Page 22 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

“Well I don’t know why you left the bar so fast,” Jesse said. “One minute, you wanted to play games with me, and the next you were high-tailing it out of dodge.”

“Because I knew I was going to fuck something up,” I said, immediately wishing I’d made up a lie instead.

Jesse frowned. “Fuckwhatup?”

I pulled in a breath of air, giving him the short version. “I was about to drink too much, and then I spilled it all over myself. I have no desire to be sloppy in front of you.”

Jesse shook his head. “Fuck that.”

He turned and went to one of my cabinets again and reached for a glass. He went over to the sink, filling it with a couple inches of water, then lifted the glass up over his head. He tipped it and poured the water over his head, leaning back like he was basking in it. I watched it fall across his face, down his neck, and soak a little portion of his T-shirt.

“Be sloppy,” he said, setting the glass down on the counter and giving me a pointed look.

“Damn,” I said, watching rivulets of water fall down his neck. “Point taken. Easy to do that when you already got soaked in the rain, though.”

He pushed back his hair with one hand, sucking in air. “This water was actually cold as fuck, though. Do you, uh, happen to have a spare T-shirt?”

I puffed out a laugh despite myself. “I’ll go grab one.”

He was already tugging off his wet shirt as I turned to leave the kitchen, and I resisted the urge to turn and stare. I made my way over past the living room and to the staircase, taking them up two at a time to my room.

I could tell Jesse and Kane were related, but Jesse was definitely different from his brother. Way more free spirited, flirtier, and practically movie-star hot.

I needed to get him the hell out of my house.

I grabbed a black T-shirt and headed back downstairs. I found him shirtless in the dark living room, crouched in front of my fireplace.

God, his abs were unreal. It was too bad he was a hockey player instead of a lifeguard or something, because the world was missing out on seeing those abs on display.

“Does this thing work?” he asked.

“Sure does,” I said. “I was about to go get it started when you poured a glass of water all over yourself.”

He smiled, standing up and taking the shirt from me. I let myself glance at his tattooed arm in the dim light coming through the windows, a collection of beautiful, detailed ink over his muscled arm. I guess it was normal for hockey players to be built like Mack trucks, but Jesse… he was somehow lean and bulky all at once, like a Ferrari in human form.

No wonder people liked to watch him play.

“This is soft. Me likey,” he said, pulling the shirt on.

“Is this normal for you? You go over to guys’ houses and just spill water on yourself to make a point?”

“Not usually like that,” he said. “But yeah, I guess I did want to make a point.”

“A nice ol’ sloppy point.”

“Listen,” he said. “I prefer real and messy over fake andanything.”

“Meaning…”

His expression got serious. “Meaning that if you’re being yourself, and being honest, you should never feel like you have to be ashamed of it. Ever.”

There was an urgency behind his words. I could tell he felt strongly about what he was saying, and honesty in particular seemed important to him.

He helped me grab a couple of logs for the fire, already looking completely composed again after drying off. Maybe I didn’t want him to go homerightaway. It had been nice of him to take me home, after all, even if I’d been… prickly.

Once we’d lit the fire and it slowly started to smolder and grow, I turned to him.

“I’ve got to ask. Is there a reason you’re bringing up honesty? You sounded pretty burned when you said that.”

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