confused. “What? Why?”

“Because if I do, I’m going to play like shit later. And that won’t be good for my team. But what I am going to do is make sure you feel every bit of me. That way, when you’re in those stands wearing a jersey that’s not mine, you remember whose you are.”

She swallows hard and whimpers the second I press the underside of my cock onto her slickness. Rocking it over and over her.

“Oh my god,” she pants out.

I can’t believe how beautiful she looks beneath me. I already know this is going to be a hard task. But I need to hear her coming for me again.

I pull her closer to me and continue to press against her without entering her. She’s a writhing mess. And I’m enjoying every second of it.

“What do you want me to do to you, butterfly? We don’t have a lot of time before your brother and my teammates start to wonder where we went.

“Keep doing that,” she pants. “Oh god, please don’t stop.”

I lean in more, running my lips up her stomach and between her breasts. My hands are still on her hips as I drive my piercings up and down her clit.

It doesn’t take long before she’s grabbing onto my shoulders and shuttering out her orgasm.

Her moans are like a symphony, and I need to hear them again.

Chapter 18

Libby

“That was even better than I imagined,” I say to him.

His voice is husky and low, “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come, butterfly. Can you sing for me again?”

I lick my lips and nod, desperate to feel him inside me. In one quick motion he flips me onto my stomach and hitches my hips up toward him, my forearms planted on the bed.

“Now that I have you wet and ready for me, I need you to feel me fill you up. You ready?”

“Yes,” I barely say. His hands are gliding over my ass. The touch is light and sensual and I feel the appreciation in them.

“Good, baby. Now hold on.” He notches at my opening and slides into me ever so slowly. Inch by inch I feel the notch of each rung of his piercing enter me. It’s torturous and achingly sexy. Once he’s fully seated within me, he lets out a breath of air.

“This is even better that I imagined,” he says, echoing the words I said to him.

He pulls out of me and slowly drives back in again. Giving me mere seconds to get used to the feel of him again.

“Ohhhh,” I let out a long groan.

“I gotta admit, butterfly,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so captivating as the sound of you taking me.”

He pulls out and drives in again, this time a little faster. Each time he moves within me, sounds escape my lips and I can’t formulate words. Then he reaches between my legs with one of his hands, the other holding me tight by the hip as he drives into me; and he circles my clit.

The feeling is electrifying. I’m bucking into him as he rams into me. The feel of his finger working magic on me.

“I can feel you about to explode, butterfly.”

I can too. I groan in response.

He shifts us so that he’s now on the bed and I’m sitting on his lap, rubbing up and down the length of him. One hand still on my clit, the other roving my body. Until he reaches up to my neck and pulls my face to him.

Our lips meet and he devours me. I’m right on the edge, and I can hear the strain in his voice when he says my name into my mouth.

I scream out my release and he stops moving as soon as I collapse forward.

He rubs a hand over my back and gives me a moment to come back from the high. Once I’m able to lift my head I look up to him.

He has his eyes closed and is trying to slow his breathing. His erection is still high and pressed upwards. I slip off the bed and stand in front of him.

He finally opens his eyes and smiles up at me. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

“And you have the self-control of a saint,” I tell him, motioning toward his still hard cock.

“I need to take a cold shower,” he admits, getting up. When he’s standing in front of me he pulls me toward him and gives me another kiss that leaves me breathless.

God, I could kiss him all day. He has an expert mouth. An expert cock. How the hell did this pastor’s son learn everything he knows?

He finally breaks the kiss and whispers to me. “You go down first, I’ll be there soon.”

He heads into the bathroom and comes out a few seconds later with a warm washcloth.

“Open your legs,” he commands. I still and let him slide the washcloth between my thighs to clean me of my own juices whispering, “I’d lick that up myself if we weren’t in such a hurry.”

Well, I was almost clean. But I feel my body instantly reacting to his words.

“Stop it,” I slap his chest and he smiles. A heartbreaking and charming smile. “Go take a shower before I make you break your pre-game rule.”

He kisses me one last time before disappearing into the bathroom. I slip my clothes on and smooth out my hair in the mirror and just before I’m about to walk out he opens the door to the bathroom slightly and says, “Take the extra key. It’s next to the TV. You’ll need it later.”

The crowd is wild and the golden lights dancing around the arena remind us all that we’re in enemy territory.

The announcer’s voice rings out through the arena, “Las Vegas, join us in welcoming to the ice, your Veg-aaaas Spart-aaaans!”

The opposing team slips onto the ice, one by one, and makes their rounds holding their sticks up in triumph like they already won. The crowd erupts into another round of cheers around me. Many of them beating the plexiglass like war drums.

“Gotta give them points for excitement,” Izzy says next to me, snapping photos and bracing for our boys.

“And here to take on our Spartans in tonight’s Western Conference finals. All the way from Houston, Texas…the Houst-ooon Heat-waaave!”

Our boys jump onto the ice, one by one, they look fierce, fast and focused. Izzy is snapping photo after photo as they take their turn skating around the arena.

Ryker takes his place at the net. Smacking his stick onto all the corners of the net in his pre-game ritual and skating back and forth over his crease from side to side.

Landry skates up to him and I motion for Izzy to capture the moment they bump their helmets against each other. Something the two best friend’s have been doing as long as they’ve played together.

Landry then skates up to his line-mates and they all take turns bumping elbows.

Izzy captures that moment too.

Zane skates by us and says the same thing he does to me every game.

“Wish me luck?”

“You won’t need it. You got me.” He smiles before he lowers his visor and secures his mouthguard in place, skating off to center ice.

“That was so cute,” Izzy beams from behind her camera. “I never noticed you guys do that.”

“Ever since we were kids.”

“Look at us, just two sisters supporting our big brothers all the way to the big leagues.”

I smile as my eyes land on another player skating up to us.

“What’s up, Fergie?” Izzy says casually.

“Make sure she gets my good side,” he winks at me.

I feel the heat rising to my cheeks from the memory of him buried inside me earlier.

“As if you have a bad side, Michael Ferguson. Win this for Houston,” she shouts to him as he skates off.

“We need to find that boy a girl. He’s too good to be single,” Izzy says between shots.

I cough to myself.

“I’m not suggesting it be you. I know you like your wild boys,” she adds with an eye roll.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Speaking of wild boys, have you met up with anyone lately? Kesley mentioned you met someone on a hookup app?”

I cough again and this time I can’t hide it.

“You okay, you need a cough drop?”

I hold a hand up. “I’m good. And yeah, I did. But it’s a hookup app. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Of course. You’re so brave to put yourself out there. Apps always made me nervous. I’m glad it worked out with someone my brother vetted long before I did,” she chuckles.

“Yeah, you lucked out for sure.” I need to change the subject immediately.

“So baby on the way…. how are you feeling?”

She rubs her belly. “I’m growing by the day,” she admits. “My feet are always swollen and if I crave another Big Mac I’m going to be so upset with myself.”

“Yeah, aren’t you vegetarian?”

“Vegan,” she clarifies. “It’s a mortal sin. I blame Ryker’s mini me.”

I laugh imagining a little girl with Ryker’s blonde hair gobbling up a burger with her dad as Izzy stares at them with disgust.

Then another image comes into mind. Of a little boy, younger than Liam, running up to hold his hand. A mess of light brown hair and beautiful light blue eyes smiling up at me.

I shake the thought from my head.

“Would you ever want kids?” Izzy asks. “If the right guy came along?”

I laugh, “Hell no. I’m programmed for Crazy aunt life. You guys can count on me to spoil all your little offspring because I will not be having any of my own. A career in modeling doesn’t really lend itself to kids.”

Even as the words leave my lips I realize that it must’ve been my own mother’s belief since she left us for that very reason.

I swallow hard and focus on the ice, where the Heatwave now have control of the puck.

“Well, you never know,” Izzy says, capturing some closeups as they skate toward us.

You never know.

Chapter 19

Michael

“We’re in Vegas, Fergie. You can’t just bail. We got a limo, for god’s sake,” Hicks pleads with me and motions toward the stretch Hummer parked in front of the hotel.

We won the game, which means the Heatwave players are ready for a celly night. And we’ll be in Vegas for three more nights before we need to fly back to Texas for game three of the series.

“I don’t know, man.”

A group of our people stroll out from the hotel lobby hooting and hollering.

“Fergie’s not coming,” Hicks announces.

“The hell he isn’t,” Landry says. “Fergie, get your ass in the limo. We’re celebrating. You made the game-winning shot, you gotta go.”

“I’m seriously so tired,” I say, hoping they get the picture.

“Alright, I never thought it would come to this. But you leave me no other choice. Rookies!” Hicks calls out.

Trevor Sincaid and three others pop their heads out from the crowd of players.

“Sequester our starting right-winger,” he says with a finger pointed in my direction.

“You can’t use the rookies to do your—“

In seconds, I’m being hoisted up into the air. “Put me down, you idiots.”

“No can do, Fergie,” Sincaid says. “We need you.”

“Yeah, you’re the only sane one,” one of the others says.

“Hicks! Tell them to put me down, I’m not going.”

“Into the limooooo,” Hicks yells out in the same way a mad queen would’ve said Off with their heads.

The limo doors swing open and the rookies toss me inside just as my teammates pile into the extended Hummer.

“This is ridiculous,” I shout out. “I’m not even dressed.”

“It’s Vegas, Fergie. Nobody cares,” Ryker says, clambering in.

“Where the hell are we even going? Please for the love of all things holy don’t say a strip club,” I cross my arms over my chest.

Libby might not be attached to me but if she found out I left her hanging for a strip club… I can just kiss our little arrangement goodbye.

Zane pops in last, “If we were going to a strip club do you really think my wife would let me come out tonight?”

He shuts the door with finality and Landry hits the glass between us and the driver to signal that we’re ready to go.

“I just wanted to sleep,” I lie.

“There will be plenty of time to sleep… after the magic show,” Hicks says.

“Magic show?!”

“Yes! We’re going to see The Mirage,” he says with spirit fingers in front of his face.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” I blink at him.

“Yes, the Mirage. The Mirage,” he says like it explains everything.

“You repeating it over and over doesn’t make it make any more sense, Hicks.”

“You’ll see the hype when we get there,” Landry says as our limo honks at another limo parked in front of us.

It’s pink and glittery and women dressed in colorful skin tight dresses are slowly mounting. The last one to get in is Libby. Her arms are crossed over chest and she glares at our driver.

“Where are they going?” I gasp out pointing to the girls through the window.

“We told you, dumbass, The Mirage,” Hicks says.

Zane laughs, “Libby tried to get out of it too. But we told her we were all coming and she gave in.”

I reach for my phone and check to see a message from her.

butterfly

Raincheck?

I groan, wiping my hand over my face. My teammates have no idea that they just became the cock-block of the century.

stranger

We can plan a disappearing act of our own.

butterfly

Deal. I hate magic shows.

“Fergie! Fergie! Fergie!” The cheers from our front row full of my teammates has now caught on by the rest of the theater.

“I’m not going up there!”

“Rookies,” Hicks calls. The rookies seated directly behind me stand to their feet, hands reaching for me.

“No, No!” But I’m no use against four players.

My teammates are laughing as I’m hoisted onto the stage and cheers erupt from the attendees all around us.

The Mirage, as I’ve come to find out, is actually an illusionist. His skills include insane escape acts, sawing people in half and making entire humans disappear and reappear in places you would never expect.

I’m apparently going to be the last one. Thanks to my loud ass teammates volunteering me. I look to Libby at the end of our row. We’ve been texting the entire show. Every time I tried to get up to leave, Hicks called his Rookie brigade to hold me down.

And now I genuinely have to pee.

The Mirage’s stage crew preps me for the act right through an earpiece they secretly slipped into my ear to make it appear like I have no idea what’s going on.

“Fergie. Hi, if you can hear me scratch your left eye.”

I look around confused, but do as I’m told.

“Great! The Mirage will be making it look like you disappeared and show you anywhere your teammates might least expect you to be.”

I nod wondering if they can even hear me if I said something.

“So where would that be?”

The Mirage is still prepping the stage for the act.

“My bed at the Delano. It has a scenic view.”

“Perfect. We’ll send you there.”

That’s all the voice says before I’m being silently summoned by The Mirage.

“Ok,” I rise up from where I’ve been sitting to the side.

The masked man opens a set up curtains and motions for me to step inside.

I give him a weary look and the boys all start heckling me.

“Get in, already.“

“Don’t be such a wuss.”

I glare out them before I go behind the curtain and wave.

“He’s going to close the curtain and you’ll be dropped into a green screen area…in three, two—

“Wait, what?”

The floor disappears beneath me and I land on cushions surrounded by people wearing headsets and polos. A few of the reach out to me and instruct me to lay down while they set up the scene.

Above us I can hear the gasps from the crowd. The Mirage must’ve shown them I’ve gone.

“Just lie there and close your eyes. Pretend to be asleep. We’ll take care of the rest,” the voice from the ear piece says.

“O-okay.” I lay down on the cushioned floor.

“Awesome, now don’t move.”

A few seconds later, I hear the gasps and cheers from the crowd. I can especially hear the Heatwave players from the front row all laughing and cheering.

I don’t know what they saw but I assume it looked real.

“Great work,” the voice says again. “Now we’re going to send you back up. When the curtain pulls back. Just rub your eyes like you just woke up.”

