One More Shot (Hometown Players #1) (20 page)

“What can I get you, little lady?” the new guy asks in a thick, charming French Canadian accent.

“Anything would be great right now,” I confess, relieved at the sight of alcohol. “The stronger, the better.”

“This is Sebastian, in case you haven’t met yet,” Chooch explains, grinning, which makes him look very young and adorably dorky. “He’s our best defensemen, and he also thinks he’s our best bartender.”

“I don’t think. I
know
.” Sebastian winks at me and I notice he has impossibly long, thick dark lashes—the kind I can’t even fake with mascara. “Call me Seb. I’ve heard a lot about you. You fixed Garrison, in more ways than one, I hear.”

I blush at that but smile. Chooch gives Sebastian a small hip check.

“Let me make this lady a drink,” he announces, and smiles, his nose crinkling and the freckles on it coming together like a blob of ink on the bridge. “One Chooch special, coming up!”

Seb shakes his head vigorously, his thick, shaggy dark brown hair falling into his eyes. “And I’ll make you a Seb-tini. His drinks taste like battery acid.”

I decide I like these two guys best of all the teammates I’ve met.

“How about I just drink both?” I reply hopefully.

“Not afraid of booze. I like it.” Sebastian smirks at me.

I watch Chooch as he blends vodka, gin, lemonade, ice and frozen blueberries into the blender. He stares at me over the swirling blades.

“So, you and Jordan…you’re no longer fighting?” Seb asks casually as he shakes together some alcohol and juice in a martini shaker.

I nod. “We’ve called a truce.”

“That explains why he is so happy lately,” Chooch observes, and I smile. “You got back together in Silver Bay, right?”

“Back together? No. I…well, we…I don’t know if I would…I mean, we decided to be friends…” I am stammering like an idiot.

Sebastian is staring at me with a cocked eyebrow and an amused smirk. He has the kind of intense, exotic look that I’m sure is menacing to his opponents on the ice, but I’m equally sure women find it sexy and mysterious off the ice. “He called you his girlfriend yesterday at practice.”

“He did?” I’m shocked. But that warm feeling blooming in my belly and crawling onto my cheeks also feels like happiness. And that kind of makes me panic. Sebastian laughs and pours his green concoction into a martini glass, which he then slides across the bar at me.

“So, you two haven’t had ‘the conversation’ yet?” He uses his fingers to make air quotes. I shake my head sheepishly. “Poor Garrison clearly has no idea what he’s doing.”

Chooch gives Sebastian another shove. “What the hell do you know about conversations? The only one you ever have with a woman is ‘your place or mine?’”

“That’s the best conversation to have!” Sebastian argues sincerely, and then watches me take a sip of the melon-flavored drink he created. “Good, right? Better than that blueberry sludge he made?”

I laugh at both of them, feeling at ease for the first time tonight. But then I glance behind me and I don’t see Jordan anywhere. I slip off my stool and give the boys a quick smile. “I’m going to find Jordan.”

“Conversation time?” Seb asks with a wink.

“Something like that,” I murmur, and head down the hall toward the living room. He’s not there either. I start to panic. Where did he go? The last time I lost a boyfriend at a party was Chance in high school…I see Alex coming down the ornate carved oak staircase. There’s a tall, thin blonde beside him in a skimpy, hot pink bandage dress. She’s got her hand on the railing and he’s got his hand on her ass. He smiles at me.

“Have you seen Jordan?” I ask quietly.

“He was upstairs. I just saw him by the bathroom,” the blonde tells me, and then turns to Alex. “That was him, right?”

Alex gives her a nod.

“Thanks.” I push past him and make my way up the stairs, my heart pounding harder with each step. My mind flashes to climbing the stairs six years ago…a different party, a different house, a different boy.

Please may the result be different.

A
s I exit the guest bedroom, I see Jessie coming up the stairs. Our eyes lock. She’s got a weird look on her face, one I can’t read and that makes me uncomfortable. I smile at her, trying to ease the tension.

When she reaches the top, she stops. I notice her delicate hand is gripping the railing so hard her knuckles are white. I don’t know what to do so I simply place my hand on top of hers. She tips her head, her hair swinging softly behind her. My free hand tingles at the prospect of tangling itself in that thick auburn mass, but I stick it in my pocket instead.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her focus moves from me to the hallway, eyes darting around as if looking for something.

