Page 72 of The Wingman

“Whoa, Darcy,” he teases, grabbing my wrists and grinning ear to ear. “At least wait until we get home to undress me.”

Sex toy, my brain whispers to me.Hayden’s huge boner.The groan he made from the other side of the wall the other night.

“You—are”—I’m trying to pull the shirt off, but he’s laughably strong compared to me—“wearing a stupid picture of my face!”

“Oh, did I not say?” His voice is so innocent, but those blue eyes sparkle like gemstones. “I got you one, too.” He pulls out his phone to show me the email confirmation of the other t-shirt he rush-ordered, time stamped last night. “It’s at home. Same day shipping.”

I stare at the picture with my mouth pressed into a flat line as a delirious, bubbling pressure rises up my throat. “This is a picture from that charity calendar last year.”

He beams. “You remember.”

Of course I remember. Good lord. A charity put together a calendar of the hottest guys in professional hockey, raising money for LGBTQIA+ youth, and Hayden was January. Kit laughed his ass off at the shirtless flexing photo of his best friend.

I always felt weird that the entire world got to see this much of his body, not to mention the flirtatious, friendly smirk on his face.

That flirty smirk is supposedto be just for me.

“You put your own picture on a t-shirt for me?” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Wow. Just wow.” That fizzy, delighted pressure threatens to escape, and my face aches from holding back the smile.

From the way he grins down at me expectantly, he knows it. “You can laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You look like you want to.”

“I don’t. And if I did laugh, it would only encourage you.”

“Well, I’m sorry you hate my body so much.” He glances around the room. “We should get going to the bar.”

“Hayden.” I’m trying not to smile and failing. “Change. Now.”

He gives me a pleading look. “I really want to wear my new shirt.” His eyes soften, and he gives me that innocent, sad look, like Pippa and Jamie’s dog, Daisy, when she wants a treat. “Please, Darce.” He leans down and gives me a hug, jostling me. He’s big and warm and he smells good, and my resolve melts like butter in a hot pan. “I want to wear my new t-shirt.”

He’s actually touching me without running to his bedroom, dry-heaving in disgust. So that’s a step forward.

“Fine,” I sigh. “But you’re wearing the jacket zipped up.”

He grins and winks down at me. “We’ll see.”

CHAPTER 33

DARCY

We walkinto the Filthy Flamingo, and Jordan does a double take at my hair before giving me an appreciative nod. “Nice hair. Looks hot.”

“Thank you.” I try to suppress my smile. I’m acting deeply uncool, blushing over a few small compliments.

We sit at a big booth, and after Jordan swings by with drinks, the conversation turns to the game.

“Not hearing complaints about moving you to offence anymore, are we?” Rory asks Hayden with a proud grin, and they both eye me briefly.

Hayden shrugs and sips his beer.

“Ward wants more power play goals,” Alexei adds. “Says we’re dragging our feet out there.”

My brain prickles, and I think about the hockey models I was playing with on my laptop at lunch today. I told myself I wouldn’t keep looking at them, but I can’t help myself.

Rory drags a hand through his hair, frowning. “I don’t know what to do. We run the drills we practiced.”

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