I nod.

“Oh and one more thing, don’t disclose the magic,” the voice says. “Seriously, don’t be that guy.”

I gasp and hold my chest theatrically, “I would never.”

“Good. Thanks for participating. You’ll be asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement before leaving the stage.”

Before I can get in another word, I’m shot back up to the stage. The curtain is pulled and I rub my eyes and stretch for good measure.

I see the familiar faces of my teammate’s going wild when they see me. But it’s Libby’s face at the end of the row that has me cheesing.

Her jaw is dropped open and she’s shaking her head at me in total disbelief.

Chapter 20

Libby

“Ihad no idea you had this view until I saw it on the stage,” I say staring down at the Las Vegas Strip.

“It’s pretty wild,” Michael says stepping up behind me, his lips brushing across my shoulder. I feel my skin pebble at the sensation of his breath over it.

“Sorry our friends are such assholes,” I turn to face him with a grin.

“It’s fine. But this is all I’ve wanted all night.” He slips the spaghetti strap off my shoulder and it leaves my skin exposed and ready for him. “Besides, I get the added benefit of holding that magic trick over their heads for the rest of our lives.”

I smile. “You know, if you’re too tired…” I trail off.

“Are you kidding me?”

I laugh as his mouth crashes into mine.

He tastes like something sweet and sinful.

“Tell me,” I say as he trails his lips down my neck and across my shoulder.

“Whatever you want to know, butterfly.”

“How does a pastor’s son come to be so good with his… parts?”

He laughs against my skin. And it feels so good to be cherished by him.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes,” I breathe out when he unzips my dress leaving me exposed under his watchful gaze.

“You know those magazines that used to have the headlines like “Ten ways to drive her wild” or “The secret to the ultimate female orgasm”?

I laugh tilting my head at him. “Yeah?”

“I just learned to do the exact opposite of what was recommended.”

I can’t help the smile on my face.

He tugs my dress down the rest of the way and it pools around my bare ankles.

“I’m serious,” I say pulling his face up to mine, our tongues dancing over each other.

“So am I.”

“So you read magazines?”

“And books? And other publications… why so curious?”

I shrug.

Because you’ve delivered four orgasms to my zero and I’m curious how you’re this controlled.

“I’ve just never been treated like you treat me,” I say instead.

His brows furrow, “In what way?”

“Just that…you put my needs before your own. That’s not very common. Least not in the men I’ve known.”

He pauses at that comment, his mouth halting its assault on my body.

He rises and I watch as he towers over me. He’s in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Are you saying you like the way I worship you, Libby?”

Woah. Worship is… well, “Yeah.” I breathe out.

He puts a hand under my chin and forces me to look at him. “One thing you need to know about me, is that I’ll always put your needs above my own. Sexual or otherwise.”

I can’t do anything but lick my now drying lips. He’s sucked the very air from the room with the look in his eyes. They’re intense and I know in my soul that he’s telling the truth.

“My god, those fucking lips, woman.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, smearing the lipstick I have. “I’ve thought about the way they’d look painting my cock with that beautiful red all fucking night.”

His voice sends shivers down my spine as I close my eyes. He leans in and kisses them.

“Now, get on your knees, Libby. And show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

I’m already salivating at the thought of him sliding his length into me. I slink down in front of him. The soft cushioned floors of his suite make it perfect for kneeling.

I’ll need to get something like this in my next place.

I reach for his black briefs and he grabs both my wrists. I look up at him.

“You said you wouldn’t go to Vegas without stepping onto a stage. But our friend’s forced me onto the stage.”

“Um… yeah… so?”

“So…” he reaches behind him and grabs a remote from the bedside table. He point it to the curtains and opens them up all the way. Exposing us to all the city.

I’m on my knees in front of him. “Paint my cock, Libby. And let all of Vegas watch.”

Ho-ly shit. Michael is… wild.

I slide his boxer briefs down his thick thighs and this time he lets me.

When I slide my hand over his length he lets out a hissing sound. I wet my lips and slowly take him into my mouth. Swirling my tongue and coating him with my saliva as I do. I taste the metal from his rungs against my tongue and the sensation reminds me of what it felt like to have him inside of me.

I’m desperate for him.

“You’re so perfect. Your mouth,” he grabs my jaw and moves me over him. “That perfect mouth. It’s almost as good as being buried inside you, butterfly.”

I close my eyes, taking him all the way in until he hits the back of my throat.

“Libby,” my name escapes his lips again, in that way that sounds like a prayer. And I just want more of him.

I hold the base of him as I take the rest of him into my throat. Pre-cum sliding onto my tongue.

His hand goes to the back of my head and he wraps his hand into my hair, holding it out like a ponytail.

“You’re such a good little slut for me, Libby.”

My nipples harden at his praise. This is exactly what I need. For him to own me.

I take him faster and faster until he yanks me off his cock and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me up to him.

“Let me taste,” he growls out. I open my mouth for him and his tongue invades every part of my mouth.

“Mmm,” he groans. “My turn.”

He spins me so that I’m facing the city. And he walks in front of me, pushing me toward the wall until we hit it, before he drops to one knee.

“Put your leg over my shoulder, Libby.”

I do and he kisses the inside of my knee, dragging his teeth over my thigh until he reaches my core. He takes in a deep breath and inhales.

“I will never get over how sweet you smell,” he says, his breath heating me up there.

He looks up at me and holds my gaze as his tongue slips between my thighs and works in perfect circles.

My eyes shut as I get pulled into the feeling of his tongue claiming me again. And I’ll never get over how eager this man is to eat me up.

He hums when I roll my head back. “Look at me when I’m fucking you, Libby,” he growls.

My eyes shoot open and I see his feral blue eyes burning with desire. I can’t watch.

“Watch me when I worship you and taste you, Libby.”

I physically can’t handle it. He’s about to make the pleasure rip through me. I’ve never held eye contact with a man like this.

But I do as he says, gasping when he slips two fingers inside me and starts pumping at the same time his tongue assaults my clit.

“I can’t… I can’t take it,” I breathe out.

“You need to, Libby,” he whispers against my flesh. “Because I won’t fuck you with my cock until I feel you writhing against my face.”

Those words are the kiss of death for any composure I have left.

I grab the back of his head and hold him against me as his fingers and tongue work together to draw out my moans.

When I can finally breathe, I look down at him. And he’s shaking his head.

“You closed your eyes, butterfly.”

“What?” I breathe out.

“Now, I’ll have to punish you,” he growls out as he stands up in front of me.

Punish? God, yes. I want whatever punishment he can dole out.

He goes to the closet that contains his luggage and takes out red rope.

“What’s that for?” I ask, a little too breathy.

He smirks as he unties it and shows me the two separate ropes. “Sit on the bed, butterfly.”

My heart is beating in my throat. Because as kinky as I am, I had no idea that Michael Ferguson could keep up.

He steps up to me and I look up at him playing with one of the ropes in his hand. The other he lays out next to me.

“Show me your wrists, pretty girl.”

I hold my wrists out to him, like I’m being arrested. “I know you don’t know the rules yet. And that’s okay. I’m just going to tell you. In my bedroom—you do as I say.”

I gulp. Because his voice isn’t charming, boy next door Fergie. Oh hell no. His voice is menacing and dangerous. And sends a thrill coursing through my veins.

“Do you understand, my beautiful butterfly?”

I nod.

“Say you understand, baby. I want to hear that pretty voice.”

“I understand.”

He smiles, “Atta girl.”

Fuck. He sounds like a man that wrote the book on sex not read it.

“Now,” he starts to loop the red rope around my wrists until they form a perfect knot. He tugs on it to make sure it’s tight enough, before he takes the ends and lifts my arms over my head with one thrust. My breasts perk up in front of him and his eyes scan my body. He licks his lips in appreciation and I can feel the desire building up in between my thighs.

“Since you took your eyes off me while I was eating that delicious pussy. I’m going to be in control of your hands while I fuck you. Do you understand, Libby?”

“Y-yes,” I say on a breath.

“Good girl,” he drops the rope and my hands go back to my lap, still tied together.

“Now, Libby. If I tell you to do something again, and you disobey. Then I’m going to take that other pretty rope and tie it to your ankles. And you won’t be able to move your hands or your legs, baby.”

I gulp.

“I really don’t want to have to do that, though.”

He runs his thumb over my lip and slips it over my tongue. I don’t move. Not until he tells me. So I let him slide it in and out of my mouth over my tongue.

“Wow, you’re so good at this, butterfly. You can suck now.” I close my lips around his thumb as the rest of his fingers caress my jaw. “So good,” he says.

The city lights outside glisten behind him. The curtains are still wide open. He has only the light from the lamp next to the bed on. Enough to give anyone watching from a nearby building a show.

But, I don’t care.

I want him more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

“Lay back, Libby.” I obey.

“Arms over your head.” I swing my bound hands over me, the end of the red rope dragging over my naked body as I do.

He walks to the other side of the bed and secures the end of the rope against the bedpost.

“Pull,” he orders. I pull and the rope tightens slightly against my wrists.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts, baby. If anything hurts.”

I nod.

“Words, Libby,” he reminds me.

“Yes.”

“What word will you use to get me to stop?”

I look around the room and my eyes stop at the scene below us, “Vegas.”

He smiles as he steps in between my legs. “Vegas, baby. Okay then.”

His solid body leans over me and he runs his hands over my legs, stopping at my waist.

My eyes are on him the entire time.

“You’re a quick learner,” he says. “But if you need to close your eyes. You can, baby.”

He thrusts into me without any warning and my body convulses around his length. I gasp. And he looks down at me. “Are you okay?”

I nod vehemently, adjusting to his size inside me. “Y-yes.”

He drives into me again and the entire bed shakes. He holds my legs open wider as he continues to drive into me. Then he leans forward. The hard ridges of his body creating friction against my clit that drives me insane.

I roll my eyes and shut them, savoring each thrust of his.

It isn’t until I’m screaming his name and he follows me over the edge with his own release that I realize it.

We never used a condom.

Chapter 21

Michael

The groomsmen are all gathered and waiting for my brother to come out in his tux.

When he finally does, he does a theatric cat walk with one hand in his pocket.

His bros all pump him full of compliments. And when we turns to me, arms holding open the lapels and waiting for my reaction, I tell him, “You look like an idiot, white’s not your color.”

He drops his excited look. “I didn’t pick it, bro. It was Lillian’s idea. White for being made new.”

I nearly gag. Of course, Lillian would want to make a spectacle of my brother’s rebirth at their own wedding. The woman is a poster child for purity rings everywhere.

“That doesn’t mean you have to agree to it.”

“Yeah, well once you find the one you want to settle down with for the rest of your life. You’ll know exactly what it means to compromise.”

He says that like I wouldn’t have any idea what compromise is. If he only knew my day to day is a living breathing example of compromise. The woman I want for the rest of my life won’t settle down. Therefore, I compromised.

I’m not too proud of accepting the title of fuck buddy. But this is Libby O’Connor we’re talking about. I’ll take the scraps from her table if she’ll give them to me.

And lately, she’s been giving me more than scraps. She gives me a feast.

I love feeling her writhing beneath me, begging me to take her. And she loves that I dominate her the way no one else can.

We have a symbiotic relationship. It works, for now.

The guys are taking turns getting their measurements when my brother drops into the empty seat next to me.

“So… any word from Cassidy Jones?” He asks.

“Did Lillian send you to spy on her behalf?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. It was mom.”

I swipe a hand over my face.

“Well, you can tell both of them that I don’t need help finding a girlfriend.”

“Because you already did?” He asks lowering his voice to a whisper. “Let me guess, she’s a fiery little red head that you can’t be seen in public with?”

I look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I read some of the articles that came out. About that charity date. Those pictures looked like a little more than just a pity date though. Tell me… have you seen the butterfly yet?”

Red hot rage curls into the pit of my stomach at the mention of that birthmark.

But I do my best to tame it. Especially since it’s my turn to get my suit fitted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I get up from the chair and try to swallow down the bile rising into my throat.

Jonah looks at his three groomsmen. “Y’all are done. Go ahead and save us a table for lunch, will ya?”

They all agree. His little posse of yes man.

He turns his attention back to me once they’ve walked out.

“Michael,” he says holding his forehead like he has a headache. “Before things get any further. You need to know something.”

I’m still fighting the bile so I don’t say anything, but I watch him in the mirror. His gaze meets mine.

“Libby… is dangerous. She’s not to be trusted. Look what happened to her uncle. He was a criminal, Michael. A known criminal. A murderer. And I can’t say much but I need you to know this. That apple, definitely hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it. Is that right?” I grit out.

“Consider it a warning from a brother that loves you,” he slaps me on the back. “Anyways, I know you’re not fucking. You would know about the butterfly if you were.”

He shrugs and walks to the exit. “See you at lunch.”

With him gone, I can finally breathe, but my hands are shaking when I reach for my phone and dial her number.

Chapter 22

Libby

“Are you sure you gave me the right address?” I say, holding the phone up to the building.

“Trust me, that’s the one,” Ronnie confirms.

“Ronnie, this is a dilapidated warehouse.”

“In the arts district,” he adds. “It’s basically city chic.”

I scowl at his video on the phone. “Libby, you said you’d do it. You already signed the contract.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hold on.” I walk over to my driver and instruct him to stay put until I return. I no longer trust that I made a good choice in accepting this gig.

