Seduced by the Game

Cancer Charity Anthology 2014

Lisa Hollett

editor

Seduced by the Game

© 2014 by Lisa Hollett, editor

All digital rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Tangled in the Laces © 2014 by Toni Aleo

Hooking Hannah © 2014 by Cassandra Carr & Cindy Carr

Crashing the Boards © 2014 by Jami Davenport

Taking a Shot © 2014 by Catherine Gayle

A Valuable Trade © 2014 by Jaymee Jacobs

Heir Apparent © 2014 by V.L. Locey

Blind Pass © 2014 by Bianca Sommerland

Captain, My Captain © 2014 by Nikki Worrell

Cover art © 2014 by Fiona Jayde

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexually active characters are 18 years of age or older.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

A Coming Together Publication

www.eroticanthology.com

Coming Together publications are intended for adult readers.

Please keep this book away from minors.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Tangled in the Laces © Toni Aleo

Hooking Hannah © Cassandra Carr & Cindy Carr

Crashing the Boards © Jami Davenport

Taking a Shot © Catherine Gayle

A Valuable Trade © Jaymee Jacobs

Heir Apparent © V.L. Locey

Blind Pass © Bianca Sommerland

Captain, My Captain © 2014 by Nikki Worrell

Epilogue

About Coming Together

Introduction

First, we want to say a special thank you to all of our fans, old and new. We couldn’t do what we do without your support and encouragement.

This anthology would not have been possible without the support and donations from the following:

- Regina Wamba of Mae I Design (maeidesign.com) for the cover photography.

- Fiona Jayde from fionajaydemedia.com for her beautiful cover design, both for the ebook and the print.

- Lisa Hollett with silentlycorrectingyourgrammar.com for donating her fantastic editing services.

- Khloe Wren for assisting with the Seduced by The Game logo.

- Coming Together (eroticanthology.com) for agreeing to publish this anthology and handle the donations.

- Heather Norris Harrison for her assistance with media contacts and overall support.

- Stacey Price for formatting both the print and ebooks, as well as keeping things organized so everything stayed on track.

There is no way we can thank all of the bloggers that have stepped up to make this the success we hope it will be.  But from the bottom of our hearts, please know we understand how hard you work, and appreciate each and every one of you sharing our stories, this anthology, and donating some ad space along the way.

We want to thank you for your purchase of Seduced by The Game.  All proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to a professional hockey cancer charity foundation that we have agreed not to mention by name until we can work out some legal details and get their full support and backing – another exciting step forward for future anthologies to help support the fight against cancer.

Please take a moment to visit our website at SeducedbyTheGame.com to find out the latest donation amounts and upcoming projects.

We hope you enjoy each story, and would be grateful if you could take a moment and leave a review when you finish.

Tangled in the Laces

© Toni Aleo

Dedication

To all those who have lost someone they love to such a horrible crap thing like cancer and those who are going through it, this book is for you.  I have lost my fair share of people I loved and it’s not easy, but know that by buying this book, you are helping and together, we are going to beat the hell out of cancer.

First glance.

February 2005

Karson King pushed himself as he skated up the ice and back along with his teammates. A cloud whooshed out with every breath he let out; his lungs were burning, and so were his legs. The rink was cold, and he loved the sound his skates made against the ice, along with those of his twenty-nine teammates. It was seven in the morning, and he was tired from staying out way too late the night before, but he loved this. Hockey was his life. He ate, slept, and breathed hockey since he was old enough to stand in his skates. It was all he knew; it was all he cared about. This was his life, and he was ready to do everything he could to make his dreams come true.

And that was making it into the pros.

He had done everything to get there. He played hockey 365 days a year, trained with the best coaches, went to the best camps, and never started a day without a morning skate and a little puck handling. He was taught to be the best by his father, who played for twenty-one seasons in the pros before getting hurt and having to retire. Karl King was the best on and off the ice, and Karson had every intention of following in his father’s big footsteps.

He, along with his family, believed that the Chicago Cats were one of the stepping-stones to get him to the pros. He loved his Cats family. In the two years of being here, since he skipped going into the draft at eighteen, he had made friends for life and worked to polish his skills even more. His mother, Regina, was very adamant about him going to college for at least two years to make sure that hockey was really what he wanted to do with his life, despite the many scouts who begged him to go into the draft. So he did, and while he believed it was a complete waste of time, he was glad he was able to meet the guys he had and to be trained by one of the greatest college coaches around. He had enjoyed the life he had here in Chicago, but he was ready to be drafted. He was ready to play for the big leagues.

Passing the puck up to his friend, Grady Martin, Karson crashed the net, going around it before hitting the slot where Grady slid him a beauty of a pass, resulting in an awesome top-shelf goal. Doing a small fist pump, Karson turned to congratulate his teammates before throwing his arm around him.

“Way to pass, Grad!”

“Thanks,” he said, sending him a wide grin. “Let’s do that tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Karson agreed, before skating back to where Coach was waiting for them. Taping Karson’s shins before doing the same to Grady, he nodded.

“Good pass, great goal. Let’s do it again. Passes have to be hard and accurate if we are going to beat NYU tomorrow. Come on, boys. We got this,” he encouraged, before blowing his whistle.

Karson nodded, turning to get set for the next drill. Leaning on his stick, he took in a deep breath and noticed that Coach had skated up beside him.

“Scouts will be here tomorrow. They are looking at you, Martin, and Fellows. Go out hard, and make me proud.”

A man of very few words, Coach skated away. Karson’s stomach fluttered, but only for a second. He wanted this, he was ready for this, and the pros were his for the taking. Barely able to contain his excitement, a grin pulled at his lips as he set up for the upcoming pass, shooting the puck past the goalie and then lining up to do it again. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his heart was pounding, and he couldn’t wait to call his dad to let him know what was going on. More than likely his parents would fly out for the game, since he always played better when they were there, and they’d probably catch his sister Kacey’s game the following day. Like Karson, Kacey was one of the best, too. They were both offered full-ride scholarships to Chicago, and that was the main reason they left Wisconsin. Not wanting to put a financial burden on their parents, even though they could afford it if it came down to it, they both worked hard to make sure their college was paid for. It was just the way the King kids were raised.

You worked hard for the things you wanted.

After doing the drill again, Karson found himself behind Grady and tapped him in the shin.

“Big day tomorrow,” he said, leaning on his stick.

Grady nodded. “I know. Nervous as shit.”

Karson laughed as he shook his head. “I’m not. This is what we want. It’s ours. This time next year, we’ll be in the pros.”

“Or the AHL,” Grady said, always the levelheaded one between the two.

“Sure, and we will be one step closer to the pros. We got this.”

Grady could only nod before kicking off to accept the pass that he quickly shot toward the goal, but the goalie stopped him. When the whistle blew again, Karson dug into the ice, accepting the puck before shooting it hard to the goal, through the five hole. He hadn’t missed a shot yet and didn’t intend to. Being the captain of the Cats meant being the best, and he wasn’t going to accept anything less.

Skating toward where the next line was, he glanced up at the stands to see who had braved the cold to come watch them practice. Usually the guys’ girls would come out, some parents, and maybe even Kacey if she woke up on time. Usually she didn’t though, not that he minded, since he never went to her practices. His stared lazily over the almost-empty stands as he waited for his turn. When his gaze met a pair of pale green eyes, he stopped dead in his tracks.

He had no clue who she was. He hadn’t seen her around campus either, but he wished he had. She wasn’t his normal type, but that didn’t matter as he watched her move her gaze from his to look out on the ice. He was thankful she looked away, since it gave him the opportunity to enjoy her without her knowing. Her legs were folded up against her chest, with her arms wrapped around them. She wore a large Chicago Cats’ sweatshirt, her jeans hugged her every curve, and he wanted nothing more than for her to stand so he could drink in every single detail of her. From where he stood though, he could see that her eyes were large and round, framed by long, dark lashes. Her cheeks were a bright pink color, maybe from the cold or maybe because she felt him watching her, but he couldn’t stop. Her lips were a sweet, light pink color and pursed as her eyes followed the guys. He wanted to know who she was watching, instantly jealous as his eyes traveled up to where her blonde hair peeked out in spikes under the thick, knit hat she wore. She had a pixie cut, something he wasn’t really into. Usually, he liked long hair, but something about this girl had him drooling when he should have been paying attention the game. Nothing ever distracted him, but this girl had the power to. That should scare him, make him want to run the other way, but he only wanted to run to her.

“Why the hell are you staring at my sister?”

Forcing his gaze away from the girl, Karson looked back at Grady and asked, “That’s your sister?”

He nodded. “Yeah, stop staring at her before I kick your ass.”

The whistle blew, signaling that it was time for the next in line to go. Karson looked back to see it was his turn, but he didn’t want to move. He wanted to know more about Grady’s sister, despite the fact that Grady would very much follow through with his threat. Digging in, he headed for the goal, ready for the pass. When it came, he shot it right into the goalie’s glove.

Not good.

Letting out a breath, he knew he should have taken that little mess up as a sign saying he needed to ignore his attraction to Grady’s sister, but instead, his gaze found its way back to her. He couldn’t wait to know more about her.

* * * *

He was still staring.

Lacey Martin couldn’t believe it, but Karson King was staring at her, like almost undressing her. So bad that she found herself wrapping her arms tighter around herself. He made her feel naked with those caramel-colored eyes fixed on her. She didn’t know why he was staring, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it. Even though she wasn’t one of those girls to get completely hung up on a guy, Karson King was beautiful.

He had beautiful eyes, dark brown hair that had a red hue to it, and a face that could grace an ad for Calvin Klein. With hard angles, scruff that made him hotter, and a sexy smile, he made Lacey feel like there was a rainstorm in her panties. His body just screamed sex. He had door-busting shoulders, toned and thick in the most delicious way. He was beautiful. She had seen him all over campus; girls flocked to him like he was a famous pro. Even though he was gorgeous, Lacey refused to be one of those girls. Yeah, he had the kind of eyes that could make a girl bend over and take it any way he wanted, and maybe he did have the greatest ass on the team, but she wasn’t stupid. There was no way a guy like that would want her.

Lacey was content with her life. She didn’t need to get her hopes up, thinking that Karson would want something to do with her. Not only would that be dumb, but if it were true, she needed to stay a thousand feet away from him. His rejection could break her and, after the year she had, she didn’t need anything else breaking her. She had finally put herself back together; she was finally getting into the groove of things. Nothing could jeopardize that—not even someone as gorgeous and lethal as Karson King.

She was finally Lacey again.

That was why she was at the arena that morning. She had come to watch her brother play. She missed doing that, and it was worth waking up at the butt crack of dawn just to see her big brother’s grin when he saw her in the stands. She knew he missed seeing her, and it was nice to be able to start doing the things she had been doing her whole life.

She had always been there, through Grady’s whole hockey career. Being the only girl in the household, she wasn’t allowed to be a girl. The fact that she didn’t have a dick hanging between her legs wasn’t ever brought up. She got dirty, she cussed like a sailor, she knew how to change her oil, and she knew how to hold her own. Girl or boy, Lacey wasn’t going down without a fight. Despite her father wanting her to be the Grady of women’s hockey, she had no interest in playing, but her father would be damned if she didn’t know the ins and outs.

She loved the sport, loved watching her brother play, and even loved skating, but she had no patience when the stick was in her hands. Grady would steal the puck and, instead of trying to steal it back, she would try to physically take him out. Yes, it might be frowned upon, and yes, Grady accused her of having anger issues, but she thought it was more like passion than anything else. Grady didn’t agree, and that was probably why he and their father thought it was crazy that Lacey wanted to design lingerie.

It was such a neat idea though! She had always loved designing things. Clothes, rooms, and even the jerseys that Grady wore, but there was something about bras and panties that just got her gears turning. She loved making sexy things. She loved the feminine part of it, and that was probably because she had been around farts and burps her whole life. Any time she came out in anything remotely sexy, her dad and Grady would throw a fit, so most of the time she walked around covered up like a nun, when all she really wanted was to walk around in lingerie. Well, she did before, now she was perfectly happy being covered up. Before though, it wasn’t as if she wanted to be a ho or anything—she just wanted to feel pretty. But since that might never ever happen again, she decided she would design pretty things for other women to feel beautiful.

So that was what she was going to school for, business and design. It was her first year, and she loved every minute of it. Not only had she made great friends, but she was in the school’s a cappella group, the Catappellas. Yes, she knew the name was dumb, but she enjoyed it so much. Singing had always been a passion of hers and, while she could carry a tune, her love for it wasn’t something she wanted to do with the rest of her life. It was just a pastime.

With the year she had just had, she decided she was only going to do what made her happy. She was going to live life to the fullest—no matter what. Even though the idea of having Karson King interested in her made her all giggly, inside she knew it was a bad idea.

Still though, her gaze fell on the sexy captain who wore number sixteen.

When Coach blew his whistle again, Lacey knew that practice was over. She stood and pulled on her gloves, wrapping her scarf around her neck before picking up her books to head out to the rink. She could wait for Grady, but there was no telling if he would be out before her eight o’clock class, so instead, she headed for it. It was freezing out, so she hurried across the quad to Reeding Hall, thankful when the warm air hit her face. Letting out a breath, she headed up the stairs to her class to find that her best friend, Rachel Wise, was waiting for her.

Like Lacey, Rachel was going for business and design but, unlike Lacey, Rachel was quiet and very OCD. It was cute, and Lacey loved how Rachel was the yin to her yang. Falling into the seat beside her, Lacey’s book fell on the desk, knocking the pencils Rachel had lined perfectly straight onto the ground.

“Ugh! Lacey,” she complained. Standing, she rushed to the pick them up.

“Oops, my bad! My hands are frozen!”

Rachel sent her a lopsided grin, retrieving her pencils and falling back into her seat. Wearing a pair of jeans with boots up to her knees and a large Cats’ sweatshirt, her dark brown hair fell in curls around her face. Her brown eyes were framed with darker lashes as she focused on getting her pencils right in line again. They hadn’t been friends long, but, from the beginning, Lacey had known that she and Rachel were going to be friends for life.

“No biggie—did you go watch your brother play this morning?”

Lacey nodded. “I sure did. It was nice. I missed the sounds of the ice and the smell. I was about ten seconds from rushing down there and putting my nose to it.”

“’Cause that’s normal.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lacey said with a laugh, opening her business book.

“I’m glad you went,” Rachel said after a few minutes. “That’s it, right? You are completely back to normal now.”

