"I'll take that as a yes," he says, reaching for his phone. "Pizza okay?"
I frown. “Didn’t you all just eat? There were so many food containers.”
Alder shakes his head. “Those jagoffs ate. Tucker and Gun are just starting their post-season binge, and Odin has been away from American food for a year. They didn’t leave me a single thing, and I could destroy a large pie from Spak Brothers if you’re in?”
"Pizza's perfect." As he calls in our order, I find myself studying him—the casual way he leans against the counter, the gentleness with which he scratches Gordie's ears when the dog wanders over, and the fading tension in his shoulders as he jokes with the pizza place he clearly orders from regularly.
There's something undeniably attractive about him, and not just in the obvious way. Yes, he's physically stunning—all the Stag brothers are—but there's something else. A genuineness and an absence of the calculation I'd grown used to with Brad.
When he catches me watching him, I quickly look away, pretending to examine the photographs on his walls. What am I doing? This arrangement is temporary, born of mutual desperation and hurt feelings—a petty revenge scheme.
But as Alder grins at me and asks if I want to sign our exes up for health department mold inspections while we wait, I can't help but smile back. For the first time since the kiss cam disaster, I feel something other than humiliation and anger.
Something perilously close to attraction.
CHAPTER 9
ALDER
Lena's been livingin my guest room for three days, and somehow it already feels like she's always been here. This morning, I found her and Gordie sharing a piece of toast on the patio, watching the sunrise over the river. She didn't know I saw them—I was heading out for an early workout—but the sight lodged somewhere beneath my ribs and hasn't budged since.
Now I'm sprawled on the couch, scrolling through my phone while she showers after her day at work. I've been avoiding social media since the kiss cam disaster, but Brian texted that I should "take the temperature of public opinion." Whatever that means.
I open FaceSpace and instantly regret it.
*Fury Defenseman's Love Life Melts Down with Season*
*Who Is PR Guru Adam Lawson's Mystery Man?*
And then, more recently:
*Sources Confirm: Fury Team Dentist Also a Victim in Kiss Cam Affair*
I'm still staring at the screen when Lena emerges from thehallway, her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing sweatpants and a faded university T-shirt.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," she says, peering over my shoulder. "Oh."
She snatches the phone from my hands and scrolls through the articles, her expression darkening with each swipe.
"'Sources confirm,'" she reads aloud. "'Insiders say.' Who are these people, and why do they care so much about our private lives?"
"Welcome to professional sports," I say, taking back my phone. "Where your humiliation is just content for the masses."
She sits beside me, maintaining a careful distance between us. We've established an unspoken choreography of proximity over these past few days—close enough for comfortable conversation, yet far enough to avoid accidental touches.
“This is fun, though,” I show her my phone. I had a case of dick-shaped pasta delivered to Adam’s apartment building and required a signature. The courier took a terrific picture of him looking absolutely horrified.
She grabs the phone again. "Why didn’t I think of anything like that?"
"Stick with me, Lena. I’ll teach you all the things.”
She groans. "Great. So now not only am I the pathetic woman whose boyfriend cheated on her with someone else’s man, but I'm also failing at our payback project."
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm the guy who drove his boyfriend into another man's arms," I offer. "The internet has theories about my... abilities."
"That's ridiculous," she says automatically, then flushes when I raise an eyebrow. "I just mean, obviously, that's not why Adam cheated. He's just an asshole."
"Yeah." I stare at the ceiling, thinking. "But maybe we can use this."
