Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,1

seen this man. God, she could still remember how every cell in her body had stood up and taken notice, and that had just been the result of viewing him through her monitor, just after he’d joined the team. Tall and big and yet somehow still graceful, even despite the beard and the tattoo peeking out of the collar of his jersey. From the first moment she’d laid eyes on Ethan, he’d reminded her of a giant grizzly bear, something any smart human had to fight the urge to not cuddle with.

Fluffy, but would tear a woman to shreds with those razor-sharp claws.

“Dani?”

“No,” she said simply and reached for the next tablet, doing a visual scan this time instead of any stroking. When it looked okay, she thrust it at him, at Ethan Rogers, at the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. “Here. This is the one Calle wanted you to have.”

“No stroking?” he said, almost lazily, taking the tablet from her with a slow brush of his fingers against hers.

More heat—sparking up her arms, sliding down her torso, pooling in her stomach.

Her words stoppered up in the back of her throat.

She simply shook her head in response.

“Dani?” he asked; the heat tempered, curiosity in its place. He was still crouching next to her, the smell of spice and male filling the air. Probably, the strong scent should have been off-putting. Instead, it was tempting, drawing her in like catnip, but she couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stayed still, stayed near, clearly waiting for her to speak or meet his gaze.

One rough finger brushed the back of her hand.

Sparks.

Gasping, her eyes flew up, collided with his gaze. Her heart absolutely pounded, but other than that single touch, he didn’t make any other moves to close the distance between them.

“Dani?” he asked again.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Why don’t you like me?”

Her jaw dropped open. Why didn’t she like him? Dani drooled after Ethan on a regular basis. She had dreams about him, had named her favorite vibrator after him.

See? Good with tech.

With people—including the gorgeous man all of two feet away? Horrible.

But what could she say? It wasn’t like she was going to share the name of her vibrator. Hell, she might as well be honest, she wasn’t going to share anything. This is what she did.

She got shy. She got quiet. She came off as a royal bitch.

“Y-you’re fine,” she finally managed, reaching for the last tablet, intending to find a way to bolt, to end her misery, and GTFO.

But he stood when she did, those gray irises dancing with mirth. “Fine?”

“I—uh—” Her cheeks burned, and worse, she felt tears prickle at the backs of her eyes.

Ugh. She hated that she did this, too.

Pushing past him, she tried to bolt.

“Hey,” he said, catching her arm. “Hey,” he said again, releasing her when she yanked fiercely at his grip. “I’m just teasing.”

She shrugged, stepped away, cheeks hot, eyes still stinging, her throat tight, her lips and mouth and tongue barely able to form words. “Right,” she managed after a painfully long time.

“Dani?” Another gentle question, and God, she liked the way he said her name, soft with a bit of a rasp, more grizzly vibes, more urges to cuddle.

Her shoulders tensed.

A soft chuckle.

Ethan was close enough that she would swear she could feel that small laugh skate over her skin. “I actually came to find you.”

She gaped, heart pounding.

He’d come to find her? That just didn’t compute.

“Me?”

He nodded.

She lost her words again. Because seriously, what universe was she currently living in?

“I wanted to ask you a question—”

Ah.

Her heart skittered to a stop, resignation sailing through her as she realized what was going down. This was how all of these types of conversations began. People like Ethan sought her out, not because they wanted to have a conversation or hang, but because they needed help with their TV or laptop or cell phone.

Ethan, she guessed, would need laptop help.

He looked like he could handle a cell or a television.

And no, don’t ask her how she knew what he needed help with, okay?

She’d been through this rodeo many a time before. Dani’s tech guru-ness was a gift that had been bestowed upon her at birth . . . okay, fine, it had been honed by many lonely preteen and teenage years.

“I can fix your computer,” she said, trying to pretend that she wasn’t miserable at the prospect, that she didn’t want someone to come to her for once for some