“You’ll do great, Libby. You have the perfect look for this shoot.”

“And what look is that, Ronnie? Fuckable?”

He coughs on his coffee. “No. Exotic.”

“I’m a red head with freckles. What is exotic about that?”

“Just trust me,” he says exasperated. “And call me as soon as you’re done.”

“Fine,” I say to his face. “But you owe me a decent gig after this. I’m not going to be Libby the lingerie girl. You hear me?”

“You won’t be,” he croons. “This is just to get your foot in the door.”

As if the twenty plus other shoots I’ve done haven’t been to get my foot in the door. I’m done trying to get my foot in the fucking door. It’s time a give that stupid door a stiletto stomp.

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” I hang up, exasperated, when another call comes in.

Shit. I can’t talk right now. I silence the call just as I’m walking through the doors of the warehouse, hoping I don’t get trafficked once inside.

Kesley whistles as I thumb through some of the photos on my phone. “These are hot, Lib. Who would’ve thought you’d be a lingerie model?”

I take my phone back. “I’m not a lingerie model. I’m just a model, Kes.”

“Right, right. How very uneducated of me,” she smirks. “You should send those pictures to stranger. See what he says.”

So I told Kesley that stranger and I are officially hooking up. She is still totally unaware that stranger is Fergie. And I decided, I’ll need to keep it that way.

Nobody could ever know.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks fixing her lipstick with a few smacks of her lips.

We’re about to head to yet another Heatwave charity event. This one is tackling the homeless situation in our city. And Michael’s church has stepped up to co-sponsor the event and help fundraise.

“Mrs. Ferguson will be there,” I tell her.

She drops her arm. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Weird that she’s interested in coming out to something involving Fergie’s team. She’s never come around, right?”

“Nope, not until she found out her church is a sponsor. Now she has to show her face, apparently.”

“That fucking sucks,” she says.

“Thank you, I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Technically, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Because it was Michael that warned me about her impending presence.

“It’ll be fine. She can’t be that bad. You’ve done your part. You’ve stayed away from her boys. That’s all she’s ever wanted. As stupid and unwarranted as it was. She has nothing to stand on.”

Except that I’ve done the complete opposite of that. She just can’t know.

Kesley touches my arm gently as she goes to grab her clutch off my bed. She’s getting ready at my place tonight since Zane is busy getting things for the event.

“Just stay with me for the night and I’ll give you a reason to avoid her. As many reasons as you need.”

I smile softly at my friend. “Thanks, girl.”

“I’d shank a bitch for you,” she says holding out her pinky.

“Right in the kidney,” I add, taking it in mine and sealing it with a kiss.

I can always count on Kesley to make me feel better.

But two hours later, in the middle of a full ballroom, I’m not feeling so great. My leg is bouncing under the table and Kesley keeps reaching for my knee and stopping it. Only for me to pick up the bouncing again seconds later.

I’m a nervous wreck.

“I need a drink,” I announce backing my chair away from the table. Tonight’s ensemble is a simple navy floor length gown. My hair is pinned to one side. The rest is cascading in front of my right shoulder.

I’m alone at the bar in the back when I hear his voice, low and sultry, against my bare shoulder,“Hello, butterfly.”

I turn slightly to look at him. “Hey.”

Then I go back to giving him my back. Nobody can see us talking. Not tonight. Tonight of all night’s is off-limits for our little exchanges.

“What’s wrong, Lib?” He steps in front of me and leans against the bar casually watching me.

“Your family is here,” I say without looking at him. The bartender slides me my cosmo and I pass my card. Michael moves my card back toward me and he offers his own.

“Ferguson. And leave it open please,” he tells the bartender. “Anything she wants, put it on my tab.”

The bartender nods his understanding and goes back to his register.

“I can take care of my own drinks,” I say to him, sipping, when really I just want to gulp it down.

“Just because you can,” he says, “doesn’t mean you should.” He reaches for my arm and I back away.

“Not here,” I warn him.

He looks around the ball room. In the middle is an open dance space surrounded by circular tables. Considering a church co-sponsored it’s a little weird that there’s a cash bar. But, if the Heatwave is involved, alcohol is almost always involved too.

His dad and older brother are chatting with some guys at their table.

“Anything for you, sir?” The bartender asks.

“I’ll just have a root beer,” Michael says.

“Trying to stay sober?” I’m sure he wants to be on his best behavior in front of his family.

“Since I plan to take you to bed later,” he says casually, “yes.”

Oh. Then I do actually gulp down the rest of my drink.

“Would you like another, ma’am?” The bartender asks.

I look at Michael who’s holding back his amusement.

“You know what,” I look at his nametag,“Chris… keep the cosmos coming.”

Michael eyes me over the rim of his glass of root beer.

“Do you see her yet?” I ask, not turning to face the crowd.

He scans the room behind me. “Not yet.”

“Great, waiting for the Wicked Witch of the West is worse than actually being around her. How does she have this kind of power?”

Michael’s face relaxes. “She’s not all bad.”

I scoff, “Says the apple of her eye.”

Chris hands me another drink and I don’t hesitate to take down half of it before I look at Michael again.

“She wants the best for her kids. Every mom does. She just has a weird way of showing it.”

“For someone that’s been on the receiving end of her wrath, you sure have a lot of grace for the woman,” I tell him.

“Well, who are we if we don’t try to have compassion on those that hurt us?”

“Ok, Jesus of Nazareth. Thank you for the sermon.”

He laughs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Mom, didn’t always have it easy. She was forced into life as a pastor’s wife at a very young age. It wasn’t what she signed up for. Dad didn’t become a pastor until after they were married. She fought it a lot, from what my dad’s told me. But she eventually accepted that if my dad was going to run a church then she’d need to step into the role. We all did.”

I nod. “I remember. I used to watch you and Jonah jumping into your dad’s gold jalopy in your little suits every Sunday. You wouldn’t be home until late.”

“We had bible study on Tuesdays. Youth group on Wednesdays. Worship services on Fridays and two services on Sunday,” he lists off.

“I used to hate Sundays,” I admit. “It always felt like we had to get our playtime in on Saturdays because I wouldn’t see you the rest of the week.”

“The life of a church family,” he says with a smile.

“Why do you seem so unaffected by it?”

“I mean, just because I don’t attend anymore doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for what I learned.”

“And what did you learn?” I ask. “Blind trust in an old book written by old men?”

He looks at me with softness in his eyes, “I learned to question everything.”

That’s not what I would’ve gathered.

“People can try to interpret things the best they can. They can try to teach you all the wisdom of the ages. But as a man, I’d need to decide for myself what I would choose to believe.”

The alcohol must be doing its part because I’m finally feeling relaxed. I lean on the bar right next to him. We both look out into the growing crowd.

“And what is it that you believe, Michael?”

He looks to his side and watches me. “I believe there’s always something new to learn. Things aren’t always as they seem.”

I know that’s right. The man standing next to me has surprised me the most. He’s a man of faith. And a man of dominance. Two things I would’ve thought were contradicting. But there he is, in the flesh.

I finish off my second cosmo just as his mother walks in through the double doors followed in by Lillian and another girl I’ve never seen.

“Oh god, there she is. You need to go,” I whisper to him.

He grins. “Fine, but I’ll see you later.”

He winks before he strolls back to his assigned table with his family.

Chris slides me another cosmo and I give him a nod of appreciation.

Chapter 23

Michael

“Hi, Ma,” I say as I approach the elegantly dressed woman.

She turns to me and beams. “Oh, Michael. You won’t believe who was able to join us tonight.”

She steps aside and standing behind her is the woman whose DMs I’ve been actively avoiding.

“Oh, hi,” I say, reaching a hand toward Cassidy Jones.

“Hi,” she whispers with a smile.

We shake hands awkwardly. And when she takes the seat next to my sister in law and turn to my mother and give her a blank stare.

She gives me a terse nod to the girl and we speak volumes in our silent exchanges.

She’s trying to set me up. The woman will never give up. I sigh heavily but take the empty seat next to Cassidy.

She’s a simple girl. Pretty, but simple. Her gown is floor length and doesn’t hug her curves. Like she’s purposefully trying to avoid looking too sexy. Her chestnut hair is pulled up into a braided updo and she’s covering her shoulders with a shawl. She gives a demure look up to me as I pull my chair in.

“So, Cassidy,” I begin.

She perks up and swallows hard. She has a hard time looking me in the eye.

“Do you… enjoy hockey?”

“Michael,” my mother scolds. “Forgive him, Cassidy. My son seems to have a one track mind these days.”

“It’s a fair question. We’re at a hockey team charity, Ma.”

“I actually do like hockey,” the shy girl says. “I watch your team play pretty regularly.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Yeah. You guys have one of the highest scoring lines in the league.”

I look over at my mother whose glare is taking on a softer edge.

“Would you look at that, Ma? Someone else who appreciates hockey. Shocking, no?”

My mother waves my comment away and I smirk.

“Who’s your favorite player?” I ask Cassidy, turning my attention back to her.

She gulps.

“I won’t be offended if it’s not me.”

She laughs gently. “It’s actually the left-winger, Joshua Hicks.”

“Really?” I can say I’m genuinely intrigued.

Hicks is a showman. He’s known for his trick plays and tip ins. And he won’t hesitate to rub it in our opponent’s faces when he scores a sneak shot.

“Well, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” I say scanning the room. “I’d be happy to introduce you.”

My mother stiffens across the table. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Michael.”

“It’s her favorite player, Ma. It would be rude of me not to.” I give her a stern look. “In fact, there he is now.”

I point to where Hicks is surrounded by a group of fans. He’s making charades that look like a recap of our last game against Vegas. The crowd gathered around him bursts into laughter at something he says.

“Come on,” I say pushing my chair back.

Cassidy looks at my mother, almost as if asking for approval. And my mother rolls her eyes. “Make it quick, please.”

I extend my hand out to her and she slips hers in. With that, my mother is very pleased. She and Lillian both look at each other with matching grins, as we dismiss ourselves from the table.

Away from the watchful glare of the matriarch of my family I can finally say what’s on my mind.

“I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your messages,” I say.

She looks up at me as we stop near the group of Hicks and his fans.

“Oh, it’s… um… it’s ok.” She looks down at her shoes.

“It’s just, if I’m being honest with you. I am single, but my heart… is taken, I guess.”

She meets my eyes again. “Oh.” She sounds disappointed.

“But, I have a lot of great teammates. Many of whom are single. Hicks, as wild as he can seem, is a great guy.”

She blushes at that comment.

“Not that I’m insinuating anything.” Though I kind of am. I don’t want to keep playing musical chairs with this girl. Handing her off from one matchmaker to another. That’s just unfair to her.

“He is fun to watch,” she admits with a smile.

But, maybe there’s something here after all. She’s not the kind of girl Hicks would go for. In fact, she might be the total opposite. But I’ll just do my part and let fate do the rest.

“Hicks,” I whistle at him. He looks up from his enraptured crowd and searches for me. I wave to him from where we’re standing.

“Duty calls,” he winks at his fans, before bounding over to us.

“What’s up, preacher boy?” His arm slips over my shoulder as he tugs me to him. “Yo, your brother is a total nut. You sure he’s getting married because some of the things he’s—“

I clear my throat to interrupt him.

“Hicks, I want you to meet someone. This is Cassidy Jones. Her father is the pastor of another well known church in the area and she’s a low-key fan of yours. Cassidy, this is my roommate, teammate and linemate, Joshua Hicks.”

Hicks gives me a quick look before he plasters on a smile and extends his hand, “A fan? Is that so?”

Cassidy blushes again as she takes his hand. Hicks brings it up to his lips and brushes a small kiss over it.

“I am,” she admits. “You’ve been playing really well in the conference finals. Not that you need me to tell you that.”

She recoils her hand and holds it to her chest.

“Well, thank you, Cassidy. You know sometimes I wonder if my linemates really appreciate the way I carry the team. They seem to only focus on the heavy hitters, but it’s us sneaky ones the other team doesn’t see coming that usually get the most unexpected goals.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know it’s true,” he says pointing a finger at me.

I swat it away and he and Cassidy go back to discussing some of his most recent plays. My eyes scan the bar area for my fiery red head. But she isn’t there.

I turn around to see if she’s at her table and she’s not there either. She did pound back quite a few drinks earlier. She’s probably taking a bathroom break.

“So, what is it that you do, Cassidy? Do you work at your dad’s church?”

“Kind of,” she says softly. “I watch the little kids during some of our services. But during the week I nanny.”

“I’m sure the kids love you.”

She smiles coyly. “Thanks, kids are just so easy to get along with. It’s adults that make me nervous.”

They continue their conversation as I scan the room one more time. What’s taking her so long? Kesley and Zane are nuzzled up whispering to each other at their table.

I pull out my phone and shoot her quick text.

Me

Where are you hiding, butterfly?

Chapter 24

Libby

I’m pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom mirror.

Maybe I had a little too much to drink and not nearly enough food in my system to soak it up. But what I saw, I can’t get out of my mind.

Michael Ferguson flirting with another girl.

He was all smiley and chatty and smooth. I could only watch the interaction for so long before I had to leave.

We’re allowed to have feelings for other people. It’s not like we didn’t discuss the possibility beforehand. I just never considered how I would feel if it were to happen.

