I should not have let Winnie and Sadie talk me into coming. I was perfectly willing to sit at home and watch Netflix and eat Cheetos and rue the day I was born. But they resorted to guilt, saying that they’d barely seen me since they moved and they missed me. Finally Sadie said the one thing that changed my mind: “Your goalie will probably be there. I can’t wait to meet him.” I was terrified they’d bug Eli, and I was suddenly consumed with the need to see him in a costume. I didn’t know what he would dress as, but I knew he would look amazing.

And he does. He’s dressed as a gladiator in a leather-like skirt and a molded copper-colored plastic chest plate with leather cuffs on his wrists and a sword dangling absently from his left hand. His dark, thick hair is pushed back except for a piece that falls across his smooth forehead.

I noticed him almost the second he got to the party, but I made sure to watch from a distance. He was smiling, dancing and laughing and didn’t seem to have a care in the world, which was the polar opposite of how I felt. It made me realize how incredibly different we really were and how doomed we probably were even if we didn’t work for the same team. That made me feel hollow.

I know he knows I’m here now, and I can only imagine that he’ll try to have some awkward conversation with me. Oh God, I have to get out of here. I push my sunglasses up on my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I grab my cane and open the door. And then I freeze as I cross the threshold. Elijah is standing there right in front of me in the dark hallway. His hair is still slightly askew and his lips are pink and his eyes are soft and sad. Basically, he’s breathtaking.

He takes a step toward me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I heard everyone knows about you being a Braddock,” he explains. “And that the guys are giving you a hard time.”

“That’s not your problem,” I say softly, without venom. “I’m not your problem.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he declares suddenly in that voice that is impossibly low and incredibly rough and completely perfect. “I have to. I need to. I can’t.”

I feel a flood of relief at his words. It’s so strong it almost feels euphoric. Without thinking about it I take a step closer to him. My free hand grips the doorframe. His eyes drop from mine and he stares at the sword in his hand. He looks desperate and defeated. This is not the guy I was watching downstairs. Suddenly I realize that must have been an act for his teammates. This Eli doesn’t make me feel hollow, but he does make me ache. My fingers curl around the doorframe and my knuckles hurt with the force of my grip as I try to keep myself from reaching for him.

“I used to be good at things. Everything. Especially women and hockey,” he admits in a soft voice just barely above a whisper. “Now I don’t know which one I’m worse at.”

“You were really good with me,” I reply in a tone equally as soft and modest. “Really, really good.”

His head tilts back up, his chin level and his eyes on me. He blinks. I blink.

Two blinks are all we manage before we both lose all sanity. I don’t know if he kisses me or I kiss him, but we’re kissing. His hands are in my hair and mine are in his and that stupid plastic costume slams into my chest as my ass hits the counter in the bathroom. I push back until his ass hits the wall beside the door. His hands move from my hair to the front of my costume—over my breasts and down my sides and around to my ass, which he grabs and uses to push me into him.

I hate his fucking costume. I can’t touch any skin on his upper body except his arms. I cling to his biceps and let him hook the back of my knee and hitch me up so his hard-on fits solidly into the cleft between my legs. He pushes me back against the counter again. I wrap an arm around his neck and reach between us with the other. I want to get his costume off like it’s the answer to world peace. It is the answer to my peace—or at least it feels that way.

And then a sound fills the air between us. A gasp followed by a giggle. But neither of us is responsible for it. I recoil from Eli like he’s made of acid and spin to face the door we never closed. Thankfully it’s just Sadie and Winnie. My eyes dart past them, but I don’t see anyone else.

They’ve got their arms looped together and Sadie grins wickedly. “This must be the goalie.”

“If he is so off-limits, then why are you so on top of him?”

I run my hands through my hair and glare at both of them before turning to Eli. He’s wiping a hand across his mouth and looking frantic. He steps around me, careful not to touch any part of me, and slips by my sisters. “Sadie and Winnie, I presume? Hi. I have to go.”

He blurts it all out in a tight but friendly tone at warp speed and then he’s down the stairs before I can blink. Winnie frowns. “He’s not one for pleasantries.”

“He’s a Casco,” Sadie explains. “It’s like in their genetic code to be aloof and abrupt.”

“You know he’s Levi’s brother?” I hiss in shock.

Sadie nods calmly and steps into the bathroom to check out her reflection. “The minute you mentioned a goalie I did my research.”

