Page 108 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Damn. Wearing my shirt with my name on her back, this woman is prettier than any so-called ‘supermodel’ I’ve ever seen.
I rise from my seat, my feet quickly eating up the space between us. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish, walking around here looking so damn good in my jersey?”
She tries to act innocent. “What? You told me to take a shirt from your dresser.”
My hands grip her hips, boldly smoothing up under the hem of the jersey to touch her soft skin. “Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to take the air straight from my lungs.”
I lean in by her collarbone and, damn, she smells like me. She used my body wash.
It’s confirmed—Alba Anderson is trying to kill me.
She locks her arms tightly around my neck and sighs contentedly as I breathe her in. My palms roam up and down her back, and her fingers lose themselves in my hair. We get lost in the moment, just touching each other, enjoying each other.
Then there’s a soft thud from upstairs. Alba jumps in my arms, her eyes flying toward the staircase at the reminder that Jagger could pop around the corner at any moment.
Shit. We have to be more careful than this.
She wiggles out of my hold, putting space between us and bringing the conversation back to the father-son reading challenge. “You have a lot of reading up to do, Mr. Tower,” she jokes awkwardly as she shuffles away and starts clearing off plates.“No shit,” I mumble, taking the dirty dishes to the sink. “I can’t make Jagger look bad. The pressure is on.”
She laughs, following after me. “I’m only kidding. Just getting to participate with you means so much to him.”
I give my head a shake. “Psht. Nah. None of that participation trophy shit. Me and Jag are going to kick ass in that competition. Those library kids won’t know what hit ‘em.”
Alba is snorting with laughter now. I know I sound like a bit of a psycho right now but you don’t survive in a professional hockey league for nine years without having a competitive spirit. And on top of that, I want to make Jagger proud. It’s part of making up for all the years I lost with him.
Bonus points if I get to impress Alba, too.
I lean against the counter where she’s standing, gently brushing a loose red curl away from her eyes. “I’m ready for the challenge. I feel like I’ve got to make up for the lack of reading I did back in school. That’s what I get for goofing off back then.”
“Well, just so you know, Jagger and I really appreciateyou doing this.” Her green eyes glimmer at me from behind her glasses, and I just want to do everything in my power to make sure she’s happy like this all the time.
Hesitating for only a second, I put my hands on her hips, drawing her closer to me. Her body feels so good against mine. Especially when she positions herself between my spread thighs and presses her chest against my torso.
“And what about you?” I ask her. “What are your plans for retaking your realtor exam?”
Alba instantly frowns, her brows lowering and her eyes darkening. “I’m not taking the exam again.”
“What?” I question, not immediately believing my ears.
“I’m not taking it again,” she repeats. “I’ve taken it twice. I’ve failed both times. Maybe it’s not meant to be.”
“Not meant to be?” I scoff. “Alba, this so-called failure isn’t set in stone. It doesn’t become final until you decide you’re never trying again.”
She turns her face away from me. “God. It’s just too hard, Easton.”
“That’s what she said…” I mumble. I rub my woody against her, trying to lighten the mood.
Huffing, Alba slaps at my chest.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say, tightening my grip around her to keep her from wiggling away from me. “Come on. What would you say to Jagger if he wanted to give up on himself? If he wanted to let a minor setback convince him to give up on his dreams?”
She shakes her head. “That’s different. Jagger’s a kid. He has his whole life ahead of him.”
“Well, what about me? What if after my first season of playing hockey, I’d decided to just quit because my team didn’t win a championship cup? What if I’d quit after thesecond season or the third? Hell—do you know how easy it would have been to quit after I injured my foot?”
“You don’t get it,” Alba insists. “I have all these responsibilities. All this shit stacked on my shoulders while I’m trying to juggle a million different commitments.”
I’m not buying her bullshit. “Sorry to be harsh, but all I hear is excuses, Alba. You’ve wanted this real estate thing since we were teenagers. You can’t give up now.”
