“Good morning.” Drew yawned happily as he stretched his arms out above his head.
Leila peered up too, catching his eyes for just a moment, but then purposefully looked away.
Yeah, she was still pissed.
He thought, for a fraction of a second, that he understood women. He’d actually convinced himself he had them all figured out. Maybe he did for every woman in the universe except Leila Blakely. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, she would just look at him with that same lackluster expression as if he went out of his way to see every girl after practice instead of sleeping like a normal person.
“Do you two really have nothing better to do on a Saturday morning?” His contempt was easily readable in his tone, but he didn’t care.
Drew’s smile grew as he snuggled closer to her. “Nope. Not a thing.”
Henrik pursed his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he stared at him, that same flash of fire burning in his gut.
Okay. So, maybe Leila had a point about the women.
If this scene, his own brother, who had absolutely no interest in Leila, could prick his nerves, then he could understand how the women calling his phone might be annoying to her.
Leila reached her arms over her head, sprawling out on the giant pillows, her hair haphazardly spraying in every direction. He couldn’t quite understand how being ignored could be so damn sexy. It drove him mad.
“I’m assuming you’ll at least manage to make it out of your pajamas in time for the game tonight, right?”
“I’ll be there,” Drew droned.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he pointed out, shooting his brother a fake smile.
Again, she glanced at him, her seafoam green eyes boring into him and then straight back to the television. “I had no intention of it.”
The heat seeped through his body, into his limbs, down to his toes. It had been almost a week since their argument, and her attitude was slowly starting to grade away his patience. He was supposed to be nice—tolerable, even—but it just wasn’t in his nature, especially when she went out of her way to be cruel. “C’mon, Leila, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”
She shot up like a rocket in the bed, her arms tight at her side, and immediately he knew he should have kept his big mouth shut. “I’m most certainly do have better things to do,” she spat, throwing her long, scarlet curls over her shoulder.
The sunlight beamed through the window, causing her hair to appear as if it were on fire, but it was probably just her temper that flared when he rolled his eyes at her answer.
Drew sat up, anxiously watching the exchange, though he appeared more amused than anything else. It only managed to increase Henrik’s annoyance about the entire situation.
Drew shouldn’t be happy about his misery.
“I’m going out.” Her stare was full of steel. “So I will not be attending your stupid game.”
He took a step forward, leaning over the end of the bed so he could breathe the insult straight at her face. “Didn’t anyone tell you? A date with Drew’s Zac Efron coffee mug and a book isn’t considered going out.”
“Hey,” Drew barked, suddenly offended, “leave Zac out of this.”
Leila, her mouth set in stone, rolled out of bed, and the full vision of her hit him like a brick wall. She wore an oversized t-shirt, and that was it.
No pants.
No socks.
Nothing but long, silky legs peeked out beneath the short hemline, and when you added it with the sexiest case of bed hair he’d ever seen, it was more than enough to hike his adrenaline and his testosterone up a couple notches.
She sauntered toward him, her hand on her hip. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” she sang, bending down to grab a pair of pants off the floor. The shirt came up, flashing a pair of black boy shorts, and he suddenly lost his ability to speak.
A pillow crashed into his head, followed by a deadly glare from Drew. When he finally looked back around, Leila faced him again, her eyes narrowed. “Move, please.”
Without realizing it, he’d barricaded himself in front of the door, his feet spread apart to deny her access to any exit she might attempt. “Friends support each other,” he said through his teeth. “You’re coming to my game.”
“You’re right. Friends do support each other. That’s why I gave my ticket to my best friend, so he could bring a date.” She threw a look at Drew, and then turned back to him. “Now move.”
He frowned, moving to the side as she stepped past him. “So, you don’t really have plans,” he confirmed as he watched her backside sway down the hallway.
“Oh, no. I definitely have plans.” She didn’t even bother turning around as she said it, and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door.
He turned back to his brother, his face returning the daunting stare. “She really have plans?”
Drew shrugged. “I guess. She offered me the ticket like she did.”
The thought of Leila going out, sitting next to some guy, laughing as she pressed those soft, pink lips together, gnawed at him, and the sensation was all too familiar. He’d felt it before, the first time he’d seen her with Derek. He told himself then it was only his fierce hatred for his adversary that had triggered the instinct to protect her from him, but now he started to wonder if maybe it had always been something more.
Yes. The women calling would have to stop. It was only fair.
He attempted to distract himself from the thought of Leila out with another man, someone else on the receiving end of that seductive pout, by turning his attention back to Drew. “So, you’re bringing a date to the game tonight?”
Drew held up his hands. “No. Definitely not a date. Just a friend. Please, don’t tell anyone he is my date.”
“Okay,” he agreed, looking warily at his brother, who all of a sudden looked panicked. “You all right?”
“Yes,” he sighed, hopping out of the bed. “I just don’t need you starting rumors.”
That’s when he noticed his brother wore only a pair of boxers, and his annoyance instantly returned. “You know,” he said gruffly, “if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought something happened between you two.”
Drew smirked, looking down at his half-naked body. Henrik gave him a quick shot to the shoulder. “It’s not funny, asshole.”
“I dare to disagree,” he sniggered. “And just so you know, she sleeps in my bed every night, in case you ever get brave enough to try to use that key inappropriately.”
Drew walked past him toward the bathroom. “Every night?” he clarified.
“Every night,” Drew echoed, shutting the door, leaving him alone with his sour face and haunted thoughts.
***
Later that night, Henrik sat in the Rangers locker room after his game, sweat dripping down his face as he peeled the layers of clothes and padding from his body. They’d won the game, barely, but it was enough to keep them tied with the Devils for the top spot in the Eastern Conference. Austin sat next to him, a towel draped over his face, groaning like a five year old who got a shot to the nuts for the first time. “Are you going to survive over there, Blakely?”
Austin merely groaned again, pulling the towel down to shoot him an ill look. “Don’t interrupt my misery. I’m trying to rally my energy for tonight.”
Henrik laughed, throwing a glove at his head. “So, can I assume your ass is not going home to rest?”
“Rest?” Austin laughed. “What is this evil you speak of?”
“C’mon Austin, I saw the beating you took out there tonight—”
“The beating I took for you,” Austin pointed out. “I kept them off your back all night.”
“And I appreciate that.” He smiled. “Like I always do. We leave early tomorrow for Toronto. You need to go home and rest.”
Austin ran a tired hand down his face, looking at him as if he’d just transformed into an alien. “I’m sorry. Who are you, and what did you do with my best friend?”