Vital Blindside (Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy Book 3)

Hours later, I can still feel Adam’s mouth pressed to mine. I can still taste him and smell the woodsy aftershave on his jaw. My lips tingle. My core aches for more.

Confidence, skill, emotion—it was the perfect mix of all three.

I’ve never been kissed like that. Like the other person wouldn’t be able to breathe again without knowing what my mouth felt like pressed to theirs. It was passion and hunger and desperation, and as shocking as it was to be on the receiving end of a kiss like that, I should have been expecting it.

Adam and I are electric. We always have been. It was only a matter of time before we blew a fuse.

It’s just a shame I can’t lose myself in that connection like I want to. Not yet. Not when there is still so much to figure out. Both with myself and what a relationship with Adam could mean. What it could bring.

Speaking of what it could bring. Cooper’s voice is what pulls me out of my thoughts. He and Maddox are currently chasing after Noah, Oakley and Ava’s second-born son, and Tinsley, Braden and Sierra’s daughter, with a handful of water balloons.

“You stand no chance against us!” Cooper yells and launches one at the tiny legs of Tinsley. She squeals when it explodes and the cold water soaks the bottom of her poofy pink dress.

Cooper’s floppy brown hair hangs in his face, brushing his eyes. His grin is a testament to how happy he is, and I find myself smiling too. He’s so similar to his father in the way his feelings are so boldly shown. They don’t fear their emotions. Not the same way I do.

Tinsley’s giggle is pure child happiness as she jumps on her mom’s lap and holds on to her for dear life. “No more!” she yells.

“That’s cheating,” Maddox grunts.

The oldest of the Hutton children is already near his mother’s height and has a scowl that could intimidate a grown man. Hell, I know it’s already intimidated me. His eyes are the same piercing shade of green that both his parents have, and his hair is a soft brown that’s cropped close to his scalp.

He’s only ten and already screams mischief and trouble. I hope his parents are prepared for the hell he’s going to bring when he gets older.

Not long after Tinsley cuddles up on Sierra’s lap do the other kids turn to leave, clearly not bothered too much by the five-year-old’s decision to sit out the rest of the game. The only kid that stays is Noah. He lingers beside Sierra’s chair with his arms folded and an adorable scowl on his face as he faces the rest of us. He’s taken up the position of Tinsley’s bodyguard, it seems.

“You know, I’ve dyed my hair so many times over the past few years, but I’ve never tried red,” Gracie hums from the chair on my right. I can tell she wants to reach over from her pool chair and touch my hair but decides against it, choosing to touch her own instead.

“Red is overrated,” I reply.

“It’s so beautiful, though. Unique too,” Ava adds.

There’s a vibrance to her green eyes that is either from the number of fruity, alcoholic drinks she’s had today or just from pure enjoyment of our conversation. It’s probably the first option.

“Sure. It’s great until you spend most of your school years being asked if every freckle on your face represents a soul you’ve taken. It didn’t help being named after a shade of red either.” The two girls stare at me, looking equal parts surprised and intrigued. I suck air through my teeth. “Sorry. A bit bitter, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize. You know, I actually remember that stereotype from when I was in school,” Ava says.

Gracie frowns. “If I hear Oliver saying anything like that to one of his classmates, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Ava makes a noise of agreement. “Same with my kids. Maddox’s best friend’s sister has red hair a bit darker than yours, Scarlett, so I hope he knows better. I’m sure if Braxton heard him making fun of her sister, she would kick his ass for me, though.”

“Doxxy and Braxy sitting in a tree!” Tinsley starts to sing before Maddox shouts over at us.

“Don’t, Tiny!”

Gracie giggles. “His cheeks are so red.”

“Young love,” Ava says on an exhale.

“Just wait until it’s your Adalyn blushing over the thought of a boy,” Sierra teases, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair.

Oakley’s scoff is loud and comes from the direction of the inside of the yacht. He’s making quick work of the distance between himself and Ava, a bottle of beer in his hand and a scowl spread wide on his face.

“Not happening until long after I’m dead,” he says.

Tyler and Braden follow after him, but I don’t see Adam.

Instead, I feel his presence slide up behind me seconds before two large hands cover my shoulders and squeeze. I lean back into his touch.

His lips brush my ear when he bends over and presses his jaw to the side of my head. “Give me your hand.”

Confused, I reach behind me and give him my hand. I gasp when something cold meets my palm. Pulling back my hand, I stare at the dewy water bottle.

“Figured you might be thirsty,” he whispers before leaning back, his lips grazing my hair along the way.

My stomach is a mess of flapping wings. “Thank you.”

Another shoulder squeeze, and then he’s no longer hovering over me. A frown threatens to form.

