Mari Carr continues her Stingrays Hockey series this week with an age gap, second chance romance, and I have a sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dean offered.
She laughed. “Nope.”
“It’ll be fine, Viv.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I spend a good third of my life on the road, so I’ve learned to sleep on planes, busses, hell, one night, I slept on a locker room floor after a nasty snowstorm.”
“This isn’t a locker room. It’s your room,” she reminded him. “If anyone is going to sleep on the—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Dean said gruffly. “The reason you’re here is because I wasn’t about to let you sleep on the airport floor. So, there’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor here.”
“Okay.” She bit her lower lip, glancing at the bed. She spoke before she could second guess what she said next. “We’re adults, Dean. I think we can survive sharing a bed for one night.”
He hesitated just long enough, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Unless you’re afraid of my big brother,” she taunted, unable to hide her grin.
“I’m not afraid of Victor Reed,” he said in a deep, dark voice that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Probably not the best reaction considering she was about to crawl under the covers with the sexy man.
Better to put a bit of distance between them before she started offering Dean more than just half the bed. Opening her carry-on, she tugged out her bathroom bag and her pajamas. “I’ll only be a minute,” she said, as she walked across the room.
“Take your time.” Dean didn’t bother opening his bag. Instead, he slipped off his shoes, sank down on the bed, and leaned back against the headboard. Reaching for the remote, he turned on the television and started flipping through the channels.
It had been a long time since she’d shared a bed—or a remote—with a man. Five years, to be exact.
Vivian would have expected this to feel awkward or uncomfortable or wrong. However, none of those emotions appeared. Instead, she was overwhelmed by something she hadn’t experienced in so long, she thought it had died with Phil.
Desire.
She forced that feeling away, quickly escaping to the bathroom. True to her word, she did what she needed to without dawdling, then returned to the bedroom.
Dean rose from the bed, grabbing his entire duffel as he headed to the bathroom. On the way, he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Didn’t realize you lived in a pineapple under the sea.”
She narrowed her eyes, even though she was aware she looked ridiculous. Victor had taken Pip Christmas shopping last year, and her adorable daughter had insisted that what Vivian wanted more than anything else in the world was a bright neon pink pair of SpongeBob Square Pants pajamas.
Vivian had worn them nearly every night since the holidays because—despite the silly pattern—the damn things were seriously soft and comfy. Giving him a jaunty salute, she replied, “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Dean laughed as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Instead of crawling into the bed, Vivian ventured over to the window, glancing out. It was still raining, so the city lights glowed with halos, reflecting on the wet street and sidewalks.
She was going to share a bed with Dean.
It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal…for the very reason she said. They were adults and she knew Dean well enough to know, he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation or her. He was a gentleman and a good guy.
She was perfectly safe.
Unfortunately, that realization didn’t comfort her as much as annoy her. Because there were times when a girl didn’t want a gentleman. There were times when she needed a bad boy.
When Dean returned to Baltimore last year to take up the reins as the Stingrays’ head coach, she had been amused—and horrified—to discover that her ridiculous teenage crush hadn’t disappeared with adulthood.
After tonight, it had matured. She’d left the crush in the dust, her feelings for him now a full-blown, very grown-up attraction.
For years after Phil died, the idea of another relationship felt impossible. She had loved once, completely, and she had genuinely believed she had buried her heart with him.
Her plan after his funeral had been simple.
Raise Pip. Work. Miss Phil.
She had intended to repeat that process right up until the end of her own life.
Her time in Africa had reawakened parts of herself she’d forgotten existed. Returning to the field, to the work she loved after a five-year hiatus had felt freeing and empowering and wonderful.
Then, she’d come home to find her brother hopelessly in love with Belle, and she found herself jealous of what they were building together.
The silence in the home she had once shared with Phil had become impossible to ignore. The rooms echoed in their emptiness and her bed was cold, even with the thick down duvet she’d treated herself to from Pottery Barn.
It turned out loneliness had a sound. And while Vivian was still convinced she would never love anyone the way she had loved her husband, she was also mature enough to understand that love and sex were two entirely different beasts.
Dean emerged from the bathroom wearing gray lounge pants and a faded Raven T-shirt, his hair damp from a quick shower.
She tried very hard not to notice how hot he looked.
She failed spectacularly.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the bed.
She nodded, trying to calm the flutters in her stomach, when he pulled back the covers and climbed in. Vivian mirrored his actions on her side of the bed, watching as Dean turned off the light. Darkness settled around them, though the room wasn’t completely black.
The glow of the streetlights slipped through the opening of the curtains, providing enough light that she could see him, laying on his back, his hands folded over his chest.
For several quiet moments, neither of them spoke. Dean had left an almost comical stretch of mattress between them.
“How’s the weather over there?” she joked.
Dean chuckled. “I’m respecting the border.”
“What border?”
“The International Border of Awkwardness.”
She laughed as she turned on her side, facing him, while lying to herself that she hadn’t just cut the distance between them by a few inches. “I wasn’t aware that border existed.”
Dean shifted until he was also on his side, looking at her. “Oh, it definitely does.”
Vivian stared at him for a long, long time, considering what she hoped—what she wanted—to come next.
“Permission granted to cross the border,” she whispered.
Dean froze, his brows furrowed, and she got the sense, he was trying to decide if he’d heard her correctly.
“Viv,” he started.
“Cross the border,” she interjected.
Dean stared at her one heartbeat, two, three, and then…
He reached out, grasped the back of her neck, erasing every single inch that separated them, as he kissed her.
Find it on Goodreads:
Connect with the Author:
Stingrays Hockey - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
You Might Also Like...