Lacey smiled as she bit into her lip. “Yup, completely normal Lacey now.”

“Awesome, now all you need is a hot boyfriend to make life a little interesting.”

“This coming from my single best friend,” she teased, causing Rachel to laugh.

“That is true, but I am on the prowl. All I need is a man who is clean and knows what he wants, and my life would be complete.”

Lacey laughed. “Good luck with that.”

They shared a smile before returning to their books. They had a quiz that morning. Lacey wanted to refresh herself, but she couldn’t focus. All her thoughts kept floating back to number sixteen.

“So… crazy idea.”

Lacey looked up, leaning against her hand. “And that is?”

“Wanna go to the Cats’ team party tomorrow?”

Her brows shot up as she laughed. “What? Who are you, and where is my best friend? Cause the Rachel Wise I know doesn’t go to frat parties. They are dirty, remember?”

That made Rachel dissolve into giggles, and soon Lacey joined in. “I know, but I think we need to be proactive here. We’ve been here for six months and haven’t been to any parties. We study and we go to the movies. We are nerds, Lacey!”

“I like being a nerd,” Lacey said with nervous laugh. Her heart kicked up in speed, and everything went cold inside her. She was pretty sure she knew where her best friend was going with this.

“I do too, but I want to get laid, and no one has caught my eye. I need to broaden my boundaries, and hockey players are hot.”

Yeah, they are… especially Karson King, Lacey thought as she slowly nodded. Even with that fact, there was no way she was getting involved with anyone.

“Plus, it wouldn’t be weird for us to be there because Grady is your brother,” she added. She was right, but Lacey wasn’t sure it was a good idea. People didn’t go to those parties to play Scrabble. They went to hook up, and hooking up wasn’t in Lacey’s vocabulary anymore.

“Yeah,” she agreed as she shrugged her shoulder. “But maybe we can go to a movie; guys are at the movies.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Lacey said, letting out a breath.

“No, it’s something. Tell me.”

Biting into her lip hard, she looked away and muttered, “Karson King was staring at me this morning during practice.”

“So?”

Lacey moved her hands, rubbing her thumbs together in a nervous way. “He was looking at me like I was naked, like he wanted me, and I don’t want to give him a reason to flirt with me by showing up at the party he is hosting.”

Rachel held her gaze for a second before laughing hysterically. “Lacey Martin, are you crazy? Who in their right mind wouldn’t want Karson King to flirt with them?”

“I guess me,” Lacey breathed. “He’s trouble.”

“Oh yeah, he is, the best kind of hot trouble, which would be right up your alley. Get you right back on the horse. You need a little romance; you need to feel like a woman again.”

Having a guy reject her wasn’t going to make her feel like a woman, but she couldn’t say that. Rachel might know her condition, but she didn’t know what it was like. She thought it was nothing to worry about, when it was actually life altering. So instead of telling Rachel the truth, Lacey shook her head and said, “I don’t want trouble.”

Reaching out, Rachel cupped Lacey’s shoulder as she gave her a look. “Trouble is fun. Come on, let’s go to the party.”

Working her lip, Lacey let out a breath. With one look into Rachel’s eyes, she knew there was no backing out. She knew that it was a bad idea, but she also knew that Rachel was right. She wasn’t in the hospital anymore. She wasn’t dying. She was alive, and she needed to embrace that. She needed to push her insecurities to the side and enjoy her second chance at life. So, with a slow nod, she said, “Fine, yeah, I’ll go.”

Challenge accepted.

Bundled up in her trusty Cats’ sweatshirt, Lacey watched as the Cats sailed up the ice toward the goal. Grady had the puck and deked around two players before passing it to another, who shot but missed. NYU got the puck and went to pass it up, but out of nowhere, Karson came, stealing the puck and spinning around a player, backhanding it into the goal with ease. Along with the rest of the Cats’ side, she and Rachel flew up, screaming and cheering for the home team.

The Cats were up by one with Karson’s goal, with only six minutes left in the third. NYU had plenty of time to score, but the Cats’ defense was playing hard. Lacey didn’t think they had a chance on scoring on the Cats’ goalie, who had a streak of four shutouts. Looking down at the bench where Coach was screaming and waving his arms, Lacey knew her father was pumping his players up.

“So what number is Grady?”

“Number twenty-one—it was my mom’s favorite number since she had him when she was twenty-one,” Lacey said with a smile. Her heart ached a little when she remembered that little tidbit about her mom. Sometimes, she felt like she was starting to forget everything about her. Like how she smelled, or what it felt like when she would run her fingers through Lacey’s hair. She remembered those things, but she used to be able to imagine her mom doing them… and it would feel like she were really there. It had been twelve years since her family had lost her mom to breast cancer and, to this day, Lacey didn’t think any of them would ever be the same.

Coach missed her constantly and smothered himself with his playbook, while Grady worked harder than ever to make it into the pros. He wanted to make her proud, and every time he scored a goal, he looked to the heavens and thanked her. It always brought the tears on when Lacey saw him do it, but it was nice that he did. Lacey, on the other hand, just missed her. The year before would have been so much easier if she’d had her mom around. She would have known how to comfort Lacey since her dad and Grady were completely at a loss. They both thought Lacey was next. Hell, Lacey had thought so, too.

“That’s nice. Your mom was so beautiful. You look so much like her. I love that picture you have of you two.”

Lacey nodded, her eyes suddenly stinging with tears. Lacey was six in the picture Rachel spoke of, and they were at the beach. It was a beautiful day and, even though it was twelve years ago, she still remembered how much fun they had. It was a couple of months before she was diagnosed and, while Lacey hadn’t understood any of it then, she was kind of glad she didn’t. Cancer was such a scary thing. It had the power to gut you and take away the people you were supposed to have for a very long time. She believed that God had a plan for everyone. She believed that maybe she was supposed to go through her mom’s cancer, so she would be strong through her own battle, but at the same time, why did that have to happen to her family? Why did they have to go through the same thing twice? It felt wrong but, for some crazy reason, her faith was still intact, and she planned to live the life He had blessed her with to the fullest.

Like her mom would have.

And if that meant going to a party and actually putting herself out there like the old Lacey would have before she got sick, then damn it, she was going to do it. Deciding this wasn’t the time to be sad about things she couldn’t change, she returned her attention to the game.

“Karson is number sixteen, right?”

Lacey’s face scrunched up. “Yeah, why?”

“He’s staring at you again.”

Following her gaze, Lacey found that Rachel was right. He was unabashedly staring at her, his mouth turned up in a grin as he leaned against the boards. He was supposed to be listening to her father yell, but instead he was watching her. Looking away quickly toward Rachel, her eyes went wide. “What in the world?”

Rachel giggled as her eyes matched Lacey’s. “He is really hot. You should jump on that.”

“No way,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “A guy like that would run the other way once he got a look at me.”

Rachel’s grin fell as she reached out to take Lacey’s hand, but she brushed her off. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just watch the game.”

Lacey could see that Rachel wanted to say more but, thankfully, she didn’t, turning her attention back to the game. Doing the same, Lacey found that Karson was setting up for the puck drop. She wanted to be a good sister and watch her brother, but there was no way when Karson was demanding her attention. He was so big, so strong, and commanded the respect as the best player on the ice. She knew that the scouts were there tonight. Grady was nervous and so was her dad, but she didn’t have any doubts that Grady would be in the draft that year. It was his year. What she was surprised about was that Karson hadn’t been in it yet. He was by far the greatest player in Chicago. He needed to be in the pros, where his talent could grow.

Watching as he sailed with confidence and determination on the ice, her eyes followed his every move. He was hell on the defense, but even more so when NYU had the puck and decided to come into the Cats’ zone. He poke checked, he hit, and he was on them like white on rice. He wasn’t playing around. Soon, he had the puck on a breakaway, rushing the net. Players tried to catch up to him, but there was no catching Karson King when he was off to score. Deking the goalie one way, he sent the puck into the back of the net, winning the game and leaving Lacey breathless.

Watching as the guys all jumped on Karson, while the crowd went wild cheering, Lacey’s heart went nuts in her chest. From where she stood, she could see his grin through the cage of his helmet, and she knew the feelings that were bubbling in her chest were going to do nothing but cause havoc on her heart. She wasn’t kidding when she said that Karson would run the other way from her. The sad thing was she wished she had the confidence to believe he wouldn’t. That wasn’t reality though, so she would keep her distance and stay away from Karson King.

By the time Rachel and Lacey got to the Cats’ frat house, the party was already crazy. It was Lacey’s first party, but she wasn’t innocent to what these frat guys did. Guys were upside down on kegs, playing beer pong, and shooting pucks against a guy covered in pillows for shots. It was nuts, but she couldn’t help but grin like a fool.

That was, until Grady saw her.

“Fuck,” she muttered as he beelined for her.

“What?” Rachel asked.

“Grady is coming to yell at me.”

She looked up right as Grady stopped in front of them. “Lacey, what the hell are you doing here?”

Looking up at her big brother, she shrugged as she looked around. “Came to party.”

He laughed as he shook his head, grasping her shoulders in his hand. “The hell you are. This is no place for you.”

Smacking his arms away, she glared. “For fuck’s sake, Grady. I’m eighteen years old. I think I can handle a party. I’m not a baby.”

“Yes, you are. You’re my baby sister. Go back to the dorm.”

Still glaring, Lacey took a step toward him, placing her hands on her hips. “I can stay here, have fun, and be on my best behavior, or I can go to another party, get blasted, and have sex with half the guys there. Since I apparently can’t make good choices, it’s totally up to you. At least here, you can keep an eye on me.”

Glaring back at her, he sneered, “You’re a jerk.”

“I love you too. Now, while I have you, you haven’t met Rachel yet. Rachel, my brother, Grady. Grady, my best friend, Rachel.”

Looking back at Rachel, she saw that Rachel’s face was bright with color as her mouth curved in a very sexy grin. When she glanced back at Grady, she saw the same look on his face. Reaching out, he took her hand as he said, “I don’t remember my sister telling me her best friend was beautiful.”

“That’s because I don’t try to hook my best friend up with my brother, since that’s gross,” Lacey said, but she didn’t think they were listening to her.

Rolling her eyes, she watched as Rachel said, “Yeah, all she told me was that you were a beast on the ice, not that you were a sexy beast.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Lacey muttered, heading toward the kitchen for a drink. She didn’t care if they hooked up, but she still thought it was weird. Grady was not a sexy beast… he was a weirdo. Plus, he was dirty. They’d only last a day before Rachel dumped him.

Rolling her eyes, she reached in a bucket for a beer. She went to open the top, but couldn’t manage it. When the cap began to cut into her hand, she placed it on the table and opened the drawer for a bottle opener, stopping when someone reached out, taking her beer.

“Hey, that’s mine—” she said, stopping when her eyes met Karson’s.

His eyes bored into hers as he popped the top with ease, handing it back to her. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the bottle, her eyes still held by his. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, so she just drank in the sight of him. He was wearing fitted blue jeans and a Cats’ tee, which hugged every inch of him. She could see that the definition of his chest and his arms was just scrumptious. He was so big, so burly, that she just wanted to get lost in his arms and never leave. Jesus, he was hot. His hair fell into his caramel eyes, as his mouth curved up into a devilish grin. Soon, she found herself lost in his eyes, grinning like a fool, but then she remembered that she was supposed to stay far, far away from Karson King.

Taking a step back, she muttered, “Well, thanks again. Bye.”

Just as fast as she tried to get away, Karson’s arms shot out, holding the counter to stop her. Looking from his arm to his eyes, she knew that she could push through and be gone, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

She couldn’t, not with how she was locked into his playful gaze.

* * * *

Karson was feeling on top of the world.

He scored the only two goals, winning the game, and basically played the best game of his life. He was on fire and knew it. The draft was his, and he knew he would be the first pick. He was excited, ready to celebrate a winning night and his bright future. After being fussed over by his mom and dad, he said bye, promising to meet them for breakfast and for Kacey’s game, before going back to the house to set up for the party they always had after games. Tonight though, the atmosphere was nuts. It was the first time in years the Cats had shutout NYU, so they were partying hard.

Girls were everywhere, his teammates were being their dumb selves, and Karson was feeling great, but when he saw Grady’s sister at the counter, he knew his night was about to get ten times better. There was something very intriguing about the gorgeous blonde, and she had Karson heading straight for her. Maybe it was her legs, which went on for days and ended at a great ass. Or maybe it was her sweet lips and even sweeter eyes. He wasn’t sure, but he had to talk to her. He had to know her. As he reached where she stood, he saw that she was trying to open a beer, which meant she was a damsel in distress… And he was all about saving damsels.

He thought once their eyes met she wouldn’t want to leave, but to his surprise, after thanking him, she tried to run off, but there was no way he was going to let her escape that easily. Throwing his arm out against her stomach, she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted. He wanted to drop his lips to hers, and he wanted trap her in his arms and never let go. She was taller than most of the girls he went after, but her eyes captivated him. Such a pale green that shined in such an intoxicating way.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked, replacing his arm with his hip. She took a step back, and he noticed she was squeezing the bottle she held so tight her knuckles were white.

“No fire, just need to go find my friend.”

Karson’s head fell to the side. “Oh, well, I wanted to say hi. Introduce myself.”

“I know who you are,” she said quickly, looking up at him.

His mouth curved in a grin as he slowly nodded. “Well, that’s not fair. I want to know you. What’s your name?”

Looking away, she expelled a breath, trying to act like she was annoyed, but Karson could see it in her eyes. She wanted him.

“Lacey.”

“Lacey, such a pretty name. I’m Karson. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you,” he said, reaching out to take her hand in his. She didn’t take his at first, but he could see in her eyes that she wanted to. Finally, she did, squeezing his hand as she held his gaze. When she brought her lip in between her teeth, it took everything not to groan out loud. She was sexy and sweet all in one. He could get lost in her body and never look back. He had never been completely taken by a girl like this, but Lacey was doing something to him, and he liked it way more than he should.

“So you’re Grady’s sister, right? Younger sister?”

She nodded as he got lost in depths of her green eyes. “Yes, I may be younger, but I can still make him cry.”

Karson laughed. “Good to know and, if I may add, that’s kind of hot.”

He wanted to make her laugh. When her lips curved in a smile, the laughter followed, and his dick came to life in his pants. It was such a heavenly sound, and he had never wanted to make a girl laugh as much as he wanted to make Lacey.

“You’re a dork.”