“You cyberstalked him,” I reply flatly.

Sadie just shrugs. Winnie’s eyes are so wide I’m scared they might fall out of her head. “Oh my God, how did we not know Levi had such a fine piece of ass for a brother? Well, I mean, Dixie knew, because she’s banging him, but—”

I yank Winnie into the bathroom and close the door, shutting out the possibility of anyone overhearing us, I hope. I point my finger at my oldest sister the way Mom used to do when she was pissed. “Do not say that out loud ever again. Anywhere. For any reason. If people find out we hooked up, I lose my job and his struggling career gets even harder. Do you understand?”

Winnie looks offended. “Okay. Relax. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

She’s right, and I’m an ass. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…this is a nightmare.”

Sadie leans in and hugs me. “Dixie, we’ve got your back. Always.”

“I’m glad you interrupted. We slipped, and I don’t even know why,” I explain and rest my head on her shoulder. “Last time we talked we were barely civil and then this. And nothing’s changed. We can’t be together right now.”

“Your HR department is dumb if they’re willing to lose you over a relationship,” Winnie says.

I pull out of Sadie’s hug and look at her. “It’s a standard clause in sports organizations. And the team is already treating me with less respect after finding out I’m Jude’s sister, so imagine how much worse it would be if they knew I was sleeping with their teammate.”

“Levi told me the guy who was hitting on me had been calling you Baby Braddock, so I dumped a drink on his head,” Sadie tells me with a bright smile.

“Vincent LaMarche?” She nods. I’m horrified but also more than a little impressed. That guy is a douche on a good day. And not the Eddie Rollins kind of creepy-but-harmless douche. Vinnie is an actual asshole. “You can’t do that, Sadie. Although I’m kind of happy you did. Don’t do it again to anyone else, okay?”

“Okay, fine. But you’re here tonight as Jude’s sister and not a Thunder employee, so I was defending my sister,” she explains. “Now back to the important stuff. What are you going to do about tall, dark and unavailable?”

“How’d he get the scar on his neck?” Winnie asks as she jumps up to sit on the counter. “It’s totally badass.”

“He had his jugular cut open by a skate blade,” I inform her and her whole face falls. “They’ve talked about it relentlessly since he joined the team. Do you watch anything Thunder-related at all?”

“Nope. Not a hockey fan.” Winnie’s face is draining of color the more she thinks about my explanation. “I didn’t know that could happen. Could that happen to Jude?”

She looks terrified.

“Yes. But the odds are slim. Please don’t worry about it.” She nods reluctantly. I turn to Sadie. “I’m going home.”

“Are you taking Eli with you?”

“No. I can’t.” I sigh, annoyed that she’s not getting it. “I’m proud of my job. I’m on the verge of a promotion. If I get it I’ll be the first person in Thunder history to go from intern to assistant communications manager in less than three years. That’s a big deal.”

“Okay,” Sadie says and lifts her hands as if to say “don’t shoot.” “As long as you’re happy.”

“I’m not, but losing my job isn’t going to make me happier,” I retort. “I just need to get out of here.”

“Okay. Do you want us to go with you?” Winnie asks.

“No. I honestly just want to go home and go to sleep,” I tell her. “Stay and keep hitting on Jude’s teammates. Make sure he sees so it drives him nuts.”

They both smile at that. Someone knocks on the door. I hug them both and open the door and we step out, letting a tall, annoyed blond girl in to pee. We make our way downstairs together, but I dig through the coats piled on the hall bench as they head toward the kitchen. I find my coat and put it on, glancing into the living room. I see everyone but Elijah. He’s nowhere to be found.

I slip out the front door. The air is cold and damp and it feels like it’s the slap in the face I need right now, so I decide not to call a Lyft and walk at least a little bit of the way. I get to the corner and feel a hand wrap around my upper arm. My adrenaline surges and I turn, free arm up, heel of my hand poised to go into the attacker’s throat. But he grabs that one too. “It’s me!”

I blink and stare up into Eli’s perfect face. “Crap. Say something next time!”

He smiles, but it’s sad. “Sorry. I just saw you leaving and…”

He looks back down the street toward Duncan and Carla’s house. He lets go of my arm, but his stare pins me in place. It’s lost and a total reflection of how I feel right now too. “Can I walk with you?”

