The Inside Edge, page 7
For a second he thought Nate was going to agree, and he had a fleeting hot flash of what could happen afterward if he did. If Nate finally let Aubrey close to him. If he brushed the chip off his shoulder and just went with the flow. Aubrey knew they could get along—at the very least outside the bedroom, but maybe in bed too. Nate would be a demanding lover, he thought, but Aubrey could rise to that challenge. Hell, Aubrey would thrive on it.
And then Aloof Nate slipped back into place, and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I’m just going to eat in my room.”
Aubrey fought off a sigh. “Sure,” he said. “Hey, pass me the room service menu on your way out?” If he was going to wallow, he would do it in bed as God intended.
The door clicked softly open. Aubrey made a point not to watch Nate leave.
THE SNOW started coming down halfway through the first period, and Nate’s long experience of winter road trips told him not to count on timely air travel.
By the time he and Aubrey wrapped up the postgame interviews, he had three text messages on his phone. Flight delayed. Flight delayed. Flight canceled.
Nate called the hotel and managed to reserve a king room—apparently the last one the hotel had available, as the storm had knocked out power and heat in more than one neighborhood and all outbound flights were canceled.
Then, on a whim, he called Chez Sono, but even leveraging his “mildly famous, especially in Canada” name, they didn’t take reservations. Getting a cab seemed unlikely, given the forecast, but the restaurant was only a few blocks from the hotel. Maybe he could walk it.
By some miracle he did manage to get a cab back to the hotel. He’d just finished checking in again, and was turning to take his suitcase up to the room when he saw Aubrey at the desk two down from him.
A bellhop took Aubrey’s suitcase, and Aubrey turned toward the hotel bar but stopped when he saw Nate.
“You get the same message I did?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, no flight and now no hotel room. At least they’ll hold my bag, and I think I can buy enough overpriced cocktails down here that they’ll let me stretch out on a couch all night.”
“Probably,” Nate agreed. He had to bite his tongue because he nearly caught himself offering to share his room. Sometimes he had to squash his inborn Midwestern politeness before it caused him to do something stupid.
The bellhop passed, and Nate flagged him down to have his suitcase brought up. Maybe he wouldn’t go whole-hog crazy, but he could at least be friendly. “I was going to brave the snow and check out Chez Sono. They’re open but no reservations. You want to tag along?”
Aubrey paused, looked toward the hotel lobby, then looked outside. Snow beat fiercely against the windowpanes, swirling so thick Nate could barely make out the glow of streetlights. They’d had a matinee, so it was only six. “You think we can get a cab?”
A car drove slowly by, braked, kept going, and bumped gently into a parked vehicle.
Nate looked from the blinking lights and blaring alarms back to Aubrey. “Actually, I’m thinking about walking.”
“I’m game.” Aubrey grinned. “Maybe with our combined charm we can wrangle a table. Or maybe we’ll look so pathetic by then they’ll take pity.”
“Whatever gets us fed.” Nate held the door open for him, feeling something akin to camaraderie. Or maybe he was just that hungry.
They didn’t talk on the walk, between being bundled up and hustling along the sidewalk. Aubrey held his phone up, and the map app glowed like a beacon.
When they arrived, Chez Sono was bustling—Winnipeg wasn’t going to shut down over a little snow. The hostess gave them a ridiculous wait time before suggesting that they try for a spot at the bar. Aubrey took off as soon as she said that, leaving Nate to mutter, “Thanks” before following in his wake.
He had to admit it gave him a pretty good view. Aubrey’s suit was tailored to flatter his lean frame, showing off a slender waist and strong shoulders. He wasn’t the only one who noticed either. A high-top table of women turned their heads almost in unison as he passed.
“I can’t believe they’re slammed in this weather,” Aubrey commented, shaking his head. “This better be some restaurant.”
The cocktail menu was eight pages, leather-bound, with prices to match. When the bartender managed to stop mixing drinks long enough to take their order, Nate asked for a Negroni and Aubrey an Aviation, and then Nate asked for a plate of the bacon-wrapped dates to start.
Aubrey raised an eyebrow.
“Hardly anyone has food right now,” Nate pointed out. “It’s early. Kitchen’s just getting started. We’re going to be here a while.”
