6. Luc

LUC

Iwatch Natalie walk away, her hips swaying in a way that makes my mouth go dry. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts that are definitely not appropriate for a locker room. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I"m still not sure what to make of her. Or the way my pulse quickens when she"s around.

Heading back to my locker, I grab my gear and head out, nodding to the few team members and staff still lingering. As I walk to my car, I can"t stop thinking about Natalie"s invitation to her restaurant. It"s a peace offering, sure, but it feels like more than that. Like maybe she genuinely wants to see me again, spend time with me even...

I slide into my car and start the engine, weighing my options. Part of me is telling me to go home, rest up, and forget about this whole thing. But the other part, the one I"ve been trying to ignore like a festering flame in my chest, wants the signals I'm reading from her to be true. I want to see her again. And sooner rather than later.

Before I can second-guess myself, I"m in the car and heading to Russo"s so I can join the team party. I'm not usually one for socializing after games, preferring to head home and unwind on my own. But as I drive toward the bar, I tell myself it"s for the team, that as captain I should make an appearance. Deep down, I know that"s bullshit. This is about her. And I have a feeling that everything I've done, from the moment she stood up to me at that construction site, is about her. She's dominating my every thought.

I arrive at Russo"s fashionably late, the party already in full swing. As I greet security with a nod on the way in, I spot a few of my teammates scattered around the bar, drinks in hand and women on their arms. I scan the room, my heart hammering as I search for a familiar head of brown curly hair.

And then I see her. She"s sitting at a table with Emile and a couple of the other rookies, laughing at something one of them said. The sound carries across the room, warm and rich, and I feel a tug in my chest, like there's a rope slung around it and every time she laughs, it pulls me a little closer.

"Cap! I didn"t think you"d make it."

The voice startles me and I turn to see Calvin, one of the veteran defensemen, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin. He hands me a drink, something amber colored in a short glass. I take it automatically, hardly registering the taste as I take a sip of the drink, the whiskey burning a trail down my throat.

"Yeah, well, I figured I should make an appearance. You know, for the team." I may be talking to him, but I keep my eyes locked on her.

"It's good to see you here, man. Feels like one big happy family when the whole team is together."

"Of course."

She hasn"t noticed me yet, too engrossed in conversation with the guys at her table. I find myself feeling a pang of jealousy at the easy way she interacts with my teammates, laughing and joking like she"s known them for years. I down the rest of my drink in one gulp, relishing the heat of it as it slides down my throat.

Calvin is saying something about the game, but I"m only half-listening, my attention still focused on her. I nod absentmindedly, setting my empty glass on a nearby table.

"But we showed "em, didn"t we? The Nighthawks are a force to be reckoned with this year. If we keep playing like that, the Cup is as good as ours!"

He claps me on the shoulder, and I nod quickly. "Yeah. For sure. This is our year."

Finally, as if sensing my gaze, she looks up and our eyes lock. For a moment, the world fades away. I'm surrounded in sweet silence, and it"s just the two of us in a world of our own making. Her lips part slightly, and I have the sudden urge to find out if they"re as soft as they look.

She smiles at me, a tiny, almost shy curve of her lips, before turning back to her conversation. I feel a grin tugging at my own mouth in response. I"m about to head over there when Calvin claps me on the shoulder again and says, "So, what do you think?"

I blink. "Huh?"

"The power play strategy for next game. What do you think?"

"Um…" I grab two beers from the tray a waitress is carrying and hand one to him. "I say this is a party and we can worry about the plays some other time." Clinking my beer to his, I give him a wink, then take a swig as I turn away, my gaze going right back to where she"s sitting. I take a deep breath and start making my way over, weaving through the crowd of teammates and friends celebrating our first win of the new season.

As I approach her table, she looks up again, and our eyes meet. That same electric jolt passes between us.

"I had a change of heart," I say, shrugging. "Figured I should make an appearance, show support for the team."

Emile claps me on the shoulder. "Well, I"m glad you did, Captain! Pull up a chair and have a drink with us."

I glance back to Natalie, trying to gauge her reaction. She"s watching me, but her expression is giving much. But then she smiles and gestures to the empty seat beside her.

"You heard the man," she says. "Have a seat, Luc."

I comply, settling into the chair. This close, I can smell her perfume, something light and floral that makes me want to lean in closer. I resist the urge, instead signaling the waitress and asking for something a little stronger than beer.

"Congratulations on the win, by the way," she says. "I was a little too focused on Emile getting hurt to say it earlier, but it was quite a game."

"Thanks." I look into her eyes, my heart pounding faster than it ever does on the ice. "And you should be proud of your brother. He did great out there tonight."

She beams. "He"s worked so hard for this. I"m glad it"s finally paying off."

We fall into easy conversation, the guys rehashing plays from the game and talking shit to each other. Natalie laughs at their antics and jokes along with them like she"s always been a part of this. Then we shift and talk about the plans she has for her restaurant, and I"m surprised by how easy it is to be around her—when we aren't pissing each other off. She"s witty and smart, with a sass that I find myself drawn to. The more we talk, the more I think about the way we instantly clashed, and the chemistry that seems to sizzle between us whenever we get close. I can"t help but wonder where that might have led us if we'd met under different circumstances.

Where it still might lead us…

"So tell me, Luc," she says, snapping me from most recent trip down filthy lane. "What made you want to be a hockey player? It"s not exactly the stereotypical choice for a guy from Sugar City."