Before she can say anything, I bend down and kiss her. She isn’t expecting it and her body freezes for a second. I’m gentle and soft. I fight the urge to just overpower her like I feel I’ve been doing with every kiss we’ve ever shared. The blood in my body boils as I fight to restrain myself.

“How were drinks with Chooch and Seb?” I ask when I finally come up for air.

“Hysterical,” she says with a smile on those perfect, full lips. “They remind me of your brothers and Luc.”

“Yeah, they’re idiots just like them,” I joke.

She laughs and the sound is an aphrodisiac. I suddenly regret taking her to this party because I want nothing more than to be alone with her right now. Alone and naked.

“Were you using the bathroom?” she asks.

I nod.

“Show me where it is,” she says.

I take her hand in mine and lead her into the guest bathroom, which is in the guest room.

I stop and push open the door to the attached bathroom, reaching around to flick on the light. The room, done in pale green glass tile and off-white marble, fills with light that spills into the guest room.

Instead of going into the bathroom and closing the door, Jessie rocks up onto her tiptoes and kisses me. Her lips are soft but urgent, and her tongue is in my mouth before I can protest. Not that I was planning on protesting.

Everything inside me roars to life and I grab her sides, just below her breasts, and push her up into the wall, laying my whole body flat against hers. I use that pressure to keep her up as she lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist. I cup her ass and push my hard-on up into the space between her legs.

“Jessie…” I whisper into the kiss. It’s a warning. I’m warning her that she’s started something I will have a lot of trouble stopping.

“I know. It’s not the place…and we’re not eighteen,” she murmurs, and starts to put her feet back down. “This isn’t a Silver Bay house party.”

“So, what?” I reply, and yank her legs back off the ground.

I back away from the wall and she wraps her arms around my neck to keep from falling back. I carry her into the bathroom and turn, using her back to push the door closed, then press her up against it.

I don’t want this to end—ever—so I tell her that.

“Let’s get naked and stay in this bathroom forever,” I murmur, and kiss my way from her ear to her collarbone.

She laughs and twists a little, which grinds her core against the throbbing in my pants. I groan and push into her. I use my upper body to pin her to that door and snake a hand in between us to pop the button on her jeans.

“Jordy…” she says breathlessly, but she doesn’t move to stop me, so I don’t stop.

Her hands tangle in my hair as I tug down her zipper.

“There are people everywhere,” she says, but again, no call to stop.

Her arms slip down my chest and her fingers curl under the hem of my shirt. I feel her knuckles graze the flesh below my belly button, making me quiver like a virgin. Damn. She owns me.

“Yeah, but not in here. We’re alone here.” I gently push my hand into what feels like lacey underwear, but I’m too busy kissing that awesome spot just under her ear to actually look.

She takes in an audible ragged breath as one of my fingers slides through her slick folds. Both her hands skim the waistband on my jeans and she follows my lead, popping my button.

“We’re not horny teenagers,” she reminds me, and then gasps a little as I push a finger up into her. She’s so wet, it’s making me crazy.

“We were once,” I counter. I try not to quiver as her fingers push into my underwear and lace around my shaft. “We’re picking up where we left off.”

Her hips start to work with my fingers, which are moving in rhythm with the hand wrapped around me. I fight against the urge to come. You’d really think I’d never done this before. I’m both in awe and fearful of the power she clearly has over me. Still.

Her beautiful lips part, her mouth forming a tiny O as I guide my thumb to the spot every woman wants a man to find. “Jordy, I’m…”

I cover her mouth with mine before she can finish the sentence and smile into the searing kiss as her body clenches and pulls at my fingers. She’s quivering against me as her orgasm fades and then, before I know what’s happening, she’s sliding down the wall.

I watch her drop to her knees, her hands pulling my pants and underwear with her.

“Oh God, Jessie…” I hold my breath as she wraps that perfect mouth around me, fulfilling a fantasy I’ve had since I was old enough to have fantasies.