“That’s a good thing, right? That turns you on?”

She laughed again as she shook her head. Looking at him through hooded eyes, she said, “Maybe.”

“Good to know. It was great to see that you came to watch me play tonight. I’m pretty good, huh?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Wow, conceited much?”

Karson grinned. “I know what I saw.”

“You’re delusional. I came to watch my brother.”

Still grinning, he said, “But you watched me.”

“You were on the ice; I was watching the game,” she protested, but he shook his head.

“Your eyes never left me.”

“How do you know?” she asked with an amused look.

“Because when I wasn’t trying to score, I was watching you.”

Her cheeks deepened with color as she looked down, playing with the label on the beer. “I’m not sleeping with you; you’re wasting your time throwing all this game at me.”

He was a goner. This girl was it. Any other girl would have fallen for his game, but not Lacey Martin.

Smiling, he said, “Who said anything about sleeping together? Are you thinking about having sex with me?”

Her cheeks colored more before she looked away, laughing louder, making him think that maybe she was. He liked that. A lot. “Oh my God, shut up!”

“I never once brought up sex, and you did.”

“Whatever,” she said, a grin still pulling her lips.

“You are really beautiful when you do that. I like that half smile thing. Really hot.”

Meeting his gaze, her smile fell as she looked away, shaking her head. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Let me be the one to decide that, and aren’t you supposed to thank me? I did just say you are the hottest girl in the world.”

Her cheeks still burned with color as she nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She brought her beer up to her lips, and he smiled as he watched her take a sip before asking, “Are you old enough to drink?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to tell on me if I’m not?”

He shook his head. “Nope, I was just trying to figure out how old you are.”

“Eighteen,” she answered, a smile pulling at her sweet lips.

“Cool, I like my girl legal.”

“Your girl?” she laughed, her eyes wide.

As she giggled, her eyes bright, he admired the long lashes that framed her beautiful eyes. “Yeah, you didn’t get the memo that I find you incredibly sexy and want to know every single thing about you?”

She shook her head, taking a step toward him. Her body was close; he could feel the heat of her and knew he’d miss it once space was put between them again. Karson craved to press her against the counter and kiss the living hell out of her but, before he could, she said, “Obviously, you didn’t get the memo that said I’m off-limits.”

With his eyes locked with hers, his mouth came up at the side. “Off-limits, why?”

“You don’t want me. You think you do, but I promise you’ll return me the minute you have me,” she said sadly, as she looked away. “This was fun. You’re insanely hot, and any girl would be lucky to have you ruthlessly flirt with her, but believe me, you don’t want me.”

“I disagree,” he said, taking a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Her breasts touched his chest, and it took everything out of him to form words as he got lost in her eyes. “I think I’d treasure you. I think it would surprise you how much I do want you.”

She gasped for breath as she took a step back, putting distance between them. Her eyes told him that Karson had her, but soon she was shaking her head as she whispered, “Don’t waste your time, Karson.”

She went to walk away, but he took her wrist in his hand, stopping her. Bringing her hand up, he placed a kiss to the inside of her palm and looked deeply into her eyes as he said, “I’d be wasting my time with anyone but you.”

Her eyes softened, but still she shook her head. “Just let me go and don’t look back. Believe me, you’ll be thankful later.”

“I don’t know if I can let go. I’m sprung.”

Her eyes went wide as she shook her head. “You don’t even know me!”

He smiled confidently as he held her gaze. “I know that if I let you go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“How do you know that?”

“’Cause I know what I want, and you’re it.”

“You’re crazy,” she accused, shaking her head. “All you know is my name, and you are going to regret getting to know me. Please, let me go.”

“So let me get to know you, prove to you that what we are both feeling is real, and let’s see what happens.”

She only blinked as she tore her hand from his. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what you are doing, but this is crazy. So just stay away from me, okay? Don’t waste your time.”

Turning, she walked away from him but, like he knew she would, she looked back. He could see every emotion in her sweet eyes and knew that she wanted him. He didn’t know what was holding her back from him, but he was going to do everything to make her realize he was it.

As he watched her walk away, he knew that even though he could score on the ice with no problem, scoring with Lacey Martin was going to be a challenge. When she reached her brother and a short brunette, she looked back at him, her eyes wide as they locked with his. His heart lurched in his chest, and a slow grin curved his lips as he whispered, “Challenge accepted.”

Coincidence?

Karson King was following her.

That was all there was to it. As much as she wanted to think it was creepy, she couldn’t, because she liked it. She liked him. No matter how much she wanted to be mad at herself for it, she couldn’t. Call her an idiot, but there was something invigorating about someone as hot as Karson King chasing after her. Something about his cockiness just turned her on, and she wanted to know more about him, but she knew it was a bad idea. Nothing could come out of it, and she knew the minute he had her, he’d run, but nothing said she couldn’t enjoy seeing him all over the place.

For a week, he didn’t say anything. He’d just show up at the places she was. It wasn’t a big deal, but then he started showing up and saying little things. Like hi, or how are you, funny seeing you here. It was mind-boggling. Maybe it was a coincidence, but she was pretty sure she had never seen him at the library or coffee shop before, and she went to both places religiously.

Like now, she was sitting there, enjoying her mocha coffee, and he just strolled in like he owned the damn place. As she watched him, he made his way to the counter and placed an order, never once looking at her. However, she knew that he knew she was there. Drinking in the sight of him, Lacey found herself breathless. He was beautiful. He wore a dark red beanie that covered his hair, with a peacoat that fit him perfectly. In her head, Lacey imagined them cuddled up next to each other, walking through downtown as the snow fell. It was sad, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms. She could know. He had made it plain and clear that he wanted her, but it was just too scary.

He paid for his coffee, taking it and heading toward her, sitting slowly on the couch beside the table she was sitting at. She watched him as he sipped his drink before placing it on the table and pulling out the same book she had been reading the day before when she was in the library: Eldest by Christopher Paolini. Seeing that, she knew that this was no damn coincidence. Glaring, she stared at him until he finally looked up, meeting her gaze.

“Lacey, funny to see you here,” he said, a sly grin on his face.

Their eyes locked, and everything inside her went hot. Ignoring her screwed-up feelings, she pointed at him as she sneered, “Funny, my ass, you’re following me! Reading the same book I am!”

He scoffed, laying his book down. “Conceited much?”

Her eyes went to slits as she muttered, “Whatever.”

She turned, looking down at her books to do what she came to do—study. Rachel was supposed to come, but she had texted saying she had plans. Lacey was pretty sure her plans involved Grady, but since she wasn’t ready to accept that her best friend was shacking it up with her big brother, she didn’t ask and had come to study on her own. Letting out a long breath, she took her highlighter and tried to study, but knowing that Karson was within reach made it very hard. She could feel him staring. She wanted to want to tell him to stop, but she didn’t. She was all kinds of screwed up—a glutton for punishment.

When Karson suddenly appeared at the same table as her, she sat back and met his playful gaze with an angry one. “What are you studying?” he asked, looking down at her books before smiling up at her. “Business? Are you going to own your own or work for the big man?”

She bit into her lip, knowing she should pack her book up and leave. Instead, she answered him. “I want to start my own.”

He nodded, his grin growing. “That’s awesome. What kind of business?”

“I want to design lingerie for women.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to say that! I knew you were going for design, too, but I was thinking home interior or something.”

She found herself smiling as she shook her head. “No, I want to design super-sexy pieces for women to feel pretty in,” she admitted. “All kinds of women. Small, medium, large, and plus-size. I also want to design bras for women who have suffered from breast cancer and had to have a mastectomy, but can’t afford to get breast implants. I want all women to feel sexy in my pieces.”

Wow. Did she really just blubber all that to him? Looking up, she found him watching her. His eyes were locked on her, and she could tell he was listening to every word she said.

With a grin on his face, he said, “That’s amazing. I bet you’re talented.”

Lacey’s cheeks burned as she slowly nodded. “I think so. My best friend, Rachel, is really good too. We’ve talked some of doing it together. Starting the business and all together, I mean, but I’m not sure. We’ll see what happens.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to check out your designs, you can model for me any time you want,” he said with a wink.

She knew he was just playing around, being a regular guy, but little did he know was that would never happen. Looking down, she shrugged her shoulders. “Highly doubt that.”

“Just offering my services.”

“Duly noted.”

He laughed, and Lacey had to look up to take him in. His eyes were dark and oh so gorgeous. She could just imagine posing for him in basically nothing, and knew that once he saw that she had no breasts, he’d be out the door so fast she wouldn’t know what happened. All she’d be left to do was pick up the pieces of her heart, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Guys like Karson King wanted perfect girls, not ones who were sick and didn’t have all the right pieces. All Lacey had were scars, ones that would scare Karson away. As her eyes flooded with tears, she began to gather her things.

“Hey, whoa, what happened? You aren’t leaving, are you?”

She nodded, her eyes glued on her book bag as she tucked her things in it. “Yeah, I have to go.”

“No, don’t,” he pleaded as she stood, putting her jacket on and then her scarf and hat.

“Sorry, I have to,” she muttered, heading out of the coffee shop. She didn’t think he’d follow her, but she soon realized that Karson was a very determined person. When his fingers wrapped around her wrist, she swung around, pulling it away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

His hands came up in a calming way, palms up at her. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave. I just want to talk to you.”

Shaking her head before he even finished, she said, “Karson, nothing will happen between us. Don’t you get that?”

“No, because I know you like me and I like you, so let’s do this.”

She scoffed, trying so hard to lie, but she was sure it didn’t work as she said, “I don’t like you.”

He laughed, proving her suspicions. “Whatever, don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes—the way your body responds to only my voice. You want me as much as I want you, but I’m not saying let’s jump into bed. I want more than that. Let’s get to know each other, find out what makes each other tick. I love listening to you talk, and I just want to know more about you. I think that if you got to know me, you’d agree that I’m worth getting to know.”

Letting out a breath, deflated, she said, “It isn’t that I don’t think you’re worth getting to know, Karson. I know you are, and I know it would be a pleasure, but it’s just that I’m not worth it. Someone like you doesn’t go for someone like me. There are things about me that would have you running for the hills.”

Taking a step toward her, he reached out, but then stopped. “Can I hold your hands while I say what I have to say?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she whispered, lost in the depths of his dark eyes.

“But if I do, you won’t hit me, will you?” he asked with a small grin.

Her mouth pulled up as she slowly shook her head. With his grin growing, he took her hands with his, lacing his fingers with hers before looking down into her eyes. Heat coursed through her body as she continued to get lost in his eyes. He was so gorgeous, so big, and as much as she wanted to run from him, she also wanted to press herself up against him and rub her nose along the scruff of his beautiful face.

“Now, as I was saying, I think you are worth it. I think that meeting you proved why no other girl stood a chance with me. I know we just met, but I feel this crazy thing in my chest for you. I am drawn to you, I want you, and I can’t allow you to push me away. I’m not running—I’m here. You’re right; you aren’t the type of girl I’d usually want to fool with, but you are the type I’d run across the earth for. You got me going crazy, Lacey, and my life will never be the same after you.”

His words were music to her ears, everything that a girl wanted to hear, but Lacey knew those words were meant to be for someone else—not to be wasted on her. She went to tell him that but, before she could, his lips met hers and the world came off its axis. Everything stopped as Karson’s lips moved against hers. With her eyes closed tight, her hands squeezed his as he kissed the living crap out of her. When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, she knew it was a bad idea to open her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself. Soon, she deepened the kiss. Removing his hands from hers, he took her hips in his hands, bringing her against him as her arms went to wrap around his neck. Pulling back slightly, only for air, his eyes searched hers as they both gasped for breath.

But then he let her hips go, slowly running his hands up her ribs. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but his hand knocked into her left breast. Suddenly, the little kiss cloud he was intoxicating her with was gone, and reality set in.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she took in long pulls of air. With a goofy grin on his beautiful face, he cupped her face before saying, “I didn’t mean to do that. Not yet, at least.”

Desire swirled in his eyes. His head dropped in for another kiss, but she backed away out of his arms and put her hands up to stop him from coming for her. “This can’t happen.”

“Why?” he asked, his arms out. “Please don’t lie and say you didn’t feel every bit of that.”

Her eyes clouded with tears, and she wanted nothing more than to hide. “It doesn’t matter what I feel, Karson. This won’t work. Please stop following me. Please just leave me alone.”

And with that, she turned and took off toward her dorm, thankful that he didn’t follow her.

* * * *

"Well then,” Karson muttered as he stood in the snow and watched Lacey run from him. It was obvious that she didn’t want him to follow her. He saw the tears in her eyes and didn’t understand what was going on, but he wasn’t giving up. After a kiss like that and the way she felt in his arms, he’d walk through fire for that girl. He knew it was crazy, but he couldn’t help what he was feeling. She was just so unbelievable. Not only was she gorgeous and funny, she was driven. What eighteen-year-old girl wanted to help women who have had to lose their breasts to cancer feel sexy? It was mind-blowing. She was amazing, and Karson had every intention of making that girl his.

He understood that his life was up in the air. The scouts from the game a couple of weeks back loved what they saw and said that they would be in contact with his dad, who was also his agent. His dad felt good and believed that he’d go first or second pick for the draft. His dreams were coming true, but nothing would be right unless Lacey was there with him. He knew that there was a good chance she wouldn’t leave Chicago, and that was fine. He’d do a long-distance relationship with her. He’d do anything just to know she was his.

He was moving fast, but that was just how he was. He always just jumped in and worried about everything else later. But his feelings did scare him. He felt a bit like he was obsessing over the gorgeous blonde that reminded him of a tall Tinker Bell, but he couldn’t help it. Everything he learned about her, he liked, and he felt like a stalker with how much investigating he had done on her. It was completely innocent; he just wanted to know her and show her that he was the man for her.

“Why are you watching a girl run? Wait, that’s a dumb question. You’re my horndog brother, that’s why.”

Karson laughed as he glanced over at his baby sister. Kacey smiled up at him, her brown eyes shining through the falling snow. She wore a puffy, red jacket and a large, knitted hat, with her long, brown hair falling along her shoulders.

“Shut up,” he barked at her as Lacey disappeared into the quad.

Kacey laughed as she shifted her hockey bag up on her shoulder and switched her stick to the other hand. “No, but really, what are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m stumped. That girl is running from me, and I don’t know what do it about it.”

“A girl, run from you?” she teased, “That’s odd, what did you do?”

