I Want You Back (Want You #1)(7)

“I’m really freakin’ relieved to hear that.” Jensen paused. “I know you’re tight with Nolan, but if you ever need someone else to talk to, someone who understands the public demands of being a pro athlete, who feels the need to numb the constant aches and pains associated with using your body as a battering ram, call me. I’m not some punk-ass kid anymore.”

I locked my gaze to his. “I know that. I appreciate the offer, so don’t be shocked when I take you up on it.”

“Good.” Jens stood. “Now, come here, bro, and hug it out.”

“Jesus. You sound like Martin.”

“Wrong. Martin calls me brosky.”

I laughed. We did the backslapping-man-hug thing. Then I followed Jensen to the door.

He faced me. “As far as the Mimi situation . . . you gotta tell Lucy what Mimi did and how you dealt with it. That said . . . Snow Village is secure. Emphasize that. Emphasize that you gave Mimi consequences for her behavior. She’ll see your honesty as a step forward. Better to be up front now than for Mimi to spill the details in a few months, which will cause Lucy to wonder what else you’d kept from her.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll find my balls and tell her about my upcoming move at the same time.”

Jensen’s jaw dropped. “Jax. Buddy. You still haven’t told her?”

I shook my head. “The space isn’t ready. They’re finishing the trim work and final installation of the private elevator this week. Move-in date is still up in the air.”

“Who all knows about this move?” Jensen asked, shooting a glance down the hallway toward Mimi’s bedroom.

“You. Since you’re my landlord.”

“That’s it?”

“I didn’t bother to talk to your brother about taking on the remodel since he’s focused on historical renovation.”

“Your brother doesn’t know either?”

“Nolan would try to talk me out of it.”

Jensen clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck telling her, because you’ll need it.” He grinned. “Speaking of getting lucky, got to get home to my wife so we can end our date night with a bang.”

After he left, I locked up, grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge and plopped into the recliner. I found it weird that married couples had “date” nights. Wasn’t that the whole point of getting married? So you didn’t have to come up with dating type stuff? Christ. I sucked at dating.

With the TV off and silence filling the space, I nestled my head into the cushion and closed my eyes. My mind wasn’t calm. It zigged and zagged until it settled on a direction I hadn’t wanted to go. To my very first conflict with Lucy and our first date, which, ironically enough, still was the best date I’d ever had . . .



* * *



? ? ?

On the drive to Pizza Lucé, I didn’t let that little blue Corolla out of my sight to the point I was tailgating. Lucy already thought I was annoying; proving I was an asshole driver wouldn’t come as a surprise to her. But no way was I letting her ditch me; I’d never been so drawn to a woman.

It’d been a long time since I’d met a woman who hadn’t immediately known who I was. Not my ego talking, but the truth. Anytime I ventured out in Chicago, either alone, with my teammates or with a woman, I got recognized. After living out of the Twin Cities for several years, whenever I came home, the odds of anyone recognizing me either as Jaxson “Stonewall” Lund, Chicago Blackhawks hockey player and rival to the Minnesota Wild, or just as Jax Lund, one of the heirs to the billionaire Lund family fortune, were still pretty high.

The Lund family name was synonymous with power, money and prestige in the community. Plus, I’d been the high school hockey standout as well as part of the college hockey team that brought the Frozen Four championship to the University of Minnesota. So it’d been refreshing that Lucy had treated me like any other guy who annoyed the piss out of her with rude, entitled behavior. Add in the fact she was hot—man, I could worship those legs of hers for days—and unapologetically prickly . . . I wanted to see if she had that attitude in bed.

I parked quickly enough I was able to do the gentlemanly thing and help her out of her car.

She said nothing, just arched a brow at me. But she didn’t remove my hand from the small of her back as I ushered her inside the restaurant.

The scents of yeast and basil, oregano and tomatoes greeted us. The male host said, “Two for the restaurant side or the bar side?”

Lucy answered, “Bar side, please. A booth by the windows if you’ve got one.”

The host offered her a dazzling smile. “Whatever the lady wishes.”

The smarmy asshole hadn’t even looked at me.

Once we were seated, she held out her hand.

“What?”

“Your cell. Hand it over.”

I leaned across the table and kissed her palm. “I left it in the car.”

“Umm. Well. Okay.”

That little peck on the palm flustered her.

Good.

The host cleared his throat.

I glanced up. I’d forgotten the little shit was still there.

He handed Lucy a menu, then me. “Wine list is on the back.”

She smiled at him. “Sorry. Beer girl.”