She didn’t mean to look so long at his back but damn, it was hard not to take it in. Broad shoulders topped off a muscular back that tapered down to narrow hips and a hockey butt to beat all hockey butts. The man had to get special pants made just for him. Catching herself just as he started to turn around, she dove under the covers on her side of the couch and closed her eyes so he might maybe think she was done talking and ready for sleep.
The floorboards creaked and the covers rustled at the opposite end of the sectional, where she did not picture Ian stretched out with the blanket down at his waist. Shirtless. It really needed to stop snowing outside so she could shovel out her car and get gone.
“Hey, Shelby,” Ian called out, a raspy edge to his voice.
She swallowed. “Yeah?”
“I don’t hate you,” he said.
Every thought in her head skittered to a stop. She would have formed words if she could have, but an apology from Mr. Sexy Grunts was pretty much the last thing she’d been expecting. Ever. Like she would go work for the hated Cajun Rage before laying even a dollar on the chance he’d say he’d been wrong about being pissed at the messenger—even an accidental one.
“Wake me up if the fire goes out.” Then he rolled over, and all of fifteen seconds later, his breath had steadied and he was asleep.
Meanwhile, Shelby was left staring at the shadows from the fire flickering on the ceiling and wondering if she would ever sleep again. Verdict? Probably not until she left this cabin, because if she was that attracted to Ian when she’d figured he was mad at her, finding out that he wasn’t was going to give her sexual-frustration insomnia to the twelfth degree.
Chapter Five
Ian couldn’t sleep. He’d faked it long enough for Shelby to crash out, but not even the soothing crackle of the fire could help lull him under. He was too aware of her. He couldn’t see a lot of her in the light of the fire, but he could see enough that his imagination could fill in all the details, which had left him with a head full of Shelby and half a hard-on.
Fuck, he needed to cool off. Since throwing himself into one of the snowdrifts outside wasn’t an option unless he wanted to freeze his dick off, he got up and went into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the water bottles from the pantry and took a huge gulp as he scrolled on his phone in vain, looking for hockey updates when he didn’t have shit for a signal.
It wasn’t the best use of his battery, but it was better than sitting on the couch thinking about Shelby, because she was very much off-limits.
When the new owner had come in, he’d gone over in great detail how there was to be no fraternization, as he put it, between players and anyone else involved with the team. With his busted thumb, the drama in the locker room, and the fact that the Ice Knights were in a fight for their playoff lives, the last thing Ian needed was to make more waves for the team. All he wanted was to keep his head down, do his job, and stay the fuck away from Christensen.
As long as that happened, he could finish out his contract in Harbor City and then transition into a career in coaching.
He was a man with a plan, and he was sticking with it no matter how tempting Shelby was.
Water finished, he set his phone down on the edge of the counter and then crumpled the plastic bottle before shooting it basketball-style into the recycling bin on the opposite end of the counter. During the day, the sound would hardly register, but in the middle of the night with the wind finally calmed down, it boomed in the open space. He whipped around to make sure he didn’t wake Shelby, accidentally hip-checking his phone off the counter. It crashed down onto the hard tile floor, hitting just right so that his screen cracked in three places.
Fucking A.
He jerked his gaze over to Shelby on the couch, but she was still—amazingly—dead to the world. Curled up on her side, her breathing steady and the occasional mumbled word coming from her lips.
Instead of looking softer in her sleep, she managed to still look badass, even with that stupid bear-covered comforter pulled all the way up under her chin. It was her lips that really got to him, though. Full, pale pink, and slightly parted in sleep. His cock started to thicken against his thigh and he forced himself to pivot from thinking about her mouth to rehashing every missed pass he’d ever had in his career—yes, he remembered them all.
He’d been an ass to her enough as it was without adding in her waking up and spotting him sporting a tent in his pants as he watched her sleep. She’d probably go after him again with her Taser, and he wouldn’t blame her.
Making his way over to the fireplace, he grabbed a couple of logs and put them on the fire, using the poker to push them in place so the blaze would continue through the night. Waking up in an icebox wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. Of course, he’d have to fall asleep first. That wouldn’t be an easy task even if Shelby wasn’t here.
He was a man with a sleeping routine and without it, he was a man without sleep. He needed mostly quiet, total darkness, his white-noise app, and a solid hour of staring at his ceiling.
“Robber baron moose on a train,” Shelby said. “Look out.”
Ian jerked around. “What?”
Shelby’s eyes were still closed and she was half in
