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Before I knew it, Jillian’s empty water bottle hit me square in the forehead. “What the hell?” I yelled at her and picked up the water bottle from my lap. I tossed it onto the floor, too.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” She frowned as her eyes roamed around my apartment again.
“You live in a freaking pigsty, your wife left you, and instead of trying to get your ass back on the starting lineup, you’re lying on your couch twenty-four seven.”
I sneered at her and shot back, “What’s wrong with you, Jillian? Every time Stuart comes for a visit you act like a fuckin’ ice queen around him. He so much as grazes your arm—you flinch.” I leaned forward, “So, tell me—what’s going on with you?”
The angry expression on her face fell off and was replaced with a blank stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything’s fine between me and Stuart.”
I’d never mentioned it before because anyone who paid attention knew something was up between those two.
I’d bet my last dollar they were hiding something. I just didn’t know what or why.
“Bullshit,” I snapped and leaned back against the couch, “you and Cash were mooning over each other during each and every goddamn episode of, “Single Girl.” And then you end up giving a fucking rose to Stuart? That makes no sense. You and Cash were made for each other. We all saw that.”
Jillian shrugged and played it off. “I think all of those romance books you’ve been reading have messed with your brain.” She smiled coyly at me.
Christ.
I rubbed my hands on my face and groaned, “Everyone knows?” I peered at her through my fingers, hoping she’d disappear.
No such luck.
But, she did smile.
Jillian was hot.
Gorgeous.
Classy.
And smart as a whip.
She had her own business and ran everything herself. Considering all her other obligations with the team, that was astounding.
We’d always been friendly—and I considered her my friend—but I could never understand why she’d settle for a douche canoe like Stuart when she could so clearly have any guy out there.
“The women know,” she laughed, and tossed her head back, “I think Beau’s the only one of the guys who knows, though.”
Beau wouldn’t say anything. I knew that. The women on the other hand—they were loose cannons.
“I’ve got enough shit going on. I don’t exactly need something like that getting out.”
Her body shook even harder as she continued to laugh. “Guys read romance, Trey. Lots of them do. Not all of them are as embarrassed about it as you.”
Huh.
I hadn’t thought about that. Were other men reading these chick books?
I glared at her. “I’m a hockey player. I can’t have people knowing I read romance novels.”
More laughter rolled out of her. “Oh, Mr. Big Hockey Player doesn’t want anyone to know he likes kissing books?” Her hands wiggled in the air and her body swayed while she mocked me.
“There’s a lot more than kissing in some of them,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Especially in that last Jane Jefferies book. Have you read it yet?”
She stopped laughing immediately. “Oh, my gosh, I know, right? I finished it last night. Wasn’t it her hottest stuff, yet?” she said with complete and utter honesty written over her face.
I answered her equally as honestly, “So hot. I took a cold shower after I finished.”
