It was a hockey puck. I turned it over to find scrawled in Axel’s now-familiar handwriting another message that made me smile. “Please give a puck, and go out with me.”

I shoved the puck in my bag before anyone else saw it, but the smile on my face spread wider. I didn’t have an opportunity to speak to Axel until we were at the hotel waiting for our keys, but I did a lot of staring at the back of his head and his unruly hair, imagining what that hair would feel like in my fingers and against my body, and listening to his hearty laugh as he played poker with the Puck Brothers.

Later, as I waited for my key, he slid up next to me and grinned. “Am I wearing you down yet?”

“Axel, please.” I moved past him and over to one of my coworkers. Axel didn’t follow me, but I felt those intense green eyes watching me, which was somewhat unnerving. He made me feel things I never wanted to feel again. The wounds were too fresh, too raw, and I was too vulnerable. The problem was I wanted him. I wanted him more than anyone I could ever imagine, but hadn’t I also felt that way about Weasel when I’d first met him? Probably. But Axel was different. Yeah, I’d thought that about Weasel. But Axel really was different, wasn’t he? Weasel had been a Sacred Hearts wannabe, a guy who didn’t care much about anyone but himself. He’d been dangerous and dark and hot.

I was so confused and fearful of getting into something I wasn’t healed enough to handle.

Axel left me alone for the remainder of the day, not because he wanted to necessarily but because I was working at the arena. Unpacking all that hockey gear was a huge undertaking.

I didn’t get back to the hotel until midnight. I was heading straight for the elevator when I heard my name called.

“Geneva.”

I stopped and turned in the direction of the voice. Axel lounged in a quiet alcove in the lobby with a book in his hand. He indicated the cushion next to him on the couch. I excused myself from the rest of the equipment staff and wearily walked over to him. I was tired, and all I wanted was to put my head on the pillow.

“Axel, what are you doing here?” Despite my misgivings, I sat down next to him. After a quick glance around, I was certain we wouldn’t be overheard.

“Waiting for you.” His expression was earnest, even concerned, and definitely smoldering. Maybe he’d been doing a little of what I’d been doing in the laundry room and often did to pass the time. I’d been thinking about him naked and all the things we might do to each other.

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.” He patted the thriller novel sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “I had a good book to keep me company, but I’d rather have you.”