Page 33 of Knocked Sideways

“Got it.” Remy frowned. “Like, ever? Because you’ve got, you know . . .” He trailed off and looked away, and Jed knew he shouldn’t ask, but he did anyway.

“I’ve got what?” Jed tried to keep his voice light, but it came out more like a growl, and he could swear Remy shivered.

“The whole lumberjack thing going on.” Remy was turning bright red, but he kept talking anyway, like he was determined to show that it was no big deal. “With the beard. And the arms. I mean, I’ve seen people say that online. Whatever. I won’t say anything in front of the guys. Smoothie? It’s a banana, berry, spinach, and chia combo that Petey’s brother showed me.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Jed knew he should be relieved that Remy was changing the subject, but he also felt a stab of—regret, maybe? It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his lack of any kind of love life, but Remy being interested was⁠—

It’s not any damn thing, Jed scolded himself. It wasn’t any damn thing at all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

REMY

Remy could admit that he’d been half-relieved and half-terrified when Hal forced Jed to invite him to stay. Because, yeah, he hated the hotel. But living in Jed’s house? Being alone with Jed all the time? How was he supposed to be calm about that?

He’d almost completely blown it, too, with his incredibly awkward teasing and questions and not knowing about elk the first morning—like, what the hell had possessed him to joke about Jed being a bear? And a sexy lumberjack? And then to say he’d seen it online?

But Jed seemed willing to pretend that hadn’t happened, and Remy had managed to stay away from anything too personal or embarrassing since then. And now after only a few days, he found that living with Jed felt pretty easy, at least in some ways.

Jed’s house was gorgeous, to start with. The view of the mountains and sky was like the backdrop on a movie set—blue and green and brown and gold as far as the eye could see. The house itself was comfortable and lived-in, with lots of wood accents and honest-to-God art on the walls. In the living room, Jed had two huge framed photographs of a creek winding through a pasture with mountains in the background, only in one the pasture was barren, and in the other it was lush with wildflowers and trees growing along the water. Remy thought it might be a place that was important to Jed, but he hadn’t had the courage to ask about it yet.

Jed always had the coffee going by the time Remy woke up, and he used good beans, not the instant stuff Remy had been living off in Montreal. Then while Jed finished up his stretching or yoga or whatever he did in his basement gym, Remy made them smoothies and oatmeal or eggs if they had time. Jed was surprised and, Remy thought—though it was hard to tell—pleased. Like he hadn’t been expecting it.

And on the first evening, Jed had simply said, “I like to cook, and I always make a lot,” and he started feeding Remy real meals when they got home from practice or a game. Lots of chicken and fish and whole grains and veggies, all with flavors that far surpassed anything Remy produced for himself. Jed had again maybe seemed pleased by Remy’s compliments but brushed them off, pulling open a drawer full of spice blends and saying, “It’s not magic. You’ll get used to them quick enough.”

On the two nights so far when they hadn’t had games, Remy’d done the dishes—he could contribute that, if nothing else—and they’d both lounged on opposite sides of the giant sectional, a hockey game on in the background and tablets in hand, catching up on tape review or talking about the teams that were playing or sharing something particularly ridiculous from the team group chat (on Remy’s part) or reading (on Jed’s part) and just recharging after a long day.

The truth was, it was kind of perfect, and Remy didn’t know what to do about that.

On one hand, it was definitely helping his game. He was well-rested, well-fed, and not thinking about much besides hockey. He was finally putting up points, and Coach was trying him out on the first penalty kill squad. He was making progress, even if he wasn’t always playing at the level he wanted.

But also.

Jed was right there, all of the time.

Passing Remy with a brief hand on his arm in the kitchen in the morning, leaving him feeling like his skin was on fire.

Brushing his fingers against Remy’s when he handed him a plate full of food in the evening, making Remy think about what those fingers would feel like trailing down his chest.

Lounging on the couch in sweats that fit like a glove and well-worn tees that stretched across his chest, highlighting how massive he was—how easily he’d be able to pin Remy in place if that’s what Remy wanted.

Reading one of those books he kept piled next to the couch with a look of concentration that Remy found incredibly sexy, and that he couldn’t help but imagine focused on him instead.

And seemingly unbothered by all of those touches and all of those glances that Remy knew he was shooting Jed’s way.

Yeah, when Remy wasn’t thinking about hockey, he was pretty much thinking about Jed. And while it was kind of perfect, Remy also thought he might combust at any moment.

Lily had an opinion, of course, when Remy called her after a week of wrestling with the problem of how he was going to stay sane while living in Jed’s house.

“When I told you to get over Mike with someone else, I didn’t mean you should fall for the first attractive guy who’s the tiniest bit nice to you,” she scolded. “I mean, I know I’m only a few weeks into a psychology degree, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say maybe you need to work through some daddy issues before you try dating an older guy again.”

“That’s not what’s going on, Lil.” Remy felt sure about that. Maybe the whole never-having-met-his-sperm-donor helped explain why a little attention from Mike had turned his head so much. But he’d always been conscious that Mike was older and more experienced in a way that he wasn’t with Jed, who never talked down to him and seemed to assume he was a functioning adult. “I mean, yes, he’s older, but it doesn’t feel the same at all. He’s a decent guy. I really like him.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Lily was talking to him while she walked to class, so he couldn’t see her expression, but he could imagine the “oh my God why are you like this” look on her face all too well. “So either tell him you’re into him or move out or get over it. Those are the choices, right?”

Well, it wasn’t like Remy hadn’t figured that out himself, but none of them sounded good. He took the easiest one first. “I can’t tell him, Lil. He’s my teammate. And he’s doing me a huge favor by giving me a place to stay.”

“And even though I love to tease you about him, I actually agree that getting over your crush is the better choice. Like, wouldn’t it be great if you met someone who’s not a hockey player a million years older than you?” Remy could hear the eye roll.