Crossing the Line Read online

  Table of Contents

  Crossing the Line

  About the Book

  Playlist

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Down and Dirty

  Get Two Free Books

  Follow Kendall

  About the Author

  Other Books By Kendall Ryan

  Crossing the Line

  Copyright © 2020 Kendall Ryan

  Developmental Editing by

  Rachel Brookes

  Content Editing by

  Elaine York

  Copy Editing by

  Pam Berehulke

  Cover Design and Formatting by

  Uplifting Author Services

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  About the Book

  Recovering from a pulled groin muscle isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my much-needed summer vacation.

  But I’ll admit, being nursed back to health by my gorgeous friend Bailey, who’s just graduated from medical school, doesn’t exactly sound like a hardship.

  We spend a week together at my family’s beach house, a week of swimming and barbecues, a week of entertaining my little cousins and sleeping right across the hall from each other. A week of watching Bailey grow closer with my mom and sisters, and my wacky but lovable grandma. A week of enjoying Bailey tending to me—which is saying something, because it involves a lot of shoving ice packs into my underwear and taping up sore muscles.

  She’s funny and kind, and after just being myself for the first time in a long time, I find my walls come tumbling down. But when Bailey says she’s not looking for a relationship, I’m bound and determined to be more than just the fun hookup who sprained his groin a second time—this time with her.

  Your favorite hot jocks are back with an all-new standalone novel. If you like sexy, confident men who know how to handle a stick (on and off the ice), and smart women who are strong enough to keep all those big egos in check, this series is for you!

  (Books can be enjoyed in any order.)

  Playlist

  “Electricity” by Silk City, Dua Lipa

  “Sexy Boy” by Air

  “One More Night” by Maroon 5

  “Jealous” by Chromeo

  “Body” by Loud Luxury featuring Brando

  “What’s Luv?” by Fat Joe featuring Ashanti

  “Connection” by OneRepublic

  “Till I Found You” by Phil Wickham

  1

  * * *

  Truth Bombs

  Asher

  I see it. I want it. I take it.

  Hockey career. Fancy apartment in Seattle. Women. It doesn’t matter what, it’s just how I’ve always operated. Unapologetically and without shame.

  Only not now. Because right now, everything is totally screwed.

  “Are you okay?” Owen asks, peering over the rim of his pint glass at me. He’s our team’s goalie and one of my best friends.

  With a sigh, I give him a noncommittal shrug. I’m getting really tired of everyone asking me that.

  I’m nursing a pretty serious injury. A concussion that will keep me sidelined for the rest of the season, and a pulled groin that makes everything painful—walking, sitting, never mind something more vigorous like sex. That’s completely off the table.

  I’m sitting in a dimly lit bar around the corner from my apartment with two of my teammates while an ice water sweats in front of me. It feels like a metaphor for my life right now. We spent the day getting fitted for tuxedos for Owen’s upcoming wedding, where we’ll all be groomsmen. Then we grabbed a bite to eat and lingered after our plates had been cleared away for one more beer for them—and water for me.

  Leaning back in my chair, I push one hand through my hair. “Who the hell knows? Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe it was the universe telling me I’ve been going too hard for too long, and I needed a break before I burned myself out completely.”

  Even as I say the words, I doubt there’s any truth to them. I just don’t think my teammates want to hear how fucking depressing it is that I won’t be playing with them.

  “Damn, Asher. That’s some poetic shit right there,” Teddy says. Like me, he’s one of the team’s starting centers.

  “Eh.” I tilt my head. “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.”

  The guys chuckle.

  “Speaking of nuts . . .” Owen gives his eyebrows a wiggle, and we all fall into easy laughter.

  There’s the Owen we know and love. You never know what’s going to come flying out of his mouth. Like the time we were detained at the airport by security after the TSA agent asked him, “Sir, do you have any weapons or explosives on you?”

  “You mean other than this bomb-ass dick in my pants?” Owen said with a smirk.

  That little comment cost us over an hour in a special interview room.

  Good times.

  He's a little unpredictable. A little wild. That’s not to say he hasn’t chilled out some since becoming engaged earlier this year. He has. But he’s still very much Owen, which means providing regular comic relief to our group of friends, often in the way of dirty jokes and clever one-liners.

  Teddy is a little older, a little more levelheaded of the two, and can generally be relied on for providing solid advice. Only right now, I don’t want to hear anyone’s advice about what I should be doing with my unexpected and unwanted time off.

  Before the guys can probe any further, we spot a couple of our female friends across the bar—and my stomach tightens. Bailey is petite and gorgeous and as smart as a whip. She’s about to graduate from medical school, and though I’ve never admitted it before, I have a major thing for her. She’s with her friend Aubree, who’s dark-haired and a little quieter and more serious. I’ve been friends with both of them for the past few years after meeting them through mutual friends.