The request is soft and raw and I can’t seem to find my voice, so I just nod and we turn left down a side street that will take us away from possible prying eyes. We walk in silence for a couple blocks, slowly meandering through the bustling Saturday night foot traffic. It feels good to just be with him. It’s probably a feeling I should fight, but I don’t want to. Finally he stops and looks down at me with an expression that I can’t read. “I’m starving. Wanna grab a bite with me?”

I glance down at my mouse costume and then let my eyes slide up his gladiator outfit. “Like go into a restaurant? Dressed like this?”

He just shrugs like it’s no big deal. As if on cue two guys pass us on the sidewalk and start to chuckle. “You guys know Halloween was a week ago, right?”

Eli looks over and flashes them a bright smile. “That’s your Halloween. In our religion it’s today. And it lasts a week. Got any candy?”

The guys both look perplexed, shake their heads and continue to walk away. Eli smiles at me and winks. I can’t help but laugh. “If anyone gives us grief in the restaurant we’ll tell them the same thing. They won’t bother to ask which religion, but if they do we’ll tell them Flying Spaghetti Monster. It’s an actual religion, believe it or not.”

“You’re nuts,” I reply, still smiling.

“Yeah, and you need a little nuts in your life,” he says and wiggles his eyebrows, which makes the comment instantly dirty. “Especially if it’s my nuts.”

“Oh my God. You never change,” I say in mock exasperation, but I have to admit to myself that I’ve smiled more in the last three minutes than I have all week.

“Eat with me. Nothing more, I promise,” he says. “Because the fact is I think we could both use each other’s company.”

I hesitate. This is just going to make my life harder. He dips his head slightly so his face is closer to mine, and then he says in a rough whisper, “Please.”

“Only if it involves milkshakes.” The minute I make that bad decision I feel a wave of happiness wash over me. I want to spend time with him more than I want to do what’s right, and I’ve never felt that way about a man before. I think it would make me a little scared even if my career goals weren’t at stake.

His handsome face lights up in a victorious grin and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s hunt down some milkshakes, sweet Dixie.”

When we get to the diner they seat us in a booth at the back. The waiter comes over and Eli orders us two chocolate cake milkshakes and then turns to me. “Tell me what you want in life.”

“Wow. That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one,” I reply.

“I find you fascinating, not just sexy and incredible in bed,” he tells me with a smile that makes me warm. “I’ve never met a more focused or driven person my age.”

“I’m not your age. I’m older.”

“By one year. Sorry I forgot, ma’am.” I glare at him for the “ma’am.” He chuckles. “Seriously. How did you decide to get into sports communications and why?”

“I’ve been around hockey my entire life. I already knew how the business of it works thanks to Jude, and I thought that would give me an edge. And being a woman in this industry, I need all the edge I can get. Maybe part of me wanted to defy the odds and make a stand in such a male-dominated business too.”

Eli runs a hand through his thick, dark hair and leans forward on the table. “Most people fresh out of college just want a job with health benefits, never mind taking on misogyny.”

I shrug and pause as the waiter drops off the shakes. Eli orders a burger and fries and I ask for a bacon grilled cheese and onion rings. “Go big or go home.”

Eli lets out a deep laugh that I can feel between my legs. I shift in the booth, forcing myself to ignore it, and take the maraschino cherry out of my milkshake and hand it to him. Instead of reaching for it by the stem, he leans closer on the table, opens his mouth and bites it off the stem. Holy fuck, he’s hot.

When he’s finished chewing and I still haven’t continued speaking he grins. “So being Jude’s little sister and having a front-row seat to his career was like free training in sports communications?”

I clear my throat and gain some composure. “Yeah, because every time he did something dumb, which was often, I could think of a hundred different ways to handle it that would have been better than how his team at the time handled it.”

“So Jude is why you’re with the Thunder and not some other team?” Eli asks and wraps his perfect lips around his straw. He sucks down what looks to be half his milkshake.

“Nah. Mostly I wanted to work with the one woman who has made misogyny her bitch. Ryanne Bateman.” His jovial expression dims a little at that. What is that about? “You look like you have something to say about her.”

He shakes his head and drinks some more of his milkshake. “She just has a bit of a reputation with players. One that might even make your brother’s past look angelic.”

I frown. I’m disappointed he’s being a typical guy here. The waiter brings our food over, and once he’s gone I continue our conversation. “Don’t tell me you believe the crap about her sleeping with players.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe it?”