Glaring at her, he said, “I didn’t do anything but tell her she should give me a chance. I’m a catch, you know. Girls like me.”

“Yeah, dumb ones. I like her already. She’s obviously smart.”

“I don’t like you,” he declared.

“I love you, too. So anyway, I see that you are in deep with this girl. Here is my suggestion—romance her a bit. Don’t just expect to show up and have her fall for you. Good girls take time to get.”

Eyeing her, he asked, “How do you know I’m in deep?”

“Because I know you; you don’t chase after girls. She’s special, so don’t give up. I bet you she won’t know what hit her once you turn on the King Charm. Can’t wait to meet her.”

With nothing but a nod, Kacey started for the rink as Karson took in everything she just said. He knew that Lacey was special, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew Kacey was right. He was in deep, over a girl he just met, and he wasn’t the least bit worried about it. She had his heart, and he wasn’t going anywhere until she had his.

For the next week, he continued to show up at the places she was. The only problem was that now, she wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Sitting in the cafeteria, his mind was muddled with thoughts of Lacey. He was sure after a week of seeing her every day, multiple times, would have her wanting to be with him, but it wasn’t working. She wasn’t affected by his charm at all. It was discouraging, but Karson was a winner and he was going to freaking win.

“Yo, King!”

Karson looked over from where he was reading to see a few of his freshmen teammates coming toward him. This meant they had some information on Lacey. Closing the book, he sat up.

“She sings with the Catappellas and is performing tonight in Bradford Hall at six,” Devin said, with Johnny bouncing beside him.

Checking his watch, he saw he had an hour before he had to get over there. “Cool, thanks, guys.”

“No problem,” Johnny said before they both walked away.

“Having freshmen stalk your newest conquest is just sad, King,” Grady said.

“Fuck off, I can’t be everywhere. I need to know these things since she won’t give me anything to work with.”

“Aw… poor Karson isn’t having a girl fall to the ground with her legs open? However will you go on?”

“Fuck you,” Karson sneered as Grady laughed.

Not saying anything else, Karson returned to his book. It was the same one he had seen Lacey reading and he had to admit, it was pretty badass. He wasn’t much of a reader, but from the moment his eyes hit the pages, he was hooked.

“Who is she?”

Looking up, he met Lacey’s big brother’s eyes and slowly closed the book, since he knew there was a good chance this wasn’t going to go well. Taking in a deep breath, he said, “Your sister.”

Grady laughed. “Fuck you, no really, who?”

“Lacey,” Karson answered.

“You’re not funny. You better be joking.”

Karson shook his head and figured he owed it to Grady to be honest. They had been friends for years, but what bothered him was that he had never known about Lacey. It was as if Grady had hid her, and he didn’t understand why. Ignoring that fact, Karson shook his head as he said, “I’m sprung over her, dude. She is amazing.”

Visibly upset, Grady jumped to his feet, his shoulders squaring up as he glared down at Karson. “Well, unspring yourself, asshole.”

“I can’t. Why did you hide her from me? You never mentioned you had a hot sister.”

“Because I know you, and knew that you’d be on her in seconds. You’re a sleaze.”

“Maybe I was, but it’s different this time. I actually have this feeling in my chest for her.”

Grady’s nose flared as he glared even more. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“If you have to, then do it, but I won’t stop. I need her, dude, like seriously. I’m in deep and, as my best friend, you should understand that and support me.”

“Support you, huh?” Grady asked, and Karson smiled.

“Yeah, man, we both want what’s best for her, and I think I’m it.”

Grady didn’t say anything else; he just shook his head and promptly decked Karson right in the left eye. Taking the punch as a champ, Karson closed his eyes as Grady got close and whispered, “Stay the fuck away from my sister.”

“You’ll have to kill me, Grad. I can’t.”

When he opened his eyes, Grady was glaring with the hatred of Hades in his eyes. “Is she worth our friendship?”

Slowly, Karson nodded. “Yeah, because I feel you’ll eventually agree with my way of thinking. A girl like that doesn’t come around twice.”

Shaking his head, Grady stomped away without a second glance. As Karson watched him leave, he asked himself if she was really worth it.

The only answer was yes.

Karson knew it was true when he heard Lacey sing. She had the voice of an angel and looked like one as she sang along with the other Catappellas. He used to make fun of those weird people that made music with their mouths, but now that he knew Lacey did it, he vowed to never to call them that again. He only wanted to support her and, as he clapped loudly, whistling for her, a smile grew on his face because he knew exactly how to romance her.

All he needed was the help of the Catappellas.

When Lacey came out the back with the same brunette who Karson had seen her with before, he smiled as their eyes met. She looked away like she had been doing for the past week, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

Stepping out in front of her, he said, “You have a lovely voice.”

“Thanks,” she said, trying to go around him, but she must have noticed that his face was damaged. “What happened to your face?”

He smiled as he ran his fingers along the black eye. “Your brother punched me.”

“What?” she shrieked, along with the brunette.

“Why?” Lacey asked, taking a step toward him. She reached out, but then she stopped herself, tucking her fingers into the red dress she wore. It fit her like a glove, and Karson was salivating at the sight of her.

“I told him I was trying to prove to the most gorgeous girl on campus that I’m worth her time. He asked me who it was. I said you, so he decked me because when he asked me to stop chasing after you, I said I couldn’t.”

Her lip wobbled as she looked away. “You have to, Karson. I’m telling you, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“The only way I’ll be disappointed is if you don’t give me a chance.”

Looking at him, her eyes filling with tears, she whispered, “I’m not worth it.”

“You keep saying that, but I can promise you I’m about to prove to you that you are.”

Before she could say anything else, Karson turned and left the hall, feeling pretty damn good about what had just happened.

This is True.

Lacey was having the worse day of her life.

After having it out with Grady about Karson that morning—which really did nothing since all her bullheaded brother did was scream at her about how she needed to stay away from Karson—her day persistently got worse. First, she dropped her iPod into the toilet. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but it did, so she had to walk to all her classes without any music. She then failed her math pop quiz, slid on some ice outside Jackson Hall, and to top it all off, they were out of the mocha syrup for her coffee. Lacey was two seconds away from saying fuck it and going back to bed. If she didn’t have to study for her design test the next day, she would have done just that.

So after settling on a vanilla caramel latte, Lacey sat down in her normal spot and opened her books to get started. She was hoping that Rachel would come out, but she wasn’t sure on that. Rachel was completely and utterly engrossed with Grady. She didn’t understand it since she thought Grady was a pig and totally not Rachel’s type, but it didn’t bother her much. She had every right to be a bitch about it, but there was really no point. Shouldn’t Grady be grateful for that? Instead, he was a jerk and made Lacey feel like she was ten and not eighteen.

She knew that Karson was trouble. Knew he had been with more girls than he could count on his hands and feet, but it didn’t matter. Even if she was to get involved with him, his past was his past. As long as he didn’t screw her over, she wouldn’t dig into it, but none of that mattered because nothing was ever going to happen between them. It couldn’t. No matter how much she liked his smile, or his laugh, or the way he made her laugh. She enjoyed him way more than she should, and that was why she was doing everything to stay clear of him, but it was getting so hard.

Letting out a long breath, she ran her fingers along her scalp and scratched quickly. She couldn’t wait for her hair to grow back out. She missed her long locks, but she was embracing the pixie. She just wanted to think she looked normal because when she looked in the mirror, all she saw was the girl who lost all her hair because of chemo. The girl who lost her breasts because the cancer was very aggressive, and then lost all the confidence in the world. It was shitty and she hated her luck, but it was her reality. Maybe one day she’d get the money to buy herself some new breasts, or maybe she’d design something that would make her feel like a woman who was worthy of the attention of someone like Karson. She wished that she had gotten them back when she had the chance, but she had tapped her father out on money, and he said he didn’t want to take out a loan for them. She figured she didn’t need them but obviously, she did. Back then, she was just glad to be alive and wasn’t thinking long-term of what her life would be later, about how all this would affect her—how it would affect her confidence. Letting out a long breath, she closed her eyes, knowing she needed to let all that go. She was alive, and she needed to work. She had to get her degree, so she could start her life. She had to let Karson go. She just had to.

With a sadness filling her chest, she got to work. She was well into her second study guide when she felt Karson in the coffee shop. It was nuts how she could feel him near her. It was a warm feeling that rested deep in her stomach every time he was around her. She knew he would show up, he always did, but she did everything to ignore him. No matter how hard it was. For the last week, she had done well, except for the night before when he had showed up at her concert. The thought that he watched her sing still made her breathless, but knowing that he took a punch from Grady for her made her heart explode in her chest.

There was a pull between them. One she didn’t understand, and as much as she wanted to let go of her insecurities and believe that he could genuinely like her for her, while not being disgusted when he saw her deflated breasts, she couldn’t do it. What man would find that attractive? Especially a man as gorgeous and experienced as Karson King: the captain of the Chicago Cats, the number-one player in the state, who had a one-way ticket into the pros? Yeah, he wouldn’t find her attractive. He wouldn’t want her after he saw that. No matter how much she wanted to believe he would, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t happen.

Moving her hair to the side, she tried to concentrate on her work, but she couldn’t. She wanted to look at him, make sure his face was okay after her boneheaded brother knocked him one. Grady was a big guy, and even though Karson was too, that punch had to hurt. When the chair pulled out in front of her, she looked up to see Karson settling into it, a single rose in one hand and a candle in the other. Letting out an annoyed breath, even though she was happy to see him, she said, “Karson, I’m—”

“Please, give me four minutes of your time,” he pleaded as he slowly slid the rose toward her.

Lacey wanted to say no, but she could see it in his eyes. He just wanted four minutes, and after that, she’d turn him down nicely and they could go on without thinking of each other. She wanted to believe that but, for some reason, she couldn’t help but think she’d never forget Karson King. When she didn’t say anything, he smiled before he slowly nodded his head. Suddenly, the lights cut off. Panicky, Lacey looked around, trying to figure out what was wrong. Karson lit the candle, setting it on the table, his gaze holding hers hostage. Lacey was too busy getting lost in the depths of his eyes to wonder why he had a candle, or to notice when three guys appeared behind him. The same three guys who sung with her in the Catappellas—Marc, Jessie, and Roger.

When she did, she said in confusion, “What’s going on?”

Karson only smiled, and then Jessie started to play the guitar she hadn’t noticed he was holding. She didn’t recognize the music at first, but then Marc started to sing and she knew the song instantly. It was “True” by Ryan Cabrera. As they belted the song out, Karson held her gaze, his eyes telling her that every word was true, and that this song was meant for her from him. When he reached out, taking her hand in his, she allowed him, and didn’t stop him when he pulled her up into his arms before slowly swaying back and forth with her. She couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. She was mesmerized and completely shocked that this was happening. He smelled so good, and it felt unbelievable being wrapped in his arms as everyone watched and the guys sang to them.

When the song ended, Karson stopped moving and slowly lifted his hands up to frame her face, his eyes searching hers. Softly, he said, “I can’t sing for shit, but I will pay to have someone sing to you. I don’t dance well, but I’ll do it just for the chance to touch you. I’m not one to listen to guys sing to find the perfect song for a girl, but I did for you. Most of all, I don’t usually pour my heart out to a person in front of a full coffee shop because I’m not that much of a romantic, but for you, I’d do it all. I’d do anything to be with you, and I’ve waited for someone like you my whole life. It’s true, all of it, and I would be the luckiest man in the world if you’d agree to go out on a date with me. Please give me the chance to make you fall for me, like I have been falling since the first moment I set eyes on you.”

Never in her life had she had someone so ruthlessly come after her. Her heart pounded in her chest as he held her gaze. His eyes pleaded with her, begging for that chance. She wanted to scream yes and never let go of him, but there was a part of her that had her frozen with fear. “I’m terrified of you, Karson. You don’t know what you are getting into. I’m just now picking up the pieces of my life. I can’t redo it all when you run for the hills.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Lacey. I’m here. I’m yours. Just give me the chance.”

Biting into the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt, she closed her eyes as she leaned her forehead against his lips, taking in a deep breath. She was given a second chance at life to live it, not to hide. She had to live her life to the fullest, and a part of her knew that she wouldn’t be living if Karson weren’t a part of her life. Yes, she was terrified, and yes, there was a chance that he would completely break her, but she couldn’t help but try. She didn’t care how crazy it was. She felt the same thing he did. So she slowly nodded, as she looked back up into the caramel eyes she craved to look into daily.

A grin came over his lips, and she returned it before whispering, “Yes.”

* * * *

Karson wasn’t sure who moved first but the next thing he knew, he was wrapped up in Lacey’s arms, kissing her so hard that he couldn’t breathe. Not that he wanted to. All he wanted was to kiss her for the rest of his life. As his mouth moved with hers, he knew this was it for him, and he didn’t plan on ever letting her go. Deepening the kiss, his tongue moved with hers in the most delicious way, causing the passion in him to rise. Holding her close, he separated only an inch to look deep into her eyes.

Into his heaven.

“As much as I don’t want to let you go, I have to pay these guys, so one second,” he said with a quick grin, reluctantly letting her go to pull some twenties out of his pocket. Thankfully, they had turned the lights back on, and everyone went back to doing what they were doing before Karson turned into a completely pussy and serenaded her. While he knew that he was going to get shit for it at practice tomorrow, he couldn’t muster up anything to care. All he cared about was making Lacey happy, and he thought he succeeded pretty damn well.

“Great job, guys,” he said, before handing them money. They all grinned before heading off, leaving him with Lacey. Turning, he smiled at her before taking her hand in his. “What are your plans tonight?”

She smiled as she laced her fingers with his. “I need to study.”

“Wanna get some dinner first?”

“Is this the date you spoke of?”

“Yeah, one of many to come. Can I please steal you away from studying? I know that’s bad, but I really can’t imagine leaving you after all this.”

A grin pulled at her lips as she said, “Yeah, I can study later. Let’s go.”

Elated, Karson waited as she packed up her stuff, before wrapping his arm around her waist and leaving the coffee shop. Heading into the snow, they walked quickly to the Logan’s Roadhouse that was on campus. He knew there was a chance that it could be swamped but, luckily, it wasn’t. Being seated, he scooted into the same side of the booth that she did, grinning when she looked at him surprised. Taking her book bag, he placed it in the empty spot across from them before looking down at the menu. He could feel her staring at him and looked over to find her grinning at him.

“I have to admit, this is my first date in years, probably, so I may be a tad bit rusty, but aren’t you supposed to sit over there?”

