Page 35 of Three Hockey Hotties

Not tonight.

Being fussed over by these three men feels like a warm hug.

Like I can just take a deep breath and release all the tension I’ve been feeling.

When we step into the house, I’ve overwhelmed by how beautiful and homey it is. It’s filled with natural wood and comfy furnishings and…a dog.

I blink as what is obviously a senior dog comes ambling over to us. She greets Dash and then sniffs my hand, her tail wagging.

“Oh, my gosh, hi,” I say, burying my hands in her warm fur. As if what the guys are offering me wasn’t perfect already, now I have a dog to cuddle? I can’t believe my luck.

“This is Linda,” Benjamin says, rubbing her head and clipping a leash onto her. “She’s Dash’s dog, but we all love her.” He points toward the door. “Linda, walk.” She obediently heads toward the front door. “We’ll be right back.”

Kane heads to the kitchen. “I’ll get you something to drink, Abby.”

“Thanks, Kane.”

Dash shows me to a guest bedroom. “Will this work for you?” he asks, hovering in the doorway, clutching my suitcase in his hand.

I laugh softly. “Will this work? Are you kidding? This is a dream come true.” The bedroom is warm and inviting, with rich wood tones on an accent wall and a queen size bed. The nightstands have a live edge and there are layers of lighting to create a soft and welcoming ambience.

The star is the floor-to-ceiling windows. When I approach them I see they look out over the lake. In moonlight, it’s magical.

“Good,” Dash says gruffly. “We want you to feel right at home.”

His expression is unreadable, but there is something almost vulnerable in his eyes. I reach my hand out for my suitcase. “I can take that.”

Dash immediately bristles, his shoulders going up, back straightening. “Just tell me where you want it.”

“By the chest of drawers is fine.”

I don’t know if I’m here for one night or two, and I’m afraid to ask. The whole house, the guys…it feels like I can finally exhale.

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it?” Dash asks me as he bends down and unzips my suitcase for me. “Trying to live off of a salary from a nonprofit?”

He doesn’t look at me when he asks and I’m grateful for that. There is a lump in my throat.

My answer is a simple, “Yes.”

He stands back up and reaches for my hand. I slip mine into his calloused and firm grip. He squeezes lightly and it feels like an unspoken “we’ve got you” before he releases my hand again.

When we return back downstairs, Kane has poured everyone drinks and Benjamin has turned on the gas fireplace and produced more blankets than a Target aisle.

Linda is on the floor next to the fireplace sleeping in what looks like her favorite spot.

Kane holds up both hands. In one is a bottle of sparkling water. In the other is a glass of red wine. “Just in case you changed your mind. Whatever you don’t want I’ll drink.”

Without hesitation I accept the wine. A few sips will release the last of the knots that seem to have taken up permanent residence in my neck the last few weeks.

The food arrives and we eat around the kitchen island, making casual conversation. Not even really getting-to-know-you questions.

Unless you count a fiery debate over what makes one guacamole superior to another.

“Goat cheese,” Benjamin declares. “It elevates the avocado.”

Kane snorts. “It elevates the avocado? Thanks, Food Network. I’ll remember that when I’m eating my guacamole infused with a fuck ton of hot sauce.”

As if to prove his point he dunks a tortilla chip in guacamole then unloads an entire condiment container of hot sauce onto it. He pops it into his mouth.