My heart swells. Is he this charming and charismatic with everyone? He has to be. I’ve seen the girls swoon and giggle when he’s near. He knows the effect he has on women. This has to be part of his performance.
And yet, I can’t stop my heart from doing a little jig.
My only regret is that we stopped kissing. I touch my lips again, reliving the moment for just a beat.
Eloise: No regrets.
Ares:Buenas noches, tesoro. I look forward to doing it again some time.
CHAPTER11
Ares
Looking forward to doing it again some time.Ay, dios mío. ¡Allantoso!
If I wasn’t stretching in front of my home bench on the ice, I’d face palm myself. Hell, when I stand up, I might face palm myself anyway. With my fucking stick.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Some time?Some time?What about right now? What about tomorrow? What about a solid fucking date that isn’t some vague, murky event in the future?
I let out a groan, hoping my teammates think it’s ’cause I overstretched my groin or something and they don’t come anywhere near me to check on my balls.
A bunch of suits appear in my periphery. It’s unusual for scouts to appear at a practice, but not completely unheard of if they want to get a look at someone in particular. I’m trying to pay attention to the warm up drill Coach has the guys doing. The goalie coach is late and might not make it. According to Coach, he has the shits. So for now, my backup and I are warming up our muscles and waiting to be told what to do. I fucking hate waiting.
I’m a do-er, not a watcher.
The uncomfortable feeling only grows when a familiar voice lifts above the din of the suits over my shoulder. It’s Papá.Anda al carajo.
My blood chills in my veins. He never pops by for a visit. The fact that he’s here can only mean trouble, undoubtedly for me.
I have no idea what the fuck I’ve done to warrant him showing up at practice.
It’s always me. It’s never Apollo, or Artemis, or our beloved sister Athena.
It’s always,alwaysme.
So… what did I do this time?
The guys he’s with don’t look like cops. If they are, they’re the best dressed cops I’ve ever seen. So, I guess I’m not under arrest for anything. Or if I am, I’ll at least be going to a fancy prison.
I try to adjust my position so I can see if I know the people he’s with or filter out the noise on the ice to hear what they’re talking about. Neither works. I guess I’ll have to put my best skate forward during practice and hope they aren’t here to somehow have me pulled off the team. That’s way worse than prison.
As I make my way to my crease, the urge to look back over my shoulder is strong. Who did he bring with him? It’s not like Alonso de la Peña to simply show off his sons’ hockey talent. I don’t even know if he actually likes the game.
I think the only reason we were ever allowed to play hockey in the beginning was because Mamá fought for us. But once we started getting good, I mean really good, he kept tabs on us because it makes him look good to have successful children, even if it was in sports.
I think any of us three could make it to the professional leagues. Scouts are already starting to pay attention to us on the ice, and I’ve heard whispers.
My brothers are as good as any NHL players you could name off the top of your head and then some. And that’s not easy to say. I’d much rather be the standout kid in the family. But when it comes to hockey, as much as I’m loath to admit it, my brothers might be better than me. Maybe.
Though I’ll never say that out loud.
Despite my resolve to keep my head in the game, I’m preoccupied throughout practice.
The suits distract me as they observe our every move on the ice.
And I’m still distracted by Eloise. I jerked off in the shower this morning to the memory of last night’s epic kiss at the coffee shop, but it wasn’t enough.