And she’s pretty. And modest and just the kind of girl he should be with, too. I feel it in my bones.

The bathroom door swings open and my tsunami of thoughts comes to a halt.

“Oh,” the woman dressed in red says staring at me. “Hello, Libby.”

I gulp.

“Mrs. Ferguson,” I nod in her direction. Hoping she doesn’t see how inebriated I feel.

She walks over to the mirror and places her silver clutch onto the counter, digging out a red lipstick. I watch as she leans in and touches up the color. Giving it a good smack, before turning to look at me.

“I saw you in the paper recently. Looks like you and Michael went on a little date?”

And here we go. Not even two seconds after seeing me she has to bring up her son.

“Mrs. Ferguson, Michael and I are just friends. That was for—“

“Charity, yes.” She cuts me off. “So I’ve read.”

She turns back to the mirror and fusses with the loose strands of hair near her face.

“You know, Liberty. I haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s a shame to see what’s become of your uncle. Prison,” she tsks. “Such a shame.”

I hate talking about my uncle. The man made mine and my brother’s life a living hell when he decided he’d wanted to take something that was ours at all cost.

“Well, he’s where he deserves to be,” I say crossing my arms.

“Yes, I suppose he is. My deepest condolences for everything you’ve had to endure.”

I narrow my eyes at her and say dryly, “Thank you.”

“Of course, dear. Just because I don’t find you suitable for my sons doesn’t mean I don’t want what’s best for you,” she says turning to me and tilting her head.

There it is again. Suitable. I’m not suitable.

She looks under the stalls to make sure we’re alone. “You do remember, our little deal, yes?”

How could I forget? I’m bound by an NDA I was forced to sign when I was eighteen and scared.

“Of course. And I’ve held up my end.”

“Good,” she smiles and it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I hope one day you’ll know what it’s like to be a mother, Libby. The lengths we go to protect the people we love.”

I can’t believe the audacity of this woman. But honestly, if this is what it means to be a mother. Then I never want to be one. Ever.

“Maybe one day, the right man for you will come along. Until then, I’ll continue to pray that you find your way.”

The way she says that, like I’m someone who should be pitied, irks me. But I just want her to leave.

Or maybe I should.

I shake my head and without a word I push the doors to the bathroom, storming into the ball room to grab my purse and let Kesley know I need to leave.

Chapter 25

Michael

Libby is ignoring me.

Not just in public. In private too. She’s left my messages on read. She won’t answer my calls. And I’ve considered enlisting the help of a carrier pigeon to find out if she’s okay.

It’s been a week since she stormed off and left the charity event my family attended.

When I asked Zane and Kesley they told me she wasn’t feeling well. But now it’s been seven whole days and I haven’t seen or heard from Libby.

She shows up to the games we’ve had just when they start, gives Izzy some direction and leaves just as the buzzer finishes.

Tonight, we’re back in Vegas for Game six of the series. If we win this, we move on to the playoff finals. If we don’t, we have one more home game.

I see her chatting with Izzy on the other side of the glass. And decide to confront her. I don’t care who’s around.

I hit the glass with my stick and hold my gloved hands out. “What’s going on?”

Izzy looks at me confused and then back at Libby.

Libby just shakes her head and goes back to looking through photos at the camera.

“Libby!” I yell. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

She looks up briefly as if sending up a prayer and then meets my gaze.

“No, I’m just busy,” she says with a scowl.

“Too busy to answer your phone?”

She looks at Izzy who pretends not to be listening. Libby just glares at me like I committed a mortal sin.

The announcer’s voice comes on over the loudspeakers and the game is about to start. I shake my head.

“We need to talk.” I say to her before skating off.

I definitely did something to piss her off. And I can’t for the life of me understand what that thing is. We were good up until my mother showed up for the event last Saturday. It wasn’t a surprise. We knew she’d be there. But everything changed that night.

Maybe it was me sitting next to Cassidy. But that would be ridiculous. Libby can’t be mad at me for sitting next to another girl. That would mean she’s jealous and she’s made it clear that we are just hooking up and are open to pursuing other people. Even if it’s the last thing I want, I’ve respected that it’s what she wants.

I use the frustration to fuel me in the game. The Spartans are playing harder than they have the entire series. But we’re ready to deliver our final blow.

Zane skates up to me as we all take our places at the start of the second period. “What’s going on, Ferg?”

He sounds pissed.

“Seriously?”

“You look frazzled. And Libby hasn’t been herself all week. If I didn’t know any better…”

“Nothing, O-zone. Nothing is going on. Let’s just play.” I get into position and he does too.

It’s true. Nothing is going on… lately. But I’m going to make sure that changes tonight.

We lose.

Which means the Heatwave players will retreat to their rooms to sulk and sleep before our flight home in the morning.

I’m the first one off the ice and I storm into the locker room kicking off my skates and slipping into my slides without even changing. I have one thing on my mind.

To find Libby.

I catch her talking to Rina in the hallway. Her purse is already on her shoulder and when she sees me storming toward her, she rolls her neck back looking irritated.

“Excuse me, Rina. I need to chat with Libby for a bit,” I take her by the arm and drag her along with me.

"What is wrong with you?" she hisses.

"You, Libby. You're what's wrong with me."

I look around frantically and find a door nearby labeled kitchen. I grab her hand and push it open, bringing her in with me.

The lights are off, so it must not be in use.

"I'm done, Libby. I'm done pretending like the things you say don't bother me. Like whatever this is isn't messing with my head."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she moves to push open the door, and I block the exit. She crosses her arms and glares at me with those eyes dripping of honey.

"Libby, enough. You're not leaving until you tell me what I need to do to make this work. You don't understand what you're doing to me."

"And that's somehow my fault?" she scoffs.

"Yes! I can't think. I can't play. I can't do anything without being interrupted by thoughts of you!”

"You're ridiculous. We. Don't. Work," she says, exasperated.

"Fine," I throw my hands up. "We don't work. Is that what you want from me? To admit that this might be the biggest mistake either of us can make? It is. It's reckless and stupid and selfish. But god, woman. I don't care. Screw what everyone else might think."

She looks around the kitchen. Possibly for another escape, but I reach for her wrist and pull her to me. She softens under my touch and finally meets my gaze. "I'm not your ideal guy. And I get that—“

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's that…” she hesitates.

“Tell me,” I urge her.

“It’s that you're everything I've ever wanted. And everything I've told myself I would never have. You're hot. And funny. And stupidly kind."

What is happening right now?

"Wow, please keep telling me all the ways I'm so wrong for you," I say sarcastically.

"And you deserve to be with someone who will cherish that and not question it. I'm... messed up," she says, her eyes traveling down to the floor and staring at her feet.

I grab her chin and force her to look up at me. "Now you're being ridiculous."

"You deserve a woman who cooks, and cleans, and can bake something for your family's fancy dinners. One that your mom will gush over and be excited to welcome into the family. You won't get that with me. I'm not like your family, Michael. If that isn’t obvious.”

"Do I look like I want a woman to do all those things? I live with my teammates. I travel over fifty times a year. What makes you think I want any of that?"

"You... deserve better,” she says solemnly.

"I want you, Libby. And if you think for one moment that I'm going to let you just walk out that door without letting you know exactly what I mean, then yes, you're the ridiculous one."

"But—

I place a hand on the back of her neck and pull her toward me. My eyes watch as she gently licks her lips. "You're going to stop talking now," I growl out. "Because I'm going to kiss you."

Air escapes her lungs as I pull her to me. Our lips meet and there’s a brokenness in our kiss. Something is not right.

The fact that she thinks she wouldn't be welcome into my family has me pissed off. It’s not up to them. I look at her, holding her close to my chest. “Libby, we were friends before. My mom loved you."

"Until she didn't," she says matter of factly. "And there's no changing that. You love your family, Michael. I could never ask you to choose between them or me."

“Why would I have to? Anyone I want to be with, they’ll just need to accept.”

She shakes her head and pushes away from me. “It’s not that easy.”

“Because you’re concerned with what everyone will think?”

“No.”

“Then why, Libby? Because I’m genuinely confused why we can’t make this work. We… care about each other. That’s all that should matter.”

She’s struggling with something. And she won’t tell me. She turns away from me and places her face in her hand, her shoulders shaking.

“Libby,” I whisper, turning her toward me. “Baby.”

I fold my body over her and hold her. My stupid padding creating a barrier between my body and hers. But I can’t let her go. I need her to be ok.

“I’m late,” she cries into my chest.

I don’t understand what she means at first. But I hold her out by the shoulders to get a good look at her.

“It’s only a few days,” she says. “But I just know.”

My mind does a quick countdown of that first time we made love in Vegas. It was a little over two weeks ago. Can it happen that fast?

“Have you taken a test?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “I’m too scared. What if it’s too early.”

“Ok… that’s okay,” I breathe out. “Let’s go get you some. I’m going to get dressed and you and I will go get some tests. Okay? Wait for me in the press room.”

She gulps and nods.

“Michael… I can’t have a baby right now.”

Her words are like pouring an ice bucket over my beating heart.

“Libby, let’s just see. Okay. This is good. It’s a good thing,” I assure her. “Just wait for me.”

I kiss her on the forehead and she gives me a weak nod.

We part ways and I hurry to get back to the locker room to change. I walk in just as Coach Murray is walking out. “Ferguson. Where’d you go?”

“I just had to take care of something, Coach.”

“I was hoping I’d run into you. Come,” he pulls me aside and leads me into an office reserved for visiting team coaches.

Once inside, he sits at the edge of the old brown desk and looks at me, his hands folding in his lap.

“Listen, Fergie. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I think this is something you should know.”

My brain can’t think. Only thoughts of Libby are bouncing around inside my skull. And I’m really hoping he can make this quick.

“Mack got a call earlier today. It looks like there’s a team that’s hoping to make a trade. She won’t tell me who it is. They have to go through all the proper channels. But you might be hearing from your agent soon with a potential offer.”

I shake my head trying to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. “They want to trade me?”

He nods. “I know this is your first team and the loyalty runs deep. Personally, I think it’d be a stupid move on their part, but ultimately it will be up to you and management to figure out.”

“Coach… I can’t leave.”

Coach Murray nods his head. “I was hoping you’d say that. I just wanted you to know so it’s not a surprise when you get the call.”

Yeah, because right now, another surprise might be too much for me to handle.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“Now, go get some rest. And please, keep this between you and me. We don’t need to get the team worried during this last game. We need all the good energy we can get.”

“I agree,” I tell him.

He dismisses me and I feel like I’m walking through fog and unable to think.

Back inside the locker room I don’t look at anyone. I just head to my bag and start to undress.

“You ok?” Hicks asks, sitting on the bench and looking up at me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just… tired.”

I undress and grab a towel to head to the showers. There I let the hot water pour over and relax my aching muscles. A few moments pass when I hear Zane’s voice in the locker room.

“Delete it, now!” He roars.

I shut the water off and grab my towel, jogging out to see what’s going on.

“It’s all over the internet, O’Connor. He can’t just delete it,” Sincaid says, pointing to one of the other rookies holding a phone.

“I don’t give a shit where it is, if I catch any one of you fuckers with that on your phone. You’re dead to me.”

Ryker and Landry are holding him back from beating up one of our own teammates.

“What’s going on?” I ask, securing the towel around my waist.

“Libby,” Zane growls out and my stomach drops.

“What about Libby?”

There’s violence in his eyes and he turns his anger back to the rookie. “I mean it.”

“I got it,” the rookie says.

Zane storms back to his bench, slapping a cap over his head and grabbing his bag before shouldering out the door.

“What is it?” I ask the rookie.

He hands me his phone. And a rage I never thought I’d be capable of, rises inside my chest.

I delete the photo myself and then delete the trash folder before tossing the phone back to him.

I feel my jaw clenching and the only thing I want to do is get back to Libby.

Our teammates are quiet as they disperse and get back to changing. I quickly change, grabbing my own gear, looking back to the group. “If anyone is caught with those photos, you’re going to have hell to pay.”

I warn them, before pushing the door open.

But when I get to the press room. Libby isn’t there. Rina is though.

“Have you seen Libby?” I ask her desperately.

She gulps and nods quickly. “She left. She was upset.”

“Did you see them?” I ask her.

“The photos?” She looks down at her phone. “Yeah, apparently they’re from a shoot that she never thought would get used. It’s gonna take quite a bit to get them to pull it. The ad agency is in Europe and she signed a contract.”

I slam my bag down and pick up my phone.

There’s a missed call from her and voicemail. I press play and raise it to my ear.

“Michael, it’s me. I can’t stay, okay. I need to get back home. I need to figure out what to do about this mess. Not only am I making things hard for you but now the whole team is under scrutiny from these pictures that are being leaked. I just… I have to go home. And I know you want to help but I seriously suggest you stay away from me, Michael. I am no good for you. I’ve told you that. So please… just stay away.” I hear the sound of a car door slamming in the background. “Please.”

Stay away. She wants me to stay away? When she’s possibly carrying my child and going through more pain than I can imagine.

Staying away is the last thing I’m going to do.

Chapter 26

Libby

Ican’t stop crying. The second I feel like I might be able to move on, to put this all behind me, thoughts of my sweet Michael and the way he so calmly wanted to take care of me, bring the tears back full force.

