Page 127 of Thrown for a Loop
He laughs, low and warm, and steps into the pants. “Wow, stretchy. Like a sausage casing.” He zips them up and turns around theatrically. “What do you think? They’re actually comfortable, if that matters.”
“Of course it matters! You have to be able to move,” I say.
“I can definitely move in these,” Chase replies, shaking his ass to prove it. “Do they look ridiculous?”
“Actually, they don’t. They look great.” With his body, though? Find me some pants that wouldn’t. “Let’s move on to the more controversial choices. I went in a couple of different directions here,” I say, reaching into the shopping bag. The first shirt I pull out is the least interesting—a collared shirt in a blue stretch blend. “This one is pretty traditional, but it will look great with your eyes.”
He pulls the shirt on but doesn’t button it. He paces over to a mirror on the bathroom door. “What will you be wearing? I need the whole picture.”
“A little black dress kind of thing,” I say with a shrug. “This combo would be our cocktail hour look. It’s a little basic, but classy.”
“Nice fit,” he says before taking it off. “It’s like you know me. Let’s see what else you’ve got in that bag.”
I reach in for choice number two—a silver shirt in a blend of silk and poly. “This one is a little more… disco. I think you’d unbutton an extra button at the chest,” I add, handing it over. “But I’m a little worried about the soft collar flopping around while you skate.”
“Agreed,” Chase says, trying it on. He studies his reflection, his face neutral. “Is that it?”
“Nope,” I reply, grinning. “There’s one more. And honestly, it’s my favorite.” I pull out what is effectively a tight short-sleeve T-shirt in the Legends’ signature blue. But it also has a shimmer to it that would definitely catch some comments on social media.
“Hmm,” he murmurs, running a hand over the fabric. “Interesting.”
“Just do me a favor and try it on before you judge it,” I say, practically pleading.
He takes it from me with a raised brow, and I can’t help but smile as he tugs it over his head. I watch as the slinky fabric skims over his six-pack, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I let out a low whistle. “Swear to God a lot of Legends fans will be questioning their sexuality if you choose this one. But I realize it’s a little much.” The effect, with those tight jeans, makes my mouth water. When he turns toward the mirror, the fabric shimmers.
Chase takes a thorough look at himself in the mirror. He raises his arms and then widens them into a classic skating stance—hands outstretched, pecs taut. “It’s kind of… James Dean does Vegas.”
“Agreed.”
He turns back to me and puts his hands on his trim hips, and the movement rearranges his muscles in yet another flattering combination. “Let’s make a deal. If I wear this one, you’ll wear a tiny skating dress, which I get to peel off you afterward.”
I laugh. “Okay? You look so hot right now. That’s hardly a compromise. But if you’re going to hate the comments people leave about that shirt, it’s okay to choose another one.”
He walks over and sits down on the bed, studying me. “Screw the comments, Zoe. We agreed to put on a show for Steve. So let’sput on a motherfucking show. Let’s break the internet with a hockey player in a shiny shirt. No half measures.”
“Okay,” I whisper, serious now. “This is exactly why I love you, by the way. No half measures.”
He smiles suddenly, and it’s like the sun coming out. “Awesome. Now help me figure out the tackiest pose I can do right now, so we can make Bess laugh.”
“Um…” I think for a second. “There’s a flower arrangement by the elevator. How about a rose between your teeth?”
He snaps his fingers. “Genius! Let’s do it.”
Chapter 42
In the morning, there’s a team brunch before we leave for the airport. Darcy and I make sure to eat at the top of the hour, before the hockey players have cleared out the bacon and waffles.
As I chase the last bits of maple syrup around with my fork, Chase winks at me over the rim of his coffee cup. It warms me up inside, even if I left his bed only an hour ago.
“You two are so cute,” Darcy whispers.
“Shush.”
“I very much enjoyed having the room to myself last night so that I could flip aimlessly through Netflix alone,” she chirps. “My only complaint is that I don’t hear enough details from you.”
“You want details? Fine.”
