Chapter 2

Two

Tanner

With one foot inside her suite, and my right hand holding the heavy door open, I stand over Maeve, watching her big blue eyes practically bulge out of her head, like she's working something out in her brain. What the heck is going on? Why is she looking at me like a deer in the headlights? Or worse, like she might be in danger.

"Maeve," I breathe in my most soothing voice, as her hand goes to her chest, shock spreading across her face. I take a step back to give her space, even though I have no idea why she's acting like she's so surprised to see me at her door. "I'm not going to hurt you." Yes, I know all about the stalker incident, and tonight I was staring. A lot. At first, I was worried that I was coming off as stalkerish until she sent me a text, inviting me to her room. Why the hell did I run to the elevator like a love-struck puppy anyway, when I know this is a bad idea and nothing can happen between us? I slowly reach into my back pocket to grab my phone, not wanting any fast movements to startle her.

"I know, it's just…" Well, at least she knows I'm not here to cause harm. It's what she doesn't seem to know that's confusing the hell out of me. "But what…what?" she asks, her words stuck in her throat as she continues to stare up at me, her dark lashes blinking rapidly. "Did you…" Her gaze drops to the phone clutched tightly in my hand.

It pings, another message coming in from one of my many siblings, as I hold it out and show her the text she'd sent me. "Did you not mean to send this?"

She groans as she stumbles backward, and I take a step toward her when I think she's going to fall, only to realize how threatening it might feel to her. She rights herself and I stop myself from getting closer. I drop my hand, deliberately wanting to appear safe and non-threatening, because I would never, ever do anything to hurt this woman. In fact, she seemed a bit nervous tonight at the bar, which is one of the reasons I kept checking on her.

Her fingers tighten around the strap of her purse. "I…I…"

"Change of heart?" I ask, giving her an out that we both desperately need. Or at least I need, because I might not have the strength to walk away from her. Honestly, the text surprised me, not because she had my number, which we'd exchanged during training camp when she was treating me, but because she's never texted me before. I don't even want to tell you how many times I ran my finger over her digits, only to stop myself before I did something stupid.

She nods. "Yes," she admits quietly.

"Good, because…" I wave my hand back and forth between the two of us. "This…everything about this…you and me…us." My gaze strays to her king-size bed. "…is a mistake." My cock twitches as I look at the comforter and the way the turn down service prepared her bed for sleep, making it look so damn inviting. Clearly, the little asshole thickening between my legs hasn't gotten the memo that this is a bad idea. My gaze strays back to Maeve's, noting the way her eyes have gone wide again, but this time it's not from shock, it's from hurt.

Shit.

She folds her arms. "If it was such a mistake, why were you on your feet the second you got the text?"

All righty then.

I stare at her as she calls me out on my ‘teenage-like' eagerness and a moment later, unable to help myself, a laugh bursts from my lungs. That's when I notice the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her shoulders drop, her stance changing as she calms. God, she's so beautiful. Even her name Maeve means intoxication. Yeah, I was bored one night and looked it up. Sue me.

My tense muscles relax. "Fuck, Maeve." I exhale loudly, as I run agitated fingers through my hair. I need to do something with them. Otherwise, I might pull her to me and kiss the hell out of her lush lips.

As she stands there waiting for an answer, I give her one. "Because you're the most beautiful woman who ever walked planet earth," I tell her straight up—not something she hasn't heard before—and she folds her arms across her chest and nods, a new kind of sadness about her. Something tells me that's not the answer she wanted. Truthfully, I don't know her as well as I'd like to, but we talked a bit when she worked on my shoulder during training camp, and I clung to every word she spoke, not because she's gorgeous, but because I liked what she had to say.

She might be beautiful, and it might be what everyone sees, but after our weeks together, I knew she was so much more than a pretty face. I also knew that a couple weeks with her only scratched the surface of who she really was deep inside. I wanted to get to know more about the woman who constantly shrinks into herself because a few years ago the world stomped on her adventurous spirit.

But…her and me…us…that can never happen.

Her father is the oldest player on the team. He took me under his wing when I signed, and treated me like the son he never had. He and Maeve's mother were high school sweethearts, and they had Maeve right out of high school. We all know what she means to him, how protective he is of her, and I'd never do anything to betray that trust.

"I should go."

She nods, and pushes her long dark hair from her face. "I'm sorry, Tanner. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's all good." I back up until I'm in the hall, and I'm about to let the door go when she grabs it. My phone pings and I ignore it, my body tired from the game.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her eyes suddenly full of concern. I take in the worry on her face. Her past made her afraid, but I think she's stronger than she knows, and right now, I see the vulnerability that lives in the shadows of her strength, and I can't help but want to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the world.

"Yeah, why?"

"Your phone." She glances at it in my hands. "You've been on it all night."