Which is why I’m here—in the only other place that’s ever felt like home.

Sherrie walks slowly trying not to spill the tea on the tray. I rise quickly and try to take it from her.

“Sherrie, let me,” I tell her. She moves her shoulder to block me from the tray.

“Sit down, Libby. You’ve done enough for me, my love. It’s my turn to serve you.”

I stand there just staring at her as she sets the tray down. I can see the vapor coming out of the tea pot. And I only sit when she gives me a stern look before pouring the hot water into the tea cup.

“Fine,” I say, returning to my seat.

“This one is a lavender chamomile for relaxation,” she explains as she pours. Being careful when she hands me the cup.

I give her faint smile as I take it. “Thank you.”

I blow the hot liquid and she slides over the honey. “In case you like it sweet,” she winks.

My heart is so full from the love this family so freely gives to me.

Kesley and her dad pop in from the garage door, Liam following close behind them.

“Aunt Libby!” He screams out when he sees me.

I quickly blot my eyes so he doesn’t see the tears that have gathered there.

“Hey my sweet boy! You happy to be done with first grade?”

He sets his backpack down near the table. “Oh yeah, my teacher says that one day I could be an astronaut. I told him that’s cool, but I should probably finish second grade before I start thinking about jobs like that.”

I chuckle. There’s nothing like being around my nephew and his insanely smart brain to make me feel better.

I practically raised this little boy when Kesley needed help and had to work several jobs. I was lucky enough to not need the work, so I offered my time to care for him.

He comes over to me and gives me a big bear hug.

“What’s this for?” I say into his curly brown hair, squeezing him.

“You look sad. When I’m sad, I like hugs from people I love.”

Okay… great. There go the tears again.

If this is what it’s like to have a kid love you, then maybe being a mom wouldn’t be too bad after all.

“Hey snooks! Can you go upstairs and grab your hockey gear? Daddy’s going to be by in a little bit to pick you up for youth night,” Kesley says.

“Ok, mom.” Liam lets me go and looks at me, swiping his little thumb against my cheek.

A weird and unexpected sound bubbles out of me. I think I just tried to say, “Thank you.” And instead, a garbled mess of emotions escaped my lips.

“Love you, big man,” I whisper to him.

“Love you too, Aunt Libby.” He leans in and says. “And if it’s about a boy. Just tell me, okay. Me and dad can go beat him up.”

He pushes a fist into his open hand and I literally laugh out loud.

“Thank you. But, I think I’ll be ok.”

He nods and bounces out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Just like his Daddy that one,” David says. “Always ready for a fight.”

“It’s in his blood,” I admit. “O’Connors are fighters.”

Kesley slips into the chair next to me and grabs my hand, taking it into her lap. “You all are.”

I give her a half smile and she shakes my shoulders. “Libby, you’re going to be okay. I can’t think of a more deserving person to be a mom than you.”

“You’ll be the best of us,” Sherrie adds, taking a sip of her tea.

“You’re all way too kind,” I say, stirring some honey into mine.

“Have you given any thought as to what you’re gonna tell your boy toy?” Kesley asks.

I still, giving a quick look over to her dad who gets the picture and waves as he heads back out into the garage. “I gotta go… uh… fix an engine,” he says.

Sherrie gives him a knowing look.

“He kind of knows. I told him it was a possibility,” I say, referring to our moment in Vegas before I fled.

“Okay, so… what did he say?” She asks.

I take a deep breath before saying, “He seemed so calm about it. Eerily calm. Like it wouldn’t be an issue at all.”

“That’s great,” Sherrie says. “The way he reacts to pregnancy news says a lot about a man.”

“Yeah?” I ask her.

“Big time,” she says. “My first was a surprise. David and I weren’t even married yet,” she admits.

Kesley does a double take. “She was?”

Sherrie laughs, “Your sister, Kira? Yes, total surprise. We weren’t so careful our first few times and still getting to know each other,” Sherrie explains.

Kesley holds a hand up to her mom. “Nope, I don’t need to know these details mom.”

“I wanna know,” I say leaning in, both hands wrapped around my tea cup.

Sherrie ignores her daughter and continues, “David was a beast in bed.”

“Oh god! Mom!” Kesley pushes her chair back and excuses herself. “I gotta go check on Liam.”

Sherrie and I both laugh.

“Anyways,” Sherrie continues. “David was a beast in bed. Unlike any man I had ever met. I was always so careful before him but he was…” she pauses. “Different. He cared about how I felt and made me feel…”

“Worshipped?” I say.

She gives me a look, “Yes. Worshipped.”

I nod, knowing exactly what she’s talking about.

“I’d never felt that way with anyone. But with him, this unexpected side of me just bloomed. He knew exactly how to water my garden, if you catch my drift.”

I laugh. “So when I realized I was late and we had been a bit careless, I was worried I ‘d lose him for good. That a baby would change everything.”

“And what happened?” I ask, sipping my tea.

“He was elated. He said, ‘There isn’t anything I want more in the world than to have a physical manifestation of our love in the form of a human that represents the best of both of us.’”

“That’s fucking cute,” I say.

“So fucking cute,” she agrees, and we both laugh.

“So we got married. We had Kira. Shortly after came Kesley. And then our sweet Becks. I had a few pregnancies that didn’t take and those were some hard years for us. But we had our girls. And we knew that one day we would get to see our little family grow into more.”

She looks at the picture of her kids with their spouses and their kids. There in the corner is my own brother holding Kesley to his side, Liam balanced on his shoulders. All of them are smiling.

I feel that rush of emotion again. The kind I can’t contain. And tears start to fall.

Sherrie slides a napkin toward me.

“When you find the right person for you, Libby. Everything is just better. The things you thought would be hard to face, become lighter. And everything is so much more worth it.” She sips her tea peacefully, unaware of the way she just cracked a hole into the walls around my heart.

I swallow hard, looking back at the family photo and back to her.

“It’s not what I had planned,” I admit.

“It never is.”

I nod. I guess she’s right. We can’t control who the heart wants anymore than we can control the passing of time.

“So,” she leans back still holding her cup to her lips. “Who’s the boy?”

I grin. “Someone unexpected,” I say.

She nods. “Good. Those are the best ones.”

Chapter 27

Michael

The little girl and her dad, both skate cautiously over to me.

“Hi, Mr. Ferguson,” Carly waves.

Phil slowly pulls up behind her on his own skates. “Hey, guys.”

“I’m getting faster than daddy,” Carly says.

“She is,” Phil admits. “I have you to thank for that.”

I wave off the compliment, “She’s a quick learner.”

I’m so distracted. Once again, Libby has been unreachable and I’m about to lose my actual sanity.

“Dad, look it’s the girl you like,” Carly points to the entrance of the ice where Libby and Liam are entering the rink.

Her hazel eyes land on me and she bends down to whisper something to Liam who nods his head. They both stand and skate over to our area of the rink.

I look around nervously.

“Hi,” Libby says, looking at me.

“Hi,” Phil and I both say in unison. We look at each other and he laughs awkwardly.

“Sorry, she meant you. I’m sure,” Phil says.

Libby smiles. “You mind if I borrow your instructor for a moment? I have an excellent replacement,” she motions toward Liam who waves at Carly and Phil.

“Howdy,” Liam says.

Carly chuckles, “Hi. You’re a good skater.”

“Thanks, Dad and Aunt Libby taught me everything I know. I can teach you too.”

Carly’s eyes widen.

“Is that okay?” I ask Phil.

“Are you kidding? It’d be an honor.”

“Thank you,” Libby says to him. He bows his head and follows slowly behind the two kids skating away.

I turn to Libby. “He has a crush on you.”

“The dad?”

I nod. “He asked me to put in a good word. And since you haven’t been answering any of my calls I figured you might be interested.”

I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her reaction.

“I”m sorry,” she says, twirling a piece of her hair in front of her. “Can we talk?”

I look over at Liam who’s now skating backwards as he instructs Phil on a technique.

“Yeah, looks like your nephew’s got this.”

We find a quiet space high up in the arena. Far enough away from everyone and sit down in the middle of a row.

I wait for her to start. She looks torn.

“So… am I going to be a daddy?”

Her eyes shoot up to mine. And tears pool on her bottom lash line. She nods her head softly.

I sit up straight in my seat and face the arena. “Wow.”

“I know this isn’t what we expected,” she begins. “And we both have our careers. So I don’t expect you to change anything. But…” she sits up straight. “I’m keeping this baby, Michael.”

I turn to look at her. Why in the world would she not?

“Libby… I… wouldn’t expect you not to.”

I reach for her lower belly and hold my hand there. “This is our baby. I want to keep it just as much as you do. Are you kidding?”

She gulps and places her hands over mine, “Seriously?”

“Yes. Oh my god, a thousand times, yes.” I pull her hand to my lap and reach for her cheek. “Libby, I… I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. This is the best news you could’ve ever given me.”

She sobs and places her other hand over mine on her cheek. Tears flow down her face.

“Butterfly,” I whisper. “You just made me the happiest man alive.”

I smile. And she does, too.

“I thought for sure you’d ask me to…” she trails off.

“To what?”

“Just… I don’t know… not have it. But I look at Liam,” she shifts her body toward the little boy below. He sees us looking at him and waves. We both wave back. “And I just think, what a beautiful thing. To get to raise a human being. To teach them and give them more than I ever got.”

She turns to me. “With a man… that I love.”

I’m overcome with the desire to make this woman mine. I hold her chin up to look me in the eye.

“Then be mine, Libby. Let me love you. Let me love this baby. Fuck what anyone might think.”

She swallows.

“I want that more than anything.”

“Then what’s stopping us? Zane will get over it. Jonah’s getting married.”

“Your mother, Michael. That woman would never approve of us. Of this,” she motions to her belly. “And I’ve had enough people in my life try to tell me I’m not worthy of things.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, Libby. She’s going to have to accept this or be banned from having a relationship with her own son and grandchild.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m telling you that it’s just how things will have to be.”

I take her hands in mine and bring them up to my lips. Kissing them softly.

“You’re mine, Libby. You might have been Jonah’s girlfriend at one point. But you were my girl. Always mine.”

She cries and I hold her to me. “Pregnancy hormones are the absolute worst.”

I laugh and pull her face up to meet mine. “We’re going to do this. Together, you hear me?”

She nods, the side of her face resting on my chest. “Ok…stranger.”

I smirk.

“Starting with letting all those heathens know you’re mine.”

I motion toward my teammates all skating with their assigned skaters.

“I wish I could drink. I’m gonna need one,” she admits. “Especially when Zane and Kesley find out.”

“They’re just gonna have to accept it,” I kiss the top of her head.

“Yeah… I guess they are,” she sighs.

Chapter 28

Libby

“What the fuck is going on here?” Zane says from his place by the pool as he takes in the sight of me and his teammate holding hands.

Kesley is sitting next to him, pulling her shades down watching us intently as we stroll up to them.

I gulp, looking at Michael.

“Everyone,” Michael says out loud, still holding my hand. The music dies down and his teammates scattered throughout Landry’s backyard all turn our way.

“Libby and I are dating,” he announces, raising our intertwined hands up in the air as proof.

Everyone is quiet for a split second. I swear I see the lollipop in Landry’s mouth fall to the ground.

Then in an instant, the boys all jump up and head over to us, patting Michael on the back, ruffling his hair and pulling me in for hugs.

“About time, Fergie!” Hicks says.

“Wait, wait, wait…”Kesley pulls her feet out of the pool and walks over to me. “Fergie is….”

I bite my lip and nod.

Her mouth drops open. She takes me by the hand and pulls me toward the house. “Excuse me, I need a chat with my bestie,” she says to Michael.

“It’s fine,” I say over my shoulder, following her inside.

She closes the door and turns to me. “Are you kidding me right now? Fergie is your baby daddy?”

We hear something drop to the floor and we both whip our heads to Izzy standing in the middle of the kitchen, a bag of Funyuns spilled out and mixing with the contents of her Dr. Pepper can at her feet.

Kesley and I both look at each other before the three of us move to clean the mess.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy says, grabbing paper towels near the sink. “That seems like it was supposed to be a private conversation.”

“Too late, now,” Rina says casually strolling into the kitchen with a few bags of chips. “Mazel tov, Libby.”

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

“Excuse me,” Kesley says from the floor. “But I’m still reeling from the fact that my best friend has been keeping this from me, for weeks.”

“So you and Fergie?” Izzy clarifies.

I decide to just come clean to everyone at once. “We met on a dating app.”

“BlindBang, to be specific,” Kesley adds.

“Yes…” I admit. “It was only supposed to be a weekend hookup,”

“So wait, you didn’t know it was him you were talking to?”

I shake my head. “Nope, not until we were going to meetup and I put the pieces together.”

“Him being a hockey player in Houston didn’t ring any bells for you?” Rina asks, placing the bags onto the counter.

“Um…no. That never came up. He told me he was a software developer.”

“What?” Kesley says, picking up the bag of Funyuns and popping one into her mouth, like she’s watching a movie play out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, why would he say that?” Rina asks.

“Because he made the app,” Hicks says strolling past our gathered group shirtless and wearing only his swimming trunks. He opens the fridge and looks inside.

“How long have you been listening in?” Izzy asks him.

“Long enough,” he says over his shoulder.

“What do you mean he made the app?” I ask him.

