Page 15 of Never Dance with the Devils
“You’re here to talk?” Kayla repeats, her eyes jumping from mine to Maddox. “This isn’t a shakedown?”
“Who the fuck did that to you? Name, address if you have it. I’ll take care of it,” I offer gruffly. Kayla starts tosmile uncertainly, and I bust through the tiny opening in her defensive shields, hoping to reassure her. “No, not here for that. We’re here…” The words disappear, my mind going dark, and I automatically look to Maddox for rescue, but he doesn’t save me this time. He nods encouragingly, silently telling me to do it myself. Telling me that I can do it. I have a fair amount of experience with torturing myself, but even with that history, it hurts sharply to leap into the unknown and say, “For you.”
It’s a huge confession for me to make, not only to my best friend, but to a woman I don’t know all that well. It feels stupid and dangerous, like I’m peeking out over my protective defenses, asking to be shot in my already scarred heart by a woman happily wielding the gun.
“Me?” she echoes, sounding confused. But she sits down slowly, and I return to my chair, feeling slightly less like burning the world to ash.
All seated, we stare at each other.
God, she is stunning. Even more so than I remembered and have imagined dozens of times. But it’s not the beauty on her outside that’s calling to me. It’s the flicker of emotions crossing her face so fast that they’re hard to name before the next one appears. I’d bet she thinks she has a stellar poker face, stoic no matter the hand, but even the slight shifts in her eyes, the smallest lift and curl of her lips, and the tiny flare of her nostrils are near-shouts to me of what she’s thinking and feeling. And the emotions battling it out for top ranking right now are desire and doubt.
Maddox holds up a hand, waving. “Guess I’ll go first. Hi, I’m Maddox Brooks, left winger for the Devils, charming playboy, devastatingly handsome as you can see, and all-around good guy. This is my best bro, RiggsPatrick, defenseman, strong, silent type, who’s been moping around missing you for months. When we finally pulled our heads out of our asses and admitted that we’ve been jacking off… separately” —he holds up a finger to emphasize that point like it’s extremely important to the storyline— “to memories of you and that night, we knew we had to find you. That was harder than you’d think since we had to figure out your actual name first.” Despite trying to smooth things over, he still sounds a little salty about that, and Kayla flinches at the dig. “But once we did that, you and your family are basically all over the internet, so here we are.” He spreads his arms wide like he’s aPrice Is Rightmodel and we’re the Showcase Showdown prizes.
Kayla’s eyes tick back and forth between us, then she licks her lips. My eyes zero in on the innocent movement, giving it a much filthier meaning. I swear this room must be filled with her floral perfume or her pheromones or something because I am keyed up just being this close to her. Still, I do my best to listen as she formally introduces herself. “Kayla Harrington, though I guess you figured that out. I didn’t mean to be misleading about my name. It seemed like a good idea when I was meeting sexy strangers in a bar and I’m… who I am.”
She lets out a tiny laugh, like that’s explanation enough, and I guess in a way, it is. She went into that night thinking it was a one-night fling the same way we did, so we were all a bit protective of our true identities. I instantly forgive her for that. The rest? I’m still not sure.
“I didn’t expect to ever see you again. Either of you,certainly not both of you, and definitely not here.” She glances around her office. “Why are you here? Really.”
“To spank your ass for walking out on us,” Maddox suggests with a smirk. “And maybe take you to dinner. Before, after, or both—your call.”
Kayla’s bark of unexpected laughter releases the tension that’s been in my chest since that morning at the hotel. And when she looks at me for an answer, I’m brutally honest. “The way you took us both—beautifully, proudly, without reservation—was sexy as fuck, and I would love to do that again, but I’m here because of the conversations in that bed over Chinese food. I want that again. More than the sex.”
“Wow,” she breathes.
“Hey, that’s what I said too,” Maddox argues good-naturedly. “He’s just Mr. Poetic over here.” He backhands my arm, grinning like that’s remotely true. Poetry would require me to be good with words, and words are some of the hardest things for me. Quieter, he tells me, “Good job.”
Turning his attention back to Kayla, he asks, “You should know I don’t cook, but I’m a damn good DoorDash orderer. So, are we having Chinese again tonight?” He sounds cockily certain that she’s coming to dinner.
I am too. Until a shadow passes through her eyes.
“Look, I have thought about that night too. A lot, actually,” she confesses with a wry tilt of her head. “But it was one night of spontaneous recklessness and if you knew me, you’d know those are two things I am not.” Her eyes fall to her hands, where she’s fidgeting with a ring on her middle finger. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be something we do again. What if we ruin it?” That lastbit is barely more than a whisper, like she’s hoping we don’t hear her.
“What if we don’t?” Maddox counters. “What if it’s even better the second time around? The third? The hundredth?”
Her eyes jerk up, wide with shock and landing on each of us in turn. “What are you talking about? Like… a relationship? With all three of us?” She chuckles uncomfortably, like that’s unheard of.
I get that. It’s not what Maddox and I ever planned, either. We fuck women together, we live together, albeit separately, but we’ve never actually been in a relationship with another woman together. We’ve never even talked about it. But I can’t picture a world where it’s him and Kayla without me, or me and her without him. The idea of none of us being together is even more unfathomable.
“We’re not asking you to decide that right now. Dinner, that’s all we’re asking,” I declare, pinning her with a look that dares her to say yes. “One date.” That’s as much a lie as when I told her we were ‘just dancing’, and we all know it. I’m asking for a hell of a lot more than whatever fancy filet mignon and red wine meal she’s used to.
She’s quiet, but her brain is so loud I can almost hear her arguing with herself. I don’t think I breathe. I know I don’t dare to do something stupid like hope.
“I can’t,” she says finally, her eyes filled with regret.
The refusal is a direct hit to my heart, and it sneers ‘told you so’ like it already knew this was going to happen.
There might be more to her answer, but I’ve heard enough. I don’t need or want meaningless platitudesand hollow explanations. “We understand,” I say, speaking for us both as I stand up once more. “Again, sorry for invading like this.”
Maddox tries to get me to wait, wanting to push her harder, but I won’t strong-arm her into this, especially after what she thought initially. Given where her mind went, she’s had some ugly experiences too, and the last thing I want to do is be someone she remembers that way. She doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t want to ruin whatever memories she has any more than we already have.
But before he follows me out the door, Maddox scribbles his number on a Post-It note, telling her to call, text, DM, or whatever if she changes her mind.
I’ve already made my peace with the knowledge that it won’t be happening. And I’m starting to think about my next destination in the weight room. Maybe I can put on five or even ten pounds of muscle this off-season? It won’t do me any good on the ice—it might even hinder my game—but I don’t know another way to deal with my head being all screwed up. At least not any othergoodways. Usually, I’d self-medicate with the distraction of a casual fuck, with or without Maddox there, but all my dick wants is Kayla, and if she doesn’t want us, I guess I’ll be a monk with biceps the size of watermelons.
Goddammit.
KAYLA