  Even if I wanted to, I can’t help the way my gaze skims over Bailey’s curves as I watch her approach. A fitted pair of blue jeans artfully torn at both knees encase her legs, a black T-shirt hugs her chest, and white tennis shoes complete her casual yet sexy-as-fuck look. Her blonde wavy hair skims the tops of her shoulders, accentuating the long, delicate column of her neck as her inquisitive brown eyes lock with mine.

  I grab my water and take a long drink, trying to douse the strange tightness in my chest as she and Aubree stop beside our table.

  “Hi Asher,” Bailey says, meeting my eyes with a soft smile.

  “Hey,” I rasp out, suddenly feeling a little dizzy.

  “What are you two ladies up to tonight?” Teddy asks with a grin.

  Bailey tucks a strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear, meeting my gaze briefly again before looking away. “Just picking up a takeout order. We’re staying in tonight, but had a sudden craving for truffle fries and stuffed mushrooms.”

/>   I nod. It’s what I’d wanted to do too—stay in, that is. “Sounds like fun.”

  “How are you feeling, Ashe?” Bailey asks, looking at me with concern.

  Who knows, maybe it’s her medical training taking over, but something feels different about her expression. I look fine from the outside—no black eyes, bandages, or bruises. But she’s smart enough to know that the deepest wounds are sometimes the ones you can’t see.

  “I’m out for at least two weeks, maybe the rest of the season.” I can’t help the hint of frustration in my voice.

  The details of my injury have been plastered all over the news, the replay shown in slow motion on TV so many times, it felt like I was watching it happen to someone else. But the pain in my crotch and the fuzzy feeling inside my head serve as constant reminders that it was me who was slammed into the boards that game.

  Bailey gives me a concerned look. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “That’s awful,” Aubree adds, her mouth turned down.

  I don’t like the look of pity on everyone’s faces when I tell them. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been responding to text messages or phone calls—I don’t want to hear anyone’s disappointment that I’m not playing in the playoffs. It’s only the biggest moment of my life, and now it’s happening without me.

  “You guys want to take a seat while you wait?” I make a move from the stool I’m occupying but Bailey shakes her head.

  “I’m good,” Aubree adds.

  “I’m actually going to visit the ladies room before we go,” Bailey says.

  This bar is great—it’s dark, quiet and relaxed, but one weird thing is that the restrooms are located out back, in a separate building beside the parking lot. And since there’s no way I’m going to let Bailey wander out there alone after dark, I rise from my seat. “I have to go too. I’ll walk with you.”

  She nods and leads the way toward the back exit.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself from checking out her ass her she walks. Jesus, Asher. When we reach the door, I hold it open and Bailey slips past me. The scent of her floral shampoo is like a sucker punch to the nervous system. I’m suddenly all keyed-up and I don’t even know why. Since I lied about needing to use the bathroom, I enter the men’s room and wash my hands, then wait for her outside on the dimly lit sidewalk.

  I haven't spent much one-one-onetime with Bailey, but I didn't need to in order to know she was good people. A med-school student well on her way to becoming a doctor. Kind eyes. A little sassy. Curves for days. Exactly what I'd look for in a woman. Not that I have to go looking these days. The past few years have been an all you can eat buffet of girls eager for my company. Not that I've complained. Hell no. Far from it. But that doesn't mean I might feel differently if I ever had the chance with a good girl like Bailey.

  Footsteps announce her arrival. “Thanks, Ashe,” she says when she spots me leaning against the concrete wall. Her small smile signals that the jig is up. She knows I only came so she wouldn’t come back here alone.

  “Anytime.” Our eyes meet for a second longer than necessary and yet, I can’t make my feet move. “Having a good summer so far?” I ask.

  She nods. “It’s been a little busy, but yes.” Bailey shifts, shoving one slender hand in the pocket of her jeans.

  Memories of last summer flash through my brain. One long weekend we’d all taken a ferry to Orcas Island to stay in a couple of cabins located right along the rocky shoreline. We’d gone whale watching and had visited a winery. I think Elise and Aubree had planned the whole thing, but I honestly don’t even know. I’d chipped in some money for the cabin and for groceries and packed a rain jacket and my hiking boots. That was the weekend I’d first started noticing things about Bailey that I never had before. Like how smart she was, how fun, and how pretty she was— even without a drop of makeup, or access to a blow-dryer, she had all my attention.

  Not that she really noticed me. Hell, if she noticed I was a single dude at all, she didn’t let on. She’d mostly hung out with the girls. She’s close with Sara, Elise, Becca and Aubree. And I mostly hung out with the guys—all the usual suspects from the team were there. But still, Bailey and I crossed paths at the breakfast table and at the nightly bonfires. I secretly loved how she gave zero fucks about wearing sweatpants and cozy fleece sweaters all weekend long. How she cursed when she burnt her hot dog in the fire and made one of the guys switch with her.