“Yeah, I know. The eyebrow was for your selection.”
Oh, were they going to give each other a hard time at dinner too? Fine by Nate. He rolled his eyes gamely. “Hey, you don’t have to have any.”
“Let’s not be hasty. I’ll try anything once.” Aubrey batted his eyelashes.
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me.”
Aubrey flashed a sly smile. “Can’t just do the same thing over and over. What fun would that be?”
Just then a raucous crowd of thirtysomething guys behind Aubrey laughed uproariously, making him flinch. He leaned forward, a tactical error as the loud group took it as an opportunity to invade their space. Aubrey spared them one annoyed glance before hitching his stool closer.
If that group spread out any more, they’d push Aubrey into Nate’s lap.
That would be awkward.
“If you wanted to fight them for it, you think you could take them?” Nate meant it as a joke, but hearing himself, it sounded weirdly like innuendo.
Aubrey pursed his lips, as if considering. “Maybe the big one in the blue shirt, but I’ve had better.”
Nate’s eyes widened. “I meant—”
“Aviation and Negroni,” the bartender interrupted.
“Thank you!” Aubrey chirped. “Hey, can I put in an order for those truffle-oil fries with the banana ketchup? I’m intrigued.”
“Sure thing.”
“Banana ketchup,” Nate repeated. “That sounds….”
“Both disgusting and kind of dirty?” He grinned and hooked his feet around the bar rail. “I know, that’s why I ordered it.” For a second, Nate thought he’d escaped their previous conversation, and he couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or disappointed. But then Aubrey went on as if they’d never been interrupted, “What about you?”
Nate’s throat went dry, so he picked up his drink. Even in his shock he could tell it was expertly made, the perfect balance of sweet and bitter. Strong too. He licked his lips afterward and cleared his throat. Still dry. “What about me, what?”
Aubrey gestured at the party behind them. “You had better than blue-shirt guy?”
Damn it. Nate’s ears went hot. Fortunately the restaurant kept the lighting dim. Aubrey probably couldn’t tell. “I’ve never had blue-shirt guy. How do I know what he’s like in bed?”
“Oh come on.” Aubrey bumped his shoulder. “Guy like that? You can definitely tell. He probably shaved again tonight before coming out to dinner. His shoes are gleaming, even though there’s six inches of snow on the ground. He’s eating french fries delicately. With a fork. Completely avoiding the banana ketchup, I might add.”
“Maybe he’s allergic,” Nate said, half in defense, half amusement.
“Maybe he’s a priss who doesn’t like getting his hands sticky.”
“Sounds like he’s not your type.” Nate was pretty sure Aubrey would tell him what his type was, and Nate wasn’t quite comfortable with why he wanted to know.
“He’s in good shape—the type who treats his body like a temple.” Aubrey rolled his eyes. “I’m with Tony Bourdain. Your body isn’t a temple. It’s an amusement park; enjoy the ride. I mean, I like to look good, and I appreciate a guy who puts in the effort. But I also like a man who knows when to cut loose and have a good time. But maybe he’s your speed?”
What? Aubrey thought he’d be into loud and big and obnoxious in public, not to mention apparently bad in bed?
“How do you figure?” Nate snapped.
“Well, big and dumb is probably pretty plentiful in the NHL, and I guess there were a few that would let you tap it in, so to speak.”
Boy was Aubrey wrong on so many levels. Nate couldn’t resist a derisive chuckle. “You have no fucking idea what I like or what I’ve done.” Or what I haven’t done, Nate mentally added.
Aubrey raised his hands defensively. “All right, you’re right. Sorry.” His eyes had widened in surprise, and they were still wide, but now they held something else too, something shrewd. Calculating. “Big and dumb has historically been my type, not yours. Sorry for projecting.” He gave a slight grin, somehow inviting Nate to envision him with a mildly tarnished halo.
Nate took another sip of his cocktail and let himself be mollified. He was in a nice restaurant with a fabulous drink, and the weather was, at least for now, something he didn’t need to worry about. He was going to enjoy this unexpected downtime. And that meant he had to give Aubrey something. “I don’t know that I have a type.” In juniors he’d fooled around with guys who could be discreet. By his sophomore year of college, he felt confident enough about his future to come out, but between hockey and homework, he didn’t have a lot of time to meet anyone.
