Just as I’m about to peel my eyes away from him, he lifts his chin and looks up.
Like he felt me watching him, like some sixth sense just gave me away.
Our eyes lock before I can react. My heart skips and slams back into my ribs at the same time. Those hazel eyes squint slightly,full of amusement and challenge. Slowly, his mouth curves into a slow smile.
I step back like I’ve just been burned, breath catching as I throw myself behind the edge of the wall.
Oh my God.
He saw me.
I wait five seconds as I press my back to the wall, heart still slamming. Then count to ten before I slowly peek over the railing again. But he’s not looking anymore. Dom’s talking now, animated and ranting about an article he read about their team yesterday. And his teammate is still smirking, as if to himself.
It’s been an hour. He’s still here, still outside with Dom, probably talking plays and stats and whatever else hockey players talk about.
I sit on my bed, glaring at the time, my phone, the last message I sent to Ghost—which I still haven’t received a reply to. And I’ve been thirsty for the past thirty minutes.
This is ridiculous. I’m not going to tiptoe around my brother’s house. I didn’t move here to be a prisoner of the bedroomjust because my brother’s teammate has dimples and the most symmetrical bone structure I’ve ever seen.
Screw it.
I’m getting a drink and going outside. And if I just so happen to be doing that while he’s still here… well, I just have to remind myself what kind of a personality sits behind that face.
I’m already making my way down the stairs, their voices becoming louder and clearer. The glass doors to the patio are still open, letting in a steady drift of ocean breeze. It’s crisp and way cooler than I expected for a Miami night. I turn back for the stairs with a sigh, going back for something to throw over my shoulders.
I pause mid-step, spotting Dom’s black hoodie slung over the couch. I quickly grab it and tug it on, the sleeves swallowing my hands as I walk into the kitchen. The scent of the hoodie wraps around me—clean laundry with a hint of cologne underneath. The hem hits the tops of my thighs as I make my way to the fridge and take the pitcher with the lemonade out.
The ice inside clinks as I set the pitcher down on the counter and look down at my phone. Still no message from Ghost. I stare down at the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.
ME:I can’t sleep.
I glance out at the patio. He’s still there, smiling and looking like temptation and trouble incarnate.
I scoff, putting my phone away.
Why the hell am I doing this? Why am I staring at this man through the glass like I’m waiting for his phone to light up? Like I want it to be him?
But it’s not. Ghost makes me feel like I’m safe. This man makes me feel like I’m unraveling.
Still… the resemblance in the way they carry themselves is uncanny.
Same height from what I remember, same build, same way of talking to me like he knows me. Like he’s waiting for me to admit that I want to fall apart in his hands.
I pull my gaze back inside, staring down at the pitcher before turning around for a glass. I’ve got too much riding on this year to get distracted by someone like him.
I make my way to the cabinets when my phone buzzes. My pulse spikes as I fumble to get my phone out of my shorts faster. The screen lights up, but my hopes go out as I read a message from my friend from back home.
LENNIE:If money didn’t matter, I’d say number two. But just looking at those prices has me chewing my nails.
I’d sent her links to some of the rental spaces I liked. Apparently, I’m not the only one thinking the prices are ridiculous.
The click of the fridge behind me is soft but enough to startle me. I spin fast, hand flying to my chest.
The upper half of his body is hidden behind the fridge door, but I already know it’s him by the way my heart won’t calm down. He comes into view as he closes the door, a new beer in hand.
Our eyes meet and my heart tries to leap out of my chest and hide in the sink.
“You always this jumpy?” He cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.
