Lucky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series Book 6)

After eating the breakfast Seven made for me and taking a much-needed shower, I head back to my room to work.

I thought a lot about what Sheridan said this morning as I enjoyed every moment of my shower routine. She thinks I should use Seven as my inspiration for the book, and now, against my better judgment, I can’t stop imagining him as Colston.

Each time I try to picture a dialogue scene between my female character, Leanne, and Colston, I can’t stop seeing Seven’s scowl, his full brown eyes, and the sound of his deep, raspy voice against my ear as he wrapped me protectively in his arms last night.

I take a seat at a small desk inside the guest bedroom and set my laptop and Bluetooth mouse on the lacquered surface.

The scene that has me stuck and unable to move forward is a steamy scene.

I stare at the book file in front of me and click to open it.

A white screen with black lettering of text I wrote months ago stares back at me, taunting me to put my fingers on the keyboard.

I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, and all at once, inspiration hits when I least expect it.

My imagination takes me back to Seven’s bed last night.

I keep my eyes closed as I try to remember the smallest details, and lift my hands to the keyboard, preparing to write whatever comes to mind. Then the moment hits and my eyes open as I write the words.

I feel Colston’s body as he slides behind me on the cool sheets of his bed.

His strong arms wrap around me as he pulls me against his firm chest to comfort me.

“Go back to sleep, Leanne. You’re safe with me,” Colston whispers against my ear.

Goosebumps cascade down my spine at the sounds of his deep, raspy voice. The heat of his mouth radiates against the pulse point of my throat.

I’d give anything to feel his lips against my bare skin, but we both know this attraction is off-limits.

His hands trail down my body, and every inch he touches sends shivers of need through me, as if every touch is a tease, showing me what it feels like to be stroked by him but never giving me what I truly need… his fingers pressing into my center.

“Colston, touch me,” I beg.

He doesn’t respond, but I know he hears me.

I press my ass against his hardening cock in an attempt to coax him on. His erection pressed against my lower back and between the crack of my cheeks.

“Being this close and wanting you this bad is dangerous for me. Can’t you understand that?” he says.

I know that we shouldn’t continue but my body is desperate, and I need to know, once and for all, what it would feel like to be filled with Seven’s cock—

I stop as soon as type those last two words.

A shiver of panic shoots through me.

That was an accident.

Immediately, I go back and change out the name. It was an honest mistake and no one knows what I accidentally wrote but me.

I shake the jarring moment out of my mind and then continue.

For once in months, I’m finally writing, and I won’t stop now just because I accidentally wrote Seven’s name instead of Colston’s. I’ll have to be mindful of that, but luckily, there’s the find and replace all button in my editing software.

Before sending it to Sheridan to read, I’ll ensure that there is no trace of Seven in this book—anywhere.

She’ll never let me live it down if she finds out that she’s right, and using Seven as my muse is the thing that finally broke my writing slump.

My mind begins to wander, and a flash of an alternative version of what could have happened in the bathroom when Seven stormed in, starts to play in my mind.

My imagination takes over as I watch Seven bust through the bathroom door and wrap an arm around me to keep me from slipping.

Then he lifts me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom, laying me out, and then steps back to take a slow sweep of every inch of me.

I watch as Seven strips out of his wet boxer briefs and stands at the edge of the bed, pumping his long hard cock in front of me as he lets me watch—

My phone begins to ring, startling me from my fantasy.

I look down to find the name ‘fiance’ on my phone.

I know he’s seeing other people, and fantasizing about Seven isn’t wrong since we’re on a break, but a flash of guilt rises in me.

“Hi! I’m so glad you called. I didn’t want to wake you, but I just got cell service again. Did you get my text?”

“It’s just after five-thirty in the morning here, but when I woke up and saw your text, I got concerned. I wanted to hear your voice.”

My heart warms at his admission.

We might not be together right now, but we still care about each other, and soon, we’ll be living the life we planned, and this time apart will feel like a chapter in someone else’s story.

“I’m okay. The storm is mostly behind us, though it’s still windy, and it’s been raining all day.”

“I don’t understand… What happened with the house? And how did you end up with Lucky Wrenley? Is he being respectful? Do you feel uncomfortable with him? Are you sleeping in separate rooms? I’ll call around later in the morning and try to find you accommodations somewhere else.”

Are we sleeping in separate rooms?

What an odd question. Of course, we’re sleeping in separate rooms. Seven can’t stand me.

But I’m glad he’s concerned, though technically, it’s not really his business if I’m sleeping with Seven.

I don’t remind him of this fact because I don’t want to argue over our situation. It’s not as if he’s told me about anyone he’s seeing. I’ve just heard from mutual friends that he’s dating around, and since that was part of our arrangement, I can’t be mad that he is.

If I wanted to sleep in the same bed as Seven, I could. And I guess I did last night.

I decide to skip past the question altogether and move to the last one he asked.

“Accommodations aren’t exactly available right now, which is why he let me stay. He tried to get me into a couple of different places, but it didn’t work out. I think he felt bad for me and didn’t want me sleeping on the beach in the middle of a category four hurricane.”

“Sure he did. I bet he tried really hard to get an attractive woman out of his house,’ he says sarcastically. But then he moves on quickly before I get the chance to assure him that Seven has no interest in me. ‘Jesus, Brynn. How did you do without me being there with you? You must have been a wreck with that storm.’