“What about your ex?”
“Marty’s a decent guy. We had a good partnership for a long time. I wish him the best.”
“Whew.” Aubrey finished his drink in one long swallow—Nate watched his throat—and then gestured to the bartender for another. “That is some Stanley Cup Final quality shade.”
Nate looked at him, wide-eyed.
“Come on, tell me your ex is a ‘nice guy’ when I ask who you like to fuck—” Aubrey paused, squinted at Nate as if trying to focus on something, then flicked his tongue to moisten his lips before continuing. “—or who you like to fuck you?” he finished, making it a question.
Nate reflexively tightened his fingers on his glass, then decided he might be better off drinking the stuff and letting the alcohol deal with the sudden tension in his shoulders. He knocked back the rest and made sure the bartender noticed him too. He’d planned to order something different, just to try, but expediency seemed more prudent. “He is a nice guy,” he said, expecting to come across as defensive. Instead it sounded defeated, so he figured he might as well add, “That was part of the problem.”
Aubrey had been taking a sip from his water glass, and at this, he sputtered and nearly sprayed the bar top. Fortunately he managed to grab a napkin in time to avoid that level of attention-calling mishap. “Oh wow. Uh. I don’t know what to say to that.”
With a shrug, Nate picked up a bar napkin of his own and absently tore off a corner. “I mean, the part where he fell in love with someone else while we were still married and then left me for him, that was definitely the main issue. So. I can’t blame it all on the… on the sex.”
Look at him, a grown man at a bar having a mature conversation about his sex life. Like a real hockey player! He felt like he’d slipped into another dimension.
At this, Aubrey nodded slowly, mercifully keeping his gaze fixed on his water glass. Nate appreciated the privacy as he tried to school his body’s reactions. Sex wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. And it wasn’t even the state of his sex life with Marty that made him blush. For some reason Aubrey had assumed Nate regularly took men home, had sex with them, then lost their numbers and went on with his life. That kind of casual relationship with sex had never interested Nate—or he’d told himself it hadn’t. Now… well, now that things with Marty were over, he wished he at least had the experience to go out and hook up and scratch an itch he hadn’t scratched properly in years. But he didn’t know where to start. And that… okay, that embarrassed him.
Finally Aubrey cleared his throat just as the bartender came around with their drinks and, wonder of wonders, the dates Nate had ordered. They thanked him, and then Aubrey said, “Well, you know what the best revenge is, right?”
Nate nodded, unaccountably disappointed. “Yeah, yeah. Living well. Blah, blah.”
“Living well?” Aubrey scoffed. “Hell no. Going out and having lots of filthy, no-strings-attached sex with the hottest guys you can find—that’s revenge.”
“That’s a bit out of my wheelhouse.” Nate watched Aubrey’s jaw drop. He could practically hear the record-scratch sound as Aubrey went completely still, a forked date halfway to his mouth.
Aubrey’s eyebrows were the first to move, rising in two evenly matched, perfectly formed arches. “Well that’s a fucking shame for the men of Chicago.” He glanced around, then whispered conspiratorially, “And Winnipeg. Can’t imagine there’s not a few guys here who’d take home a big slab of All-American beef.” He paused for a sip of his cocktail. “Some of them might even know what to do with you.”
A plate of fries with a pot of sauce was placed in front of them. Aubrey immediately plucked one, then dunked it daintily, raised it up, and gave it a tentative lick.
“Oh. Oh. That’s good.” Aubrey proceeded to slip the fry into his mouth like a straw and suck the sauce off of it. “You have got to try this.” He swallowed and grinned at Nate. “And act fast because I could eat the whole thing.”
Nate would have liked to pick up a fry, except the only parts of his body that could communicate with his brain at the moment were located below the belt, and he didn’t think he could manage it with his dick. What was happening to him? He’d never had trouble keeping a lid on his physical reactions—at least not since before he met Marty. Finally he realized he was staring stupidly and managed, “So you’re a fan of the banana ketchup, huh.”
“In all its forms, apparently,” Aubrey said salaciously. He picked up another fry. “Seriously. These are amazing.”