“What are we talking about?” Braden asks a beat later, distracting me.

I focus my stare across the deck and see him bypassing Noah and scooping both his wife and daughter up in his arms before sitting in Sierra’s chair and putting them both on his lap. Sierra leans her head on his chest and smiles.

Oakley flops down on the lounge chair on Ava’s other side. “The unspeakable,” he grumbles.

“You know, big bro, I think your son gets his grumpy attitude from his old man of a father,” Gracie pokes.

“And where do you think I got my grumpy attitude from? Oh, that’s right, I spent too much time with your husband,” he replies coolly.

Tyler chuckles, and I watch the interaction with a weird appreciation. This group has an interesting dynamic, but it’s almost comforting in a way. I didn’t expect this casual, playful attitude from either Tyler or Oakley. Not after watching them on the ice for so many years being the exact opposite.

It almost makes sense, though. Adam could never be around people who didn’t at least shine half as bright as he does.

It makes me wonder why he’s so adamant about spending time with me.

My muscles grow taut when Adam sits down on the end of my lounge chair, between my feet. He keeps his attention on the conversation happening around us but slowly places one hand flat on the cloth material of the chair and the other on my shin. His fingers splay across my skin before slipping to the underside of my leg and cupping my calf.

I inhale sharply when he lifts my leg and sets my foot in his lap before starting to dig his fingers into the taut muscles of my calf. A quiet moan slips from my mouth when he digs deep and kneads a particularly sore spot. The sound has his head whipping in my direction. His eyes are fire when they meet mine.

I’m aware of the conversations happening around us, but it’s all static.

His throat stretches with a swallow before he’s scratching at his jaw and running a hand over his hair. He’s becoming fidgety, and all I want is for his hand to move up my leg and settle between my legs, on the wet fabric that never had the chance to fully dry from our time in the bathroom before becoming soaked again.

“Dad, you brought extra clothes, right?” Cooper asks.

I nearly jump out of my skin when he appears beside my chair, looking bored. If he cares at all about his father touching me, albeit just my lower leg, he doesn’t show it.

Adam seems to care a lot more because he casually sets my leg back on the chair and removes his hand, placing it in his lap.

“Yeah, bud. I have a bag in the living room on the second level. I can show you,” he says quickly.

I can’t ignore the pang of disappointment that’s bloomed in my stomach as I watch him get up and start to lead Cooper off the deck and inside the sitting room.

Once they’ve disappeared, I force myself back into the conversations going on around me. The guys appear to be in a heated discussion about who they think is going to win the cup this year, and regardless of the Vancouver defenseman sitting with them, Oakley and Braden show interest in Minnesota, the team the Warriors will be up against in the final round of the playoffs.

“I’m not saying the VW will lose. I’m just saying they’re up against a harder team than they’ve faced so far in these playoffs, and without a consistent, reliable goaltender. I’m a Warrior until I die, but I’m not going to lie and say they’re the best team in the league right now,” Oakley says.

“You guys have already proved the shit-talkers wrong, Ty. You’ve made it to the final round with a backup tendy at best and a lacking defensive core. Without you, we all know there would be no VW in the finals,” Braden adds. He’s sporting a supportive smile, but it bounces right off Tyler’s frown.

He looks at Oakley and says, “Minnesota has a history of choking against us. You know that better than anyone.”

“The last time Oakley and the Warriors went up against Minnesota in the playoffs, they didn’t have Orlo on their team. They went up against an aging defense well past their prime and a goalie right out of the draft.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken until after the words hit the air. Everyone goes silent as my spine steels.

Braden blows out a low whistle and settles in his chair, tightening his arms around his girls.

Tyler turns to me, his eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look angry but curious. Like he’s not sure what to make of what I’ve said.

“Orlo might be a great player, but he’s not the entire team, and the team is lacking this season,” he states.

I cock my head. “They’re also not playing with a backup-level goalie who’s pushing through an undisclosed groin injury.”

Tyler blanches. “Where did you hear that?”

“Nowhere. It’s just obvious.” I shrug.

“Our goalie is fine,” he lies swiftly.

“Lie to me if you want, but it won’t change the fact you can’t afford to be cocky.”

“She’s right,” Oakley says. His posture is stiff. “You’ve made it this far to win—don’t let your superficial view of the opposing team cloud your judgment.”

Tyler swallows that advice like you would a big pill with no water. He nods once, and the conversation dies. I almost feel guilty for butting in, but when Oakley shoots me a smile, I let it go.

“I think I just fell in love with you, Scarlett,” Gracie says quietly, leaning over the arm of her chair.

A laugh swells in my chest before exploding out of my mouth. And when the other girls join me, I don’t bother trying to stop.