I take a second to consider whether telling him that I ended up having a panic attack and slept with Seven is a good idea. I’m just worried that it will sound so much worse than it was, and he knows that I haven’t had a panic attack in the years since my therapist and I came up with a way for me to combat them with visuals and breathing exercises.

I don’t want him to think my anxiety is getting worse and reconsider getting back together.

At the same time, I view honesty as the best policy, especially since we’re getting back together soon. He needs to know what’s going on with me, and it’s not like anything happened while I was in bed with Seven.

“Seven was really helpful, actually. He stayed with me while I worked through a small panic attack. And I did get through it with a little time. I think not having you here was good for me.”

I say, hoping to spin my panic attack into a positive.

“See? My whole world won’t crumble without you. I’m getting stronger so that I can become the equal partner that you deserve.”

Maybe I didn’t tell him that Seven held me all night and that I woke up several times to Seven’s erection poking me in the back, but he never made a move on me when he could have tried. And erections are a natural thing that sometimes can’t be helped.

It’s not as if it changes anything between me and Seven. He still ensured he was out of the house this morning to avoid me. And what he said last night when he thought I was asleep could have meant anything.

Seven isn’t interested. That’s the takeaway at the end of the day. He’s just a man with normal working equipment, and Daniel doesn’t need every single detail.

The good news is that I survived my first storm without him after all these years together.

“I’m proud of you. I just wish I would have been there with you last night instead of him.”

Wait, is Daniel jealous?

Of Seven?

If he saw the way that Seven acts around me, he wouldn’t have a single worry.

“I know, me too.”

“Just a few more weeks left, and then we can look forward to starting the family you’ve always wanted.”

“I can’t wait until you’re home,” I say.

“Yeah, me either.”

I hear a door open and then close in the background.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I hear a female voice.

“Shit, hey, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Daniel says quickly.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

Part of me thinks it’s a dangerous idea to ask. Knowing might not make things easy for me.

“It’s just Courtney. You remember Courtney, don’t you? She’s one of the senior partners that they sent with the rest of us. We have to work on a case. The rest of the team is on their way over,” he says. ‘I’ll be right out.” I hear him call out to her. “I’d better get going. Everyone’s about to show up, and I need to finish getting dressed.”

“Ok,” I say.

“I’ll call you again tomorrow, ok? And just…” he stalls for a second. “Don’t let the player talk you into anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t owe him anything just because he let you stay there. And professional athletes have a reputation of using women for…”

He stalls for a second.

‘For sex?’ I ask, finishing his thought.

He clears his throat.

‘Yeah. I just don’t want you to feel taken advantage of after. And the guy is ten years older than you and is still a bachelor. He’s not looking for what you and I have. He’d never marry you and give you kids. You know?’

I’m sure he’s right.

If Seven wanted to settle down, he has plenty of available women at his disposal willing to be Mrs. Wrenley.

“I know. I miss you.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says quickly and then hands up.

I try not to read too much into it.

He’s obviously on a time crunch and has people knocking on his door.

I stand up, needing a second to decompress from that conversation and to get my mind back into writing.

I head into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea when I hear the sound of a drill coming from the living room.

All of a sudden, the room gets a lot brighter.

I see Seven on a ladder, pulling down a large piece of plywood from the window it was covering up.

I can now see the palm trees still whipping in the wind, but nothing like the night I arrived. Seven’s eyes make contact with mine, and water is dripping off the bill of his hat.

It’s still raining pretty steadily, but Seven doesn’t look the least bit concerned. He’s just out doing what needs to be done.

There’s something attractive about a man who seems capable of taking care of a lot of different things. Not that Daniel is any less of a man just because he’s never owned a pair of work pants and has to call the superintendent of our building for a clogged toilet.

Daniel works long hours, so why not call? That’s what they’re there for.

I bet Seven wouldn’t call for anything. He’d just fix it himself.

They’re the polar opposite, that’s all.

He looks away as he climbs down the ladder with the first sheet of wood, and then he moves his ladder down to the next window.

I wait in the kitchen for him, thinking that he’ll come in for lunch at any moment, but once he takes down all of the living room and kitchen plywood, he vanishes again.

After waiting an hour, I head back to my room to write.

I can’t stall forever.

I need to work…. That’s the whole reason I came.

And to screw a stranger, if you ask Sheridan.

I shoot off a text to Sheridan as I walk down the hall with my cup of hot tea.

Brynn: I started writing. It’s coming together.

Sheridan: I have a really good feeling about this. Let’s shoot for you to send me your word count at the end of the day so that we can celebrate together.

It’s late by the time I hear the front door open.

I sent Sheridan my word count for the day and then made dinner, but when Seven never showed up, I left a plate in the fridge for him and a note in the infamous notebook, and I got ready for bed.

Looking over at my phone, I see that I’ve been asleep for over an hour before Seven finally comes in.

This feels like a confirmation that he tried to avoid me all day because the man ate like a sumo wrestler and didn’t stop for lunch or even a snack.

I lay awake listening to him struggle to take off his boots in the front entry, which are probably water-logged from all the rain today, and then I hear him enter the kitchen.

He stalls for a moment, and I wonder if he’s reading my note. Then I hear his footsteps and the sound of him opening the fridge door and taking out his plate.

I listen for a little while to hear what he does next, and then I doze off again before I hear him leave the kitchen.

Tomorrow is another day, and I plan to be up early before he leaves in the morning.

I still owe him an apology for the night of the storm. I’d also like to know if he’s heard when the airport will open back up again so I can go home.

I think that’s the best solution for both parties.