All You Need, Page 29

  “No. Back to my apartment building, through the garage like before.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Actually I feel sick and just want to go home.”

  • • •

  I pulled executive status and had Deanna deal with the calls from my family as to my whereabouts. I didn’t think she’d actually inform them I planned to travel around the world in eighty days via balloon, but it amused me for ten seconds to give her those instructions, if nothing else.

  First, I worked out—being angry and trying to keep up with Axl on a physical level had forced me back into a fitness routine I’d dropped in the past year.

  In the mood to cook after hitting the gym, I chose five recipes and ordered the ingredients from my online grocer. Although it’d take two hours for the delivery, I called down to the security desk and talked to Carlos. He was the only guard I trusted to deliver the goods. The other guards were too easily swayed to sneak my family up here, by the promise of free Vikings tickets, which was the Lunds’ go-to bribe this time of year.

  I’d set Axl’s text tone to the most annoying option when we first exchanged numbers. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d scowled at my phone when I heard it.

  AH: Typing away at the office?

  Me: I decided to work from home all week.

  AH: Did something happen?

  Me: No. I like working in your jersey.

  AH: What else are you wearing?

  Me: A smile.

  AH: You are EVIL, Attila. How am I supposed to nap if I’m thinking of the bottom of my jersey rubbing on my favorite parts of you?

  Me: Swedish sweet talker. I’m not wearing it on my head.

  AH: Funny, smart girl. I like your brain. And your face. And your mouth. But I really like . . .

  Me: Get some rest. No more texting. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching, but I’ll go to bed right after the game so you won’t have to sneak away and try to call me.

  AH: OK. Good. Miss you later.

  I laughed. We texted in English and there wasn’t a word that meant more than “miss you,” like there was in Swedish, so Axl improvised with “miss you later.” I wondered if that was how my mother’s odd language mix-ups had originally started.

  As much as I claimed I’d work at home? I didn’t. Instead I brooded.

  Twenty-three

  ___

  AXL

  Our team jet had maintenance issues, so we’d ended up spending another night in Calgary. The issues were still ongoing this morning, so we’d had to find a place to rent ice time, since we had a game at home tonight and couldn’t miss warm-up. So we’d all stumbled out of bed at the ass crack of eight, shoveled down breakfast and climbed onto a bus to the rink.

  Game day practices weren’t taxing, but there wasn’t much chatter, especially given our win last night. Once we heard the plane was fixed, we were happy to ditch our gear and get back on the bus that whisked us to the airport so we’d be home for a few hours.

  Except Coach had laid down the law that none of us actually got to go home. We’d go directly to the arena in St. Paul after landing in Minneapolis. There’d be extra staff for massages and warm-ups. The lounge would serve as a resting and quiet area and then a catered dinner would be available.

  This wasn’t unusual. Travel delays happened—most often because of weather. It sucked it’d happened today. The earliest I could see Annika was after eleven p.m. I grabbed my phone to text her and saw she’d left me a voice mail. Annika never left me a voice mail.

  “Axl, hey, by the time you get out of practice you’ll hear the news that you confirmed via press release that I ended our relationship earlier in the week—or however Peter decided to word it. This decision did not come from me, but I knew about it yesterday. Peter decided it’d be best to wait until your game was over to save you additional press. Please don’t think this is what I want. That’s not the case at all, so don’t make any public comments until you talk to Peter and then to me. Also, I didn’t tell him that things had changed between us, so be careful when you talk to him. I’ll be home, so call me when you get a chance. I miss you.”

  As soon as I got off the bus, I called Peter. While he spewed bullshit about media statistics, all I could think about was Annika sitting in his office, listening to him telling her how lucky she was that she and I weren’t in a real relationship. And how this PR plan had gone better than he’d ever hoped.

  Except it hadn’t been a sham. It was time to admit I’d fallen for her.

  I wasn’t giving her up.

  But I wasn’t sharing this with the world either.

  Fucking Peter and his fucking press release.

  All because my media recognition stats were on a huge uptick.

  What didn’t he get about the fact that I didn’t care about any of that? I’d never cared.

  None of it was quantifiable.

  I’d sabotaged my own media stats during my stint in Chicago. But now, when technically neither Annika nor I had done anything wrong, Peter claimed letting the public in on the Axl-kissing-a-brunette-who-was-really-Annika joke would be a huge mistake.

