Page 44 of Unrivaled

“He’s very good at breathing loudly into the phone.” Grady’s dirty talk was better when Max was there to physically goad him into loosening up. The phone thing was a work in progress. Max thought they should do some remedial sexting first and see if that helped. “Fortunately I’m good enough at talking for both of us.”

“No doubt,” El said. “And you don’t mind doing all the work?”

“Not really. He makes up for it in person.” Besides, Grady’s ego wouldn’t let him slack off like that forever.

“No evidence left behind, though,” she teased, pointing at his neck.

Max sighed gustily. “Well, you can’t have everything.”

“How’s Larry doing? No lasting damage?” He’d gone into detail about Grady’s reaction to his tattoo.

“He didn’t even bruise.” Max wouldn’t have minded a little memento of their time together. He could take a little locker room ribbing for a reminder that he’d made Grady Armstrong lose his mind in bed. “But there’s always next time.”

Now El sat forward, her eyes going sharp. “Oh? Always, hmm?”

Max backpedaled. “It’s a figure of speech.” Thank God El didn’t know Bud’s true identity.

She tapped her finger against her lips. “Is it? Or is it a slip of the tongue revealing a truth you’re hiding from yourself?Always. That’s downright romantic for you, Max.”

Max knew, from the glint in her eyes and the tease in her voice, that she was fucking with him.

From the slight sinking sensation in his own stomach, however, Max wasn’t fucking with Grady.

“I told you, it’s not like that.”

Completely true.

And, so far, not a problem.

In honesty, Max had written off the idea of a serious relationship. He spent half the year on the road, and when he was home, his off hours didn’t leave a lot of time to spend with someone who kept a regular nine to five. He was in a weird platonic codependent relationship with his captain and his wife. He liked casual sex and he was very good at getting it.

Besides, Max was familiar with his own flaws. Part of his job description was to be as irritating as possible. Somehow that had become part of his personality. Most of the time he didn’t take his work home with him, but he couldn’t turn off who he was. That made it difficult to have a relationship.

The thing was, sleeping with Grady was hot. But it was alsofun, in a slightly demented, competitive way. Max liked the challenge of finding all Grady’s buttons and pushing them one after the other, and it was even better when Grady stepped up and tried to match him move for move.

But he also just likedGrady—prickly, funny, technologically inept grump that he was. Max could see their hookups of convenience evolving into something else. A house somewhere between Newark and Philly, a rivalry they played up in public and laughed about in private, maybe another dog.

Grady would never go for it, though. Max should put the idea out of his head too, even if sometimes he wanted more—not necessarily from Grady but in general. His brother Logan had a family and was living his best life as a stay-at-home dad. Max had Gru, and hockey, and his teammates, and Hedgie and El….

But Hedgie and El also had each other and a baby on the way, even if Hedgie didn’t know it yet.

Max had grown up in a loving, loudmouthed family. Now he was part of a loving, loudmouthed hockey team. But one day his career would be over. What would he be part of then?

He dismissed a sudden vision of himself and Grady bickering over whose turn it was to walk the dog.

“I know, I know. You’re not the type. I remember.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m gonna blame hormones for this. And for the fact that I’m going to go home now and flash my husband my tits.”

Max laughed in an effort to cover how shaky his unbidden fantasy had left him. “Get it, girl.”

“But first I’m going to pee again.” El grinned. “I’ll see myself out. Night, Max.” She stood and leaned over to ruffle Gru’s ears. “Night, sweet Gru.”

The door clicked closed behind her, and Max picked up the remote. With El gone, it was safe to continue watching his romcom.

But before he hit Play, he picked up his phone.R u tryin 2 say something w this?he asked, and sent along a picture of the shampoo.

You are a 28 year old professional athlete. Your dog’s food says LOCALLY SOURCED ORGANIC on the label. Why the fuck are you washing your hair with bodywash? What’s wrong with you?

What was wrong with him was that he’d spent his formative years playing hockey, and he’d never had enough energy to do more than train, eat, shower, and sleep. Washing his hair with a different product would’ve taken too much effort.

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