"Yeah, it's all good." I make light of it. The last thing I'm going to tell her is that my family is driving me crazy. As the youngest of six, I'm the ‘baby' of the family and I'm not sure I'll ever be treated as anything different. I even went off to Nova Scotia to play college hockey for the Scotia Storms just to get out from under their thumb and prove myself. Now that I'm in the NHL—hell, so are my four brothers—my sister is a former pro figure skater, and my father is a former NHL player turned coach for the juniors—its not like my accomplishments stand out in our family. But you'd at least think they'd treat me like an adult, now that I am one.

My phone pings again and I shake my head. "Family," is all I answer.

"They must be so proud of you."

"Something like that."

"Your dad. He played for Saint Paul. Now he's a coach in the juniors in Minnesota."

"How do you know that?"

One brow arches in challenge. "Did you forget that Felix Carter is my father?"

"Nope, never," I answer, my gut tightening as I take another distancing step back, which pulls a grin from her.

"I also know your four brothers play for the NHL." I don't know why I'm surprised. She's been following hockey since she was a child. I remember her telling me that. "A lot of pressure. A lot to live up to. Lots of expectation."

I bark out a humorless laugh. "You'd think that'd be enough, but no."

"What?"

"One last thing is expected of me," I say without thinking, and when she angles her head, her eyes full of questions, I shake my damn head. What the hell am I doing? "Nothing." I check the time on my phone. "I should get going. We have an early flight."

"Right, um, sorry about all this Tanner. It was a mistake."

"Yeah, see you in the morning, Maeve. Sleep well."

I hope at least one of us does. I'll probably be up for hours pounding one or more out while imagining myself in her bed. I foolishly let my mind drift.

She lets the door go and it closes with a hard click, snapping my brain back to reality, and my body into action. I take three big steps down the hall and let myself into the room beside Maeve's as the elevator opens and my team member's voices carry down the hall. I'm not in the mood for socializing, so I hurry inside, lock up behind myself, and tuck my key into my pocket. I gaze at the big room, one of many I've seen over the last year since I've been playing for the Bucks.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate what I do. I love it, actually. Playing for the Bucks is a dream come true. My dream, not just the dream my parents had for me. But like I said to Maeve, there's one thing left they want from me. Unfortunately, it's not going to happen. How can it, when I'm hung up on a woman I can never have?

I unbutton my shirt and glance at the bottle of scotch on my bar—compliments of the hotel for a game well played, no doubt. Maybe a drink will help relax me. Before I pour one, I pull open my patio door and step into the warm night. It's October, and while it's getting colder back in Boston, it's still warm here in Florida.

I lean over the cement balcony wall and the floral scent from the rose bushes below reaches my nostrils. They don't smell half as good as Maeve. Car horns blare in the distance, but that's not what's under my skin tonight. No, what's under my skin, and hovering around inside my boxers, is why Maeve sent that text in the first place, and what happened in the minutes afterward that made her change her mind. I might not ever know, but I'm glad she kiboshed the whole thing.

My phone pings. Another text from my family. Who is it this time? Sure, they all messaged to congratulate me on my win, having scored the winning goal, but there's one call I'm expecting, and dreading. I pull my phone from my pocket and my heart sinks when I see it's Mom.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mother—to the moon and back. But now that she's retired, it's her life mission to see her kids married. Wouldn't you know it, my sister Annie and I are the only two left and she's working hard on Annie right now.

"Not going to happen, Mom," I murmur under my breath as I slide my finger across the screen. "Hey, Mom."

"Tanner." Her voice is loud with excitement. "Great game tonight." I push off the cement wall and drop down into a chair. I turn toward the opaque plastic partition. Did I just hear a chair scrape from the adjoining patio?

"So," my mother begins, and I brace myself as I turn all focus to her, knowing what's coming next. "Did you get an invitation to the wedding?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I shouldn't be surprised that she knows about Jay Warren's upcoming wedding in Santorini. Jay and I were good friends at Scotia Academy, and now he plays with my brother Jakob for the NHL's Portland Icehawks. I'm sure Mom and Jakob have been conspiring.

"Yes, of course I'm invited to the wedding."

"A Christmas wedding in Santorini sounds amazing." She exhales softly and I can almost see the wistful look on her face—a wistful look wishing it was me getting married.

"Uh huh."

Deep breaths, Tanner, deep breaths.

"Are you bringing a plus one?" Her voice holds so much hope, it hits me right in the heart. I know she only cares about my happiness and well-being, and while I want to give her what she wants—her baby boy married with a family—it's not going to happen.

"Yes, I'm bringing a plus one." I say it to pacify her. If I tell her otherwise, she's liable to show up in Santorini with a date for me.

"Ooh, is it serious?"

"The relationship is new, Mom," I tell her, my mind racing. I know why I fibbed, but now I'm going to have to find someone to go with me, because I have no doubt she'll manage to get a look at the pictures and call me out on my little white lie. "I don't need to be married to be happy, Mom," I remind her as I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off a headache.

"Is that Tanner?" I hear Dad call out in the background. Mom's hand covers the phone, her words muffled. When she comes back, she says, "Your dad wants to say hi. But I want to hear all about this date."