W
e walk back downstairs holding hands, and I’m smiling. Sure, we still haven’t talked and I don’t know where this is going, but I feel like, right now, living in the past is just fine. This night, that little romp in the bathroom, this is how things should have been with us when we were kids. This is what I’ve been missing.

Someone calls Jordan’s name. It’s Chooch. He’s in the great room by the foosball table, waving frantically at Jordy. “Come! Unless you’re too scared I’ll kick your arse.” He’s trying to be tough but he’s got such a baby face, he just looks goofy.

Jordan looks down at me. “I kicked his ass at foosball last party.”

I let go of his hand and give him a push. “Go. Defend your title. I’ll find Seb and get him to make me another drink.”

He grins and kisses my forehead before walking to his teammates. I scan the room, finding Sebastian exactly where I hoped I would—back at the monstrous island in the kitchen, pouring liquid into the martini shaker.

When I plop myself down in the bar stool across from him, he grins at me and winks. “You want another of my drinks, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Because it’s a magical, fantastical concoction way better than Choochinsky’s?”

“I didn’t say that,” I reply.

“Well, you better say it or no drink for you!” He grins mischievously but slides a full martini glass my way anyway.

I take a big gulp of the frothy drink he just placed in front of me. “Delicious,” I confirm, and he smiles knowingly.

“It’s all about the lemon zest,” he tells me secretively and adds, “And if you tell your boyfriend and my teammates I know what lemon zest is, I’ll cross check you.”

I choke a little at that and he reaches across the counter to pat my back. Boyfriend. Is Jordan actually, really, finally my boyfriend? I guess he is. I take another sip and notice Ainsley slinking toward us, like a jaguar hunting its prey in tall grass. She’s being trailed by two other girls in her pride.

“Sebastian,
vein avec moi, s’il vous plait
.” A willowy blonde in a low-cut tank top loops her arm through his as she whispers these words to him in broken French.

Seb raises his dark eyebrows just a little, clearly impressed. “You speak French?”

“I do a lot of things in French,” she replies suggestively.

Seb lets her guide him away, leaving me with Ainsley and a busty brunette I haven’t met. I meet Ainsley’s cool stare. I try to remember the feel of Jordan’s hands on me and the way he looked at me after he came in my mouth upstairs; that gives me confidence. He wants me here. I belong.

“Having fun?” Ainsley inquires, but her tone suggests she doesn’t give a shit.

“I was.”

“You must feel like you’ve won the lottery,” she surmises. She starts dropping fruit into the blender, tipping vodka in after it. “A rich, talented boy takes you out on the town and another rich, talented boy makes you drinks.”

I take another sip but don’t respond. Because if you have nothing nice to say…

“Where did he meet you again? A bar? At the restaurant you work at?” Ainsley’s dark eyes are hard.

“Let’s see…” I put my glass down on the marble counter between us. “I think it was Mrs. Howlett, our third-grade teacher, who first introduced us.”

She looks perplexed. Her slutty sidekick looks downright confused. But Ainsley isn’t new to this mean-girls routine and recovers quickly.

“Funny, Jordan never mentioned you. Ever,” she says with a shrug. “I guess you don’t matter that much.”

The brunette sidekick reaches for the vodka and starts looking for a clean glass. Ainsley hands her the martini shaker with the last mouthful of what Sebastian had concocted for me.

“Have some of Jessie’s drink,” Ainsley tells her friend, smiling. “You’ve shared men, you might as well share drinks.”

I really wish I could appear unaffected, but I can’t. That jagged little revelation is cutting through my heart like the blade of a serrated knife.

“Jordan’s good, isn’t he?” she asks with a smug smile. “At least he was for me. Every time.”

“You’re not the first, Jenny,” Ainsley says, leaning over the counter so she can hiss it at me. I’m sure she got my name wrong on purpose. “And even if you stick around, you won’t be the only.”

Without a word, I take my drink, slip off my stool and walk away. There is nothing else I can do. I can hear Ainsley and the other slut laughing at me. It takes everything in me not to turn around and punch them both in the throat.

I wander through the house, feeling like I’ve been shot. I must look like it too, because Jordan abandons his foosball battle and walks over. Chooch screams, “Forfeit!” but Jordan ignores it.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “I’m going to go.”

“What?” He’s upset now. “Why?”

