“Thanks for coming with me, Adalyn.” Hayden pulls his Porsche into a parking spot right in front of the arena marked off for him. There is a barricade around the entrance to the arena with security personal surrounding the area, blocking off the fans and media who have come to watch Hayden walk into a building.

Scanning the crowd, I read the homemade posters declaring their love for him, watch the grown men grip tightly onto the rails of the barricade to catch a glimpse, or unapologetically use their children as pawns to get closer to the professional hockey star.

This is very odd, such a strange sensation realizing for the first time that the guy you’re seeing is . . . famous.

This is the first time I’m seeing Hayden worshipped for who he is, for the talent he possesses. It’s eye-opening. I’ve known him as Hayden, the man who treats me like a queen, the man who makes me laugh, who makes me swoon. But I’ve yet to experience this Hayden. The superstar all the people outside have waited patiently to see.

Will I like that Hayden?

I’m so used to the relaxed, laid-back, chill Hayden.

But when he picked me up from my place today, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy-blue suit, the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt undone, and freshly buffed brown loafers, I was . . . taken back, enamored, spellbound. Just like every person here.

He looked like a different man, so professional, so grown up, but then I fixed my eyes on his and saw it, the sparkle he gets whenever he first sees me. His face lights up, the corner of his eyes crinkle, and he fills me with so much joy it almost feels impossible to breathe. All from one simple smile from him.

It’s the ingrained look I’ll keep forever in my memory.

“I promise we won’t stay very long.”

“Hayden”—I press my hand to his forearm—“I’m in no hurry to leave. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” Leaning over the console, he kisses me, his lips lingering for a second before groaning and pulling away. He starts to tug on the short strands of his hair but thinks better of it when he remembers the product he put through it this evening. “Maybe we can make out in the back for a few seconds before we go in?” He looks hopeful, like this actually might be a good idea.

It’s not.

Because there are already camera lights flashing at his car, trying to catch a picture of him in his natural environment.

“Not a chance in hell, Romeo.”

“Figured you were going to say that but might as well try.” Pocketing his keys, he says, “Don’t get out, let me open your door for you. The least I can do is look like a gentleman in front of all these people.”

“You don’t have to look like a gentleman when you already are one.” I give him one last kiss before he pulls away.

Hopping out of the car, he shuts his door and waves to the waiting fans while rounding the hood, screams erupting, fans shaking the barrier, cheering for their homegrown hero.

He’s so beloved, and it fills my heart with pride. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s infatuated.

Opening my car door, he takes my hand in his and whispers, “Are you ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, I hop out and allow Hayden to guide me through the barricaded area and straight to the screaming fans hanging over the rails, holding out jerseys, T-shirts, hats, and hockey sticks for him to sign.

From his pocket, he takes out a black sharpie and starts making the rounds, keeping me close to him. He starts at the beginning, shaking hands, smiling into cameras, sighing autographs, graciously talking to the fans and asking them about their night.

He’s smooth.

He’s controlled.

He’s in his element, doing his job, and making one hell of an impression.

If I weren’t a fan already, I would be now.

The patience he has while talking to his fans is endearing.

And when he gets to a kid, not only does he bend down to give them a hug, he spends extra time talking to them, asking them questions about their favorite players, favorite games, favorite part of the sport.

Women are melting at his feet, moms oozing with joy for their children . . . and jealousy toward me as they eye me up and down.

But I don’t take offense. I don’t even flinch when I’m sneered at because I know it comes from a deep-rooted and understandable place of envy.

There is no questioning I know I’m lucky. I’m quite aware of the kind of man Hayden is, not just because of his athletic talent, but because of the real man he is, the one who will spend his time away from the gym and honing his skill to send me notes while I’m at work. The man who surprises me at work with candy bar bouquets to brighten my day. The man who will spend an entire night watching chick flicks because I’m in the mood. The man who effortlessly cooks me dinner after I’ve worked a long shift and then massages my feet after the dishes are done. He’s an absolute dream. And I only hope I provide him the same. I hope I’m his dream.

“Who’s the girl?” a reporter calls out, grabbing Hayden’s attention.

