Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(32)

I expect the worst, more teasing and taunting. But to my surprise, Brent mercifully says nothing more. He simply places Brent 51 on a table by the door. But not before pausing long enough to read the number stamped on the side.

With the hint of a smirk, he leaves.

The door closing behind him should fill me with relief, but what it actually does is scare the hell out of me. Brent knows I was getting off while thinking of him. And he’s now fully aware I own a big-ass vibrator that shares a freaking number with him. He couldn’t have missed the big 51 emblazoned on the side, like a goddamn tattoo.

Could it get any worse?

I cover my head with a pillow and scream. So much for professionalism. I have a feeling my life is about to become pure torture at the hands of Brent Oliver.





Blame It on the Weird Green Glow





“Fuck me sideways.” I laugh as I tiptoe back to my bedroom. “Did I really just see what I think I saw?”

Yeah, it would appear so. If I had any doubt the past five minutes were a dream, it’s dispelled every time I blink. There seems to be a glowy green burned on the back of my lids.

Well, on the bright side of things—no pun intended—one thing is clear. If I wasn’t 100 percent sure before that Aubrey Shelburne is attracted to me, after what I just witnessed, I am now absolutely certain.

Holy shit, she was getting herself off while thinking of me. I heard her calling out my name…and my number. I had no idea I had a starring role in her fantasies. Too bad I missed the main event. Instead, I was left dodging that fake green dick when I ventured into her room.

What the hell was that thing, anyway?

The shape was normal enough, so, yeah, I knew what it was. But what was with the bright glow… and the color… and the 51 on the side?

Mysteries, all of them, except for maybe the 51. I think I have that one figured out. Not only is it the same number I wear, but Aubrey was chanting it like a Benedictine monk. Wow, I wonder if she bought the sex toy because of the number on the side.

“Nah, that’s just wishful thinking,” I mutter as I crawl back into bed. “But she was definitely fantasizing about you.”

I feel kind of bad for walking in on her while she was engaged in such a personal act. If I had suspected that was going on, I would’ve heeded her warning to not come in.

You’re just disappointed she covered up before we could see her completely naked, my dick, coming to life, chimes in.

I ignore him. I’ve given him enough attention for the night.

Anyway, I never would’ve ventured from my room in the first place had I not noticed the strange green glow out in the hall. It was so bright it was shining in from under the door. I was almost asleep, but that shit woke me the hell up.

“What the f*ck?” I mumbled. “Is there some kind of chemical spill in my house?”

You never know living out here in Nevada. There are military installations all around, and I’m sure they test all sorts of crazy things. Something could seep into the ground, or emit into the air. Hell, Area 51 is less than a hundred miles from my house.

That’s when it hits me that Aubrey’s toy is Area 51-themed.

Oh my God. You bet your ass I am going to have all kinds of fun with this.





Turns out, my fun with Aubrey has to be put on hold.

Claiming she’s not feeling well, she holes up in her room the entire next day. I go about my usual business, which includes diligently following the new team-approved routine she has me on.

First, I eat a nice, healthy Aubrey-approved breakfast, consisting of an egg white omelet with fresh peppers, fruit and whole grain toast. I then go down to the arena to skate for a while. I’m back in time for dinner, but there’s still no sign of my life coach.

I actually kind of miss her being around and giving me a hard time. I consider running out and buying some alcohol just so I can lure her out of her room to yell at me. But that’d probably be a bad idea.

I decide instead to make her some dinner, something I can take up to her. I’m not really good with anything fancy, but spaghetti is within my repertoire. After I boil some water and toss in a handful of noodles, I heat up a jar of marinara. I even grate some fresh parmesan into a little bowl. After I plate the pasta, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and place everything on a serving tray.

“Nah, that doesn’t look right.”

I pour the water into a pretty crystal goblet and run outside to snip one of the more colorful desert flowers that grow in my yard. Once I have the purple bloom placed in a bud vase, I add it to the tray, satisfied that the whole presentation looks really nice.

Upstairs, and while balancing the tray in one hand, I knock on Aubrey’s bedroom door. “Hey, it’s me. Are you awake?”

No answer.

“I brought you some dinner.”

That gets a response, but not the one I’m hoping for. “I’m not hungry, Brent. Just go away.”

Not a chance. “Aw, come on,” I press. “I made it myself.”

Silence.

I lean my forehead against the door and try to make a joke. “I promise I didn’t poison any of it.”

Nothing.

“Aubrey? You have to be hungry. You’ve been in that room since last night when you went to bed.”

I hear her groan. “Ugh, please. Can we forget last night ever happened?”