“Fergie,” he says. “He made BlindBang.”

He’s so casual about it, bending down and sifting through the contents of the fridge.

The four of us say at the same time, “What?”

Hicks grabs a can of beer and closes the fridge turning to the four of us gathered around him.

“Ah, shit. I think that was 2018,” he mumbles to himself. “Fergie’s gonna kill me.”

“And I’m gonna kill Fergie,” I say, pushing past the forward to get to the sliding doors.

“Libby, wait,” Hicks calls out behind me.

But it’s too late.

“You made BlindBang?!” I scream out to the crowded pool area.

Michael’s head shoots over at me and he scrambles to his feet the moment he sees me.

“Libby…”

“I cannot believe you, Michael. How did I ever think this could work? I’m such an idiot.”

He reaches for me and I pull my arm away from him. “Libby, I can explain,” he says, following behind me.

Hicks is in front of us, arms up in surrender. “Sorry, dude. I forgot that was 2018.”

“You think?” Michael spits out at him.

I stomp through the kitchen and grab my bag from the coat closet. I need distance.

“Libby, wait.”

I whirl on him. “I’m sorry, like a clueless nitwit, I just assumed that us meeting on a blind dating app was fate. And now I’m learning that it wasn’t fate at all. You were behind it the whole time. Did you trap me on purpose Michael?”

“No, Libby,” he breathes out. “No. I had no idea it was you until…”

“Until what?”

“Until you invited me to your place. I had no idea it was you on the other side of the screen. I swear. That was all real.”

I feel my shoulders relax slightly.

“Okay?” His eyes are worried. “It was fate, Lib.”

I drop my purse and he steps up to me, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

I breathe in the scent of his cologne. The same cologne I smelled our first night together. It calms me.

“Come here,” he says, sliding my hand into his and walking me down the hall.

The kitchen is now empty as we walk by. The girls have since moved outside to give us some space. And I appreciate them for that.

Michael holds my hand behind his back as he leads me up the stairs.

He pauses in front of the first door to the left. “I want to show you something.”

He opens the door and I follow him inside. There’s a queen size bed with a cushy beige duvet and lots of pillows pushed to the far corner of the room. But the majority of the room is taken up by a giant L-shaped desk lined with multiple computer screens. Five to be exact.

“What the hell?” I breathe out. “Are you some kind of hacker?”

He grins. “No, I’m a software developer. I play hockey but this is what I love to do when I’m not on the ice.”

I walk up to the setup. There’s flashing lights and colorful keyboards.

He turns the lights off in the room, and the computer area comes to life.

“So… you’re a nerd. Is that what you’re trying to show me?”

He bites his bottom lip in amusement and takes my hand.

“Libby, for as long as I can remember. I’ve had a crush on you. First, we were neighbors. Then we were friends. Then Jonah, by some sick joke of the universe convinced you to be his girlfriend. And I couldn’t do anything about it, but sit back and watch. And I was convinced I had lost you.”

I swallow at his confession.

“But then, you guys broke up. And I saw the smallest glimmer of hope.”

I nod. Remembering the conversation when we were younger. The same one that wakes me up on some nights.

“You told me I had to stay away. And that if I didn’t that you would.”

I look down at my hands, fingers fumbling over each other.

“I didn’t know why we couldn’t be friends. Only that you didn’t want me. So I had to try to move on. Then Zane joined the Heatwave. And I knew I was a goner. Because if Zane was going to be around. I knew you would too.”

He steps up to his keyboard and runs a hand over it. “So I tried out some apps. Got catfished. Got ghosted. Got swindled for a lot of money. Girls took advantage. And I knew the only way to forget about you, would be to create an app that would be the ultimate distraction. I did everything I could to teach the algorithm to know exactly all the ways one human could match with another. The ultimate hookup. I spent a year building it. Then it went live.”

He pulls the computer chair out and pats it for me to sit on it. I walk over and sit. He pushes me toward one of the screens. His head leaning down just over my left shoulder, as he speaks.

“And the first match I got…” he opens the screen to his account and pulls up mine. “LeaveHerWild.”

I look at him and he looks at me. His eyes flickering from my lips back to my eyes. “It was fate, Libby.”

I push the chair back and stand up to face him. He straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets and staring back at me.

“I’m sorry, I pushed you away. It was never what I wanted.”

He shifts his weight to another foot. “Then why did you?”

I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know if I ever can. And that’s the part that kills me the most. I want to tell this man everything, but I can’t.

“I was young and impressionable.” I tell him. “I wish I would’ve done things differently.”

He slips one hand out of his pocket and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“I’m sure we both wish we would’ve done things differently,” he admits.

He takes my chin in his hand and brings my lips up to his. “But I have you now. And that’s all that fucking matters to me, Libby. We can figure out the rest.”

I nod, my lips parting at the closeness of his.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks.

I nod softly.

“Then say it,” he growls out.

That voice of his sends electric shockwaves down to my core. My dominant man is back. And it thrills me.

“Please, kiss me stranger.”

A slow and wicked grin spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”

His fingers lace into my hair and he pulls my mouth to his, devouring my lips in a needy, heady kiss. When we finally pull away. He looks at me.

“Take your clothes off, Libby.”

I rip my top off. And he reaches behind me to undo my bikini top. It drops to the floor in front of my feet. And he pauses. Looking at me topless.

“What is it?” I breathe out.

“There were some…” he gulps. “Pictures of you. Some of the boys were caught looking at them.”

“Oh god,” I say shooting my hands up to my face. He grabs my hands and looks me in the eye. Zane and I handled it.

“I didn’t even want to do that stupid shoot,” I mutter.

“What happened?”

“Paris happened,” I say.

“Well, we threatened to kill them if they’re ever caught with those photos again,” he says, pulling me by a loop on the waist of my jean shorts. “But, if I’m being honest…”

He slips his phone open from his back pocket and opens it to an album. He thumbs through photos of my topless shoot. And even photos from the more recent lingerie shoot.”

I grab the phone. “How did you get these? These haven’t even been released.”

I look up at him and he smirks. “I might be a little bit of a hacker.”

I slap his chest. “What are you doing with these pictures, Michael?”

He licks his lips as he looks down at me. “So many dirty things, baby. Wanna see?”

My lips part and I swallow as he reaches for the zipper of his jeans.

Chapter 29

Michael

“And you’re sure everyone will have their corsages?” Jonah asks over the phone.

“I’m on it, Jo. Seriously relax.”

“Ok, it’s just that Lillian will freak out if one of them shows up without one of those stupid corsages.”

“I got it,” I assure him.

The door to our brand new apartment swings open and I take Jonah off speaker. It took me and Libby a total of two days to realize if we were going to make this work. We needed a home of our own.

I put a finger up to my lips to signal to Libby to keep quiet. She nods.

We still haven’t told my family that we’re together. Much less that we’re having a baby and decided to move in together.

They’d think we were insane. And right now, we’re not in the mood to be dealing with people’s opinions of us.

But I did tell Jonah and Lillian that I have a plus one to their wedding and I can’t wait for them to meet her.

Lillian was elated. Jonah was skeptical. And one of them told my mom because I got a phone call less than an hour later demanding to know who I was suddenly bringing to my one and only brother’s, one and only wedding.

I told her she’d just have to wait like the rest of the family. Dad was just happy to hear that I was happy.

Libby sets her bags on the dining table and walks up to me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

“Uh-huh, yep. I’m on that too, bro,” I say to another request.

“Okay, oh and one more thing. Just tell us who you’re freaking bringing to the wedding man. Mom is a nervous wreck and it’s been hell having to deal with her anxiety and Lillian’s. Cut me some slack here.”

“Good try. But no, you guys can wait two days.”

“Fine, whatever. Be cryptic. Just make sure she matches the colors. That’s Lil’s only request.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s not wearing white to take away from your bride’s big day.”

Libby looks at me with furrowed brows and gives a quick shake of her head. I shrug.

“Listen, Jo. I gotta go, man. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday.”

We hang up. And I slap my phone onto the counter, pulling my girlfriend in for a kiss.

My girlfriend. Mother of my child. My butterfly. I can hardly believe it. She’s here. And she’s mine.

A tiny moan escapes her lips.

“You always taste so good,” I tell her.

“You always smell so good,” she says burying her face into my neck.

“I made you dinner.”

“You did?” She smiles. “Well aren’t you just a domesticated king.” She says lifting the lids on the pots.

“Uh-uh, I swat her hand away. Go sit down. Pregnant mamas get served. Or did you forget?”

A smile lifts on the corner of her lips and I kiss her again.

“Sit,” I say.

“Fine, bossy.”

I serve the homemade spaghetti and meatballs and open the oven to pull out the garlic rolls.

“I made everything except the bread,” I admit, grabbing a plate for myself and walking over to the dining table.

Libby sniffs the air and closes her eyes. “Oh my god is that…”

“Mmhmm, our favorite bread from our first date. I had the chef courier over some rolls and they included the garlic butter.”

Libby reaches for the bread first and rolls her eyes back as she chews. “Wow. It’s heaven,” she says lifting it to eye level to inspect it.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You spoil me.”

“I’d be an idiot not to. You deserve that and so much more.”

She leans over and kisses me and I taste the lingering butter on her lips.

“Eat up,” I say to her. “You’re going to need your energy.”

She pops another piece of bread into her mouth and says, “Why?”

“You’ll see,” I say, grabbing my own roll and taking a bite.

An hour later we’ve both eaten and showered and she’s screaming out her orgasm. Holding my head in place as I lap her up.

“That tongue of yours, Michael Ferguson. It’s a national treasure,” she says, catching her breath.

I kiss her one more time before sitting her up and sliding her onto my lap on the bed. We sit crosslegged as her slick center welcomes my length, slowly sliding down my shaft until I’m fully seated in her.

A long and soft groan erupts from her throat.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of you, butterfly.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and rides my cock. The rungs from my Jacob’s ladder creating the friction her body needs with each motion.

“You never told me…” she says.

“What baby?”

“You never told me what made you get these delicious piercings?”

I watch her come undone on me. I drive into her until she’s panting before flipping her onto her back and meeting her thrust for thrust.

Her back arches up on the bed as another release rips through her and I follow her over the edge only a few moments later.

We don’t bother with condoms for obvious reasons. And Libby, being the freak that she is… likes to feel me dripping out of her.

I slide my length out and watch as the evidence of our lovemaking drips out.

I slip some of it back in and kiss her thigh as I do. She shivers.

“You do know I can’t get pregnant again, right?” She says with a smirk.

“If you could, we’d be having a lot of babies,” I smile down at her. I drag myself out of the bed to get her a warm washcloth and clean her up, before sliding back into bed and pulling her to me.

She cuddles up to me. Her ass teasing my already revving to go erection.

“Don’t wiggle like that or I’m going to have to take that pretty ass,” I growl into her ear.

“Tell me about the piercings, Michael.”

I bite her shoulder and she yelps.

“You really want to know?”

She turns to face me. “Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you were a porn star in some past life?”

I laugh, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear.

“No, beautiful. I wasn’t a porn star.”

“Okay, because if I’m being honest… that would explain so much.”

I kiss her and she nips my lip.

“So?”

“Well, I always knew I wanted a wife,” I say. “And once I was married, I wanted to stay married. So I read as much as I could about how to please my woman.”

“And you discovered piercings were a way to please a woman?”

“Yeah. I found out what would make my lover have the most exciting orgasms and landed on this,” I press into her backside.

She presses back.

“Well, I’m really glad you did. You have a very satisfied customer,” she says grinning.

“Do I?”

“Ten out of ten, would recommend,” she nods.

I run my tongue over her neck. And she moans into the pillow under her.

“I can’t handle you making those noises, butterfly.”

“Well stop teasing me, and I’ll stop making them,” she says, flipping me onto my back and straddling me.

I place my hands on her lower abdomen and pull her to me so I can kiss her stomach.

“I can’t wait to see this swell with my child.” I kiss again.

She pushes my hair back. “It’s going to be a while until I actually show. Kesley says maybe even my second trimester.”

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

“About growing a child?”

“About being a parent.”

“Are you?”

I shrug. “I’ve seen it done really well and I’ve seen it done really bad.”

“Me too,” she says.

“Kesley’s parents were… are… parenting goals. Couple goals, really?”

“They love you.”

“Sometimes I wonder why? I was just the sad, lonely girl who befriended one of their daughters.”

“I know exactly why. I would never question why someone would love you.”

A whisper of a smile shows up on her face, only to leave right away.

“You don’t believe that?”

“I want to believe that,” she admits, rolling off of me and stretching her arms above her head.

I turn on my side. My hand gliding up and down her midsection.

“I’ll keep telling you until you do.”

I kiss her belly again.

She lifts my chin up to meet her eyes. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“Do you?”

She shakes her head. “It feels right. I just worry about what other’s might think.”

“I’ve never cared what they think, Libby. I only kept you a secret because that’s what you wanted. I would’ve shouted it from the highest building the first chance I got if you would’ve let me.”

“Somehow I believe that.”

“Good.” I say, resting my head near her hips and watching her breathe until it lulls me to sleep.

I really hope this isn’t just a dream, that I’ll wake up tomorrow and she won’t be next to me.

I hope this is real.

Chapter 30

Libby

“Iswear if that woman says one bad thing to you, I’m crashing that wedding,” Kesley says over the bluetooth speaker in my car.