The glue binding Nate in place eventually gave, and he reached for a fry of his own. The hot oil on the surface stung his fingers, but it did smell incredible. The ketchup was an ugly sort of yellow-brown, but Nate dunked anyway, surprised to find it did taste similar to traditional ketchup, but sweeter and a little spicy. “Mmm,” he agreed, licking at a spot of sauce that had dripped down his thumb. “Okay, I admit these are better than the dates.”
Aubrey was staring at his thumb. The heat of it burned Nate’s skin, made his neck tingle. His dick jerked in his pants when Aubrey licked his lips. Nate bit the inside of his cheek hard to distract himself.
“Told you,” Aubrey said. “Sometimes you’ve gotta get your hands dirty.”
“Getting your hands dirty? Is that how you do it?” Nate blurted.
There was a brief pause as Aubrey flicked his gaze from Nate’s thumb to his lips to his eyes. He seemed to decide something, because he finally said, “Do you want me to tell you or would you like me to show you?”
Nate swallowed hard. He’d been wondering if maybe they might get there, but Aubrey had just cut to the chase, cool and confident. That did something for Nate. He pulled his wallet out and shoved enough bills on the bar to cover a nice tip.
“I know you’re a show-off,” Nate quipped. “But can you put your money where your mouth is?”
This time when Aubrey smiled, it was that slow, teasing, burning one that made Nate’s pants feel tight. “Wouldn’t you rather know if I’ll put my mouth where the money is?” For just a second, he put his hand over Nate’s, and the contact sent an unfamiliar thrill up Nate’s spine. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Seven
THE WEATHER—and it was shitty, with big, wet flakes of snow and a wind to blow them sideways—at least kept them decent on the way back to the hotel. Aubrey started on his coat buttons as soon as they were in the lobby, and Nate was already fumbling for the key card when they got into the elevator.
Were his hands shaking? Aubrey thought so as Nate tapped the card, opened the door, and immediately looked for somewhere to put his coat.
That wouldn’t do, giving himself a chance to get jittery. “Hey,” Aubrey called out as the door closed behind him. Nate turned around, and Aubrey crooked a finger.
Nate took two steps toward Aubrey, smooth and fast like he was being pulled on a string. That was a response to file away for later. In the meantime, though, Aubrey needed them to be touching. He hauled Nate in by his lapels. “That’s better.”
It was better—Nate was somehow already radiating warmth, his chest firm under Aubrey’s hands. Aubrey couldn’t tell if his cheeks had reddened from the wind or something else, but his eyes, those he could read. He wanted this just as much as he had at the restaurant, but nerves were getting the better of him.
“I,” Nate began, and Aubrey kissed him.
He reached up one hand to Nate’s cheek, traced his thumb over Nate’s jaw as he coaxed him to turn and angle just so as Aubrey parted his lips against Nate’s to deepen the kiss. Aubrey was aiming for slow, sweet before he worked up to sexy, devastating in order to give Nate a few minutes to relax and make sure he was comfortable. Aubrey was already getting hard, and fuck if he hadn’t been thinking about this for weeks. But if Nate wasn’t good with this, Aubrey wanted to give him an easy out. Better to spend the night on a lobby couch than to seduce someone less than enthusiastic into a no-strings hookup.
Aubrey planned to start slow and sweet, but the moment Aubrey grazed Nate’s side with his hand, Nate made a low, hungry sound. He made the kiss deeper and harder and walked Aubrey backward until his ass hit the closed door.
Out of practice or not, Nate kissed absolutely filthy. He curled his fingers into the fabric at the waist of Aubrey’s shirt, tightly enough that it almost pinched, and when he swept his tongue through Aubrey’s mouth, he followed by scoring his teeth over Aubrey’s lower lip. Aubrey gasped in encouragement, widening his stance as Nate pushed closer between his legs. Nate’s dick was hard against his hip, and Aubrey relished the pressure of Nate’s thigh against his own erection.
Apparently Nate had two settings—slow and now. While Aubrey was still trying to convince his fingers away from Nate’s chest to remove his clothing, Nate was way ahead of him, nimbly unfastening Aubrey’s belt. Nate’s stubble rasped over the skin around Aubrey’s mouth as they kissed, and the raw, sensual prickle left him wondering how much better it would feel on the insides of his thighs.
