Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey Series Book 4)

When I pick up Jordan and Chicken Salad from Rhys and Micky’s, she’s slightly buzzed. I appreciate that Micky didn’t get her bombed at brunch. It was bad enough I was the sober cab for a bunch of drunk hockey players—last night was a fucking disaster.

Colby got in a fist fight with some guy at the club after partying a little too hard, then between breaking up the scuffle and getting back to the hotel, I realized my phone was gone. Still don’t know if it fell out of my pocket or if it was stolen. While waiting for our flight this morning, I spent an hour at a carrier store in the airport getting it replaced. Ugh, it was a goddamn nightmare, especially since I’d been looking forward to coming home to her since I left the ice. Now all I want to do is take her home and crawl into bed. “Hey, Sunshine,” I say, kissing her cheek. “Ready to go?”

She pulls away, putting distance between us, and nods. We take the stairs down to the curb where I’m parked. I load her suitcase in the car, along with all of Chicken Salad’s stuff. This dog needs its own luggage. Jordan climbs in the passenger seat and puts her seatbelt on. When I get in and drive away from the sidewalk, I ask her about her weekend with Micky. Every answer is short and clipped.

“I missed your face.”

Turning to face me, her temple cushioned against the headrest, she gazes at me with a sad smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Nice try, but I’m not into you.”

I scoff. “Again, I was talking to Chicken Salad, but congrats on having such high self-esteem.”

“Stop lusting after my dog. She’s not into you either.”

“She will be when she sees that I brought her a”—my voice crescendos—”squeaky toy!” Reaching into the driver-side door pocket, I wrap my fingers around the stupid plush team mascot from Vancouver and squeeze it. It squeaks, causing Chicken Salad’s massive ears to stand up. She wedges her big fluffy head between us on the center console, pawing for it.

Holding it up, the furry monster takes it from me more gingerly than one would expect for a dog of her size.

“Tear it to shreds, Chicken Salad,” I say, winking at Jordan. “Good girl.”

She turns away from me. My fingers itch for her. I want her affection. Her kiss. Her touch. Anything. I was expecting a warmer reception when I got to Micky’s, but she seems distant. The closer we get to home, the more my mind wanders with all the ways I want her.

When I pull into the garage and turn off the car, she unclicks her seatbelt. Before I can do the same, Jordan reaches out, flips my hat backward, and turns me to face her. Her gaze drops to my lips, and my fingers sink into her blonde locks. I yank her into my lap. Fuck, I missed this woman. She always knows exactly what I need. I want to be what she needs.

Wanting more, I lean forward, but she shoves me back. At my shoulder, she draws out excess length from the seatbelt strap and holds it across my neck. We regard each other for a moment, the way she’s taking dominance over me. Physically and metaphorically. She has me in a chokehold, controlling me more and more every day. The longer we’re away from each other, the more I crave her.

She pushes the strap against my neck, glaring at me, and I swallow. Her lips crash to mine again, and I groan and grip her thighs like she’s my fucking life source. Jordan’s my oxygen. She’s all I need. Her lips are commanding and greedy. And punishing.

What the fuck happened while I was gone? This is a different Jordan.

She withdraws, and when my eyes find hers, sadness flickers in them. “Don’t play with me.”

I blink back and swallow, not liking the sound of that one bit.

She pops the handle on my door and climbs off my lap, leaving me with a massive hard-on and a million questions.

Chicken Salad squeaks the toy, and I spring off my seat. Forgot she was back there. I remove my seatbelt and exit the vehicle in a daze, opening the rear door for the dog to jump out.

“What the hell is going on in your mom’s head?”

She was a relationship girl when we met. Did I get so wrapped up in corrupting her, fucking her in all the ways she’s never had, that I pushed her too far? That she’ll consider nothing more with me? I’m not great at admitting when I’m wrong, but when it comes to Jordan, I was an absolute fucking idiot for telling her we could never be more.

I’d planned to bring it up on the drive home, but she seemed so detached, I got cold feet. It’s time for me to step up and become the man she deserves.

After chatting with the guys in Vancouver, it’s been rolling around in my brain, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m as bad as Barrett—I’m a total fucking simp for her. And I want to do everything I can to make her happy enough to stay. Forever.