Forever Wild (Wildcat Hockey Book 5)

EVERLY

Jack looks mildly uncomfortable for the first fifteen minutes I force him to hang out with me and Grace. When she asks about Thor, he excuses himself.

“What is going on with you two?” Grace asks as soon as he steps inside. Her eyes are wide and spark with excitement.

“Nothing.”

She cocks her head to the side.

“We’ve gotten closer this summer.” I didn’t tell her about Jack’s dad because that felt too invasive, but I wish I had so she wouldn’t keep looking at me like this is something more.

“He’s being nice to you. He’s not nice to anyone.”

“That’s not true.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, nice is the wrong word. He’s nice to everyone but with you…he’s different. And he was definitely checking you out.”

My skin tingles and butterflies swarm in my stomach. I’m not usually one to play things off. If I can tell a guy is into me, I’ll say it. And even though Grace makes some very good points, I’m just not sure.

“Are you into him?” she asks.

“He’s Jack,” I say as if that could explain it all. It should. I’ve never considered him like that, but is he hot and do I enjoy spending time with him? Yes. So much. Interacting with Jack before this summer always felt like I was part of the job. Like Jack needed to make sure I didn’t do anything that caused trouble for my brother, which I resented, obviously. But things have changed. I don’t feel like a potential problem anymore. I’m helping him and it feels good.

“Tell me about the new job.” I turn the conversation to her and while she shoots me a knowing look—yes, I am avoiding talking about Jack—she goes with it.

For thirty minutes she tells me everything about her office, her coworkers, and how she spends her days. She’s happy and enjoying it. Not for the first time this summer I wonder about my own future career plans. I still need to fill out my internship paperwork. The date to leave is inching closer and I wish I was as excited as everyone else seems to be. I love my life here and I’m nervous about uprooting my whole existence for a job.

Too soon, it’s time for Grace to leave. It was a nice afternoon. When I decided to stay here this summer, I knew everyone would be gone or busy, but I didn’t realize how much I’d miss them all.

When I walk Grace out through the house, Jack is in the kitchen.

“Thanks for letting me hang, Jack,” Grace says as she waves to him.

He tips his head to her. “Anytime.”

When she’s gone, I move back into the kitchen with him. In my purse, I dig around until I find what I’m looking for.

“I brought my good scissors.” I hold them up for him to see.

“O-kay.” He eyes them and me carefully.

“I want to cut your hair.”

“No.”

“I watched a few more tutorials last night just in case. I got this.”

“Did you also get a cosmetology license?”

I know that it’s irrational because I, in fact, do not have any sort of training and very little practice, but it still stings that he’s so adamant I can’t do it. All the whispers that I’m not good enough or smart enough play through my head and feel like a kick to the stomach.

My head drops and then he sighs.

“Fine,” he relents. “Just a trim. Nothing my regular barber can’t un-fuck.”

I kick those negative thoughts away and pull out a chair for him to sit. “It’ll be easiest if you wet your hair.”

With a sigh, he disappears, returning a couple minutes later with his hair freshly washed.

“I don’t have one of those fancy capes to keep the hair off your clothes,” I say as I get in position behind the chair.

He walks over to me, giving me his back before he pulls his T-shirt up over his head and tosses it out of the way.

The way his back muscles ripple with the movement makes my mouth go dry. I manage to squeak out, “Oh, right. That’ll work.”

At least it’s his back and not his front. I shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects while his abs are on display. That would be a recipe for a trip to the emergency room.

He sits down and the smell of his shampoo mixed with the proximity of him makes me more nervous.

“Everything okay?” he asks, making me realize too many seconds have passed with me staring at his broad shoulders and back.

“Yep,” I say quickly. Totally fine. I run my fingers through his hair. A huge mistake. It’s thick and soft and my body is having a strange reaction.

Okay, not strange. I’m turned the hell on.

I clear my throat and shake lust-filled thoughts from my head. I am a grown-ass woman and this is my brother’s teammate, not some random guy. I am going to keep it together and then I’m going to go out with Thor. Nice, sweet Thor whose family looks like one of those families that go on vacations together and have dinners together every Sunday.

That reminds me, I want to ask Ty about family dinners once every couple of weeks when the season starts up again. I’ll come back on some weekends, and I want to make the most of my time here. His schedule has gotten chaotic since Charlotte came along, and I don’t ever want us to lose the closeness we’ve regained over the past five years.

“You have nice hair,” I say once I’ve gotten ahold of myself.

He grunts his acknowledgment, and I tug the strands.

“Ow,” he protests.

“The polite thing is to say thank you.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

I start to snip the ends in a meticulous and slow fashion. He’s quiet as I work and his body relaxes. His head too. It feels like an intimate moment, seeing him like this.

When I move to one side, I can see his eyes are closed. Long dark lashes fan out over his face and his lips are parted. He’s really beautiful like this. His features are angular and perfect. He has a small scar just above the bow of his upper lip. It’s faded into a white line that cuts through the slight stubble growing.

I cut another section and the hair falls onto his jaw. Reaching out with the hand not holding the scissors, I brush it off. His eyes open and lock onto me.

The softness in his face morphs back into the hard-ass hockey player I know, and I suck in a breath, pulse picking up speed.

Something passes between us. A heat and tension that I know I’m not making up in my head. He looks at me like he wants me the same way I want him. Except I know that can’t be true. He’s Jack Wyld. He can have anyone he wants.

He reaches up and circles my wrist, but I let my fingers rest on his jaw a moment longer. My thumb slowly rubs along the hard, scratchy skin, exploring.

“Ev.” His voice is a gruff warning that I don’t heed.

“How’d you get this scar?” I ask as I drag my thumb up and across it. He’s still holding me by the wrist, but he doesn’t pull my hand away.

“Playing hockey.”

One side of my mouth quirks up. “I should have guessed.”

My gaze drops to his chest and lower, scanning for more marks. “I bet young Jackson got into all sorts of trouble. Any other scars?”

His grip around my wrist tightens when I try to drop my hand.

“Not ones that would be appropriate to show you.”

Well, that has my attention. My brows rise in question.

“Where?” I pull my hand away, and for a second I think he’s going to show me, but then he shakes his head.

“I have a scar on my hip.” I angle my body and then pull down the band of my shorts to show him the scar I got when I was a kid. “I was climbing in the kitchen and fell.”

His eyes sear into my skin and then he looks away. He’s seen me in far less the past few weeks, so it isn’t like I’m flashing him my tits. Though…

“Am I done?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great. I’m going to shower.” He stands abruptly. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I want to find out. He doesn’t seem to share that desire.

He stops just before entering his bedroom and turns. “Thanks for the haircut.”

“You’re welcome.”

My pulse is still racing as I sweep up the hair and toss it in the trashcan. I still haven’t heard the water turn on so I head toward his room. I need to know what the hell is going on between us. If I’m imagining it, then I’ll chalk it up to needing sex. And if I’m not…I’m not sure what I’ll do yet.

“Jack,” I call as I enter his bedroom. The door is open. I’ve never stepped into the space before, but it’s as neat and tidy as I expected. The bed is large and rests against one wall. A white comforter is tossed back on one side, showing gray sheets and matching pillowcases.

The shower turns on and I move to the cracked door, hoping to catch him before he gets in, but I don’t look in obviously. I’m not looking to get an unexpected eyeful.

I open my mouth to call out to him again, but then I hear him say my name.

It’s too quiet for him to be yelling out for help and something stops me from walking in. Instead, I keep listening.

He grunts and lets out a low hum in his throat. My skin warms and my pussy clenches because I know exactly what’s happening in there. He’s…oh my god. And he’s saying my name.