Roman (Raleigh Raptors #2) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,86

lowered my window. “Axel Nyström,” I told the guard.

“Like you did, right?” Tage scoffed.

“I didn’t have the option, remember? You were eight years old. What was I going to do, move into student housing with you?” I glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten past ten. Lukas was due to land in five minutes.

“You’re on the list,” the guard noted. “Hangar two.” He directed me through the gate.

“Thank you,” I told him and then followed his directions, turning right to get to the hangar Lukas’ jet usually parked at when he flew in from the States.

“Relax,” Tage sighed. “Coach said I could manage a couple of classes. Besides, I’m only looking at a year or two here. Then maybe I can transfer to an American school. From there it’s four years and a college education before I get drafted into the NHL.”

My heart swelled. “Now that would be something I would whole-heartedly support. I’m so damn proud of you, Tage.”

“Oh, come on, don’t get all watery,” Tage teased. “Where are you, anyway?”

“At the airport to pick up Lukas.” Usually I would have told my peacock of a best friend to drive himself from the airport, but he’d never directly asked me to pick him up before.

“He’s in? Really? I thought he was deep in preparation for the season? I heard that new team is going to be insane. Or at least they will be once they lock down a center—wait…”

“Don’t go there.” I shook my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“Oh, come on! You know that’s why he’s coming in. The NHL is calling!” Tage whooped.

I parked my Rover next to the hangar as Lukas’ jet touched down. “A member of an NHL team is always calling. Don’t look so far into it. Now, get some rest. You’ve got the Nyström name on your jersey, so you’d better do it proud.”

“Proud enough to pound on you when the season starts.”

I grinned as Lukas’ jet taxied toward us. “You went to the wrong team if you think you’re going to take me down.”

“Yeah, yeah. All jabs aside, have fun with Lukas. Relax a little, would you? You’re finally an empty-nester!”

“Goodbye, Tage.” I hung up on my little brother and climbed out of the Rover as my cell rang again, this time Lukas’ face appearing on the screen. “Why the hell are you calling me from a hundred meters away? I’m literally staring at your damned jet.”

“Right,” my best friend said slowly. “So about that…”

I leaned back against the warm hood of my car. “About what?”

“Have fun and say yes!” He hung up on me as the plane parked.

I looked down at my phone, blinking a few times in complete confusion. A breeze ripped across me, and I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my pants, then secured my hair with a tie from the pocket of my jacket.

My sunglasses cut most of the glare from the morning sun as the door opened to Lukas’ jet, then the staff lowered his staircase. Not only was the guy a high-paid NHL star, but he was also a pretty-boy model who now had his own clothing line and the jet to go with it. Good thing I loved the asshole like a brother, or I would have ceaselessly mocked him for the tailored dress clothes. Oh, who was I kidding, I still mocked him.

But I had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t on that fucking jet.

It took every muscle in my face to keep my jaw from dropping when she stepped into the doorway.

No fucking way. I was hallucinating. Had to be.

I compared the vision walking toward me with my memory.

Mile-long legs built to wrap around me? Check.

A waist so small I could almost span it with my hand? Check.

Curves meant to be tested and stroked by my hands? Check that, too.

But thinner than I remembered, which gave me a moment of concern as her kitten heels reached the bottom of the staircase. Paler, too.

She adjusted her jacket, which she’d thrown across her shoulders like some kind of retro movie star, then moved her handbag to her elbow and walked my way, determination in every step of that long, graceful stride.

Still, maybe this was all a dream, or maybe that woman just looked a lot like—

She popped her oversized sunglasses on top of her head, right in front of that pile of ebony hair that made my damned palms sweat, and looked at me with big, brown eyes that would