He laughed. “I could, but I don’t want to.” He shot her a grin before saying, “Your kissing isn’t rusty, that’s for sure.”

A giggle escaped her before she pressed her lips shut tight, looking over at him with playfulness in her eyes. “Well, thank you.”

Leaning over, he pressed his lips to hers softly before saying, “No, thank you.”

They held each other’s gazes until the waitress came over for their orders. After their food was ordered and drinks were delivered, Karson turned to ask, “So, how’s school going?”

She shrugged as she folded her hands under her chin. “Good, I failed my math pop quiz today. I hate math.”

“I’m pretty good at it. I’ll help you out if you’d like.”

“I would, thank you.”

“No problem. I won’t miss school once I go into the draft. I hate writing papers and crap. It’ll be nice to just relax and play. Knowing my mom though, she’ll probably suggest I take online classes.”

“Why did you go to school in the first place? Weren’t you offered to go into the draft after high school?”

Karson’s mouth turned up at the side. “Been stalking me?”

She laughed. “Please, if anyone is the stalker in this relationship, it’s you.”

“Maybe… But to answer your question, yes, I was offered, but my mom pushed me to go to school first to make sure that hockey was what I wanted to do.”

“Is it?”

“Hell yeah,” he scoffed with a laugh.

She smiled as she agreed. “You were born for it.”

“Yeah, I love it.”

Holding his gaze, she smiled as she said, “So you want to start a relationship with me when you have one foot out the door?”

“See, I thought about that, but then I figured that you’re the kind of girl that’s worth the trouble of a long-distance relationship. I know you want to stay here because your family is here. I would never expect you to go with me, but wherever I go, believe me, I’ll be yours only.”

“If this works, and the time came for you to leave, then you best believe you’ll be only mine. Don’t cheat on me, Karson King. I’ll kill you… with a hockey stick.”

Laughing, Karson said, “You think I don’t know that?”

Laughing along with him, she leaned into him as she asked, “So where are your mom and dad?”

“Wisconsin. My sister Kacey goes here though, plays for the women’s team.”

“Wisconsin is a good place to go to college, especially for hockey. Why come here?”

“They offered me a full ride. I couldn’t pass it up. Plus, your dad promised to mold me into a great player. He’s succeeded, I think.”

She nodded as their plates were delivered. “Yeah, he is good at what he does. Been doing it his whole life.”

“Yeah, my dad believed in him, so I did. Now though, I’m ready for the pros.”

Lacey agreed as she dug into her food, and he did the same. After swallowing, he asked, “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I had to get out of the house before my dad smothered me. We get free room and board here since he is the coach. Even though he and Grady begged me to stay home, I decided to be a rebel and do what I want.”

That made him smile before he asked, “Why did they want you to stay home?”

Looking away, she shrugged slowly. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m the only girl? My mom passed away when I was six from breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his heart going out to her.

She gave him a tight smile before she went on. “Thank you, but they’ve been a little smothering since then. I think they are scared I’ll get hurt, when I could take out anyone who tried to hurt me. They are nuts and overprotective, which reminds me, I’m sorry Grady did that. He’s a bonehead.”

“He loves you; I understand it. Anyone ever touches Kacey, and I’ll do the same. It’s a big brother thing.”

“I guess, but he goes over and beyond the big brother requirements. He’s treated me like a walking time bomb since the diagnosis. It’s annoying.”

Karson stopped and glanced over at her. He could see it all over her face. She hadn’t meant to tell him that. “Diagnosis?”

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Huh?”

“You said diagnosis.”

She laughed, waving her hand at him. “I don’t know why, silly me.”

Still looking at her, he said, “I know this is new, but I know when you are lying to me. Lacey, what diagnosis?”

Dropping her fork, she let out a breath before wrapping her fingers together in her lap. She picked at the nail polish that was flaking off her fingers. Karson watched as she took in a deep breath before letting it out again. Looking up at him, she said, “I had breast cancer.”

His heart stopped as she held his gaze. “You had it, too?”

“Yeah, that’s how they found out about it. My mom had, so I was at risk. They suggested I come in early, just as a precaution, and found it.”

“Do you still?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head.

“Well, that’s good, great even, that you fought it. Why are you bashful about something like that? You should be proud that you are a survivor.”

“I am. It’s just that I’ve been sick for so long, and I am just now getting back to me. You know what I mean? Like, I still don’t look like me. I used to be healthy looking and my hair was so long, but the chemo took it, and then I—” She stopped suddenly and shook her head. “It’s just that I have this second chance and I want to make the most of it, but sometimes I am so scared that I’m not the girl I used to be.”

Turning to her, Karson took her hand in his. “I didn’t know that girl, but I bet she was as amazing as you are now. You’ve taken something that could be a tragedy and are capitalizing on it, wanting to help women feel sexy after something that could make them feel like they aren’t female anymore. Breast cancer is scary. I admire you for what you’ve overcome and for your plans for the future. You are amazing, Lacey, and gorgeous. Don’t ever forget that.”

Her mouth pulled up at the side as she looked away bashfully. He said, “And to let you know, I’ve fallen just a bit more for you. You blow me away, Lacey. The more I learn about you, the more I know this instant attraction to you is more than I thought. I hope you’re ready.”

Confused, she asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah, ready for the kind of relationship that will ruin you for anyone else. Not that we have to worry about that, because I know this is a forever kind of thing.”

“You’re so confident,” she said, shaking her head, a grin pulling at her lips.

“Yeah, because I know what I want, and when I want something as bad as I want you, I know I’ll do anything to keep it.”

“I admire that about you.”

“Good… because I’ve never been in love, and I want to do this right. I want to do you right. I read once that being someone’s first love is great, but to be their last is beyond perfect. I want that with you, and I don’t care how crazy that sounds.”

Looking away, she pulled in a deep breath before looking back at him. “You scare me shitless, Karson King, because I have decided to trust you. I hope to God that everything you say will be true, because cancer broke me in to a billion pieces, and I’m just now putting that all back together. Picking all those pieces up again would be the hardest thing I would ever have do, so please don’t break me.”

Cupping her face, he leaned in, running his nose along hers before he whispered, “There won’t be any pieces to pick up because I’m not breaking you. I’ll hold you together. You’ll never face anything without me right there. I’ll be there until the end. I promise you that.”

“I trust you.”

That was all he needed to hear.

You’re beautiful.

Their relationship was on the fast track from that moment on. It was intense and maybe a little insane, but Lacey wouldn’t have it any other way. She was falling madly for him, and she wasn’t the least bit ashamed of it. Wherever Karson was, Lacey was, and vice versa. They were constantly together, studying, going out, and just enjoying each other. She had never felt so free in her life, and she knew it was because of him. He made her feel alive, like the most beautiful girl in the world, and he continually told her that. She had never felt so strongly about someone and, despite Rachel and Grady telling her she was nuts for falling for him so quickly, she still allowed herself to do so.

It was just that Karson made everything feel so right, so perfect, as if it was meant to be. He made her feel as if there was nothing but them, and she loved that about him. And boy, could he make her hotter than anybody ever had before. Lacey wasn’t a virgin, not by a long shot. Growing up around nothing but Grady’s friends, she’d lost her virginity when she was sixteen, but there was a difference between fooling around with boys and being with Karson.

He made her feel so special with each touch. They hadn’t had sex, but there had been heavy touching and rubbing because he said he wanted to wait. What twenty-year-old guy wanted to wait? Karson King did because he wanted her to be completely ready and trust him. It was night and she was thankful, because every time they fooled around and things got hot and heavy, her anxiety was always high when his hands gravitated toward her breasts. She knew she needed to tell him about them, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She loved their relationship and didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection if he felt he couldn’t deal with it. In her heart she knew that wasn’t true, but still, it made her nervous.

Along with spending every waking moment together, they never missed an event for the other person either. Every game, Lacey was there, Karson’s number written on her cheek with Rachel right beside her, Grady’s number on her cheek. Grady still wasn’t okay with Karson and Lacey being together, but at least he hadn’t tried to swing on Karson in the last two months. When Lacey performed with the Catappellas, Karson was front row, watching every moment, and the loudest person cheering when they finished a set. They had a routine; Karson walked her to every class and was always there at the end to greet her before rushing off to his own. She wasn’t sure how he got away with missing so much, but he guaranteed her it wasn’t a big deal, that he was passing. She was fine with whatever he was doing as long as she got to see him. Call her selfish, but she valued the time she got to spend with him since, more than likely, he’d be going into the draft. After being picked for a team, he’d be shipped off to whatever team chose him. He had been flying out a lot, interviewing with all kinds of teams, and it was nerve-racking, but she was so proud of him.

While she prayed every night that the Blackhawks chose him, she knew that was probably not going happen since they were on the road to the Cup, and they wouldn’t get the first draft pick. Karson wasn’t sure but he promised, no matter what, she would always be the keeper of his heart. She was grateful for that and trusted him, but she also knew that her man would probably go to some team that was rebuilding somewhere far away. She believed that nothing could derail their love. She loved him so hard that it was scary. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that if he asked her to go, she’d go without hesitation.

Looking across the table at her father, she smiled when he met her gaze. His mouth curved in a grin, and it made her heart happy. Her dad had aged so much over the last couple of years, and she knew it was her fault. She knew he loved her though, and that eased the guilt a little bit, but she wished she could take the hard years away.

“Daddy, can I invite Karson to dinner next Sunday?”

Grady looked up as Rachel glanced up, too. Rachel had been coming to Sunday dinners since Grady asked her out, but Lacey hadn’t brought Karson yet. Even though they had been together for two months, she figured it would be a tough pill for her dad to swallow, knowing his daughter was involved with someone. He had always been so overprotective. He knew about Karson and he seemed indifferent to it all, but still Lacey wanted to include Karson in their family get-togethers.

“So it’s serious, buttercup?”

Lacey’s heart kicked up in speed as she nodded. “Yeah, Daddy, it is.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, they are saying he will be a number-one pick for the draft, meaning he has a one-way ticket out of Chicago.”

“I know, but we feel we’ll be fine. You never know, I might go with him. I could transfer schools.”

Grady’s brows shot up and, unfortunately, so did her father’s as he asked, “Transfer schools? Leave Chicago?”

Swallowing loudly, Lacey looked down as she said, “I mean, I don’t know. It’s all up in the air, but I know that I care for him deeply. I want him to be involved in our family dinners, and I want you to get to know him. He’s an amazing person.”

“I know who he is. I’ve trained him for the last two years. While yes, he is a great guy, I don’t think he is the guy for you. I didn’t say anything when you two got together because I figured it would end when he left, but you saying you want to go with him is out of the question.”

Her father didn’t yell at her, it was more of a very stern voice, but it scared her as much as if he had, but she wasn’t going to be treated like a child.

“Daddy, I am eighteen years old, about to turn nineteen. If I want to go, I will.”

“No, you won’t. I won’t pay a penny of your education.”

“That’s fine, that’s why there are loans. You are getting your blood pressure up for nothing though. I don’t know what will happen. All I wanted to know was if my boyfriend could come to dinner.”

He looked at Lacey with eyes that told her the answer before he spoke it. But still her heart dropped when he said, “The answer is no.”

Slowly, she nodded before standing up. “If my boyfriend can’t come to dinner, then I won’t be here either.”

“Sit down, Lacey. That is ludicrous,” he said, setting her with a look.

Shaking her head, Lacey’s eyes filled with tears as she said, “What’s ludicrous is that Grady can have his girlfriend to dinner, but I can’t have my boyfriend. I am tired of the double standards around here, and things better change before I change them for us.”

With that, she turned and headed for the front door. Her dad called her back, but she ignored him as she put on her jacket and hat. Fighting back the tears, she glanced up at the portrait of her mother and said, “Bye, Mom.”

Slamming the front door to her house, she stomped to her car and drove off. She pulled her phone out her pocket and dialed Karson. He answered on the second ring.

“Hey babe, you done with dinner?”

“Yeah, can I come see you?”

“Yeah, of course. I was hoping you would.”

She worked her lip and then asked, “Are you alone?”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Well, yeah, Grady was with you. I don’t know if he is coming back here. He might go to Rachel’s.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, feeling dumb. She decided that she would text Rachel to take Grady back to their dorm, because she wanted to be alone with Karson. “Okay, I’m coming over.”

“Sounds good, babe. See you soon. Be careful.”

“I will,” she promised as she hung up and headed toward his frat house. It was on the other side of campus. She hated the drive, but soon she was there, parking beside his car. Hopping out, she bundled up in her jacket as she headed up the stairs to the door. Opening it, she was greeted by some of his teammates. She smiled and waved as she headed up to Karson’s room. His was on the third floor, the last room on the right. Being the captain and co-captain, Karson and Grady got the best room. It was basically a suite. It was so big, and Lacey was jealous every time she came over, since her and Rachel’s room was the size of their closet.

Knocking on the door, she pushed it open when Karson said come in. In only a pair of shorts, he met her at the door, kissing her softly on the lips. As they parted, Lacey found herself breathless as she took in each ab and muscle in his chest. Her boyfriend was gorgeous with clothes on, but it was easy to say she liked him better without.

“Missing a shirt, I see?”

He laughed as he shrugged, taking her jacket and throwing it on Grady’s bed. “I just got out of the shower and didn’t feel like finding one.”

“Oh,” she muttered as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his scent and warmth. “Mmmm,” she whispered, cuddling closer and holding on to him. She needed this. Needed to feel him like this, especially after what had just happened with her dad.

“How did it go at your interview?”

He shrugged. “Good, I might end up going to Tampa. They like me a lot, and it would be fun to visit Florida, right?”

She grinned up at him. “Yeah, it would be. I love the beach.”

He smiled back before saying, “I do, too. Never know though, we’ll see.”

“I’m excited for you,” she said. He kissed her softly on her jaw before nibbling down her neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered into her neck. “Did you have fun at your dad’s?”

“Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You sure?” he asked, placing a kiss below her ear before pulling back to look into her eyes.

She nodded, running her hands up his back and then down. “I missed you.”

His mouth curved into a grin as he ran his nose along hers. He touched his lips to hers, his hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans as he deepened the kiss. Closing her eyes, she moved her mouth with his and then slowly reached back to lock the door. Pulling away, he eyed her as his grin grew.

