One Timer(An Nashville Assassins Novel)(3)

As I haul ass through Luther Arena to meet up with Elli, I can’t help but remember the times she would run across campus to bring me my camera or notebook. She is the ultimate best friend. We’ve been through so much together, good times and bad, and we’d die for each other. We always based our relationship off the one in Sex and the City. There are only two of us, but we might as well be four. I have enough personality for four women, and she has enough love. We’re a pair, Elli and I. She’s always dressed to the nines and looks perfect in her heels, while I’m lucky if I brush my hair. She budgets and likes control; I live on one hell of a prayer. She’s insecure, and I’m so confident that it makes her confident. She’s a romantic, and I just want to fuck.

But hell if I don’t love her more than I do myself some days.

When I see her looking pristine as always, I grin as I wave the bulbs in the air. I cry out, “It’s a madhouse out there!”

Elli is panicked. This is a huge thing for us. We’re shooting the Nashville Assassins, our hockey team, and while yes, her uncle owns the team, this is the first time she’s been asked to shoot for them. Believe me, we’ve applied like nine times, and I even asked Bryan Fisher over dinner once. He laughed at me. He doesn’t take me seriously, though. I’ll always be Elli’s flighty, artsy-fartsy friend.

“I know. Come on! Let’s go put in the bulbs.”

I’m pretty sure she’s five seconds away from curling up and crying like a baby. She doesn’t do well under pressure, and she loves the Nashville Assassins. The woman is probably the biggest fan I know. She has a room in her house dedicated to them. Her massive cow of a dog, yeah, he’s named after the captain of the team. Which is good for me because I won trivia at the bar the other night because I knew his name. Sure as shit didn’t know his first name, but I got the Adler part down and won fifty bucks for drinks. When I told Elli, she was disgusted that I didn’t know Shea Adler’s whole name and said she’d failed me. I now know his name is Shea Ryan Adler, he’s twenty-nine, has a twin sister, is from Boston where he grew up with both parents, he’s looking but hasn’t found the one, and he’s been the captain of the Nashville Assassins for three years. So, the next time there is Shea Adler trivia, I’m so winning.

Elli says something to some lady, but I’m off screwing in the bulbs. She’s the talker of the pair. She oozes professionalism. I have purple hair, so, ya know, people don’t take me seriously. I graduated at the top of my class with a major in graphic design and even have a minor in business studies. I think one of the rules is don’t dye your hair crazy colors, but I tend to stay away from rules. I like being me, and I refuse to change that.

As I move to fix the lights and position them, I slip a little. The ice is a whole lotta slippery, but of course, it is ice. Duh. My heart is pounding, and I know it’s because Elli is freaking out. She looks gorgeous with her auburn hair down in curls along her shoulders. She’s wearing a cute little dress that hugs all her curves. After losing most of the weight she had gained, she was left with some killer curves. I don’t have curves. Or breasts. But hey, I can suck a cock like no other.

I crouch down and open her bag to get out her camera. After attaching the right lens and making sure the flash is connected, I stand up to hand it to her. She takes it, but she doesn’t smile or say thank you. I don’t take offense. I’m just glad she’s standing. “Go on over there and let me test-shoot, Harp.”

I nod and quickly but carefully head to the spot we have marked for the players. Usually they do these in a black room, but I made the suggestion they should do it on the ice so it’s more realistic. Bryan was appreciative of my artsy-fartsy self then. I pose with a stick, making sure not to smile since I don’t think hockey players do. No teeth and all. I do it to make Elli laugh, but she’s too nervous. I do get a small smile, though. When she looks down at the camera with a nod, I place the stick back and head toward her just as the guys start to come onto the ice.

Now, I am aware how gorgeous hockey players are. Elli has that room that shows off all of them, but there is a difference between seeing them on TV or in a picture and seeing them up close.

Big difference.

“Good golly, Miss Molly! Look at them. Good Lord. They are gorgeous,” I whisper to her, and I can see she wants to die. If she weren’t such a professional, I’m pretty sure she would have smacked me. Not that I would feel it, though. I’m too engrossed in each gorgeous man and his snazzy little jersey. The purple looks great on the guys, and the Assassin on the front with the Nashville skyline coming out of his shoulders is pretty badass. As I gaze at each of them, I realize I want to taste them all.

