All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(14)

Elise and Becca share a worried look.

Needing to defuse the situation, I guide Becca by her shoulders down the hall toward my bedroom. “I just need to get my shoes, and then we can bounce.”

She nods.

Once we’re alone in my room, I face her. “You’re not worried, are you?”

Without even considering it, she shakes her head. “Nope. I trust you.”

Her words release a curl of pride in my chest. “Perfect.” I grab a pair of running shoes from my walk-in closet and slip them on. “Let’s go, then.”

We wave good-bye to the gang on our way out, ignoring the strange looks everyone is giving us, and head to the underground parking garage toward my SUV.

I’m still not entirely convinced that I can be what Becca needs, but she trusts me, so it’s something, I guess. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? We’ll take things slow, start small, and go from there.

I recall Coach’s words about how I don’t let anything rattle me. He’s right. I don’t stress about anything in my life, and I’m not about to start now.





6




* * *





To New Experiences





Becca



I climb in next to Owen, and as we buckle our seat belts, he flashes me his trademark dimple—the one all his fangirls go crazy for. Entire blog posts have been written about said dimple on the hockey sites.

Ugh. God, why does he have to be so damn masculine?

When I arrived at his place and walked in to see him with his athletic shorts slung low on his trim hips and his sweatshirt stretched across those broad shoulders, something inside me reacted. I have no idea if it’s because we’ve agreed to be bed-buddies, or what, but suddenly I’m having a hard time not picturing him naked.

Get it together, Bec.

It’s like his muscles have muscles.

What? Just because I have sexual PTSD doesn’t mean I’m blind to the opposite sex. I know when someone is attractive, and Owen most definitely is.

His SUV is huge and black, with fancy wheels and upgraded . . . well, everything. But he’s never flashed or flaunted his money, though he does generally insist on paying wherever we go. As much as I like to treat my friends and be generous, I usually let him pay because my job is the furthest thing from glamourous you can get. I barely make enough to afford my own place plus groceries.

“You cold?” he asks as he pulls onto the highway.

“I’m good,” I say, wrapping my arms around my middle.

Owen heads north, and since all our usual hangouts are located in the other direction, I raise my eyebrows.

“Where exactly is this field trip?” I’m still not convinced he’s actually taking me to the infamous massage parlor everyone teases him about. He wouldn’t, would he?

He grins, his gaze not straying from the road. “You’ll see.”

When we pull into a strip mall just off the highway, I survey the signs on the surrounding shops until I see one that mentions massage.

“Number One Foot?” I ask with skepticism.

Owen laughs. “Yeah. Come on. You’re going to love it.”

I guess that answers that.

We climb out of the car and head toward the neon-lit signs. I place one hand on Owen’s firm forearm, stopping him before we reach the door. He turns his head to meet my eyes.

“Everyone’s kidding about this place, right?”

“Oh, you’ll get a happy ending. I can promise you that.” Owen winks and pulls open the door, which signals a series of chimes that play on a happy loop.

An older Asian woman appears from around the corner and joins us in the deserted lobby.

“My favorite customer.” She smiles when she sees Owen, motioning with her hands for him to come in for a hug, which he does.

Grinning, he pulls back from her embrace and gestures toward me. “This is my friend Becca. She’s getting a massage today too.”

Briefly, I wonder if he made us both appointments since he only invited me yesterday. Then again, this place looks mostly deserted, and the sign out front said walk-ins are welcome.

“Good, good. You come back.” She motions for us to follow her and disappears around the corner.

Owen meets my eyes. “After you.”

With a deep inhale, I follow. Here goes nothing. The room she leads us into is wide and dimly lit. A row of half a dozen low massage tables are spaced evenly throughout the room.

Okay, this is weird. The few times I’ve gotten a massage in the past, it’s in a private room where I disrobe and wait for the therapist under a sheet.

Here, everything is out in the open. And while there’s no one here now, there’s nothing to stop another customer from joining us in this little massage adventure. Not to mention I have no idea if I’m supposed to wear my clothes or where to change.

“Right here.”

The woman pats the first table for me, while Owen sits down on the one beside me. He begins removing his shoes and socks, so I do the same. The woman leaves the room, and I hear her call out in what I think is Vietnamese to someone else.

“What do I do?” I whisper-hiss in his direction.

Owen pulls his sweatshirt off over his head and lies back. “Get comfortable.”