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“Exactly.” I skewered him with a pointed look. “We both like things a certain way.”
Cole backed toward the stairs with a half-smile I didn’t trust in the least. “I got this. We used to have ducks on my grandpa’s farm.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Naturally, the wholesome hockey player with the heart of gold had spent time onhis grandpa’s farm, probably nursing sick animals back to health or something equally Hallmark worthy. Why couldn’t I be attracted to Cole?
Gavin grunted behind me, close, and goosebumps rose in a wave across my skin. Fatigue weighed me down, and I wondered if the guys could see the strain in my muscles from holding myself upright. I hoped not.
Instead of slowly melting into a puddle on the floor, I fixed Cole with my best helpless girl stare—the one with big eyes and even bigger guilt. “I’m trusting you to keep her safe. Don’t let me down.”
His smile edged closer to genuine. “She’s going to be fine. Get some rest, Eva.”
Cole bounded up the stairs, and I took half a second to feel sorry for myself before I turned to face Gavin.
“I know I’m supposed to do the food stuff, but can we start tomorrow? I’ve had a shit day.”
He rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. “We already ate on the way home anyway.”
I knew it wasn’t late by college standards, but I felt like I hadn’t slept all week. “If you can show me to your room, I’ll getout of the way of whatever a bunch of hockey players do after practice.”
He shook his head with a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, but we’re usually wiped after practice.”
I shrugged. “I try not to presume.”
“Unless you’re talking shit about hockey?” He held up a hand when my mouth dropped open. “Doesn’t matter. My room’s this way.”
Gavin nodded to the first door on the right as we hit the second floor. “That’s Cole’s room, the one past it is Reece’s. You and I are on the other side. Mase’s in the basement.”
He opened the first door on the left and waved for me to go in ahead of him. I’d expected a mess with half-naked women plastered all over his walls, sports paraphernalia on every surface, and maybe a voodoo doll of me for good measure.
His room was clean, with sparse furniture consisting of a desk, a dresser, and a big ass bed. I was right about the sports stuff. A hockey stick leaned into the corner, and a couple of trophies sat next to a squishy puck on his desk. The jury was still out on the voodoo doll. No naked women on the wall, but three canvas pictures hung over his bed.
A series of artsy photos of a hockey player mid-action, kicking up ice as he chased a puck. I had to admit, they looked good. Moody as hell with the dark background and the light reflecting off the snow. Something about the player looked familiar despite not showing his face, and I could feel the intensity in his coiled muscles—the command of his body.Thiswas an athlete.
Gavin nudged me as he walked past, breaking my weird trance. “Do you need something to sleep in?”
I shook my head. “I can sleep in this.”
The bed wasn’t really made, more like he’d haphazardly tossed the bedding in place after he got up. I sat on thesoft mattress and gingerly lifted the blanket to my nose for a sniff test. To my surprise, the bedding smelled good—like dryer sheets and Gavin. I frowned as the thought crossed my mind. I hadn’t realized I’d established a “Gavin” scent, nor that I apparently liked it.
I shoved the problematic association to the back of my mind and crawled between the sheets. Gavin didn’t say anything else as he emptied his pockets on the desk. The polite part of me instilled by my parents insisted I thank him, or at least tell him goodnight, but I’d spent a lifetime quietly rebelling against my parents’ lessons. I rolled to the middle of the bed, pulled the bedspread up to my chin—taking another quick sniff—and waited for Gavin to vacate the room.
Instead of leaving, he reached behind his back and pulled his shirt over his head.
I popped up to a sitting position, letting the blankets gather around my waist. “What are you doing?”
He tossed the shirt toward one of the two closed doors. “Getting ready for bed.”
“In here?” My voice squeaked into a new octave.
He opened his arms, encompassing the space. “Thisismy bedroom.”
“You said I could sleep in here.” My shock was quickly morphing into the suspicion I’d been played.
“Yeah, so scoot over.”
No. Absolutely not. I refused to share a bed with my archnemesis knowing I liked the way he smelled. “No. Go sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not sleeping on the couch, and neither are you.”