I chuckle, finishing my whiskey. "Honestly? I wanted to prove to everyone that I could forge my own path. My dad was a quarterback, and he had this whole football thing planned for me. I"ve never been one for following the crowd, so I picked up a hockey stick instead."

She nods, understanding in her eyes. "I can relate to that. When I told my parents I was dropping out of law school to open a restaurant, they didn"t speak to me for months. But it's my passion. Just like I imagine hockey"s yours." Her gaze lingers on mine a second too long, and I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure.

It"s strange how comfortable I feel with her. Like I can let my guard down, be myself in a way I rarely am with anyone else. The more we talk, the more I realize how much I"ve misjudged her. She"s not just a pretty face with a sharp tongue. She"s smart, driven, passionate. And she gets me in a way few people do.

We continue to talk, laughing and getting to know each other better. And as the night wears on, the bar starts to clear out. Emile and the other guys say their goodbyes, heading off to continue the party elsewhere. But Natalie and I linger, and while I can't speak for her directly, I know that I'm just not ready for this night to end.

"I should probably get going," she says eventually, a note of reluctance in her voice. "Early morning at the restaurant tomorrow."

I nod, standing up. "I"ll walk you out."

We step outside, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stuffy bar. Natalie shivers slightly, and without thinking, I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she murmurs, pulling it tighter around her.

We walk in silence for a moment, our shoulders brushing. I"m hyper-aware of her presence, of the way her body fits next to mine like we were made to fit together. And it"s messing with my usually rigid control.

"So, tonight," I say, trying to distract myself when we reach her car. "Surprisingly enjoyable for a team bonding event."

She laughs and glances up at me. "A ringing endorsement if I"ve ever heard one, Captain Bouchard."

"I meant it as a compliment, Chef DuPont," I tease, leaning against her car.

"I know." She pauses, her eyes flickering to my lips, and my heart hammers in my chest. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight, Luc."

"Me too," I admit, my voice rough. "I"m glad I decided to come."

She tilts her head. "Does this mean our truce is now official?"

"I don"t know. I think we might need to seal it with something a little more binding."

"Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

"This." I step closer, and before I can second-guess myself, I"m cupping her face in my hands and crashing my lips to hers.

Natalie doesn"t pull away. In fact, she melts into the kiss, her hands gripping my shirt as if she"s been craving this as much as I have. And God, do I need her. My hands roam over her curves, pulling her closer, closer still, until there"s no air between us and we're practically fused into one.

I taste the remnants of the spicy drink she had earlier on her lips, and it feels like I can"t get enough of her. And judging by the way she"s moaning into my mouth, I have a feeling she feels the same.

Just as my hand goes into her hair to tug her head back for a better angle, a camera flash breaks into our kiss and we both jump away, blinking at a photographer.

"Mr. Bouchard! What's your lady friend's name? Is this a fling? Or something more serious?" Click, flash! Click, flash!

"Back off," I warn, angling my body to shield Natalie from his lens.

"Oh, come now, Luc. You know your fans are dying to know more about you." He takes a few more photos as he backs away and makes a gleeful comment about this being his payday. I see red.

"Let me handle this," I growl, my hand on Natalie's arm. "Wait here."

"Luc—"

I have no idea what she says because I'm too busy charging after the paparazzi, anger boiling in my veins. I get that interest from the press is just par for the course, but fuck this guy. He doesn't get to intrude on my private moment. Mine.

The moment I reach the photographer, my knuckles ball up, ready to punch the smug grin off his face. "Delete those photos right now," I snarl.

"No way," the photographer says, taking another photo of me. "I'm gonna make a pretty penny selling a photo of the Nighthawks captain locking lips with the city's newest restaurateur."

"Delete them now," I repeat, voice dangerously low.

The photographer shrugs and starts to walk away, but I snatch the camera from his hands, flipping through the images until I find the ones of us. Deleting them, I hand the camera back to him. "Stay away from her," I warn before turning around and walking back to Natalie.

"You're an asshole, Bouchard!"

"Tell me something I don't know," I yell over my shoulder.

When I get back to Natalie, she"s still standing by her car, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from my kiss. Her eyes are wide, and she takes a shaky breath as I approach. "I think I should go."

"Natalie, wait?—"

"No, Luc, it"s fine." She hands me back my jacket. "I have to get home, and I think the press taking a bunch of photos you were so desperate to keep from getting out that you were willing to threaten a man with a beating is enough excitement for this girl. In fact, it's all the excitement I can stand. So, I rescind my gumbo invitation, Mr. Bouchard. You and I obviously aren't meant to spend time together. Enjoy your life."

"Natalie—"

I don't even get the chance to explain when she climbs into her car, slamming the door in my face.

"Natalie!" She peels off down the street, and I stand there, hands on my hips, staring after her until she disappears.

"Not exactly the smoothest move there, Captain," Coach Belanger says from behind me.

I spin around, fists clenched. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He just shrugs and I let out a sigh. "I'm guessing you saw that?"

"Saw you and the rookie's sister tongue wrestling? Or saw you chase down the press and delete the photos like you were embarrassed you got caught?"

"I wasn't embarrassed," I snap. "It's just…there are some things I'd like to keep for myself. It's why I don't party much."

"Well, if you want my advice, it's for the best. Starting something with your teammate's sister is just asking for trouble."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for your advice, coach. I know what I'm doing," I grunt, stalking off to my own car before getting in and slamming the door shut.

I hit the steering wheel. God damn it. I couldn't have fucked this night up any worse if I tried. So much for that truce…