“I don’t belong here,” I tell him quietly, and then put my drink down on the coffee table. I start toward the front door. He follows me. When we get to the front hall, he grabs my shoulders and spins me around. It’s not rough, but it’s insistent.

“Jessie, talk to me. Please. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here,” I confess in a choked whisper. “I mean, what the hell are we doing, Jordan?”

“We’re dating again,” he insists, his hands sliding to my upper arms in a loose grip.

I laugh, but it’s mirthless and cold. “We never dated to begin with, so we can’t be dating
again
. All we did was have sex. Then and now. That’s all we did.”

I pull my arms out of his grip and jab an accusing finger toward the living room. “Just like you did with her.”

His blue eyes shift in the direction I’m pointing, and he sees the brunette across the room sipping her martini and smirking at both of us.

“Bethany?” he says.

“Oh, so you remember sleeping with this one?”

He ignores the dig completely. “That was…nothing. And the last time it happened was a year ago.”

I shake my head. “She wanted to compare notes.”

“That’s because she’s bitter I’m picking you, not her,” he whispers hotly, reaching out for my hand.

I pull away. “Look, I don’t regret having sex with you,” I tell him honestly. “Not then and not now. But we’re just not good at anything else.”

“How can you say that?” he questions angrily. “You’ve never even tried.”

“I haven’t tried?” I fire back, furiously pushing my hair back from my face. “I would have tried way back when, but you and Hannah—”

“Tried from where, Arizona? Because you left, remember?”

“Hey! It’s almost midnight!” Chooch calls out, unknowingly interrupting our fight. “Everyone get in here! We’ve got champagne!”

We stare at each other for a long heated second as people walk by us heading for the living room where Chooch and Ainsley are handing out noisemakers and tiny bags of confetti. Without a word, he takes my hand and starts to drag me back to the party.

“I want to leave,” I quietly plead.

“And I want to stay,” he returns. “I’m bigger, so I win.”

His old argument still rings true. I know if I pushed hard enough—both verbally and physically—he’d let me go. But I don’t. I just stand beside him as his teammates and their partners and Ainsley’s slutty friends start counting down to the New Year. They reach one and everyone cheers. Confetti flies. Noisemakers wail. People start hugging and kissing.

Jordan turns to face me and wraps an arm around my waist. He lifts my chin and tilts my head upward. Before I can protest, his lips are on mine. It’s a hot, deep, needy kiss. I lose myself in it completely. All my anger, frustration and humiliation melt. And then I hear whistles.

“Easy, Garrison,” Seb calls out. “Keep it PG, buddy!”

Avery laughs and calls out, “Get a room!”

“There’s a guest room upstairs if you need it!” Chooch happily suggests, garnering chuckles and claps.

I break the kiss, flushed from the heat of it and also embarrassment at such a public display. My eyes fall instantly on Ainsley and Bethany, who are both shooting me death stares. Jordan refuses to let go of my hand.

He drags me over to Chooch and tells the goalie we’ll be heading out. We then make our way around the room saying good-bye to various people. Well, Jordan says good-bye. I just wave, nod and smile.

Seb reaches for me and hugs me good-bye. “Women all over Seattle are going to be crushed you took this boy off the market. Well, at least the three or four who haven’t had him.”

I know he’s just teasing. He doesn’t mean to hurt me at all, so I try not to frown. I let Jordan lead me through the house and out the front door. As soon as we reach his SUV, he pushes me against the back bumper and puts his hands on either side of my head, staring down at me.

He brings his mouth close to mine—hovering maybe half an inch away—and then he just stops. My eyes are glued to his lips; his tongue slides out to wet them slowly. I have always loved Jordan’s lips. And the cleft in his chin. And the cool azure color of his eyes.

I hold my breath and look up into those eyes. He’s looking at me with so much desire, it’s radiating off him. I can
feel
it. I can’t handle being this close to him. I can’t resist the need to touch him. I tilt my head and push up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. He kisses me, his hands moving to my hair, grabbing onto it, tilting my head back farther so my mouth opens and his tongue can gain entrance.