Glancing up from the hat he just signed, he ropes an arm around me and brings me in close, despite my effort to give him some distance. “My girlfriend,” Hayden answers before grabbing the next piece of merchandise.

And from those words, more lights start to flash, but this time, they’re pointed directly at me, light after blinding light going off.

Leaning into me, Hayden whispers into my ear. “If you tilt your head down and let your gorgeous hair fall forward, it won’t be so blinding.”

I take his advice, my face still heating from his compliment, and follow behind him, my head tilted down, using my hair as a curtain from the onslaught of media. We spend a good twenty minutes outside, Hayden investing his time, making a lasting impression with every one of his fans.

I’ve been to football games. I’ve stood outside of the players’ entrance, waiting to catch a glimpse of some of my favorite players. I’ve heard my brothers’ voices go hoarse from screaming for their favorite quarterback to give them the time of day, and the best they could do was smile and wave in our direction.

Hayden is giving these fans a completely different experience than I ever thought imaginable.

It triples the beat of my heart for this man. Just thinking about him, of the impact he’s having on these young minds, on their parents, it gives me sharp palpitations to my chest.

Genuine.

Delicious.

REAL.

Mine.

Taking my hand in his, he waves to everyone, thanks them for waiting, and heads through the door of the arena, thanking the security guards for their help as well.

“Mr. Holmes, we’re so glad you joined us tonight. We’re very grateful you could cut out some time from your busy schedule for us.”

Busy schedule. I want to snort.

If only they knew what he did during his off time.

Work out.

Lift weights.

He does some light calisthenics and then texts me all day about the shows he’s binging on Netflix. Or about the book he’s reading. Or about the recipe he can’t wait to try when I get to his place.

I know it won’t be like that forever.

But his schedule is pretty wide open right now.

“Ah, anytime, Mr. Lewis.” Hayden shakes the portly man’s hand and then brings me forward into the conversation. “This is my girlfriend, Adalyn. Adalyn, this is Mr. Lewis. He’s been heading up tonight’s charity for the past five years, is that right?”

The sparkle in Mr. Lewis’s eyes when Hayden speaks of him is endearing, like he just received one of the best compliments of his life.

“Mr. Lewis, it’s a pleasure to meet you. From what Hayden has told me, this is one of his favorite charity events to attend.”

“We are so lucky to have a homegrown professional hockey player in our midst. We’re happy he can make the time for us.”

Hayden pats the man on the back. “Any time.” Looking around, Hayden asks, “Same as usual?”

“Yes, we have a little suite set up for the both of you with snacks and drinks. We just need you on the ice for the beginning of the game and then afterwards, the kids always enjoy it if you can sign some things.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of skipping out early. I was actually kind of hoping we might be able to stay a little later?” Hayden winks at Mr. Lewis who gives him a knowing smile. “Of course, not a problem. If you want to make your way to the ice, the game is going to start in a few, and the referees are expecting you to do a ceremonial puck drop.”

“Sure.” Hayden tugs me to the right and we walk behind Mr. Lewis who speeds up in front of us, talking into a headpiece, referring to Hayden as Mr. Holmes the entire time.

Mr. Holmes is in the building.

Mr. Holmes is heading to the ice.

Mr. Holmes would like some cake in his suite.

“Cake?” I give him a pointed look.

Wiggling his eyebrows, he says, “Just a little something, a little thank you for coming with me.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me, right? I love spending time with you, especially as your . . . girlfriend.”

He winces and says, “I hope that was okay to say to someone we don’t know.”

I scoff. “Why would I be mad about that? Being able to lay claim to you is something I don’t mind at all, especially with those envious women out there, baring their ravenous claws.”

“They’re fun, aren’t they?”

“I didn’t mind them too much to be honest. Just made me realize how lucky I am.” Smiling, I wrap my hands around his arm and tuck myself into his side. Placing a kiss on my head, he keeps moving forward, drawing attention from everyone around us, true hockey fans having no qualms in staring while he walks by. Like the good guy he is, Hayden shakes hands, poses for quick selfies, and waves when he needs to while saying thank you for putting this together.