  The thing was . . . I didn’t disagree with that decision. It’d protect Annika. But Peter’s justification for issuing the statement that Annika had initiated the breakup because it might earn me some public sympathy pissed me off. I didn’t deserve sympathy—I sure as hell didn’t want it. Her professional reputation shouldn’t take a hit because of the messed-up situation I’d put her in. Yet announcing Annika had dumped me made sense. She’d retain her “Iron Princess” reputation for taking zero shit from any man—including an infamous bad-boy hockey player.

  Regardless of the supposed positive media impact, I still came across as the cheating douchebag who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Maybe I’d had my share—okay, maybe more than my fair share—of hookups, but I’d never cheated on a woman if we’d agreed to be exclusive.

  You’re exactly like your father.

  I ground my molars together as my mother’s chiding voice played through my mind.

  No, I’m not.

  For the remainder of the season, I would not make any public appearances that were not hockey-related. From what I’d read of my contract, there weren’t many required team events. A few skating clinics. A fan appreciation day. If I ended up part of postgame press conferences, I’d talk about hockey. Nothing else. Never a hint that I was anything but a . . . what had Annika called me? Cyborg? I was really, really good at being cold. Aloof. I’d learned from the best.

  I’d fall off the radar when I wasn’t on the ice. I could spend more time with Annika. I’d rather be with her behind closed doors anyway. Preferably naked. All the freaking time.

  As long as Annika was fine with it, as long as she believed I’d be one hundred percent faithful to her, I didn’t give a damn about anyone else.

  • • •

  We lost the home game.

  I blamed it on not getting a good-luck kiss from Annika. We hockey players are a superstitious bunch.

  I’d done nothing of note—good or bad—during the game, so I skipped the press conference.

  It was too much to hope for that the media hadn’t waited to hound me outside the team exit. So I’d prepared myself by wearing headphones and cranking the tunes to the highest level. That did the trick; I didn’t hear a single question as Igor and I made our way through the throng of reporters to the car I’d ordered to take us to Snow Village.

  After I ditched my stuff in my apartment, I snagged two plastic cups and a bottle of Rekorderlig strawberry/lime-flavored cider brewed in Sweden that Martin had developed a taste for. I crossed the hallway. Since he never knocked on my door, I didn’t bother knocking on his either. I just walked in.

  Martin sat in the middle of his sofa, playing Assassin’s Creed. He didn’t even turn around when I shut the door with more force than usual. No pungent scent of weed lingered in the air as I skirted the couch and parked myself in front
of him on the coffee table.

  “Go away, Axl. I’m still majorly cheesed off at you,” he said petulantly, never taking his eyes off the TV screen as his hands maneuvered the controls.

  “I get that. But we have to talk about what happened at the party.”

  “You show up with a hangdog look and a bottle of cider? You think I’m that easily bribed? Wrong. I have principles, man.” His eyes finally met mine. “Unlike you.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “You sure?” I twisted the cap off the bottle and poured two cups, handing one to him.

  Martin grudgingly set aside his game controller and grabbed the cider. “This doesn’t mean we’re cool. This only means I’m thirsty.”

  “Understood. But you’ll let me explain?” Knowing Martin, he’d unload his frustration with me first before he’d let me speak.

  “Yeah, I’ll hear you out. But I gotta say . . . what were you thinking, kissing that chick? And before that I’m not the only one who noticed you two sneaking out of the supply closet separately. So it was more than just a kiss.”

  He paused, waiting for me to confirm or deny, which I refused to do. Then he drained his cider and held out his cup for more.

  “I don’t get it, man. You’ve been happier in the month you’ve been dating Annika than I’ve ever seen you. You’re way into her. At the coat drive thing I saw that she’s got it bad for you too. Why would you eff that up?”

  I held his gaze. “I didn’t. The chick I kissed was Annika.”

  Martin snorted. “Dude, I wasn’t that high. I know what I saw.”

  “At the game Annika overheard you and Verily talking about the hockey party I was hosting here . . . after I’d told her I didn’t have plans postgame. It pissed her off that I’d lied to her. So she and her cousin had the bright idea of disguising themselves and sneaking into the party.” I sipped the cider. “Did you see the blonde with Igor? That was Dallas.”

  “Get the eff out.”

  “Obviously their disguises worked if you didn’t recognize either of them. When I kissed Annika? I didn’t think anything of it because it’s my natural response around her. There weren’t supposed to be cell phones allowed in, but some asshole snapped a picture and sold it. You know the rest of the story, or at least what’s in the media.”