“She can go suck lemons,” I say to Kesley.

“She already looks like she does. That’s just the natural state of her face.”

I laugh a little too loud.

“Okay, okay. I’ll call you as soon as it’s all over and let you know how it went.”

“You better. I’ll have my phone in my hand and ready to answer as soon as you call.”

“Love you, Kes.”

“Love you, Lib.”

I hang up with my best girl. I’m so grateful for her. For her parents. For the Heatwave wives and girlfriends that have taken me in as one of their own. Even if they did tease me for never wanting to be in their club.

They gifted me my own playoff jacket. It has both Fergie’s and Zane’s numbers on either shoulder. Because even if I’m with one of his teammate’s my brother will always have my support.

The boys won their conference series with last night’s game. Which means for the first time ever, they’re just a few wins away from raising up the prized Stanley cup for Houston.

Zane’s been bugging me about what jersey I need to wear for the Stanley cup finals. He doesn’t want me to mess with the good luck streak.

Michael says that they’ll win if they need to win. But that after this weekend, I better not wear another man’s jersey.

We’ll just have to see.

I see him step out from the side of the church gardens. I haven’t had the chance to see him all day until now.

His suit fits his sculpted body like a glove. And he has his hair slicked back in a loose and sexy style. He has one hand in his pocket, while the other hand runs through his hair. A smile crosses his face when he sees me step out of my corvette.

“Hey, butterfly,” he says, pulling me to him to give me a kiss as soon as I’m within reach.

“I’m beyond nervous, Michael.” I show him my hands and I’m shaking.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He kisses the top of my head and I inhale that masculine smell of his. It’s warm and tickles my senses.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.

He leads me down a small path that ends at a tiny cottage.

“What’s in there?”

“The bride,” he says.

“Oh, I can’t…”

“Lillian is the easy one. She’ll be happy to see you. I can almost guarantee it.”

“How are you so sure?”

He shrugs, “She’s one of the good ones. Too good for Jonah if you ask me. Ready?”

I nod. Trusting him.

He knocks on the door and an excited voice says, “Come in.”

Michael pushes the door open and there’s Lillian in her gown. She’s getting her veil arranged around the tail of her gown and she looks stunning.

“Oh my…” she stops herself. “Libby?” She all but squeals, rushing over to me.

“Michael, you sneak,” she slaps him on the shoulder. “I had no idea you were bringing Libby as your plus one.”

She takes me in for a hug. “Hi, Lillian.”

“I’m so glad you were able to make it after all. It means a lot to me, Libby.”

I’m taken aback by her but I look at Michael who nods.

“Libby’s not just my plus one, Lil. She’s my girlfriend.” He says it so proudly that I almost melt.

Lillian squeals and bounces up and down. “Oooh, I’m so happy to hear that!”

She pulls me in for another hug and Michael lets go of my hand this time so I can hug her back.

She pushes me out to get a good look at me. “You take care of him. I know he can be kind of a weirdo, but something tells me you’re the kind of girl that gets him.”

Michael cocks his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yes, really. If you weren’t my soon-to-be hubby’s brother I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

She smiles and I realize that I do like Lillian. Like me, she’s not a Ferguson. And like me, she’s fallen head over heels for one.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she beams.

“Well, we better go make our rounds,” Michael says. “Oh, before I forget. He reaches into his back pocket and produces a small envelope. “From Jonah.”

Lillian takes the small envelope and holds it to her chest lovingly. “Aww, I don’t have anything for him.”

She looks around the room and finds a small handkerchief and kisses it, folding it gently and passing it to Michael, “Just give him this, will you?”

“You got it, sis.”

“Thanks, bro.”

They both scrunch their noses.

“No, that feels weird,” Michael admits.

“We need something else. Doesn’t work,” Lillian shakes her head, agreeing with him.

I laugh through my nose. These two are funny.

“Don’t trip on your dress coming down the aisle,” Michael says over his shoulder.

“Zip up your fly,” Lillian says, just before he closes the door.

Michael and I both look down and notice his fly isn’t actually down. “That little.”

I laugh. “She’s funnier than I thought.”

“I told you. Now, you ready to face the Fergusons?”

I hold onto his arm, “It’s now or never.”

He walks me over to the area where the wedding will take place.

I see a sea of lavender and golds. And right near the entrance of the aisle are Michael’s parents.

Mrs. Ferguson sees us as soon as we’re in the vicinity. She stiffens and whispers something to his father who looks around and smiles at us when he sees us approaching.

“Libby,” Michael’s dad says cheerfully pulling me into a hug. “I’d recognize that red hair anywhere.”

Mrs. Ferguson looks me up and down, before turning to Michael. “Did you forget your corsage? She motions to his empty pocket.”

He shakes his head. “Before that, I wanted to introduce you both to my girlfriend.”

“Oh!” Mr. Ferguson exclaims. “Well would you look at that? Welcome Libby. Happy to see that you’ve made my son so happy by coming.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ferguson adds. “He’s been over the moon, it seems lately. Michael, I need your help with something, dear. Libby, you don’t mind if I steal him away for a minute, do you?” She reaches forward and slips her arm into Michael’s.

“Not at all,” I lie with a smile.

“Good, it’ll only take a moment.”

“Darling, please show Libby to her seat. It’s the one next to mine.” She’s says that last statement like a warning. But nice enough that I’m the only one that can hear it.

“Come, Libby,” Mr. Ferguson gives me his arm. “I’ll introduce you to some of our relatives.”

Michael gives me a wink as his mother leads him away from me.

They don’t say anything to each other and I wished they would so I can listen in. Even if just for a moment.

Chapter 31

Michael

On the way to my brother’s suite, my mother stops me just beyond the garden. Away from everyone.

“Michael, son. I’m going to be very upfront with you right now. And you have to understand that I’m coming from a place of love for you.”

I roll my eyes and sigh, “What mother? You don’t approve of Libby?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t approve of anyone who would be so loose with her morals. You understand the kind of girl you’re dating Michael. She’s…” She shakes her head. “She’s the kind of woman that would hurt you and not think twice.”

“Ma, we are grown adults. I really don’t need you telling me who I can and cannot date.”

“I know that, Michael, which is why I need you to understand why I’m telling you this.”

“What did Libby do that is so unforgivable mother?”

She shakes her head. “That woman has the Jezebel spirit, Michael. She will take down everything this family has ever built. And she’ll use her good looks to do it.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because, she’s the reason your brother rebelled. He almost lost his salvation because of that woman.”

“Ma, enough. I’m not going to have you talk about my girlfriend like this. You’re going to have to accept Libby as my girl, in the same way you accept Lillian as Jonah’s.”

“It’s not the same thing. And you should’ve never brought that woman around here.”

“Lillian invited her, first. And it’s her wedding,” I say, raising my voice.

“And that was unwise of her to do so. She’s let a wolf into the chicken coop.”

I put my hands out. “I’m not listening to any more of this. If this is how you’re going to be about Libby then I’m out,” I undo my bow tie. And rip it off, turning back to where I left Libby.

“Michael you come back here,” my mother says, walking brusquely behind me. “Michael Ferguson, how dare you disrespect your mother.”

I turn to face her, “You disrespect the mother of my child, then you won’t have anything to do with me or your grandchild.”

Mother stops like she was just met with the force of a brick wall. “Grandchild?” She screams. “You mean to tell me that harlot is pregnant with your child?”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” I roar.

“I will not have my son gallivanting with a whore. I refuse to let her trap another one of my son’s with a baby.”

Guests are halting their conversations to watch us. I feel their eyes on me.

I look around to see Libby and my father just a few feet behind us. Libby’s eyes are lined with tears and she’s shaking her head.

Then what my mother just said registers. “Another… baby? Mother what are you talking about?”

I hear Libby sobbing as she runs down the aisle and toward the parking lot. Her lavender dress blowing behind her.

Just as I’m about to chase after her, my father’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder to stop me.

“Enough,” he says to us both. “We talk about this inside.”

My mother scoffs.

“Constance, inside. Now.”

My father is not an aggressive man. But the way he just commanded us has both me and my mother following orders.

We march to Jonah’s suite, a separate small cottage near the gardens.

And I type out a quick text to Libby.

Me

Wait for me.

My father opens the door and Jonah’s groomsmen all stand at once.

“Out,” my father orders.

“What’s going on?” Jonah says, near the fireplace at the end of the room.

“Everyone out. I need to speak to my family. Alone.”

The men shuffle out and we step inside.

“What baby?” I repeat.

Jonah drops his glass and it shatters at his feet.

“You told him?” Jonah says looking to our mother.

“Told me what?” I say, my eyes volleying between them.

My mother just shakes her head. “She’s going to ruin him just like she tried to ruin you.”

Jonah looks at me. “You’re… with Libby?”

The look on his face is one of utter betrayal. “Jo, yes. I’m with Libby.”

He opens his mouth about to say something and then closes it.

“And she told you?” He asks me.

“Told me what?”

“Libby was pregnant with his child, just before they broke up,” my mother says. “She’s doing the exact same thing she did with your brother. Using you for your status.”

Jonah doesn’t say anything.

“Is that true, Jo?”

He looks to my mother who gives him a stern look. “Don’t.”

Jonah breaks down. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“Do what, Jo?”

“Jonah, stop it,” mother cries out.

“I didn’t want to drive her there. She didn’t want it either.”

“Constance, what is he talking about?” My father asks behind me.

My mother tugs her sheer shawl closer to her body. “I had him do the only thing that made since. To protect him from her. To protect our family from her.”

“You… made Libby get an abortion?” Jonah looks tortured but he nods.

“And you forced him to do it,” I point to my mom.

“I did, what I had to do. To protect us,” she cries out.

I shake my head. “I can’t believe you. You stand there, every Sunday and proclaim mercy and compassion and all the while you forced an eighteen year old girl to do something she didn’t want to do!”

My mother opens her mouth but it’s my father’s voice that rings out. “What have you done, woman!?”

“She would’ve ruined him, Dan. Then what would’ve become of your precious church. Tell me, what would’ve happened?”

“I can’t… I can’t believe this.” I back away from them.

“Michael,” my mom cries out.

“Enough, Constance. You leave that boy alone,” I hear my dad shout.

I run as fast as I can to get to Libby. To hold her. I had no idea what my family had done. And my heart is breaking for the woman I love.

But when I get to the car. She’s not there.

I open my texts.

Me

Libby. Please, where are you?

Chapter 32

Libby

Atext comes through on my phone and I don’t know whether or not I should answer it.

Or whether I have the energy to pick it up.

My sobs wrack through my body and it takes everything in me to even breathe. This is what I’ve been dreading.

This truth.

But unlike Mrs. Ferguson and her stupid non-disclosure agreement insinuated… I wasn’t the one to let the secret out.

Which means, in a very twisted way—I’m free.

I laugh to myself through the tears. She has nothing to hold over me anymore. Nothing to blackmail me with. The secret is out.

And for the first time in over a decade, I can breathe.

There’s rustling in a bush behind me. I think it’s Michael, but then a head of salt and pepper hair appears.

“Libby,” Mr. Ferguson says. “I was hoping I would find you.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes and sit up straight. “Mr. Ferguson, I’m not trapping Michael with a baby. That’s not… I’d never…”

He holds a hand up to stop me and motions to the empty space next to me. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I say, sliding down the bench to give him room.

He looks around the shaded space under the giant willow tree.

“Libby, I’m so sorry for the pain my family has caused. If I had any idea what was going on, I promise you, I would not have let what happened to you take place. What Constance and Jonah had you do…” his voice breaks. “I’m just so sorry. That was never their choice to make for you.”

He looks at me and the man has tears in his eyes. “I want you to know something. I’ve never seen Michael as happy and carefree as he is since he’s been with you. I saw it the day it happened. This smile I haven’t seen in him since he was a kid.”

I gulp and look down at my hands.

“Libby, you don’t need it. But I want you to hear it anyways.”

I look up at him.

His eyes are a gentle blue. They remind me of Michael. Soft and welcoming.

“I give you my blessing. You are the mother of my soon-to-be grandchild. And…” his voice breaks again, but he clears his throat. “And the child that never was.”

A tear falls down my cheek and stains my dress.

Mr. Ferguson reaches into his pocket and hands me a fresh handkerchief.

“You deserve all my respect. And anything you and Michael need. I will be first in line to celebrate and give to you. You didn’t deserve what my family did to you. And I understand if you want nothing to do with us. But I hope that… I hope that I can meet this child.” He says with a smile.

He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you for making my son happy.”

He walks off without another word. And I realize that I barely said a single word the entire time he was here.

I stand and look up at the weeping willow. The long branches reaching over me. Providing shade and comfort.

And somehow the man’s words have given me the courage I need to walk out of here.

And into Michael’s arms.

Chapter 33

Michael

“Oh my God, Libby.” I see her emerge from the trees and I can feel my heart beating again.

She runs to me and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Baby, I’m so so sorry,” I say into her hair.

She breathes me in. “It’s okay.”

I look at her. “It’s not, though. Libby, you never have to see them again if I have anything to do with it. You understand?”

She nods and quietly says, “Can we just go home?”

“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing her hand and taking her back to my car. “I’ll call Zane and he’ll come get your corvette, okay.”

Libby doesn’t say anything. She just nods.

