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I’m jolted from my introspection, my eyes going to his. I shake my head as if it wasn’t important but then figure he can handle my truth because I think it’s his as well. “I was thinking that sex with you was kind of fantastic and also that I’m relieved you’re not staying.”
Bain laughs and moves to me. His hand goes around the back of my neck and he kisses me on the top of my head. “I had a great time too. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“Yeah… maybe,” I concede, although if he grabbed me right now and threw me back down on the couch for another round, I wouldn’t object.
“Let me get your number,” Bain says as he taps his phone screen.
“Why?” I ask, my tone defensive.
“Relax,” he croons with a chastising look. “I want to text you the test results.”
Embarrassment hits hard and I flush. “Oh, sorry.”
I give him my number and he enters it into his phone. His gaze lifts and he smiles mischievously. “I promise I won’t call just to talk or check in.”
I give a mock shudder. “Thank God.”
“Most definitely won’t use it to ask you out or anything.”
My face scrunches up with exaggeration. “I certainly hope not.”
“In fact,” he says dramatically, walking backward to my door, “I’ll just text a single word to you… positive or negative.”
“If it’s positive, I’m going to be pissed,” I warn, following him to the door so I can lock up behind him.
Chuckling, he once again pulls me to him with his big hand behind my neck and this time, his kiss is on my lips. A soft brush of farewell. “You have nothing to worry about, just as I know I have nothing to worry about.”
When he pulls away, I ignore the forlorn feeling that he’s leaving. “I’ll text you back my results.”
Bain winks and walks out the door. There isn’t a backward glance and I don’t linger to watch him. I close the door, lock it and set my security code.
CHAPTER 5
Bain
Glancing at mywatch, I sigh with frustration as I slump further down onto my couch. Only five minutes since I last checked, making it close to nine p.m. My eyes are glued to the television as I watch a much-anticipated game between the Carolina Cold Fury and my former team, the Arizona Vengeance.
“It’s been an intense matchup so far,” one of the sports announcers says.
“No shit,” I mutter to the TV. Two prior Cup champions battling it out.
The second announcer’s voice has a nasal tone I can’t stand. “That’s right, Bob. The Cold Fury’s goaltender, Max Fournier, has been on a roll tonight. He’s made some incredible saves, denying the Vengeance any chance of scoring.”
The frustration is clear on my former teammates’ faces as the end of the second period winds down. I glance at my watch again, my left leg bobbing nervously.
“Oh and look at that. Nadeau’s stick caught Cold Fury winger Garrett Samuelson up high. The referee wasted no time in raising his arm to call that penalty.”
I sit up a little straighter, waiting for the replay. “Come on, Riggs. That was stupid.”
He knows it too. I can see the lines of anger etched on his face as the camera follows him into the penalty box.
“It’s a tough break for the Vengeance. Let’s take a closer look at the replay here.”
I wince as Samuelson’s head snaps back, Riggs’s stick catching him just under the tip of his visor. It wasn’t intentional, but it’s still not allowed and will be called ten times out of ten.
“The Cold Fury’s first line has been lethal throughout the season on the penalty play. I expect we’ll see—”
I point the remote at the TV and mute the sound. I can’t stand that one fucker’s tone but more than anything, I’m having a hard time concentrating on the game. My brain is spending far too much time thinking about Kiera.
