only one answer. “Nope. No way. I’ve heard that tone before, and I’m not falling for it.”
With a smirk that I know will irritate him, I look up at my brother.
“Come on, Ellie,” Spencer pleads. “You’re the only one who can help.”
If that isn’t a load of bullshit, I don’t know what is. The last time my brother asked for a favor, I allowed one of his girlfriend’s friends to cut my hair to show how great she was at it and ended up with a fucked-up bob that took eight months to grow out. Sue me, I was fourteen at the time, and for whatever reason, I had trusted them. That was the last time. Instead of getting mad, I fought back the tears and walked away, swearing I was done doing favors for him. Or any man, for that matter. Twenty years later, those are words of wisdom I still live by.
“I’m sure you can find someone else to help you in your hour of need, which, by the way,” I say pointedly, reaching for the bottle of sour apple schnapps, “there seem to be a lot of these days.”
“Actually…”
Oh, heaven help me, I know that voice, too.
I look up to see Kingston Rush moving toward us.
Yes. That Kingston Rush. The devilishly handsome goaltender for Austin’s very own professional hockey team, the Arrows. The same Kingston Rush who is nicknamed Mount Rushmore because he’s a mountain of a man.
Yep, him.
I glare at Spencer. “He’s the favor you texted me about earlier?” I admit I was curious when my brother messaged me to warn me he’d be stopping by, but not once did I think that it might involve Kingston.
“He is,” Spencer confirms.
Again, I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “Oh, hell no. If you’re the one needing a favor, then definitely no.”
“Oh, come on, Ell,” Kingston pleads, the seductive smirk on his lips belying his desperation. “You can stop pretending you don’t like me.”
It isn’t that I don’t like him. Kind of the opposite actually. Only Kingston doesn’t know that. Nor does my brother. And they never will. Since I can’t fight my hormones or pretend not to enjoy looking at the guy, I simply make a point to keep a safe distance from him.
It doesn’t help my resolve that Kingston’s plea is said in that sexy, rumbling baritone that causes an irritating stir low in my belly. It’s easy telling my brother no, but when it comes to my brother’s best friend … not quite so easy.
But not impossible.
As a matter of fact, I have successfully managed to tell him no for years. Considering Kingston and Spencer have been playing on the same team since they were drafted in college, that is a long damn time. Sixteen years, to be exact. It wasn’t until the Arrows were relocated from up north to Austin when the expansion team underwent new ownership that I found myself dealing with Kingston more often than not.
As I move back to the opposite end of the bar, I notice one of the waitresses eyeing Kingston appreciatively, her gaze sliding ever so slowly down his chest, hugged by the soft, white cotton of his T-shirt, then down to his jean-clad ass and lower to his… The man has the most amazing thighs. Like, seriously. Ah. Maz. Ing.
Six foot three inches, two hundred fifteen pounds of panty-melting muscle—yes, I’ve looked at his stats a few times—who rocks a suit as well as he can a pair of skates, isn’t easy to resist. Not to mention, dark hair, dark eyes, and a beard-lined jaw that females want to run their palms over, Mount Rushmore is the sort of chick magnet who stops traffic with a smile and makes women’s panties fall right off with a lopsided smirk.
And yes, it’s safe to say I’m not immune to his sexy charm. I am, after all, a red-blooded woman. However, unlike the rest of the female population, I’ve sworn off men like Kingston. For good reason. Mainly because Kingston is the type of dirty-talking bad boy who good girls are supposed to run away from.
Not to imply that I am, in any way, shape, or form, a good girl.
However, I do make a point to run the opposite direction as Kingston. He is simply too sexy, too demanding, too … alpha. Did I mention that he’s a player, with a capital P? And I’m not referring to sports. Nope, no long-term, serious relationships for that man.