“You know that won’t keep him out.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered as she returned her lips to his. She was ready for this. It was time, and she wanted to share this moment with him. She wanted to take their relationship to the next level. She loved and trusted him. Pulling away, she took his hand in hers and led him to his bed. Karson’s eyes searched hers as she lowered herself down and took in a deep breath, waiting for him to join her, but he didn’t move.

Running his hand through his hair, he asked, “Are you sure, Lacey?”

She slowly nodded. “Yeah, don’t you want to?”

“Fuck yeah, I do, I just don’t want to rush you.”

A smile pulled at her lips as she hooked her finger at him. They had lain in his bed countless times, watching TV and just fooling around, but this time was going to be different. This time she was going to give him all of her and hope that he didn’t reject her. Her heart was pounding and tears were gathering in her eyes, but she was ready. She wanted him, needed to feel him in the most intimate way.

“You’re not. Now come on, make love to me.”

That was all he needed to hear because, within seconds, he was crawling on top of her, pressing his hard length between her legs as he drew long, drugging kisses out of her. Running her shaky hands up his back, she tried to still her wildly beating heart but it was no use. Between Karson’s intoxicating kisses and the fact that he was about to see her breasts, her heart was beating louder than a drum.

Parting only an inch, Karson cupped her face in his hands as he held her gaze. “You’re shaking. Are you sure, baby? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m just nervous.”

His brows cocked up as he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “You have nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me. I love you.”

It was the first time he’d said it outright like that, and it totally stunned her. Usually he would say, he was falling or that he was completely sprung for her, but never had he said those three words. Her stomach went nuts with butterflies, and her heart pounded against her chest as she held his gaze. “I love you, too.”

His grin grew as he said, “I thought you were going to leave me hanging.”

She laughed. “You know I love you. Isn’t it obvious?”

Dropping his head to hers, he slowly nodded before moving his lips along hers. “Yeah, I’ve known, but hearing you say it is better than scoring the winning goal, Lacey. I love you so damn much.”

He went to kiss her, but she knew it couldn’t go any further without telling him. Placing her finger against his lip, she whispered, “I need to tell you something before we go on.”

“Yeah?”

Biting into her lip, she knew she just had to say it. This was going to happen, and giving him a warning would be best. “You remember how I had breast cancer?”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, it didn’t come back, did it? Is that why you had a bad time at your dad’s?” he asked, his eyes filling with panic as he placed his hands on the bed to push himself back on his haunches.

“No, not at all,” she said, trying to calm him down as she sat up, crossing her legs and placing her hands on his chest to soothe him. “It can’t come back in my breasts, Karson… Since I don’t have any breasts. I had to have a double mastectomy a year ago.”

Without realizing it, her eyes filled with tears and she looked down at the bed to hide them. She couldn’t look at the shock on his face. It hurt her too much because she wasn’t sure what it meant. Was he thinking of an easy way out? Was he trying to figure out how to get out of bed with her without hurting her feelings? As seconds turned into minutes, she took in deep breaths and finally couldn’t take it anymore. Looking up, she met his confused gaze as he asked, “What? What do you mean? I’ve touched your boobs. I’ve grabbed them when we’ve made out.”

Her lip quivered as she slowly nodded. “I have a bra on that looks and feel like real breasts, but they aren’t.”

Lacey could see the confusion on his face, but she could also see the pure love in his eyes. Slowly, she reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, exposing herself in a way that no one had ever seen. Not even Rachel had seen her without clothing. She knew about the double mastectomy, so did her dad and Grady, but no one had ever seen it except for the doctors and nurses. Not looking in his eyes, she slowly undid the back of her bra and let it fall down her arms, allowing him to see her as tears welled up in her eyes. Looking down at her own chest, she hated the cancer that had taken away her breasts. They looked deflated, only skin from where she had been a full B cup shriveled up against her chest, with large, long pink scars going down the middle. She didn’t have nipples, just skin, and she knew it was disgusting, but she hoped that Karson would still love her.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she knew she couldn’t prolong it anymore, so she looked up to find Karson taking in every detail of her. When his eyes met hers, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, “I know I should have told you before this moment, but I was just so scared that you would reject me. I know they are disgusting—”

“You’re beautiful, Lacey. Nothing about you is disgusting. I love you, all of you. When I look at your chest, all I see is survival. I see a second chance at a life, a life with me. So please don’t apologize for something you couldn’t control. Just allow me to make love to you, and please don’t ever forget how much I love you and how I think you are the most gorgeous girl in the world.”

Relief and love exploded in Lacey’s chest, as she looked deep into his eyes. Her lip started to wobble before a sob escaped her lips but then Karson was there, kissing the sobs away. She would never love a man like she did Karson, and she was fine with that. He was her forever. Laying her back, he kissed down her neck and held himself up as he looked down at her. Kissing her nose, and then a few of the stray tears, he kissed her lips. Trailing his kisses down his jaw and neck, he placed one in the middle of her chest. Slowly, he placed his lips on her left scar, kissing it softly before doing the same to the right. Tears rolled down the side of her face as she watched him and, when his eyes met hers, he smiled before saying, “I love you, Lacey. All of you.”

Not able to say anything else, she whispered, “I love you.”

* * * *

Karson was stunned by what Lacey had just shared with him, but he was thankful that she completely trusted him. He loved her, with everything inside of him, and had waited for this moment for months. He had wanted her since the moment he met her but, unlike with other girls, he wanted to savor her, wanted to treasure her, and wanted to wait until the moment she was ready. She had been nervous since the beginning when it came to him, and he wanted to show her that he could love her without sleeping with her. The last two months had been the best of his life. He was playing the best hockey of his life, and he was in love with the girl of his dreams.

Being with Lacey was easy, like breathing, and she lit up his day every time he saw her. He craved her and couldn’t help but fall in love with her over and over again each day. She was that amazing, that perfect. She worked so hard, she loved with all her heart, and he admired everything she had been through. She was the strongest person he knew, and he loved her with everything inside of him. He couldn’t wait to take her to meet his parents the following day, and Kacey already loved her. He had huge plans for them and couldn’t wait for their future, but right now, he had to make love to the love of his life.

Kissing down her stomach, he unbuttoned her jeans, slowly sliding them down her legs to reveal a little lace thong. Groaning inwardly, he threw her jeans over his shoulder and kissed up her thighs as her hand snaked up into his hair. Spreading her legs, he pressed himself into her before meeting his mouth with hers. The heat from her sweet center teased his dick through his athletic shorts, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her, but he wanted to draw this out as much as he could. He wanted to enjoy her thoroughly.

Falling to the side of her, he continued to kiss her as his hand made a trail down her stomach to between her legs. Pulling her panties to the side, he dipped his fingers between her wet folds and groaned against her lips as his fingers sank into her center. She was hot and wet, driving him completely mad with lust. As he lazily moved his fingers along the taut bud between her folds, he kissed her with urgency as she gasped and thrashed under his hand. He loved feeling her like this, making her come. He always wondered why she never took her shirt off when they would fool around before, but now that he knew why, he only loved her more. She was so strong, so beautiful, and all his.

Moving his finger in just the right way against her silky nub, he watched as she came undone under his hand. She bit into his lip, her body shaking under his touch as he removed his hand, slowly pushing her panties down. Kissing along her neck and jaw, he brought her lips to his, kissing her with all the love he had in his soul for her. Knowing he couldn’t wait any longer, Karson crawled over her, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a condom. Chucking his shorts down, he sheathed himself with the condom before crawling back over her, his hands shaking at the mere though that they were only seconds away from connecting in the most passionate way. Pushing her legs apart, he fell between them, dropping his lips to hers.

As he kissed her, his heart swelled in his chest. He wanted to whisper every single plan he had for them. How he wanted to get married the moment she graduated. That he hoped that by then he was making the kind of money that could support her business. After a year or two, when the business was making great money, he wanted to get her pregnant at least twice. With the hopes that at least one of their sweet babies would be a little girl like her, someone who could have him wrapped around her finger the way her momma had him. He wanted to make a home with her, grow old in that home, and just love her for the rest of his life. She was it—a done deal.

Pulling back to look into her sweet eyes, he smiled as he whispered, “I love you, Lacey Martin.”

Without giving her time to say the words he loved hearing her say, he pushed inside her slowly, a groan escaping his lips from how utterly good she felt. She was tight, sexy, and fuck, he wasn’t going to last long. Her body squeezed him like a vise, and his eyes fell shut as he slowly moved in and out of her. Gripping her sides with his hands, he picked up speed, his body aching for release as she clutched him to her. It didn’t take long, and soon he thrust with one last grunt, spilling into the condom as she squeezed him tight with her body. Falling onto her chest, he kissed her long and hard, his heart pounding with hers as they both gasped for breath. He hated that he didn’t last, but she was too hot and too sexy for him to last any longer than he had. He also hadn’t had sex in months, so being enveloped in her slick heat didn’t help his staying power.

“I promise, next time, I’ll knock your socks off,” he whispered against her neck.

She giggled as she lazily ran her fingers up his back. “You did knock my socks off—what are you talking about?”

“That was short,” he said shyly, causing her body to shake with laughter.

“I got off and you got off; I’m good. You are delicious in every way, Karson. I am completely satisfied.”

Smiling at her, he leaned over, pressing his lips to the side of her mouth. “Still, next time, I’m going to make you come over and over again.”

She grinned cheekily. “I can’t wait.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close as he kissed her temple, basking in the feel of her nakedness against him. She was so beautiful, and to him, nothing was wrong with her. As much as he wanted to look at her naked and enjoy her, he knew they needed to get dressed.

“We should probably get dressed before Grady comes back.”

“Just a little longer,” she whispered against his jaw as she cuddled closer.

“Okay,” he agreed as their legs tangled up with each other. The room was completely silent except for the clock on the wall ticking and the guys downstairs. Karson knew that the locked door wouldn’t keep Grady out, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up to get dressed. This was the girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Grady might need to get used to seeing them together, naked and otherwise.

“Karson,” Lacey whispered. He looked down to see her staring at him, her pale green eyes locking his gaze with hers as she worked her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Yeah?”

“If you asked me to go with you when you leave, I’d go without hesitation.”

He never expected that, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t beyond happy to hear her say it. “Really?”

She nodded. “I don’t want to be apart from you, and I can go to school wherever you get picked up at. I’ll take out loans and get a job. It will work as long as we have each other, right?”

“Yeah, it will.”

With a grin, she said, “Good, ’cause I think so, too.”

As she cuddled into him, Karson wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, placing sweet kisses against her chest, and then her neck before looking up into her eyes. “Hey, Lacey?”

“Yeah?” she whispered against his lips.

“Will you go with me wherever I go?”

He knew the answer, but hearing her say it made it ten times sweeter. Looking down into his sparking eyes, she smiled as she answered, “Yes.”

I love you.

Coming off the ice, Karson headed toward his locker, lowering himself onto the bench as he gasped for breath. It was a tough practice but a needed one. They had their first play-off game the following day, and Karson was ready to win. This was his last season as a Cat, and he planned to go out with a bang. It had been decided that morning. He was going into the draft, and he was beyond excited. Especially now that his girl would come with him, wherever he went.

Removing his jersey and then his shirt, he bent over to undo his skates as everyone filed in, doing the same. He wanted to hit the showers before heading home for a nap. He was meeting Lacey that night for dinner with his parents and, while he was excited for his mom and dad to meet her, he couldn’t wait to tell her that he was going to go into the draft. She would be excited for him, proud even, and that put a little pep in his step as he slid his skates off before hanging them in his locker. Removing his girdle and then shorts, he wrapped a towel around his waist and proceeded to the showers.

“King.”

He looked over his shoulder to see Coach standing in the doorway. “Yeah, Coach?”

“When you’re done, come to my office.”

Karson nodded. “Sure.”

Not knowing what that was about since they’d had a meeting that morning with his dad, Karson hurried in the shower before getting dressed and heading to his office. After he knocked, Coach looked up and said, “Shut the door and come in.”

Karson did as he was asked before falling into the seat in front of his desk. “What’s up, Coach?”

Coach sat there for a moment, moving his fingers along the desk, and then finally looked up. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but I have to protect my daughter.”

Karson’s whole body went cold as his coach’s pale green eyes held his. Choosing not to say anything, he waited as Coach gathered his words. He slowly stood, looking at Karson as his hand came to rest on his hips. “You love her?”

“Yes,” he said, like a promise.

“Then let her go.”

“I can’t do that,” he said, sitting up in his seat. “I need her. I love her. I know you want to protect her, but I promise I’ll do just that. I’ll make you proud, Coach.”

“She wants to go with you wherever you go, and we both know it won’t be Chicago. She can’t leave. She needs to finish her education, for free, I might add, and she needs to be here with her family, not off somewhere where you’re going to leave her when you’re on the road.”

He had a point, but Karson had every plan to love and protect Lacey. He just had to ease his coach’s doubts. “I understand your concern, Coach, but she will be fine. She plans to go to school and work while I play. When I start making the big bucks, I’ll buy her the business she wants and then she can work from home. We’ve got a plan, one I believe in.”

“So you want her to go to school and pay an arm and leg? When she can stay here and go to school for free? How is that fair? How is that protecting her? She has everything here, but that’s not what is worrying me, King. What if the cancer comes back?”

Karson’s heart sank and dread filled him as he looked away. “Do you have the money to pay all the co-pays, for the surgeries if they’re needed? Do you think the doctors wherever you are can help her the way our doctors can?”

“We can come back home if that happens. I’ll protect her,” he said, almost pleading, but Coach shook his head, his mouth in a straight line as he held Karson’s gaze.

“I know that you think this is it, that she is the girl for you, but son, you’re young and haven’t even begun to see what is out there. I need my daughter to stay here. If you let her go and allow her to finish school here, then when she graduates, I’ll give her the money to start her business.”

As much as he wanted that for Lacey, he didn’t like the terms that were being offered. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be pushed into something he didn’t want. He wanted Lacey, but he also wanted her to live her dreams. “What I don’t understand is why do I have to let her go? Can’t she stay, and I go? That was the original plan.”

“No, because she won’t. She has her mind made up. She’d follow you to the ends of the earth, and she deserves better than that. She needs security, and being a rookie in the pros is not going to offer her that. Do you know how much chemo is? How much her double mastectomy was? Hundreds of thousands of dollars, something you will not have, but I do. Let her stay here and go to school for free. Let her have the security I can give her. Let her go, King. I know it will hurt, but it’s what’s best for her.”

Karson’s fingers bit into his thighs as he slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let her go. I’ll convince her to stay here. It will work out.”

