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280 pages, Paperback
First published September 25, 2021


⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*Didn't Connect*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
I’m the epitome of that meme where everything’s on fire with the caption “Everything is fine.”
“Okay, fine.” West nods. “I saw you and thought, mm, that sexy tweed, and then …”
“What’s wrong with tweed?”
“You look like a stereotype.”
“I’m in a classroom all day, and it’s cold.”
“I skate on ice. Being cold is not a good enough reason.”
“We’re getting way off track.”
“I dunno. If someone asks me for my boyfriend’s clothing item of choice, I’ll be sure to let them know he dresses like a geriatric Sunday school teacher.”
I look down at my jeans. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”
“You’re always so … put together.”
“Coming from someone wearing running shorts and a hoodie.” I hold up my hand before he can continue. “You know what, let’s move on.”
“Fine. Sexy tweed. What’s next?”
... Being a hockey coach and ex-NHL player, I have dealt with a lot of overgrown, testosterone-filled man children in my life. It takes some epic levels of assholism to piss me off. Without having met Professor Fuckstain, he’s already managed to get on my bad side.
West lets his eyes roam again. “For what it’s worth, if I was still doing the cheap hookup thing, I totally would have fucked you.”
“Did you just call me cheap?”
He smirks, and I get that glimpse again of this flirty, charismatic guy behind the pain. And even though the thought makes me feel hot under the collar, I step closer.
It’s not until I’m leaning in that I realize he’s not that much taller than me. “And who says it wouldn’t be the other way around?”
West catches his bottom lip with his teeth, and I track the movement before tearing my gaze back to meet his.
“We’re sharing the one hotel room while we’re away, aren’t we? We could always test it and find out.” His voice is laced with innuendo.
“You’re pushing your luck, jock.”
West’s easy smile lights up again as he backs across my front porch. “Am I not allowed to flirt with my boyfriend?”
“Save it for an audience.”
“Ooh, kinky.”
I glare at him, and he laughs.
“Sorry, sir. I’ll behave.”
And damn if those words don’t shoot straight to my dick.
“Don’t look at me like that, or you’ll never get home.”
Sounds perfect to me, I almost say, and then my chest lurches.
Ah, guilt, my old friend. You’ve returned.
“Let me in, West,” Jasper says. “Let me take care of you.”
While I lower his zipper, I lean in. “Take it. Take what you want from me.”
Jasper shudders.
“Use me.”
“In your defense, math is shit.”
Jasper shakes his head. “I can’t believe I had sex with someone who hates math.”
“I also hate English, if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not. Thanks. What was your favorite subject in school?”
“Lunch.”
In the last few seconds, I take in everyone in the stands. The home crowd adds to the energy, and it’s a pure adrenaline high. Then my gaze gets stuck on someone. Someone who really doesn’t belong here, and I can’t help smiling.
Jasper’s pale blue eyes lock with mine, and then he lifts one shoulder as if to say, “Eh.”
There’s a loud bang, and I start, breaking the kiss to look up as a burst of light fills the sky. It’s followed by a green explosion, then a red, and all across the distance, I can hear rounds of fireworks going off.
When I look back down, I find West watching me, his red lips letting out tiny white puffs.
“You’re gorgeous,” he rasps.
I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I didn’t feel like anything was missing, but damn, West barged into my life and showed me all the ways I was wrong.
Foster Grant has become one of the biggest players in the NHL. His skill has only grown, he’s been invited to All-Stars week twice now, and he has a long future ahead of.
Settling down with someone was always a long-term goal for me. In the future. When I was in my late thirties and retiring from hockey. Sometimes life has a way of changing your game plan, but I never thought I’d be so enamored by someone so fast.
“Wait, let me get this straight. Someone in a bar told you Boston sucks, you took a swing, and then Anton Hayes, who plays for Philadelphia, stepped in and saved you like you’re some damsel in distress?”
“Fuck off. I ain’t no damsel. But yes.”
“Anton Hayes. The guy you get into fights with constantly on the ice because you both have the biggest egos in the NHL.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would Anton save you from getting your ass kicked? He hates you.” Wait … “He’s not the one you—”
“No,” he says quickly. Too quickly. He clears his throat. “Okay, fine
“I’m in love with you, Jasper Eckstein, and you’re just going to have to deal with that. Also, when we’re married, you can totally take my last name. No one will ever call you Fuckstain again.”
"I want to believe you're good enough for him..."
"I am. Because he'll always come first to me, but I know I won't be the first to him, and that's okay."