At least not if what Ares told me is true. I did my homework.
Ares is my kind of guy. He’s always been decent to me both on and off the ice when my Wolves are visiting from Wisconsin. I wouldn’t say we’refriendsper se, but we have a working relationship. We share the occasional non-alcoholic beverage after our games when we have time, shooting the shit over the states of the hockey world.
And for some reason, he wanted to help me get into his brother’s pants as much as I want to.
My dick stirs at the mention of Artemis’s pants. I feel like the challenge of getting them undone will be more than I first anticipated, feels like it’ll be more rewarding when I do, too.
Roman shakes his head as the server clears our apps plates. “Are you ready for your entrees?”
We both nod. I’m always ready for the delicious farm-to-table food of Ember and Oak. No matter where I am in the country, I can’t find a steak that compares.
We’re surrounded by the typical dark wood paneling, leather booths, and white tablecloths with exposed brick and Edison bulbs you’d expect from a steakhouse. There’s a viewing window to the grill station and local Iowa art on the walls.
But there’s just somethingcomfortableabout the atmosphere here, a wholesomeness, a warmth that comes to the table with the bone marrow butter and the truffle mac and cheese. It almost feels like home.
Am I staring at my surroundings, noting painfully banal details to avoid looking at Artemisagain?Maybe, but if I admit it to myself, that might open a door I’m not prepared to open.
Something stirs in my chest as my phone lights up in themiddle of the table. Ares’s name appears but I can’t make out what it says.
“If you pick that up, the bill’s on your card tonight, Xavi.” Roman’s one of the few people who can get away with calling me that. There’s a childishness in it that needles me the older I get, but I ignore it, because he doesn’t mean any harm by saying it. It’s filled with affection.
He arches a brow. “But Ares, eh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for being a goalie kind of guy.” His nostrils flare as he smirks, taking a slow pull of his beer without breaking eye contact.
“Not Ares.” The pull of staring at the stoic God a mere twenty feet from me is too strong to ignore, but the more I’m drawn, the more my brother looks like he’s about to crease up laughing.
“His girl might be small, but don’t let that pixie-esque appearance distract from the fact she’d have my balls on a plate.”
Definitely not Ares.
If there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s a challenge. And if that challenge happens to have broad shoulders and a smoldering face made for sin, sue me.
Mercifully, the server brings our food, allowing me to shovel a few huge bites in so I don’t have to talk, but I know he’s not going to let it drop.
“Be careful, Xavi.” His voice holds the typical edge of big brother caution. “Their family is tumultuous. They’re tight. They don’t do drama?—”
“Other than their asshole father dragging their family name through the mud.” Neither of us need the reminder that the de la Peña family are an internationally newsworthy name, doesn’t matter if it’s Roman in Louisiana or me up in Wisconsin, there’s no escaping their reach.
Roman nods at my insertion.
“The kids don’t fuck around. They’re locked down. And they sure as shit won’t cross enemy lines to fuck a rival.” My stomach dips at my own words because they’re true.
His stare is hot and heavy on my face. “Whatever you’re concocting, just… tread carefully, okay?”
Enemy lines were made for crossing. Preferably while shirtless.
And sucking on what has to be a God-like cock if the rest of him is anything to go by. I swallow a groan with another mouthful of beer.
We revert to our comfort zone, talk of the game, his girlfriend and boyfriends, our siblings and family. But I’m barely dialed in to the conversation, constantly fighting the tug of the man whose lips I can’t get out of my mind.
Right after Roman signs the check and we’re making our way through the restaurant to leave, I swipe my confiscated phone from my brother’s clutches. I ignore thethank you for the dinner recmessage from Ares on the screen, unlock it, and type out a message to the number Ares gave me before we left the rink earlier.
Type it. Delete it. Type it again because cowardice isn’t sexy. And I might be a great many things but cowardly has never been something I’ve been accused of. I’m not starting today.
Goal Daddy: I know you might be tempted by the bananas foster prepared tableside with dark rum and flambé, but I can’t recommend the apple pie enough.
It’s made with Iowa honey crisp apples, sharp cheddar crust, and served warm with cinnamon ice cream.
I hit send, letting out the breath I’d held in my chest for a beat too long.