Slamming his fist against the desk, Coach shook his head as he yelled, “I want you out of her life! She won’t do what’s best for her if you are still there.”

“Yes, she will. Just let me convince her to stay here.”

“No! You aren’t good for her, Karson. You have to break it off with her. If you don’t, then I’m sorry, but you can forget about playing tomorrow.”

“You can’t do that!” Karson yelled, flying out of his seat. “Teams are coming to watch me tomorrow. I have to play!”

“You’re right. You have to let her go, or not only will you lose your career, but you’ll also lose her. What girl will want to stay with a loser? Especially when you have nothing to offer her?”

Tears stung his eyes as he looked away, gasping for breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love her and need to protect her. She is all I have left from her mother, and I can’t let her go.”

“But I can’t either. I love her.”

“If you love her, then let her go. She will be better without you.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We are better together.”

“You heard me. You have till tomorrow, King. End it, or I’ll end your career.”

Taking in a deep breath, he tried to process everything that was just said to him. He was being blackmailed, and there was nothing he could do about it. No one would believe him. Nate Martin was the most respected college hockey coach in the league. Everyone loved him. Hell, Karson’s own dad loved him. He had no choice. He had to protect his career, and he had to make sure that Lacey had the life she deserved, even if it killed him to do it. Coach was right. She had free college here, and if her cancer did come back, at least here, she would be taken care of. As much as he wanted to live in his little fantasy world of being a pro and having the best girl on his arm, he had to realize that it wasn’t going to happen.

Looking up at his coach, he said, “I’ll end it.”

“Good,” he said with a nod, running his hand through his blond hair. “And another thing, King, she can’t ever know about this. I’ll ruin you if she ever finds out. Don’t ever forget about my connections in the pros.”

Karson slowly nodded his head. “I won’t tell her.”

“Or Grady. This is between us. Believe me; it’s for the best. I am helping both of you. You’ll see and be thankful when you are a single rookie making the world yours.”

Standing up, Karson looked at the man he had idolized for the last two years and felt nothing but hatred for him. Clearing his throat, he shook his head as he said, “I won’t have a world because Lacey won’t be by my side.”

Walking out of the office in a daze, Karson headed back to the dorm, ignoring everyone as he headed to his room. Once there, he fell into bed and closed his eyes tight. His tears ran along the side of his eyes, and he needed them to get out of him now. When he was face-to-face with Lacey, he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t let her see how he was slowly dying inside, because it would give it all away. She could see right through him and would know that he wasn’t being truthful, but he couldn’t see another way out of this. He had to do it, even if he didn’t want to let her go. There was no other option; he had to protect her and himself. He had worked so hard for his career, and he loved her too much to jeopardize her life. Coach was right; he couldn’t support her the way he could.

As he lay crying in his bed, he thought about what this was going to do to her, knowing this was going to break her. He was going to be responsible for shattering her, and he had to live with that for the rest of his life.

But what other choice did he have?

* * * *

Lacey was standing in front of her mirror, looking over the sweater dress she had paired with a pair of black boots, hoping that she looked good enough to meet Karson’s parents. She was nervous, but nothing could wipe the grin off her face. She had spent the night wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms. The same boyfriend she was going to leave Chicago for and continue to love for the rest of her life. She was so glad she took the chance two months ago. She had promised to live life to the fullest, and she was doing just that.

Nerves coursed through her. Not only was she meeting his mom and dad, but he was also supposed to get word that day if he was going into the draft. Everyone believed it was a done deal but, at the same time, there was a chance that no one would want him. It was a 2% chance, but still, it was there. She had the confidence that he was going, and he would be first-round pick. Everyone would gush about him, he’d get a great deal, and he’d rock the hell out of the league. That was the plan, and while he did all that, she’d get her degree and then open the best lingerie business in the country. Those were her dreams, and she knew that they were within reach.

As long as she had Karson standing beside her.

When the knock came at the door, she smiled because Karson was early. Reaching for the door, she pulled it open to find her delicious boyfriend on the other side. She was surprised that he was wearing jeans since they were going out to dinner at some ritzy restaurant, but ignored it as she reached for him, placing a kiss on his sweet mouth.

“Hey!” she gushed as she shut the door behind him. “You’re early. Give me a minute; I gotta fix my makeup. Did your dad find out if you are going in the draft? I’m so excited. I feel good about it.”

When Karson didn’t answer, she looked back at him to find him watching her. “What?”

“You look beautiful.”

A grin pulled at her lips as she said, “Well, thank you, but really, are you going in?”

Slowly, he nodded. She squealed before wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I’m so proud of you! You’re going to rock the big leagues!”

When he didn’t hug her back, Lacey pulled back, surprised, and looked up into his face, immediately seeing that something was very wrong. His eyes were bloodshot, his face red, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from crying. But why would Karson cry? He was her big, burly boyfriend. He made other guys cry. “What’s wrong?”

Closing his eyes, he undid her arms from around him and took a step back. “We need to talk.”

Dread filled her chest as she looked up into his face. “About?”

“About us.”

Her heart picked up in speed as she continued to look at him. He was looking everywhere but her, another sign that something was horribly wrong.

“Lacey, we have to end things.”

“What?”

“With me going to the pros, I’m going to be so busy, traveling and training and shit, and it isn’t fair to drag you into all that.”

“What are you talking about? We’ll be fine. That’s why I’m going with you, so we can see each other when you have downtime.”

“No, you need to stay here. Go to school for free and be with your family.”

Shaking her head, she said, “No, I need to go with you. I need to be with you. Everything else will fall into place as long as we are together.”

Still not looking at her, he said, “Lacey, I can’t ask you to follow me across the damn world. You need to think of yourself, what is best for you, and that’s to stay in Chicago.”

“Who are you to tell me what I need? We’ve been together for two months, and you’ve never told me what I need. Except for maybe you, and you were right, so stop and look at me! What is going on?”

Slowly, Karson met her gaze and let out a long breath. “You’re right, we’ve only been together for two months. Maybe we are rushing into this. I’ve been having second thoughts, Lacey, and I can’t help but feel like I dragging you from everything you know. I don’t feel right about that. This is your life, and we don’t know what could happen. Your cancer could come back or I could flop when I hit the big leagues, and then what? How would I support you?”

Not able to hold them in any longer, Lacey’s tears rushed down her face as she slowly shook her head. “As long as we have each other, everything else will fall into place.”

She could see the pain in his eyes, but that still didn’t stop him from saying, “Love won’t put food on the table, or pay for your college, or start your business, Lacey. I’m sorry, but I have to end things.”

A sob ripped from her as she looked away, gasping for breath. What changed? How did they go from promising to be together forever, to him breaking up with her?

She’d slept with him.

Looking up at him through her tears, a sob was caught at the base of her throat as she cried, “Is this about my breasts? Are you breaking up with me because I have no boobs? I trusted you! I showed only you, and now you’re breaking up with me?”

He was in front of her before she could even take in another breath. Squeezing her arms in his hands, he shook his head quickly, tears welling up in his eyes as he held her gaze. “God no, Lacey. Don’t you ever think that! I love you, I love your body, and I love every single thing about you, but I can’t do this. I can’t guarantee you the future when I have no clue what mine is. As much as I want to say we can get back together once I figure it all out, that isn’t fair to you. I want you to have the life you deserve, and I don’t think I’m the man to give it to you.”

“But you are! Karson, if you love me, don’t break up with me,” she cried, holding on to his forearm. “You promised you would never break me, and that’s what you are doing by giving up on us and leaving me.”

Looking down at the ground, he took in a deep breath. “I know, but I am doing it for you. I’m sorry, Lacey. I’m so fucking sorry, but don’t you ever think I don’t love you. I do, but I’m sorry, I have to end this.”

Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her hard, but she pushed him away. “No! You don’t get to kiss me or tell me you love me when you are breaking up with me! How is that fair? How is that even right? It’s a contradiction to everything, because even with you saying you’re doing it for me, it makes no sense! If you loved me, you would stay with me and love me for the rest of our lives, but you aren’t doing that, are you?”

“I can’t. I love you too much. I have to let you go,” he said, as tears slowly rolled down his perfectly chiseled face.

“Why?”

“Because I have to, so that you have the life you deserve,” he said with all the compassion in the world, but all it did was piss her the hell off.

“Bullshit. Get the hell out,” she cried, hugging herself with her arms.

“I love you, don’t forget that,” he whispered, but she ignored him as she crumpled onto her bed.

“Leave me alone. You made me a promise, Karson, and you broke it! You have completely broken me, and do you even care? Are you going to be here to pick up the pieces? No, you’ll be in the damn big league, leaving me behind to figure out how to live my life without you! How can you live with yourself knowing that?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

Covering her face, her tears leaked all over her hands as her body shook with her sobs. The room was completely quiet and she thought he had left, but when she looked up, she found him still watching her from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I really do love you.”

And with that, he shut the door, completely shattering her heart. As Lacey lay there, tears rushing down her face as she choked on her own sobs, she had no clue what had just happened, or how she was going to put herself back together after that. Their love was all consuming, and now she wasn’t going to have that. How did someone come back from that?

She thought being diagnosed with cancer and having her breasts removed was the hardest thing she’d ever have to battle, but all the pain she felt then didn’t even come close to the pain she was feeling at the moment. She was a survivor though, and she knew that she would cope with losing the greatest love of her life but, like everything else that happened in her life, she wished she didn’t have to.

Yesterday.

Karson stood in the back of the auditorium as the Catappellas sang their hearts out for the championship. His bags were in his car and all ready for the trek back home to Wisconsin before the draft. He wanted to be excited for the new life he was about to embark on, but it was hard when he knew that the girl who stood in the middle of the group in a bright red dress wasn’t going with him. It had been a month since he had broken things off with Lacey, and each day was harder than the last. He fought with himself daily to keep from going to her and begging for forgiveness. He knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life, but he prayed in the long run it was for the best.

He missed her—everything about her. He missed her lips, her smile, her laugh, and the feel of her body against his. He wanted nothing more than to run to the stage and ask her to run away with him, but from where he stood, he could see Grady and Coach. The hatred he felt in his body for his old coach was indescribable. He would always blame him from taking away his world and ruining him.

As he watched the Catappellas sing “All You Need Is Love” by the Beatles, his heart ached for her. He was stupid to come, he knew that this would hurt, but he had to see her one last time before he took off, leaving Chicago and his world behind him. Watching her from afar was hard and he hated it, but it was what he resorted to for the last month. He wasn’t sure when or if he’d ever see her again, so he knew he had to come, even if it was just to watch her since he knew he couldn’t say anything to her. His words would mean nothing to her. He had already broken her, and nothing he would say could fix what he had done.

When the group started to sing the melody to “Yesterday,” also by the Beatles, someone handed Lacey a mic and she took center stage, the lights shining on her, making her look like an angel. Something lurched in his chest. He fought for his breath as her sweet lips moved, and the most beautiful sound came out. As she sang the song, each word stabbed into Karson like a knife. He knew it wasn’t a coincidence that she was singing this song. She might not know that he was there, but she was singing it for him. It hurt hearing the words, but he welcomed the pain.

He deserved it.

When she hit the crescendo of the song, he could see her tears welling up and soon a tear rolled down her cheek as she sang her heart out. She was going to do great things. As the realization that she was going to do them without him settled on his heart, his own eyes filled with tears. Taking in a deep breath, he moved his hand along his cheek, catching his tears, as Lacey finished the song, causing the crowd to lose it. Unlike he usually did, Karson didn’t clap or cheer, he only watched her. While she smiled and bowed, thanking the crowd, he hoped that the powers beyond gave them another chance later in life, because if he did get another chance, he’d never let her go. No matter what. He regretted what he had done, and he knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life.

As he walked away, his heart heavy, he knew that his love for Lacey would never stop. While he knew he was about to embark on a new journey, he also knew that his heart would forever stay hostage to Lacey Martin.

And there was no other place he’d rather leave it.

###

Don’t miss the continuation of Lacey and Karson’s story in Laces and Lace, an Assassins Series Novel, due out in 2015!

Books by Toni Aleo

The Assassins Series

Taking Shots

Trying to Score

Empty Net

Falling for the Backup

Blue Lines

Breaking Away (due out in June 2014)

A Very Hockey Holiday (due out in Dec 2014)

Laces and Lace (due out in Dec 2014)

Rush Series

Jude (due out in Oct 2014)

Standalones

Let it be Me

The Whiskey Prince (due out in Aug 2014)

Bio:

When not rooting for her beloved Nashville Predators, Toni is probably going to her husband’s and son’s hockey games and her daughter’s dance competitions, taking pictures, scrapbooking, or reading the latest romance novel. She lives in the Nashville area with her husband, two children, and a bulldog.

www.tonialeo.com

Facebook: facebook.com/tonialeo1

Twitter: tonilovesweber6

Hooking Hannah

© Cassandra Carr & Cindy Carr

Dedication

We dedicate this to the countless brave people who have fought cancer and won and the equally brave souls who have lost their battle.

We also dedicate it to the scores of hockey players who have always been ready to give their hearts and resources to a good cause.

Cassandra’s Special Dedication:

To my mom, who I co-wrote this story with. Thanks for being my most constant supporter!

Chapter One

Ice blinded Scott Richards, a fine, snowy film covering his visor as he waited for his turn in warm-ups. As he wiped it with the back of his sleeve, he glowered at the man who’d started the shower of ice.

“I’ll get you for that, Mickey.” Mark “Mickey” McDonald didn’t seem fazed in the least.

“It’d be the first time this season you’ve hit anybody. Bring it on.”

The players near them laughed, but Scott grinned. “Who needs to bang bodies when I can put the biscuit in the basket instead?”

Mickey made a derisive noise. “Yeah, yeah.”

Scott loved the All-Star Game. Every player there was the best in the sport, and it was the one time, barring perhaps the Olympics, where the guys really mixed and played for a common cause. Sure, the game couldn’t exactly be called riveting hockey, but it was fun for both players and fans. He was happy to be a part of anything that increased the popularity of the sport.

The game started a little while later, and Scott, a centerman, lined up for his first shift against a guy he’d played with in juniors. “Hey, man.”

“Who let you in the building?” the guy sneered, but followed it up with a toothy grin which displayed his mouthguard more than his actual teeth. It was neon yellow and Scott had to blink just to regain the focus in his eyes.

“Top five in faceoffs, seventy points already, baby.”