She looks exhausted. And I’m still wrapping my mind around what just happened.

Pulling into the apartment parking, we didn’t say anything the entire ride.

“Libby, do you want me to call someone?”

She thinks about it a moment. “Can you call my mom?”

I look at her.

“I could just really use a mom right now.”

I can’t tell if she’s delirious or if that was just a riddle. But she doesn’t clarify. She just opens the door and walks up the steps to our apartment.

I call the only person who would know what to do.

“Where is she?” Zane says the moment I open the door. I motion toward the bedroom where Libby is lying down.

He nods and pushes past me. Kesley walks in behind him.

“She asked for her mom,” I tell her.

Kesley tsks. “My sweet friend.”

“Did you know?” I ask her.

She nods. “I held her the night she came home. It really messed her up.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath.

“It’s okay. Zane was the right person to call,” she assures me.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You just be there, Ferg. Libby’s never been able to fully deal with what happened. She was forced to bury it away in her heart and act like it was nothing. She needs time to process.”

I nod, accepting that answer.

It feels like hours later but in reality it must’ve only been one, when Zane emerges from the room.

“Is she okay?” I say popping up from the couch.

“She will be,” he says.

“Should I go in there?” Kesley asks.

“She’s asleep,” Zane says.

“Good,” Kesley says. “Then we should probably give them some space.”

Zane agrees and slaps me on the shoulder. “Take care of my sister, Fergie.”

“Always,” I tell him.

Always.

Chapter 34

Libby

The sun shining on my face is the first clue that I must’ve passed out cold last night.

My last memory was Zane being in the room. I told him to give me the play by play of Liam’s first official hockey game. And he did. I guess I just needed to hear my brother’s voice to be able to finally sleep.

I bolt up and see Michael on the reading chair in the corner of our bedroom. The lamp is on and a book is facedown on the floor.

I slide out noting that I’m wearing pajamas and not the dress I came home in. When I walk up to him, I shut the lamp off and slip a blanket over him.

Then, bending down to pick up the book I see the words on the cover.

So you’re going to be a dad? A man’s guide to caring for his family.

I look at the name of the author…Dan Ferguson.

His dad.

If Michael is anything like his dad, then I know he’s going to be great.

I flip through the pages. The book fell open to a page about easing the load on his wife while she’s carrying the child and beyond.

Never stop believing the best for her. That line is highlighted.

I look up from the book and see Michael smiling.

“Jesus!” I jump back.

He chuckles reaching for me. “Come here.”

He pats his lap and I set the book down on the table and curl into him.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is raspy.

“Pretty shitty,” I admit.

He cracks his neck, “Same here.”

His lips graze my shoulder.

“Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?”

He shakes his head. “Not unless you want to.”

“I would’ve told you everything… if I could have,” I tell him softly.

“I know that, baby. But that’s not on you. That should’ve never happened to you.”

I nod. “I know.”

He pushes my hair off my shoulders and caresses my arm. “What now?”

“Well, you have a game tonight,” I say, grinning.

“I do.”

“Stanley cup finals,” I say.

“Your point?”

“Which of your jerseys do you want me to wear?”

He turns my face to him. “Are you for real?”

I laugh. “I’m so for real.”

He kisses me and jumps up from the chair tossing me over his shoulder and heading for our closet. “You just made my day, butterfly.”

I giggle as my hair bounces behind him.

Male Commentator: I never thought I’d see this day, Paige.

Female Commentator: That’s right, Hank. The Houston Heatwave have done it. They’ve made it to the first game of the Stanley Cup finals.

Male Commentator: Tonight’s game is a heavy one, Paige.

Female Commentator: And why’s that?

Male Commentator: Well, according to some sources the Heatwave are playing the very team that offered first line right-winger, Michael Ferguson, a ten million dollar deal and a three year contract.

Female Commentator: Oof. That’s correct, Frank. And the forward turned it down.

Male Commentator: He must not be done with his time in Houston.

Female Commentator: And why would he? A little birdie has told us that Ferguson is going to be a new dad.

Male Commentator: Congratulations! And there’s our cameraman panning over to Libby O’Connor wearing number twenty-three’s jersey for the first time.

Female Commentator: Let’s hope that gives him some much needed wind beneath his wings for tonight’s game.

Male Commentator: And there goes the puck drop and Houston vs. Colorado has now entered Game one of the Stanley cup finals. Best of luck to our Heatwave boys out there.

“Shoot the puck!” Liam is screaming from the top of his lungs, his dad’s oversized number eighty-two jersey draped over his tiny frame. But he wears it proudly.

I join him in shouting to our boys. “Come on, shoot the puck!”

Michael has two goals already and the boys are setting him up for what would be his first ever natural hat trick.

Landry shoots to Hicks. Hicks shoots to Michael. And boom! He made it into the goal.

The arena lights up with orange strobe lights in every direction and the fans jump up from their seats to throw their hats onto the ice.

Within seconds, there are what look like hundreds of hats of all shapes and colors. My favorite one it a giant cowboy hat that belongs to the Heatwave mascot, Smoky, the Blue Lacy.

The dog mascot dances across the ice and kicks hats around as the ice girls glide through collecting the hats as quickly as they can.

Liam and I bounce up and down holding each other and screaming and the rest of our row and Heatwave WAGs are going nuts too.

My brother’s love for hockey got me to the ice.

But I realize it’s my own love for the team, for the fans, for the man whose baby I now carry… that will keep me here.

Epilogue | Michael

Four Years Later

The music pouring into the arena is soft and sensual.

“What is she doing?” I ask Delaney.

The little girl shrugs. “I wanna dance with mommy.”

“You do?”

She nods excitedly, “Yeah. I wanna do like mommy does.”

The little girl with the curly red hair glides in her socks across the floor of the office.

“Wow, Del. You’re really good at that.” She curtsies and waves just like her mom does at the end of a set.

“You wanna go see her finish?”

She cheeses and bounces up and down, “Yeah, let’s soo-pise her.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s soo-pise her. Come on.”

We’re about to head out into the arena when a big body blocks the exit.

He clears his throat and looks down at the little girl.

“So…” Zane says. “I heard from your cousins that you want to be a figure skater. Is that right?”

Delaney giggles as she looks up at her uncle and nods. Her curls bouncing as she does.

“Well, lucky for you. I think I found the perfect skates.” He pulls out a box and bends down to give them to my daughter.

“Happy birthday, Del.”

She squeals and plops onto her butt to open the box.

I look inside. “Don’t you think those are a bit fancy for a three year old, Coach?”

“Shut up, Fergie. She’s my niece. I get to spoil her however I see fit.”

“Daddy, can you please put them on. Pease daddy!”

The tiny pink skates lined with white fur look exactly like something her mom would wear.

“Oh and that’s not it.”

“You got her more?” I ask. “Zane you already got her a pony, a remote start car, and a full-size robot.”

“That robot will pay for itself, twice over,” he shuts me down.

“Ok, but seriously, no more gifts.”

“Fine,” he says, stalking over to the closet and reaching in to produce a beautiful pink sequined ensemble. “Last one,” he tells Delaney. “For now.”

“Zane!’

He laughs as I tie up her skates and she asks me to slip on the pink dress over her head.

“Ready?”

The toddler gives me a thumbs up.

“Good, now let’s go soo-pise mommy.”

“I’m coming too,” Zane says.

We each take one of Delaney’s hands and she tip toes over to the opening of the ice.

There she is, gliding like an angel on blades—my gorgeous wife. Her hair is straightened and sleeked back into a ponytail. And when she does a tuck spin, the red blurs into a spinning vortex until she slows and stops along with the music.

She hasn’t noticed us yet. But the song ends and she straightens when she sees us. She skates over to the edge, where Delaney is trying to get on the ice.

“You did not,” Libby laughs.

“You can thank your brother,” I motion to him.

“Stop it, Z. She has enough things.”

“So your husband has already made that clear.”

“Good. Where’s Kes?”

“Working late. She’ll bring the kids by later.”

“Mommy can I do spinning with you?” Our daughter says looking up at her mom with admiration.

“Of course, my sweet girl. Come on.”

“What did your coach say?” I ask her as she takes Del’s hand and guides her across the ice.

“We should get the news any day now.”

“The news?” Zane asks, turning to me.

“The news,” I confirm.

The doors to the arena entrance swing open and Kesley and three mini-hers pop in.

“Oh my god, oh my god. You won’t believe the news we just got,” she says, waving a piece of paper.

“What?” We all say.

“Look whose name just showed up on the list of next year’s Winter Olympics finalists in the figure skating division!” She squeals out.

Libby stops skating. And all of us go silent.

“Are you kidding me?” I scream out, grabbing the paper she’s holding up. “Liberty Ferguson. Baby, that’s you! You’re on the list.”

“I’m on the list,” she whispers to herself. Then she looks down at Delaney. “Mommy’s on the list!”

Kesley and Zane’s kids are prepared with poppers that take us all by soo—surprise.

I run to my girls on the ice, only slightly losing my balance as Libby jumps into my arms.

“Oh my god, Michael. I’m going to the olympics.”

“You’re going to the Olympics!”

“I… I couldn’t have done this without you,” she says holding my face in her hands.

“I’m so proud of you.”

She kisses me and Delaney makes a fake puking and is quickly joined by her cousins.

“Oh stop it,” Libby says to them, sticking her tongue out.

“We need to celebrate,” I say.

“Zane, call the boys.”

Already on it, he says holding up the phone.

“Where should we go?” I ask her.

“Mmm… I’m kind of in the mood for rolls.”

I smile and kiss my girl.

“Rolls are always a good choice, butterfly.”

The love doesn’t end here…

If you love these characters—go read Ryker and Izzy’s story in Pucked Together. It’s a brother’s best friend, grumpy goalie meets sassy team photographer romance with all the laughs and love from our Heatwave boys.

Read Pucked Together on Amazon!

Here’s a sneak peek:

My brother’s best friend will do anything to win.

Even if it means pretending to date me–his sworn enemy.

But claiming my v-card wasn’t part of the plan.

He’s Goalie-zilla of the Houston Heatwave and the man I can’t stand.

Number 33. Ryker-freakin-Balinger.

The only things we have in common are the temporary roof we share.

And the arena where we both work.

Dealing with this muscular, tatted-up grump is the last thing I need.

But he needs good press.

And I want revenge on the team’s newest arrival.

So this relationship is all for show.

Or so I thought.

On the ice, he’s defending the goalposts.

At home, he’s coaching me on more than just trick plays.

But this game plan doesn’t just have our jobs on the line anymore.

Because the smokeshow in the next room is now my baby daddy…

Pucked Together is a spicy forced proximity, fake dating, pro hockey romance. It’s the first book in the Houston Heatwave series and can be enjoyed as a standalone. There’s heated banter, unexpected twists, and a happily ever after for our enemies turned lovers.

Read Pucked Together on Amazon!

Prologue

I want to wipe that stupid look right off his stupid face.

"Izzy, it's not what it looks like.” His pants are still unbuckled as he chases me down the hall of my shared LA apartment.

I turn to him, shoving a finger into his face.

"Really, Trevor? That's rich. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know what was just going on in my bedroom.” I throw the nearest thing I can find at him to stop him from following me.

A pillow. I find my fiancé cheating on me, and I throw a fucking pillow?

"Ow, Iz. Calm down."

I can actually feel the fire burning from the pit of my stomach and climbing all the way up until smoke billows out my ears.

I turn to give him the full heat of my glare.

"Shit, that's not what I..."

"Calm down,” I scream. “You want me to calm down?!”

Deep breaths. Breathe, Izzy. Breathe. This is it. I remind myself. This is my way out. We weren't good together. Now, keep the air in my lungs.

I hear the footsteps of my roommate running across the hall to her room, trying to quietly shut the door.

That little—ugh!

Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe.

"Izzy, Baby. You need your inhaler," Trevor's voice is soft and worried.

But it's too late. The fire has worked its way into my lungs. And I can't breathe.

I grasp my chest, clawing at it. Gasping, the words barely make it out of me. "I'm not...your fucking...baby!" The air comes in and out in short, uncontrollable bursts, and I drop to my knees on the floor.

"Fuck! Trish, where's her inhaler?!"

He crouches to lay me down on the ground, putting the pillow I threw at him under my head.

"Izzy, close your eyes and breathe like this." He tries to coach me and I slap him away.

"I can't find it, Trevor!" Trish's voice calls from the other room in a panic.

"Well, call 9-1-1. We need a fucking ambulance."

I need to tell him to leave. I need to tell him he and his whore can go straight to—

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"It's my girlfriend. She has severe asthma, and she can't breathe. I can't find her rescue inhaler. Please, send help now."

I gasp—mainly from the audacity that he just called me his girlfriend when he knows we're supposed to be getting married.

I reach over my body and grab my other hand. It feels like a block of cement. My fingers are cramping, and the room around me is spinning. But I'm able to get it loose.

I try to speak, and the words feel like fuzz on my lips.

"The address is 804 Landfair Av..."

His voice is fading. With the last of my energy, I take the ring into my hand and throw it at his face before I collapse.

Read Pucked Together on Amazon!

You met Michael—the good boy that who has it bad for his girl. Stick around, for our next Heatwave player. Can you guess who it might be?

xo, Anne

Follow Anne Martin on Amazon to stay up to date with all her new releases.