I’ve been watching football with my family for a very long time, ever since I can remember, waving pom-poms in the air. We watched pre-games and post-games. Interviews, montages, commentators, I’ve seen it all. But what you never get to see is this backstage stuff. You don’t get to see how athletes act off camera, which I think is a true depiction of who they are as a person.

Hayden Holmes, in my opinion, is one of the most dignified and humble athletes I’ve ever seen, which makes him beyond attractive in my eyes. He has every reason to be the most cocky, self-centered man out there, but he’s not. He’s self-assured and most of all? Respects the hell out of me.

Set aside the muscles, the smirk, those devastatingly handsome features of his, or the multi-million-dollar talent he possesses, let’s consider his character, how he treats others, how grateful he is to his fans, and his dedication to bringing the sport he loves to those who might not be able to afford all the gear and ice time.

It’s impossible not to develop feelings for him.

It’s impossible to stop my heart from exploding in my chest whenever he’s around.

And it’s obvious how impossible it will be to not fall for him and fall for him fast.

“This way, Mr. Holmes. Ma’am, can you please step to the side?”

Turning toward me, Hayden places a gentle kiss on my mouth, his breath minty, his lips soft and smooth with a hint of scruff prickling my chin. The combination is better than perfect weather on a beautifully brilliant summer day.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back.” Winking, he takes off, down a red carpet draped across the ice. From the Jumbotron above, his name and picture flashes in bold, the announcers call him out, and the arena erupts in cheers. The high school boys playing in the charity game pound on the sideboards with their sticks, their other hands in the air cheering him on. Their eyes are alight with awe.

It feels so unreal, to see someone you see as “normal and everyday” be worshipped.

There is a little fear in the feeling.

A little bit of unease.

I only met him a short time ago, and we’ve easily become hooked on one another, but we’ve been in a bubble. This is the first time our bubble is being poked. It’s the first time I’m not in the comfort of Hayden’s reassuring arms, because everyone else is pulling him in different directions.

“He’s such a good guy,” a lady with a low grey bun and maroon parka says, standing next to me.

Giving her my attention, I notice quickly how kind her eyes are, followed by the crooked smile that seems so natural to her. “Hi, I’m Ariel, I am second-in-command for this entire event. I heard you’re Hayden’s girlfriend.”

“Yes, hi. I’m Adalyn.” I shake Ariel’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m so glad I could be here. Hayden was telling me how much you guys raise for the community. Twenty thousand dollars is a huge deal.”

Ariel offers me that crooked smile with a shake of her head. “That boy is very humble. We raised about ten thousand. He donated the rest but refuses to tell anyone. His goal is to provide as much equipment, ice time, and opportunity for those who are not as fortunate as he was. He desperately wants to keep the sport alive in his hometown.”

Casting my gaze toward Hayden, I watch him . . . in awe.

Shakes hands.

Smiles.

Waves.

Laughs.

Jokes around with the captains of the teams and refs.

Poses for pictures, never once looking annoyed or put out.

Shit . . .

My stomach bottoms out, flipping like a gymnast as I can feel proverbial hearts forming in my eyes.

There is no stopping it. This isn’t just lust . . . this is forming into something entirely different.

“He’s a good guy,” I whisper.

“The best. This is the first time he’s ever brought someone and looked so smitten.”

“You think he looks smitten?” I ask with a scrunch to my nose.

Ariel nods toward Hayden, who is staring me down, a giant smile on his face. “Oh yes, I most definitely think he’s smitten. That smile, the one with the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes? That’s reserved for you and only you.”

For me and only me. Maybe, just maybe, I am the fulfillment of his dream too.

A girl can only hope.

“Do you want a drink?” Hayden asks when we enter the private suite the event organizers provided for us. There are stacks of pictures of Hayden to be signed, which will be handed out to the kids after the game, platters of food including mini corndogs, nachos, a pile of seasoned French fries, and a delicious-looking chocolate cake that has my mouth watering. To the right, there are two more platters. One of plain grilled chicken and the other of roasted veggies, and they’re the platters Hayden goes straight to.

“I would love a water.”