I sigh. “Because it’s just another bullshit rumor that always happens to women when they’re successful. God forbid a woman just be considered a badass who’s good at her job. They always have to be accused of sleeping their way there or abusing their power once they get there. It’s so annoying!”

I’m genuinely irked and he knows it. He looks concerned, like he knows our fun evening is taking a bad turn, and he’s trying to decide how to save it. I reach for the ketchup at the same time he does and our hands tangle. Neither one of us pulls away. “You like to have people to look up to, don’t you? Role models?”

I’m flustered by that question simply because I’ve never really thought about it. “It’s just nice to have goals and people who inspire you. It helps keep me motivated.”

He nods slowly. There’s something in his gaze that makes me think he’s not saying something, but I’m too distracted by the tingle of our skin-to-skin contact to figure out what it is. He lowers his voice and says, “Sometimes putting people up on pedestals leads to disappointment when they can’t live up to your expectations.”

I finally pull my hand from his, taking the ketchup bottle with me. He stops talking and just watches me as I dump some ketchup on my plate. Our eyes connect and he flashes a smile at me. “Like you think you’ve met the perfect girl and then find out she puts ketchup on her grilled cheese.”

“It’s delicious.”

“It’s an act against God.”

My only response is to pick up my grilled cheese, dredge it through the ketchup, and take a giant bite. He groans in horror like a drama queen and I laugh. This boy is so much fun. We eat our meal, exchanging cheesy pickup lines and making each other laugh. The horrendous week I’ve had feels so far away, and like it happened to someone else, all because of this green-eyed man with a devilish smile.

I grab the bill and pay it while he’s in the restroom so he can’t argue. Of course he then spends the next ten minutes, while we split a piece of coconut cream pie, trying to sneak forty bucks into my pocket. He finally gives up, and we make our way out of the restaurant. I open the app and summon a Lyft, then I glance up at him. “I’ve met Ryanne more than once, and she’s never been anything but a badass professional.”

His mossy eyes focus on me and he blinks. “Ryanne? We’re talking about your boss crush again? I thought we’d moved on.”

I nod. “Yeah, we have. I just…I hate that women get a bad rap in business.”

“Not all women do,” he says and looks serious for a moment. But the expression quickly dissolves and is replaced with a smile. “We’re having a good time keeping it light. Let’s not change that now.”

I still want to push him on this issue, but I force myself not to. “You’re right. You should distract me with another horrendous pickup line.”

He takes a step toward me and gently wraps an arm around my back, his hand resting on my hip. “I would have taken you right there on the bathroom sink if they hadn’t interrupted.”

I feel a tingle between my legs, like my girl bits are agreeing with his statement. “I was hoping that would happen. But I’m glad it didn’t. It would have complicated this already difficult situation.”

“But it felt like it was worth it,” he tells me quietly. “You feel like you’re worth it.”

And just like that, I’m breathless.

“I still want you,” he tells me simply.

“I still want you too,” I admit with just as much ease. God, it’s so easy to say. Why can’t it be easy to do?

“So what are we going to do about it?”

He’s waiting for my response.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” I tell him. “My life is complicated right now, and I need to stay focused. You do too.”

His beautiful green eyes bore into me, as if searching for something—a flicker of doubt, maybe—but he doesn’t find any. As much as I’m attracted to him, I am not risking my career over him. I won’t.

My Lyft pulls up to the curb, and as I walk toward it so does Eli. I turn and press a hand to the front of his gladiator chest plate. “You can’t get in this car with me.”

“Why not? I want to make sure you get home okay,” he argues.

“Because we’ll sleep together again,” I say bluntly. “I won’t be able to stop myself, and that’s not going to make anything easier, only harder.”

“Speaking of hard…” He grins.

“Stop,” I demand but a smile is overtaking my face. “We can’t. You know that.”

“I know,” he admits, growing solemn. “Can I at least get a kiss good-bye? On the cheek?”

I rock up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his cheek for an embarrassingly long time but it feels so good and he isn’t complaining. But then his hands wrap around my waist and I can feel his hard length against my stomach and I’m instantly wet and there’s a pulse like a snare drum between my legs, and that’s when I know I have to walk away. I pull back and he doesn’t fight me. But he does cup the back of my head and whisper, “I’m going to get off tonight thinking of you. Of what it’s going to be like next time—because there will be a next time. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I whisper back.

I am a fool. Playing with fire and making promises I don’t know how to keep.