Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(18)
It isn’t that I don’t like him. Kind of the opposite actually. Only Kingston doesn’t know that. Nor does my brother. And they never will. Since I can’t fight my hormones or pretend not to enjoy looking at the guy, I simply make a point to keep a safe distance from him.
It doesn’t help my resolve that Kingston’s plea is said in that sexy, rumbling baritone that causes an irritating stir low in my belly. It’s easy telling my brother no, but when it comes to my brother’s best friend … not quite so easy.
But not impossible.
As a matter of fact, I have successfully managed to tell him no for years. Considering Kingston and Spencer have been playing on the same team since they were drafted in college, that is a long damn time. Sixteen years, to be exact. It wasn’t until the Arrows were relocated from up north to Austin when the expansion team underwent new ownership that I found myself dealing with Kingston more often than not.
As I move back to the opposite end of the bar, I notice one of the waitresses eyeing Kingston appreciatively, her gaze sliding ever so slowly down his chest, hugged by the soft, white cotton of his T-shirt, then down to his jean-clad ass and lower to his… The man has the most amazing thighs. Like, seriously. Ah. Maz. Ing.
Six foot three inches, two hundred fifteen pounds of panty-melting muscle—yes, I’ve looked at his stats a few times—who rocks a suit as well as he can a pair of skates, isn’t easy to resist. Not to mention, dark hair, dark eyes, and a beard-lined jaw that females want to run their palms over, Mount Rushmore is the sort of chick magnet who stops traffic with a smile and makes women’s panties fall right off with a lopsided smirk.
And yes, it’s safe to say I’m not immune to his sexy charm. I am, after all, a red-blooded woman. However, unlike the rest of the female population, I’ve sworn off men like Kingston. For good reason. Mainly because Kingston is the type of dirty-talking bad boy who good girls are supposed to run away from.
Not to imply that I am, in any way, shape, or form, a good girl.
However, I do make a point to run the opposite direction as Kingston. He is simply too sexy, too demanding, too … alpha. Did I mention that he’s a player, with a capital P? And I’m not referring to sports. Nope, no long-term, serious relationships for that man.
My interests stray toward men who are less flirtatious, less promiscuous, less … intense.
After all, I had my alpha man once upon a time—for one night, anyway—and everyone knows how that has worked out for me.
And okay, so maybe having a desire for lackluster men isn’t entirely true, but still. It’s what I have to tell myself to keep my mind from wandering. At the risk of repeating myself, Kingston is not only my brother’s teammate, he is also Spencer’s best friend. And sisters do not mix things up with their brother’s best friend. I’ve been on this earth long enough to know that.
“It’s for the good of the team,” Kingston mentions as he joins me behind the bar, reaching around me to grab a mug. “Apparently I’m this week’s charity case. So think of it as a way to give back to the community.”
He’s so close my brain doesn’t function enough to make out what he’s saying. That little move of his gives me a chance to smell him. And he smells … delicious. A little woodsy, a little citrusy, a whole lot sexy.
Not that I like it.
Oh, God, I like it.
“Get out from behind my bar,” I order, pointing a bottle of vodka in his direction.
The damn man has the nerve to wink, and I find myself clenching my thighs together.
Stupid thighs.
“Seriously,” my brother says, drawing my attention back to him. “We need a favor.”
“Oh, now it’s we?”
Spencer rolls his eyes, but clearly that doesn’t affect his ability to talk. “Remember that trip I told you about? The one to Detroit back at the end of last season?”
“Vaguely,” I answer, pouring several liberal shots of vodka into a glass. Honestly, I don’t remember half the shit Spencer tells me when it comes to the team. There is so much going on, so many of them, that it’s hard to keep up.
“Let’s just say, speculation has reared its ugly head once again and the media is in a frenzy.” Spencer’s gaze flips to Kingston momentarily, then back to me. “In order to quell that particular story, we need a distraction.”
I set the bottle down and stare at him. Although I adore my brother, think he hung the moon most of the time, I know better than to give in to Spencer right away. “And that means what to me?”
“I’ll do it!” comes the cheerful voice over my shoulder.
I glance back to see Noelle moving in our direction.
“You don’t even know what they want,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. Hot hockey players asking for favors… I’m in.” Noelle comes to stand beside me, resting her elbows on the bar, her grin widening when her eyes sweep over Spencer. “So, what’s the favor?” Noelle asks, her big blue eyes bouncing between Kingston and Spencer. “Please, please, please tell me it requires some sort of kinky sexual position between the two of you.”
Eww.
Even though that visual disgusts me—seriously, Spencer is my brother—I still choke out a laugh. That’s Noelle for you. We’ve been best friends since high school, when she moved in next door to us, and though we are still damn near inseparable, we couldn’t possibly be more different. I’m five foot seven; Noelle is five two. I’ve got green eyes; Noelle has blue. I have long brown hair; Noelle sports a cute little curly blond bob. Noelle is outspoken and lacks a filter on her mouth, while I’m far more introverted and tend to be politically correct.