“Coming right up.” He picks up a piece of broccoli and pops it in his mouth as he pulls a bottle of water from a small cooler under the counter. Like the gentleman he is, he opens the bottle and brings it to me, placing a kiss on my lips before handing me the bottle. “Want me to fix you a plate?”

“I can make one.” I take in my surroundings, the kids skating around on the ice below us, warming up, the crowd dancing to the music that’s booming through the speakers in the arena. “You’re really loved, you know that?” I’m taking in the fans below with Hayden Holmes shirts on when he comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“Is it overwhelming? Seeing all this at once?”

“A little, but it doesn’t bother me. I like watching you interact with your fans, making them smile, giving them an everlasting impression. It’s sweet.” I tip my head back to look him in the eyes. “You’re sweet.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “My dad always told me it’s about the game, not the fame. I’ve tried to live with that motto. Especially after this past season. Being a well-loved and successful rookie was something I never dreamt of, so I want to make sure I don’t take that for granted. If we end up staying later tonight, I apologize in advance. I want to make sure to connect with every single one of those boys. I can always call a car service to take you home if necessary.”

I shake my head. “No, I want to stay. I don’t have work tomorrow, so I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Moving his lips from my ear he nibbles on my earlobe, causing goosebumps to erupt over my skin. We have yet to have sex, but there have been some heavy make-out sessions, and when I say SOME, I mean a ton. If we’re alone, it’s what we do, and from the way Hayden is working his lips up and down my neck, I’m guessing that maybe he’s planning for—

The door flies open, hitting the wall, scaring the crap out of me. I fling my water in the air, dousing Hayden in the process and screech, like we were just caught naked together.

“Ohhhhh, looks like we’re interrupting something.”

“And in front of the kids. Don’t you have any class, man?”

Turning around, I attempt to focus on two men who look identical to Hayden. Tall, broad, the carved jawline, and the same panty-melting smirk.

Confused, I look between the three of them trying to understand if I’m seeing things . . . or if I’m drunk. I don’t remember drinking, but who knows, maybe I started sleep drinking during my naps and didn’t even realize it.

“What are you guys doing here?” Hayden asks, linking our hands together and taking me to the two domineering men, who like Hayden, are dressed in tailored suits.

“We were invited. You’re not the only famous Holmes brother in town.”

“Being famous for sleeping with every girl in your college dorm doesn’t count.” Hayden playfully punches one of the guys and then pulls them both into a hug. “Its good to see you guys. And look, you’re starting to get some muscles in those noodle arms of yours. Your coach must be doing something right.”

Noodle arms? Uh . . . pretty sure those aren’t noodle arms under their suit jackets. They aren’t as big as Hayden, but they surely aren’t middle schoolers draped in rich fabric either.

“Yeah, we’re coming for you, bro. Soon we’ll be taking your ass down on the ice.”

Hayden chuckles. “Keep dreaming, boys.” Pulling me forward and protectively wrapping his arm around me, he says, “I want to introduce you guys to someone. This is—”

“Adalyn,” one of them says, stepping forward with an identically charming smile that rivals Hayden’s. “Mom told us all about you on FaceTime the other night. She was gushing about Hayden’s new girl. She went on and on about how she’s a nurse with a very pretty voice.” Oh Jesus, that’s embarrassing. Sticking out his hand, he says, “I’m Holden, and this is my twin brother, Halsey.”

Hayden, Holden, and Halsey . . . their parents didn’t give girls a chance.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” I shake both their hands. Halsey studies me, his eyes raking up and down my body while Holden flirts harmlessly by kissing the back of my hand.

But Hayden doesn’t seem to find it funny as he swats Holden away. “Keep your distance.” Turning to me, Hayden says, “Holden will pretty much try to seduce everyone and anyone. If you strapped a bra around a mailbox, he would try to take it out on a date.” Holden nods his head in agreement, causing me to laugh. “And Halsey, he’s the silent but deadly type, and I’m not talking about flatulence. He’s a studier and when it’s time, he strikes without warning.”

Holden thumbs toward Halsey. “It’s true. The dude doesn’t say anything to girls, but then one look from him, THE look, and he’s walking out the door, girl in hand. Freaky shit.”

