Nate wanted kids too, but this was enough to have him debating opening the door and taking his chances. “Modern technology is amazing,” he offered instead.
“Oh yeah. And if you saw the things I see in the OR—safety is so important.” He shook his head as he signaled well in advance of the left turn his GPS was telling him to take. “I can’t believe you played hockey professionally. Talk about a dangerous sport.”
“Ah, well,” Nate said. Because hockey was dangerous, but it was also fun, and he loved it, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of agreeing with someone who seemed to be saying he shouldn’t have played. Apparently he had limits. “Sometimes when you love something that much, the risks are worth it. I have a few scars, but I wouldn’t change them.”
Devon didn’t look at him, but then again, he wouldn’t. He had to keep his eyes on the road. “Really?” He sounded surprised, but not in a horrified way. “Hmm. I suppose everyone’s different.”
Wonders never ceased—a real moment of communication, tame as it was. Maybe Nate wasn’t completely hopeless.
Maybe he could invite Devon up to his apartment. His dick had never completely forgotten the way he’d reminisced about his night with Aubrey, and now it was ready for action. He could make this thing work with Devon well enough for one night, couldn’t he? He had faith in his own hotness.
He could do this.
“Well, here we are,” Devon said, pulling into the circle in front of Nate’s building.
Oh my God, who says that.“Ah, thanks.” Shit, now what? How did Nate ask him up? Was it even fair to do that? What if he thought Nate was interested in him for more than just blowing off steam?
“Thank you for the ride,” Nate said automatically and couldn’t make it come out sounding like a double entendre. “And for dinner.”
Devon smiledsincerely. “It was my pleasure. I had a wonderful time.”
Before Nate could think of anything to say to that that wouldn’t come out sounding sarcastic as fuck, Devon leaned across the car and kissed. His. Cheek.
“Me too,” Nate said on autopilot, over the horror track playing on max volume in his brain.
Somehow he managed to say goodbye. He did not have a breakdown in the elevator. He didn’t scream when the apartment door closed behind him.
He did drop his clothes just inside the door and walk naked to the bathroom, where he stepped under the hot spray of the shower and leaned his head against the wall.
Was this just the type of guy he attracted? The kind of guy who’d kiss you goodbye on the cheek after a first date and say they had a nice time? The kind of guy who thought sex was cheap? The kind of guy who thought having sex in the missionary position once a week made for a satisfying sex life?
Nate was not going to date Marty again. Not for anything.
He just hoped Kelly didn’t take it too hard.
THE SECONDweek after Winnipeg, work was hell.
The next road game they covered was in Ottawa. Aubrey didn’t understand why they couldn’t cover winter road games in warmer climes. The game and the show itself went off smoothly until midway through the third period, when one of the visiting players had some kind of heart problem on the ice. The medical team brought out the defibrillator. Canadian Tire Centre went completely silent, and the rest of the game was called.
Aubrey and Nate ended up at the hotel bar, not speaking, just sitting with their shoulders touching and drinking very expensive scotch very slowly until the news came through that the player was stable.
Nate slumped on his stool. Aubrey paid their tab and poured him into the elevator, then into his hotel room. Then he went back to his own room and hyperventilated for a few minutes. He’d never meant to sign on for nearly watching someone die during competition.
For the rest of the week, sleep was elusive. Aubrey could tell Nate wasn’t sleeping much either. They both spent a long time in the makeup chair, having the dark circles under their eyes airbrushed away. Jess must have been feeling the strain too, because she was short with everyone, even though their numbers were up more than ever. Nate mentioned that she actually knew the player who’d had the heart attack, but it didn’t make the work environment any more pleasant.
By the time Friday came around, Aubrey needed to unwind. His shoulders were tense, his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. He went to practice with Greg, but his head wasn’t in it.
“Tough week?” Greg asked sympathetically.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aubrey said and performed a viciously ugly triple axel.
He went straight home afterward and marched his ass into the shower, where he went through his full primping routine before giving himself a pep talk in the mirror. “This is just a temporary setback. You are hot.” He smoothed moisturizer onto his face and neck. “You are rich.” A quick but deft application of sixty-dollar mousse to his hair. He reached for the blow dryer. “And you really need to get laid and get it out of your system.”
Still, he only had the energy for so much effort. He squeezed into an exorbitantly priced and very flattering pair of jeans, paired them with a black polo shot through with silver thread, and grabbed his fall jacket from the hall closet. He needed to get laid, but he didn’t need to get fancy about it. He didn’t have the drive to go clubbing, but he knew his neighborhood. The bar down the street would do fine.
It wasn’t even ten yet when he arrived, but the bar was full—always a good sign. Aubrey ordered his usual from the bartender, slid onto one of the last available stools, and glanced around to get his bearings.
Everyone else seemed glued to the television screens, which were all playing the same show. Aubrey ransacked his brain, trying to come up with the name.Love Voteor something like that? Some sort of train-wreck-like mashup ofSurvivorandThe Bachelor, with too many barely clothed straight people and not enough brain cells.
