Page 2 of Aspen's Defense

"Oh my god." I glare at him. "Why do you even bother coming here anymore?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He smirks, swiping his cup from the counter to take a drink.

I take back everything I said. My boss sucks.

"Aspen!"

"I swear to God, Jack," I growl, marching out of the stock room half an hour later. I drag the back of my hand across my forehead, pushing damp tendrils of hair out of my face. Why is it always so hot back there? "If you don't stop shouting my name like the freaking roof is on fire, I'm going to lose my ever-loving min…" I trail off, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the doorway as my gaze lands on Jack. Well, not on Jack but on the gorgeous man standing beside him.

Noah Diamante, AHL superstar. The man is drop-dead gorgeous. His olive skin and razor-sharp jawline are enough to make women do crazy things. And don't even get me started on his smoking hot body or those penetrating green eyes that make my stomach turn flips.

My brother has played hockey my entire life. None of his teammates ever gave me the butterflies until he played with Noah on the Yellowjackets a few years ago. Noah blew out his knee a few years into his NHL career and got sent down to their AHL team—the Yellowjackets—to recover. Unfortunately for me, Nash got called up to the Capitals, and we moved back to Washington before I ever got the chance to actually meet Noah, but I've been following his career ever since. I'd heard that he was making the move to Silver Spoon Falls to play for the Falcons. I might have even done a little happy dance.

But that was before Nash called to tell me he asked Noah to keep an eye on me. As if I haven't lived in this town on my own for the better part of two years. As if I want one of my brother's friends—even one who looks like Noah—meddling in my life. The absolute last thing I need is for Noah to report all my business to Nash.

He'll never leave me alone, then.

Dear Baby Jesus, is there a return policy on older brothers? Asking for a friend.

"There you are." Jack beams, oblivious to the fact that I've been rendered stupid at the sight of Noah in his tattered jeans and dark t-shirt. Seriously. Couldn't Nash have sent Quasimodo, at least? "Noah is here to see you."

Noah?Noah? Oh my God. How are they possibly on a first-name basis already? I wasn't in the stock room that long.

"Hey." Noah shoots me a grin. And hello, ovaries. Nice of you to join us. "You probably don't know who the fuck I am, but–"

"Noah Diamante, first-line left defenseman for the Falcons. You played hockey with my brother on the Yellowjackets during your first year on the team. You're consistently one of the top defensive players in the league, though you haven't managed to outscore Slaney yet." Why am I babbling? Mouth, please shut up.

"You know hockey," he says with an easy smile, clearly impressed. "Nice."

"It happens when your older brother plays," I mumble.

His smile grows. "I can see that. Nash said you knew your shit."

"What else did Nash say?" I'm not entirely sure I want to know. My brother knows all my dirty secrets…like the fact that I wanted to be a dragon when I was a kid, and about my humiliating Jane Austen era. I'm pretty sure I still have an entire diary full of thee's and thou's chronicling that period floating around somewhere. Don't even get me started on what Nash knows about my dating life. Considering that he's the reason I've never actually had one…well, let's just say he knows all the pitiful details.

"Not nearly enough," Noah mutters, his gaze flicking up and down my body.

I quickly cross my arms to hide my nipples, fairly certain he can see them through my uniform top since they're hard enough to cut glass at this point. His eyes heat and darken as he looks me over, turning my blood to liquid fire.

"He didn't tell me that you're fucking gorgeous. He also didn't tell me that hearing you talk hockey would get me all hot and bothered."

"Jesus Christ," Jack mumbles, scratching his face as if to hide a smile.

"You did not just say that." I gape at Noah, pretty sure he may have been dropped on his head as a baby.

"Uh, yeah. Not trying to be rude, but have you seen you?" He looks at me like I'm the one talking crazy here. "Nash didn't tell me that you look like a dirty little angel." He glances at Jack. "Shit. No offense or anything."

"None taken." Jack holds up his hands, smirking like the dang cat that ate the canary. I'm killing him. "Please, feel free to continue like I'm not even here."

"Oh my god," I whisper, glaring at my boss, who is practically choking on his tongue to keep from falling into a fit of laughter. This isn't the first time someone has hit on me at work. It happens more than I'd like. People seem to think that flirting with the barista is a sure way to get VIP treatment around here. They quickly learn that flattery will get them nowhere with me.

But Jack loves watching the show anyway. This is one show that needs to end soon, however. Noah may have starred in most of my fantasies for the last few years, but I'm not falling for his crap. No way. Not when I know he's reporting back to my brother.

"Where are we going to dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?" I blink, caught off guard by the question.

"Dinner tonight," Noah repeats. "Where do you want to go after you show me around town?"