Not speaking much, Halsey shrugs his shoulders and grabs himself a drink from the cooler.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you both.” I bite my bottom lip and say, “Hayden has spoken nothing of the two of you, and I can see why.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

Holden’s mouth drops open and Halsey’s eyebrow rises with humor. “Dude, your girl is totally hitting on us,” Holden says.

“She’s really not.” Hayden pulls me toward the seats overlooking the arena, whispering in my ear, “My dick is bigger than theirs, keep that in mind.”

Laughing, I pinch his side and take a seat next to him. “Seems like they put out though, so the smaller dick size is something I can overlook as long as I’m getting some.”

“Ah, but they sure as hell wouldn’t make you moan like I can.”

I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders. “How can I believe that when you haven’t once made me moan?”

Laughing in his throat and dropping his voice low enough that I can barely hear him, he says, “Two nights ago, when I was pulsing on top of you, my tongue wrapped around yours, my cock thrusting over your center . . .”

Oh God, I moaned so loud because dry-humping is a real thing, especially when the guy has a cock thicker than you’ve ever felt before.

My cheeks heat up, a crimson color most likely spreading over them. “That wasn’t moaning.” I press my lips against his ear. “That was begging.”

“Christ,” he mumbles, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat some more. “Adalyn, are you trying to get me hard?”

“Yes. For the love of God, yes.”

“What’s going on over here?” Holden steps up with a plate in hand, fries and corndogs toppling off the sides.

“Your brother won’t have sex with me.”

Corndog halfway to his mouth, Holden blinks his eyes rapidly and sits on the armrest of one of the chairs. “Excuse me?”

Hayden has his head in his hand, groaning as I smile to myself, pleased with my outburst. A little ribbing from his brothers might help. A girl can only wait for so long before she explodes.

I can only watch him walk around shirtless for so long.

I can only make out with him for so long before my need gets too overwhelming.

I can only dry-hump him so many times before I lose my ever-loving mind.

He’s driving me crazy.

He’s creating a monster with every day that goes by . . . sexless.

And let’s face it, I’m so goddamn horny. He has driven me to the point of being so horny I can feel my skin crawling, trying to undress as quickly as possible whenever he’s around. And when he smiles at me? Forget it, my bra pops open, my nipples wave, waiting to be tweaked.

“Adalyn,” Hayden groans and then turns to me, mirth in his eyes. “Do you know what you just did?”

Uh-oh.

Holden starts laughing, putting his plate down on a little shelf in front of the seats and calls out to Halsey. “Dude, we have some twin tag-team duty to take care of. Hayden, the old fuck over here, is holding out on his girl.” Pushing past Hayden, Holden squats before me and takes my hand. “Come with me, Adalyn. I’ll show you a good time, a better time than this old man can show you. You need a young stallion.”

Hayden pushes Holden in the shoulder, throwing his balance off and sending him against the chairs behind him. “Get out of here before I kick your ass.”

Chuckling, Holden goes back to his plate of food where Halsey is sitting now, picking at the French fries. “There’s something you have to know about our brother,” Holden says, taking a seat. “He’s one of the good guys, always has been. Works hard, is determined, and doesn’t take his relationships lightly. You’re going to be waiting a long time, so saddle up and enjoy the slow burn, because the man is the master at it.”

Looking proud of himself, Hayden nods his appreciation and presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “It’s true . . . the absolute master.”

I just wish the absolute master would get to the saddle-up stage . . . I’m more than ready to ride.

“You have our numbers, so if you need anything, and we mean . . . anything”—Holden emphasizes the word with a wiggle in his brow—“you let us know. We’re only a few hours away.”

“Get out of here.” Hayden steps in and pushes his brother away. “She doesn’t need your numbers.”

“Too late, we plugged them in her phone and made her text us so we had her number.”

“You did?” Hayden turns to me, shocked.

“You were in the bathroom,” I answer. “They pressured me. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a few more weeks before I search them out for my womanly needs.” I wink, causing Holden and Halsey to laugh.

