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Asher gives him the finger while Ethan starts to laugh, snatching Mikayla against his side and kissing her.
Rachel retreats up the stairs, and I watch her go for a minute.
“Nice of you to give up your room,” Asher murmurs, squinting at the small text on the back of the bottle.
“Nice of you to let me use your man cave,” I mutter. “Although I’m wondering if the couch in the living room is a safer bet.”
“Shut up. It was like one time, and I didn’t even know Mick was home.”
“Ugh. She walked in on you?”
Asher grins. “Whether a door is open or shut, you should always knock.”
“Or… just close the door if you want to spank your monkey. It’s not rocket science.”
“Hey, it’s my house. I can jerk off with the door open if I want to.”
I give him a droll look. “It’s your uncle’s house, and we’ve got chicas living with us now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes his hand through the air while I drop to my knees and start cleaning the couch.
It’s probably fine, but I’m making a point here.
Asher stands there with his arms crossed, watching me and rolling his eyes when I use way too much spray. My mind wanders off to Rachel, who's probably shedding her jacket and standing there in leggings and my hockey jersey.
Fire burns low and deep in my belly, making my dick twitch.
Her in my hockey jersey is one sexy vision.
But I can’t go there.
For way too many reasons…
Like the fact that she’s healing after a traumatic night with the guy she thought she loved.
Like the fact that she’s Mick best friend and things could get messy.
Or the fact that I’m an ace at falling hard and fast, then getting left feeling like total shit.
Kylie—my girl from last summer—is case in point. I was ready to drop to one knee after just two months of flirting in the sunshine while she was getting ready to end our summer fling with a goodbye kiss.
Talk about misreading the signals.
You’d think after living with an unpredictable parent I’d be an expert, but when it comes to romance, I’m a clueless sap. And I can already tell that Rachel has the power to crush me… even if she doesn’t mean to.
CHAPTER 13
RACHEL
Living at Hockey House is noisy.
Not bad noisy, just constant noisy. Unless the team is playing an away game, and then the only sounds to keep Mick and me company are the buzz of electronics and appliances. So, of course we cranked our music to ward off the sense of missing them.
I don’t even know why I missed them when they were away last weekend, I just did. Hockey House isn’t the same without big men lumbering around, throwing out F-bombs and hassling the crap out of each other.
I grin down at my half-eaten plate of lasagna while Casey gives Asher grief over the fact that he totally bombed with the chick he was trying to hit on at the bar in North Dakota on Friday.
“She just waited too long to tell me she had a boyfriend,” Asher grumbles. “I never would have hit on her if she hadn’t been staring at me with her fuck-me eyes.”