  With the twitch of smile, Bailey continues past me, leading the way back to the table, and the spell is broken.

  When we reach our group, the topic of discussion is summer travel.

  “So, you’re going to the big family reunion now?” Owen asks me, bringing me back into the conversation.

  “No,” I grumble.

  “What family reunion?” Teddy says before taking another sip of his beer.

  Clearing my throat, I lean forward, putting my elbows on the table. “It’s my grandma’s eighty-fifth birthday this summer, and she wanted all the family to get together at her house on the beach in San Diego. It’s next weekend, so I assumed I wouldn’t be able to go, that we’d still be in the playoffs. And you guys will,” I say, giving my teammates a stern look, “but I won’t.”

  Owen makes a confused expression. “So, why not go? Coach will let you.”

  “I’m not going because the team says I have to bring a nurse with me, and that’s fucking ridiculous. I’m a grown-ass man. I’m not going to spend my vacation getting sponge-bathed by some stranger, or being frowned at any time I try to have a beer. I’d rather keep my ass home. At least then I can relax in my own space.”

  “A trip to California for a week?” Bailey asks. I find myself nodding as I meet her eyes again. “I’ll do it,” she says, causing all of us to appraise her with varying degrees of confusion.

  “Huh?”

  “Be your nurse. I’ll do it. I’ll come with you.” Her wide brown eyes meet mine in earnest.

  “Why?” I blink at her, still utterly confused.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. A free trip to San Diego?”

  “You’re a doctor, not a nurse.”

  “True. But I have two weeks off before my residency starts.”

  I can barely hear the rest of her words. Suddenly, everyone’s got an opinion, and they’re all encouraging this—loudly.

  “Do it, dude,” Owen says, then finishes off his beer with a long swallow. “It’ll be much better than the team assigning you some stranger, and you’ll get to see your family. That has to improve your sour-ass mood, man.”

  He’s right, but I kind of wanted to dig my heels in on this one and stay home, holed up like a miserable bastard. I know already that it will be difficult to maintain my sour mood once the California sunshine hits my skin, or when my grandmother dishes out one of her inappropriate stories.

  If I stay home, I’ll only be punishing myself. And Bailey looking so excited by the idea of this trip has me a little intrigued.

  “Okay. I’ll clear it with the team next week. Our head athletic trainer may want to talk with you first.”

  Bailey nods, still smiling. “Sounds good. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” My heart rate kicks up at the possibility of heading to SoCal with Bailey.

  After a few more minutes of small talk, the girls excuse themselves to pick up their order, which is ready, and then it’s just us guys again.

  “Be careful with Bailey,” Owen says after a tense minute of silence.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He gives me a pointed look. “It means that you’re you, and she’s her, and I’m just trying to keep it real. She’ll be doing you a favor traveling with you, remember that.”

  “I’m not following, dude. I understand she’d be doing me a favor.” Even as I grumble out these words, I know what he’s referring to.

  For years, I’ve played hard and rested little in my time off. I’ve gone from game to game, play to play, fight t
o fight, like an addict constantly looking for his next fix. Hockey is the only thing that makes me feel whole, and I’ve pursued it relentlessly. Of course, now that’s all off the table. At least, for the time being.

  When my parents first divorced, I was young and hurt, filled with a rage that no amount of hockey could drown out. I would launch myself at opponents, fists flying, without always knowing the reasons why.

  It was a behavior that got rewarded. My coaches loved it. But now I see it was a defense mechanism. I never had to think. Never had to feel. I just acted. I did what felt good and what came naturally to me—and that was hockey. Except now I can’t play. At least, not right now, and it feels like some kind of prison sentence.

  A lot has changed over the last decade. I’d like to think I’ve matured, calmed down a bit. But my reputation, it seems, hasn’t faded.

  The rumors about me are vicious. People say I’m selfish. An asshole. Some of it is true. Maybe more than some of it. But I don’t care to admit that to myself right now, because more than just my ego was bruised.

  “Bailey’s a big girl. She can handle herself.” Teddy studies me as if he’s trying to read my intentions.

  My only intentions are to visit with my grandmother and try not to focus on the fact I’ve been temporarily sidelined from doing the one thing I love.

  “Just wanted to put my two cents in,” Owen says defensively, leaning back with his bulky forearms crossed over his chest.

  Even though I’ve played it off, I know exactly what Owen’s saying. My reputation for playing a tough game of hockey is one thing, but there’s also been a lot of women. More than a few.

  When Bailey shows up in her bikini at the beach looking like a snack, will I have enough willpower to resist? It’s a question I don’t seem to have an answer to.

  I guess time will tell, and I’ll find out when we reach San Diego.

  But there’s one thing I already know.

  For the first time since my injury, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and it’s because of the pretty blonde with the gorgeous brown eyes.