Shaking his head, he pulls his brothers in for a hug, one at a time, speaking quietly in their ears. Holden and Halsey both nod, a serious look on their face, listening intently to their older brother before pulling away and conducting a small secret handshake that makes me smile at the camaraderie between the brothers. They remind me of my siblings, how we playfully rib each other, but still love in our own way.

As I wait, I watch the three of them—all extremely handsome versions of each other—draw the attention from passersby, women making their intentions known with their eyes. There is no doubt in my mind the Holmes brothers were put on this earth to give the female race a run for their money. Their poor mother, what her life must have been like, raising three hockey players.

The smells.

The fighting.

The constant competition.

She has to be a saint.

Now it makes so much sense why she was so excited to talk to me. She’s probably looking for a little estrogen to balance all the endless testosterone in the family.

Waving, I say, “Drive safe, you guys.”

“Bye, Adalyn.” Halsey holds up his hand while Holden mouths for me to call him like a fool.

When we start walking toward Hayden’s car, I ask, “How on earth did you three not kill each other growing up?”

“There were some close calls.” Hayden takes his hand in mine. “But we’re pretty cool with each other now. There’s some animosity between Holden and Halsey sometimes, twin-rivalry type shit, but we get along.”

“I can see that. What did you say to them when you gave them a hug, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Never.” He places a kiss on the back of my hand, holds the door to the arena open for me, and then unlocks his car. “I told them that even though it was summer break, they have responsibilities to continue training. They’re going into their senior years, and it’s important for them to keep focus if they want to go professional.”

“They both want to play professionally?” He nods. “Do you think they’re good enough?”

Hayden helps me into his car and stands in the doorway. “Yeah, no doubt in my mind they have the talent for it, but they just have to keep their heads in the game, that’s all.”

“Have they been known not to do that?”

Slowly Hayden nods, his lips pressed firmly together. “Competition is a funny thing. It’s good to have a little competitiveness in you, because what else would be the driving force for you to grow as a human? But with my family, with my brothers, competition bleeds from our veins. It consumes us. It takes over every last inch of our bodies until we’re helpless, unable to think of anything else. I’ve found ways to curb the feeling, to help ease the anxiety when I start to feel like it’s overtaking me. But Halsey, and especially Holden, they run hot. They’re still trying to learn how to control their fire. How to manage when they’re feeling anxious.”

Playing with the button on his suit jacket, I ask, “You’ve had issues with your competitiveness?”

“Big time. Last season, I went through ten mouth guards because I was grinding down on them so hard. I don’t like losing, Adalyn.”

“That explains your Boggle fit.” I pull him closer to the car. He ducks and grips the edge of the doorway.

“It wasn’t a Boggle fit, it was . . . a small tantrum.”

I turn toward him and unbutton his suit jacket. His tapered waist showcased by the tailored white shirt he has tucked into his waistline. Running my fingers along the buttons, I say, “That was a tantrum? I would hate to see what it’s like when you have a fit.”

“It isn’t pretty.”

“Do you always have to win?” I undo one of the buttons on his shirt and play with the opening, my fingernail grazing his bare skin.

“Yes.”

Tipping my chin up, he searches my eyes right before placing a gentle, yet sultry kiss on my lips. A loud sigh pops out of my mouth when he pulls away. Smiling, pleased with himself, he says, “When is the next time you have off?”

“I have a four-day shift starting Thursday. And then Monday and Tuesday I have off. Why?”

“Come to New York City with me. I have a photo shoot with a sponsor Monday morning and want to take you with me. We can still do touristy stuff, get a hot dog from a street vendor, go on a tour bus ride, and silly crap like that. We can leave Sunday night after you get off work. The sponsor is flying me down. What do you say?”

“Can we go see a Broadway show?”

“Anything you want, baby.” That grin, hell, I’ll say yes to pretty much anything if it causes him to grin like that, with so much joy and excitement. It’s the grin Ariel mentioned earlier. The one with the little crinkle in the corner of his eyes. He has a perpetual smile, really. It’s just who he is. But I know and love the grin.

And to hear him call me baby so casually?

He has me wrapped around his finger. Without a doubt, he’s starting to slowly capture my heart, one deep breath, and one gentle kiss at a time.