But then I notice a certain green-eyed devil checking me out.

Hell. Yes.

As each guy poses, I lean in as the amazing assistant I am. “For the love of God, El, that dude is hot.”

She rolls her eyes. “Hush, Harp.”

“No, really. Like, please, can I hit on one of them? Just one?” I don’t know why I agreed not to hit on any of these fine men, but that was a really big mistake on my part. I want to be in an Assassins sandwich, covered and smushed by all of them.

“No.”

She’s so rude. “You’re no fun.”

She laughs it off, and that makes me happy. She’s in her groove, unaffected by my crazy. When Green-Eyed Devil—also known as Number Two—comes off the bench with one hell of a smirk on his gorgeous face, I don’t care what Elli wants me to do; I want him.

“Oh, to hell with what you say. Number Two is mine after this.”

And there is no stopping me. Even with her pointed gaze, my eyes are locked with his. He’s huge—I mean, like, smash a log with his bare hands huge, and I want to be that log. He’s more than gorgeous; he’s stunning. He has hard lines on his face, killer green eyes, and brown hair that is shaved up the sides and short on top. He looks like a Calvin Klein model, and I want to see him in nothing but those signature white undies.

“Hush, Harper!” Man, she full-named me. She usually calls me Harp. So rude.

Number Two should be looking at the camera, but those sexy eyes are on me. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, biting it gently as he takes in a sharp breath. In those green depths, I see nothing but the promise of a damn good time.

Yup, he’s mine.

After his action shot of him shooting, looking like a biscuit I want to devour, he is supposed to head to the bench. But instead, he comes toward us. My body goes taut, my pussy tightens, and I swear, I can smell him from where I stand.

Then, he speaks.

“Nice hair, beautiful.”

God, I’m coming home.

He may have knocked the air out of me, but I have my wits. I grin wildly at him, pushing back my shoulders so my tits look bigger than they are. “Nice stick,” I say and then, very dramatically, run my eyes down his body and not to his stick but his stick. His eyes dance with excitement, and my body does the same. He skates off with a wink, and I am stoked. He is so becoming a notch on my bedpost.

Meanwhile, Elli is dying.

“You are impossible, Harper Allen.”

And she wouldn’t change a damn thing about me. She’d be so bored without me.

I actually feel the moment when Shea Adler hits the ice. It’s crazy. I sense Elli go completely still. I can hear the air rush out of her, and when I glance at her, she looks as if she just saw Brad Pitt naked. I’ve never seen her stare at someone like that. Be so engrossed in them. I look over at where Shea Adler stands with his stick. He has the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen, and his almost-black hair only makes them bluer. He’s one gorgeous man, but his nose is a little crooked. At least he has all his teeth, but…is he having a seizure?

“Why’s he blinking so much?”

“Harp, shut up,” she demands. But really, how is she supposed to take a picture?

He’s trying to smile, maybe, or is he seizing up? “Is he hitting on you?”

“Oh my God!”

She is bright red, and I take great pride in that. She looks down, trying to gather herself, but once she sees all the pictures in her digital camera have his eyes shut, she realizes she’ll have to tell him. She curses under her breath and then clears her throat. When I look back at the guy, he’s rubbing his eyes.

“Mr. Adler,” she says, all proper and cute. He tries to focus, but he’s still blinking funny. “I’m sorry, but I need you to stop blinking. Your eyes are closed in every picture I have taken.”

“I’m sorry,” he says in one hell of a sexy Boston brogue, and I think I hear Elli gasp. “I got new contacts, and they are bugging the hell out of me.”

When someone hollers about getting him a new pair, Elli stands there completely stunned. It’s actually funny to see. I almost expect her to drop to her knees to worship him. She has it bad for the guy, and to be honest, I think he thinks she’s hot. “We can do the photos without them, right?” Before Elli can even utter a word, he’s pulling his contacts out of his eyes. He throws them down on the ice, and when he looks up, it’s easy to say he can’t see. With a wide, devilish grin, he says, “I won’t be able to see your beautiful face for a little bit, but I’ll have a new pair soon. Then I can stare some more.”