I push my hands into his open coat and under his shirt. His skin is warm contrast to the cold night air. He flattens me against the back of the car, his body pressed firmly against every part of mine. My hands slide up his back. His groin pushes against my hip. He’s hard. I can feel it. And I’m wet. I can feel it that too. And then he does the unthinkable—he pulls away.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he says in a hoarse whisper, fighting to catch his breath.

“I
do
want you,” I tell him quickly, and then take a breath to clear my head. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what the hell is?!” he demands, his breath making white clouds in the winter air between us.

“We don’t even really know each other anymore,” I mumble as he pushes himself off the car and away from me.

“Are you different?” he asks in a hard tone. “Is orange no longer your favorite color? Have you finally stopped listening to nineties pop and started listening to hip-hop? Are you no longer scared of spiders? What’s changed?”

“
You’re
different.”

“Me?” He shakes his head dismissively. “I’m not different at all.”

“Really?” I say, and now it’s my turn to have the hard tone. “The Jordy I knew didn’t fuck random puck bunnies.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then rolls his eyes. “I slept around a bit. I won’t deny it and I’m not ashamed of it. I like sex, Jessie. I blame you for that. If it wasn’t so fucking perfect with you, maybe I would have been satisfied with one of these girls. By the way, no one—nothing—has ever made me feel as good as you do.”

I say nothing. I mean, what do you say to that? “Thank you” seems a little ridiculous.

He cocks his eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t had sex? You’ve been a born-again virgin since our first time?”

“
My
first time,” I bitingly correct him, reminding him I was the only virgin in the room that night. “No. I’ve had sex. Just not with everything that walks by.”

“I would have just had sex with you this entire time, Jessie, but you left me, remember?” he says sharply, jamming his hands in his pockets. He kicks at the snow at the edge of the sidewalk in front of Chooch’s house. “You
left
me.”

“What was I supposed to do, Jordan? It felt like everything you said was a lie!” I ask angrily. “I didn’t trust you and I couldn’t risk my whole future on you. I just…couldn’t.”

“I’ve never lied to you a day in my life, Jessie.” His voice is low and deep, thick with anger and pain. “But somehow I’m always the bad guy.”

“You let Hannah—”

“There is no Hannah!” he yells, cutting off my words.

“There
was
a Hannah,” I correct him. “And a Tori and a Bethany and a million others. Ainsley reminded me of that.”

“Fuck Ainsley!”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”

He swears under his breath, runs a giant hand through his hair and then balls that hand into a fist. His cheeks are turning red with anger, not from the cold.

He opens his mouth and points at me. His eyes are blazing with anger and something else…rejection? Sadness? Something painful and dark. But before a word leaves his mouth, he drops his hand and presses his lips together. And once again, he’s that eighteen-year-old kid who can’t—who won’t—process his emotions.

We stare at each other in silence. Jordan moves around me and opens the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

I get in.

We drive most of the way in silence. I keep glancing at him trying to figure out what he’s feeling and what he’s thinking. I have no idea. It makes me realize once again how much has changed. He pulls up in front of my apartment building and turns to me as he shuts off the car.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. His words back there had left me colder than the winter air around us. I was chilled to the bone by the realization of how my actions had affected him. I picked Arizona because I was too scared to trust him. I needed to protect myself, and I really never stopped to wonder how that made him feel—because I’d convinced myself I had no other choice.

“I’m sorry I felt I had to go to Arizona,” I whisper. “I’m sorry that it hurt you.”

“It didn’t hurt me. It destroyed me.”

“Then why do you want this again?” I can’t help but ask in a desperate, hoarse whisper. “Just go back to your women and your fun and forget this.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I open my eyes and look at him. He’s staring straight ahead at the steering wheel, his hands twisting in his lap. “For me to just drop you, or play you like you thought I was doing back then. Like you
still
think I did back then.”

His words are hard and heavy, dropping between us in the car like bricks. I’d spent my whole life acutely aware that I could be let down at any moment—by anyone. Jordan had never failed me until I saw Hannah at the draft. He said he didn’t invite her, acted like he wasn’t a guy who would do that. I’d run anyway. So when I found out he’d gone on to treat his bedroom like a fast food drive-through, I assumed it was all the proof I needed that he
was
a bad guy. Was it? Was I just another one of the billions served, or was I different this time? Had I been different all along? I honestly didn’t know, and that was the problem.