She hands Dad the phone and we talk a bit about tonight's game, and I know he's damn proud of me. At least he doesn't pressure me about getting married, like Mom. When we're done, he's about to hand the phone back to Mom, but I yawn, and say, "Tell her I'll talk to her tomorrow. I'm exhausted."

"Okay, son."

With that we hang up and I push to my feet, when I once again hear noise on the other side of the partition. Shit, how much did she hear? I'm about to go inside when my phone pings and I glance at it to see a one-word text.

Maeve: Drink?

I exhale loudly. "Hey." I call out into the night, knowing she's right on the other side of that partition.

A beat of silence and then, "Hey."

"Can't sleep?"

"No, there was some noisy guy yelling into his phone."

"I wasn't yelling," I correct with a laugh. "Much." Her warm chuckle fills the night and curls around me. I really wish I didn't like her so much.

"I guess that was the one thing, huh?"

I brace my arms on the concrete balcony, and glance out at the street. "I'm sorry you heard all that."

"I really didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was just getting some fresh air?—"

"And the conversation was too riveting to turn away from," I tease.

"Something like that." A chair scrapes and the next thing I know, she's looking around the plastic partition separating our balconies—one that does little to muffle sound, clearly. "About that drink?"

"My place or yours?" I ask, noting that she's still wearing the dress from earlier. I loved the way it wrapped at the waist and hugged her curves, and no, I should not be thinking how one tug of that soft belt would loosen it on her body.

She hesitates. "Will your plus one mind?"

I groan. "There's no plus one. I'm going to Santorini alone. I told a fib."

"Ah," she says, and I feel the need to explain.

Just five minutes ago, I didn't want to bother her with my problems—heck, I'm sure she has enough of her own—but maybe I'm tired, or maybe it's the vulnerability in her voice that has me blurting out, "I'm one of the last unattached kids in a family of six and my mother is determined to change that. She, along with my siblings, are nosy and pushy, always treating me like the baby of the family, always watching out for me, but I'm a grown up and can make my own decisions." Honestly, I never had to step up to fight my own battles. It's no wonder I moved to Nova Scotia for college.

"Why didn't you tell her that instead?"

"Why don't you go ahead and ask the hard questions." She laughs and I exhale loudly, deciding to tell the truth. "Because I love her, Maeve. She only wants what's best for her kids, and she thinks getting her last single son hitched is what's best."

She goes very quiet, staring at me like I might have a hockey stick growing out of my skull, and I'm about to ask if it was something I said when she gives me a smile so tender and so full of understanding, it does the strangest things to my head.

"I appreciate your honesty, Tanner."

"Just don't tell my mother I'm not being totally honest. I hate to lie, but?—"

"You don't want to hurt her. I get it, and don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." She gestures toward her patio door. "I have wine. Fruity girly wine. It's not strong, but it's something."

Sensing she'd like—maybe even needs—a drink with a little more kick tonight, and hell, I would too, I suggest, "If you want to come over here, I can give you a stiff one."

What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me tonight?

"I mean, the hotel dropped off a bottle of scotch," I hurry out quickly, needing to clarify. "A reward for our win tonight. We can crack that."

She nods. "Hmm, I guess I could use a stiff one."

Kill me fucking now.

"Hard night?" I ask, and curse under my breath at my poor word choices. Stiff. Hard. Jesus. Did I take one too many hits to the head?

"Yeah, hard," she murmurs, something that sounds like regret, or even loneliness in her voice.

Since I don't want her walking around the hall at night, or getting caught coming to my room by one of the guys or worse her father, I go against my own best interests and say, "Stay right there."

I hurry back inside my room, snatch the bottle from the bar, and walk back outside. I pass her the bottle and she clasps it with both hands. As she holds it tight, I do my best not to think about those palms holding a part of my body in the same manner. Fuck me sideways.

"Aren't you joining me?"

"Yeah." I jump up onto the cement wall, and grip the plastic partition as I throw one leg over to her balcony.

"Tanner!" she shrieks. "What are you doing? We're eight floors up."

"Shh," I warn. Who knows who's outside listening.

She's laughing by the time I jump onto her balcony. "We have these things called doors."

"Yeah, but you know…"

She nods, knowing full well I'm talking about her father. "But it's just a drink. We're adults, and we're allowed to have a drink together." I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me or herself that this doesn't seem odd.

"Drinks at night in a hotel room," I add as I make a wincing sound. "You want to run that by your father?"

"Ah, no," she answers quickly, with a laugh. "Come on." She steps inside and I follow her, leaving the door slightly open behind me. Maybe in case I need a quick getaway, which once again reminds me I shouldn't be doing this.

She walks to her bar area, my bottle of scotch in her hands. My gaze drops to her sweet, heart-shaped ass, and my cock twitches as I visualize my hands on her body, kneading those perfect cheeks with my palms.

"So, about that stiff one," she teases, a hint of humor in her voice. My gaze jerks to hers and I take in her knowing grin—yeah, she caught me checking her out—and that's when I realize I could be in real trouble here.

Real fucking trouble.

FML.