  He blinked at me several times. “You haven’t been back here since the morning after the party because there were reporters lurking around.”

  I scratched my neck. I hadn’t shaved in two days and the scruff had started to itch. “The media blitz basically confined Annika to her place, which wasn’t fair. That’s where I spent the three days before we left town again. So I wasn’t around when my agent’s PR team released the statement that Annika had called things off. In fact, I came directly here after tonight’s game instead of heading to Annika’s so I could clear things up with you.” I locked my gaze to his. “I’m not a fucking cheater, Martin.”

  “Dude. I’m like . . . so relieved to hear that. But this is so effed up.”

  “Tell me about it.” I drained my cider. “There are a number of reasons we can’t publicly state Annika was the brunette. And the only thing my agent cares about is the buzz surrounding me in the media.”

  “What do you care about?”

  “Her.”

  Martin bumped my knee with his. “First time I’ve ever heard you put anything above hockey, brosky.”

  “Never had a reason to before her.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Wait. You came here first? You haven’t seen Annika since—”

  “The breakup story came out? No.”

  “Get your dumb butt over to her place. Sheesh. What are you doin’ here with me?”

  “We’re friends. Your opinion of me matters, brosky.”

  He grinned. “I knew there was a sappy side to you, Swede. But we’re cool. Now get motoring to your ladylove.”

  “I will. But I need a couple of favors from you. No one can know that Annika and I are still together.”

  “I can’t keep something like that from Verily.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to keep it from everyone else. Also, I want Annika to stay at my place some nights, so could you get her clearance at the gate as Verily’s cousin? I don’t trust that fucker Darrin not to sell me out if I have a frequent female visitor.”

  “No prob.” He swiped the bottle of cider and said, “You’re driving, so I’ll take this. I suppose you’re also here because you want an apology from me for me taking a couple of swings at you?”

  “I don’t blame you. I might’ve done the same thing if I saw you kissing a woman besides Verily.”

  “Verily thought it was so effing hot that I went after you. She jumped me as soon as we left the party house and we ended up doing it under the juniper bushes. So now, every time I smell juniper, I’ll think of her mouth—”

  I held up my hand. “TMI.”

  “So I’m sayin’ I can’t honestly apologize, because I’m not sorry for what I did at the time. You cool with that?”

  “Yes.” I stood. “As long as you stop sending me ‘you cheating fuck-face’ texts.”

  “Those are from Verily. She sneaks my phone sometimes. She’ll be glad to hear you’re not a cheater eff-face.”

  “Keep an eye on my place. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  I packed my biggest suitcase with everything I’d need for an extended stay with Annika before I sent her a short text.

  Me: On my way.

  • • •

  We hadn’t exchanged keys yet, forcing me to ring the doorbell at midnight.

  A couple of minutes passed and I still stood in the hallway.

  I rang it again.

  Finally after a few more minutes the door swung open.

  A sleepy Annika, sporting a serious case of bed head, rubbed her eyes as if I were an apparition. “Axl? What are you doing here?”

  My gaze had already homed in on the front of her body. Christ. The lace on her skimpy top barely covered her breasts, and the bottom didn’t quite reach the boy-short panties hanging low on her hips. Then there were those killer legs. I’d spent hours running my hands and mouth over them—on the inside, the outside, the front, the back. Feeling the power in them as she locked her ankles behind my back while I drove into her.

  “Really? You’re going to growl at me? Instead of telling me why you just showed up out of the blue?” she demanded.

  I slammed the door shut and focused on her eyes as I stalked toward her. “I texted you that I was on my way over.”

  “Well, I left my phone charging in my office and went to bed as soon as the game ended.”

  “Did you really think with all that’s happened in the past few days that I wouldn’t want to see you as soon as possible to make sure you’re all right?” Her back hit the wall and I didn’t stop moving until our bodies touched. “To prove to you we are very much still together?”

  She slid her hands up my chest and looped her arms around my neck. “You didn’t even say hello, Ax-hell. You just stormed in and started growling at me.”

  I lowered my face until our lips almost touched. “I growled at you because seeing your sexy body half-naked renders my brain useless.”

  “Oh. Good answer.”

  I took her mouth in a no-holds-barred kiss. Pouring my relief, my gratitude and my lust into every thrust of my tongue, every