“Still gonna kick your ass.”

“Love to see you try.” The linesman dropped the puck and a scrum ensued to gain possession. Scott came out with it, skated a stride and then stepped neatly around his opponent, and passed off to his winger. He heard the guy swear behind him and laughed. Man, he freaking loved playing hockey.

Scott streaked through the slot. The defenseman at the blue line who’d been passed the puck by the winger must’ve seen him raise his stick, because he sent a smooth saucer pass that Scott one-timed, catching the goaltender off guard and recording his first goal of the game on his first shift. He and his teammates did a brief celebration and then changed lines.

By the final buzzer, Scott’s line as a whole had eight points, three of them Scott’s with a goal and two assists. It didn’t really matter in an All-Star Game, but every guy in both locker rooms was a competitive SOB. Guys who’d make it this far in the league didn’t just dislike losing, they hated it. Absolutely loathed the entire concept. Fortunately, on this night, his team came out the winner and the atmosphere in the locker room was jovial and jubilant.

He quickly stripped off and showered, then got back into his favorite dark blue wool suit. A lot of the guys hated wearing suits to games, but Scott didn’t mind. Sure, he was no accountant or lawyer or anything, but he was a professional in his own right and in his opinion shouldn’t be any more willing to come to work in shorts and flip-flops than any of them.

The media had been allowed into the room by the time he finished dressing in the players’ private area, along with the families and various other VIP types. The beat reporter from New York Newsday pushed his way through the throngs.

“Great game, Scott! Can you tell us about your linemates tonight?” He thrust his microphone in Scott’s face, but Scott was so used to it he didn’t even flinch.

“It’s a bunch of talented guys here, that’s for sure,” he began, knowing they wouldn’t expect more from him than a couple of platitudes. After all, these guys would be his opponents when he went back over the bridge to New York. He was glad he’d hired a car to take him to and from the arena in Newark. It was a rough area and no way would he trust his BMW around here.

“Do you like the new format of the All-Star Game?”

“Eastern Conference versus Western Conference makes perfect sense to me. I never quite got North America versus the world. But I’m sure the league always has their reasons for why they do things. I just come here to have fun and play hockey.”

Scott was rolling his eyes to himself at the ridiculous words, but on the outside, he flashed a smile and turned to another reporter. Several others asked him questions, mostly along the same vein, and though he answered each patiently, Scott started to get a little antsy. Didn’t they listen to the answers he gave the other guys?

Then he spotted her. A wave of heat hit him like a freight train and he ran a hand over his face. God, she’s gorgeous. Clad in a pair of skinny jeans with boots and a jersey – wait – a jersey? Scott looked again. Yes, a Sutton jersey. One of his teammates for the All-Star Game, but normally an archrival considering he played in New Jersey and Scott played in New York. What was this girl to him? A wife? That would be a total bummer.

He looked again. No, there was another woman standing closer to him, also wearing a jersey. Her body language made it apparent she was with Sutton.

Getting his stallmate’s attention, Scott jerked his head toward the small group. “Any idea who the woman is? The one in the skinny jeans?”

The other man, who played with Sutton in New Jersey, craned his neck to see over the throngs of media and family. “Yeah, that’s Sutton’s sister-in-law. The other chick is his wife. They’re fraternal twins or some shit.”

Scott laughed. Hockey players were nothing if not eloquent in their speech. “Have you ever met her? The sister-in-law, not the wife.”

“Yeah, she’s come around after games a couple of times.”

“Can you introduce me?”

“Why don’t you just go over there yourself?”

“It’d be way too obvious.”

“What, and me bringing you to them wouldn’t be?” Scott huffed out a breath. “All right, all right, keep your panties on. I just need to do my tie. Beat guys wouldn’t even let me finish tying it before they started with the questions.”

He waited, shifting from foot to foot. Scott knew he looked pretty good in his dress-up duds. Hopefully this sister-in-law would agree.

Glancing up again, he watched her throw her head back and laugh, exposing the slim column of her neck. An image of him scoring over those tendons with his teeth flashed into his mind and his dick began to harden.

Not a good time for that.

Surreptitiously he pushed on the front of his slacks, willing his erection down. She’d probably run away screaming if he lumbered over there with a huge hard-on. Scott wasn’t a small guy anywhere, and when erect, his cock stretched over seven inches and was as thick as many women’s wrists. He didn’t brag about his bedroom encounters, especially since in actuality they were few and far between, but he had never left a woman unsatisfied. At that moment he was profoundly grateful for long suit coats.

He continued to watch her. The woman’s expression was open and friendly, and Scott found himself thinking about doing other things with her, like walking down Fifth Avenue looking in all the fancy store windows, hanging out in Central Park on a warm summer day, or driving out to his place in the Hamptons for a long weekend.

Scott knew he was getting way ahead of himself, but his gut was screaming that he needed to meet this woman. He didn’t believe in love at first sight or anything – who did? – but this woman fired up his blood.

* * * *

Hannah had a weird feeling someone was watching her, but refused to turn around. If no one was, she’d feel like an idiot. She waited a few minutes and the feeling persisted, even stronger. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. What was going on?

This part of New Jersey’s locker room usually didn’t have many hockey jocks wandering around naked, but there was always the show-off, proud of his body and willing to display it no matter who was around. By this time most players were showered and out of their uniforms, most now clad in all manner of expensive suits. Tammi had wanted to congratulate her hubby Darren Sutton on his game and participation in the All-Stars, so Hannah had come along.

They were talking and hugging, so Hannah’s attention wandered and she cast a careful eye around the room, hoping to get a sideways glance at whomever or whatever was causing this weird feeling. She shuddered.

Then, out of the corner of one eye, she got a glimpse of the guy who she knew instantly was the culprit. And he was still staring. Their gazes caught. A smile curled his lips in a lascivious grin and he winked at her. Winked? Did guys do that anymore?

He started to move toward her so she quickly swiveled her head back to face Tammi and Darren. Get me outta here, she silently pleaded. She did not want to attract the attention of a hockey jock. Hannah had heard too many stories about the antics of the players from Tammi. And besides, they traveled all the time and you were left at home worrying about them, like Tammi did whenever Darren was away. No thanks.

“Uh, are we about done here?”

“What?” Tammi turned to her. “Got somewhere to go?”

“No, but…”

“We were just talking about going out somewhere for a drink. Want to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be.”

Hannah recognized Anton Dakarov, who played with Darren for New Jersey, when he approached with – oh, shit – the winker, as they sauntered up. Darren introduced them. “Tammi and Hannah, meet Scott Richards and Anton Darkarov. Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely—Tammi, my wife, and Hannah, my sister-in-law.” He turned to Tammi. “You know Anton, of course. Scott plays for New York, the bum.”

Turning to face Scott, Hannah got her first good, full-on look at him and her stomach dropped a good foot. Oh, my God. He’s gorgeous. Those hockey helmets hid a lot of a guy’s face and she’d had no idea he was so striking.

There he stood, though, hotter than hell in a dark blue suit that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, eyes sparkling at her as if she were a platter of steak and he was a starving man.

Hockey was Tammi’s world, what with having a hockey player for a husband and all. Hannah and hockey, though? Especially hockey men? Nada. Nothing. No way, Jose. That life was crazy and one she’d never envied Tammi for. Well, except for her unlimited clothing and latte budget. She looked down, planning a strategic exit, but Tammi’s arm swung around her shoulders.

Darren spoke, obviously addressing the two men. “We were thinking about going out for a drink. Obviously there’s nothing right around here, but we could go into the city. Maybe you can point us somewhere, Scott.”

“Sure.”

She looked up in time to see the evil grin spreading over her twin’s face. “That would be my husband’s obtuse way of inviting both of you along, in case you didn’t get that.”

Scott threw his head back and laughed. Wow. I didn’t think he could get hotter.

“I can’t,” Anton said. “Gotta get back to the wife. The baby’s not sleeping and so neither is she. I promised I’d stay up with the little bugger tonight.”

“I’ll tag along. After all, we’re not archenemies again until tomorrow.” Scott looked over at her as if to assess her reaction.

Now Tammi turned to her too. “See? Everyone’s going. Well, except Anton, but he’s got an excuse. Come on, Hannah. You never have fun anymore. Have drinks with us.”

Oh, thank you, Tammi, for telling this strange guy with his eyes glued to me like scent on a gardenia that I need to get out more. Thanks a bunch. To prove her twin wrong that she was boring, she flashed a brilliant smile and said, “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

Having a drink with a hot guy isn’t the worst way to spend the rest of my night, even if I have no intention of it going beyond that.

Fifteen minutes later, they were heading out the player’s entrance of the arena, Tammi and Darren in front, holding hands and she and Scott behind, he with his hand on the small of her back. They had to stop and sign some autographs, most of them flocking to Scott. He was good-natured about it, taking time to sign each and every jersey, program, and diary.

The piano club they went to was small and cozy, and she breathed a sigh of relief that the men hadn’t opted for one of those loud, glitzy clubs where you couldn’t hear yourself think. The men ordered beers and burgers, and she and Tammi decided to split an order of fries to go with their wine.

After everyone was finally full, Scott flashed a killer smile and her stomach fell—again. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t crazy over hockey players like a lot of women. Sure, Darren was okay, but from what she’d seen, he wasn’t typical. When she looked into Scott’s green eyes and saw the sexy, hot glint of interest in them, though, her heart beat faster and suddenly nothing mattered.

Scott reached over and ran his fingers over her wrist briefly. “So, are you a hockey fan?” He grinned again, seemingly confident of his prowess with women who loved the game.

She pulled her hand back. “Uh, no. Not really. I don’t like all the fighting and hitting. It’s so Neanderthal.”

“Neanderthal?” His eyebrow quirked. “Do I look like a caveman? No, wait. Don’t answer that. You might hurt my feelings.”

Hannah smirked. “I’m guessing your ego can handle it.”

Scott took her comments in stride, smoothly continuing. “If you don’t like hockey, why were you at the game?”

“My sister.” She cocked her head in Tammi’s direction. “I got tired of hearing her whine about how much I’d love the game if I ever went to a few more games. The All-Star Game being here made it a good time to indulge her.”

“Do you prefer the more relaxed version like tonight?”

“A little. It wasn’t as violent.”

“Easy, breezy hockey, huh?”

“Something like that.”

He was leaning toward her, blatantly showing interest and making her as nervous as she was turned on. And she was turned on. Her whole body felt over-warm and damp as if she had a fever. She’d never had a reaction this quickly to a man.

Scott looked over his shoulder. “People are dancing. Wanna hit the dance floor?”

Hannah glanced at her sister and Darren snuggling and smooching and then at Scott staring so intently at her as if he were willing her to say yes.

I don’t want to lead this guy on. I shouldn’t say yes.

“Okay.”

Hey, brain, stop sabotaging!

With a nod he grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the impromptu dance floor. Scott kept a grip on that hand while the other swung around her waist, pulling her in close. Too close. Hannah couldn’t think with him surrounding her.

She’d told her sister more than a few times that she wasn’t interested in being set up with a hockey player, and now felt like Tammi had ambushed her. Despite that, she couldn’t be mad at Scott. It wasn’t his fault Tammi and Darren had conspired against her.

“So what do you do for a living? Are you here in the city?”

“I’m a graphic artist for a weekly magazine. Our offices are in the Village, but I live in Brooklyn.”

“Ah. Very cool. I have absolutely no artistic talent.”

Yeah, I’m getting your talents lie elsewhere.

Hannah’s arms were around Scott’s neck, and she fought the urge to play with his hair to see if it was really as soft as it looked. But he’d gotten her out here against her better judgment, short-circuiting her brain-to-mouth functionality, and Hannah shouldn’t encourage the man further.

“We should get back to Tammi and Darren.” She took a step away, dropping her hands to her sides.

Scott glanced toward the two of them. “They don’t look like they want company.”

When she followed his gaze, holding in an agonized groan took real willpower. Her sister was practically climbing her husband.

Ugh, you’re in public. Show some decorum.

“Maybe we should go break them up before they get arrested.”

Shrugging, he answered, “They’re fine. It’s late, the lights are low. Lots of people are gettin’ busy.”

“But–”

“Are you hungry?”

Hannah pivoted to face him fully. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hungry.”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

Scott grinned. “Apparently I’m worse at this than I thought.”

Eyes narrowing, she asked, “Worse at what?”

“Getting you alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m not like that.”

Scott tilted his head. “Like what?”

“One of those hockey groupies.”

“That’s obvious,” he said with a chuckle, “since you told me you don’t like hockey players.”

“I don’t–” Hannah huffed out a breath. “I’ve just seen and heard a lot of unsavory things about them from my sister.”

“She seems to be doing okay.”

“Well, like I said, Darren’s a good guy.”

Leading her to the bar just off the dance floor, Scott then helped her onto a barstool and took one for himself. “And yet you assume I’m not.”

“Why would you be? You’re rich, gorgeous…” she rolled her eyes when his face lit up, “and live in Manhattan – or at least I assume you do. You have the whole world at your fingertips.”

“I do. But that doesn’t make me a playboy.” Scott scooted closer. “Look, give me a chance. Let me get to know you. Go out with me a few times. If you really don’t like me after you’ve given me a chance, I’ll leave you alone.”

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Classify a few times.”

“Four.”

“Two,” she countered.

“Three.”

“Fine, and tonight counts as one.”

“Then I’d better make the most of it.” Leaning over, he gathered the back of her head in one large hand, and before she could even react, he was kissing her.

Whoa, was he kissing her.

That hand gripped her hair, moving her head to his liking as he deepened the kiss. Hannah opened for him, and with a moan she felt but couldn’t hear over the rushing noise in her ears, Scott pressed his tongue inside, playfully touching hers before retreating. She found herself chasing him back into his own mouth, and before she knew it, Scott had slid off his barstool and was standing between her spread knees, the other hand now joining the first on her head as he plundered her mouth.

Warning bells were going off inside her head, and yet Hannah couldn’t seem to heed them.

With a final gasp, Scott pulled away. “We need to get out of here.” His arms dropped and he took her hands in his. “Come back to my place.”

Finally sense returned. “I don’t want to be a notch in your bedpost.”

Scott released an obviously irritated breath. “Hannah, this really isn’t something I do every day. I can count on the fingers of one hand how many women I’ve had in my apartment in the last year. And no, that doesn’t mean there have been tons of other places. I actually don’t date very much. But there’s something about you. I can’t put my finger on what it is, exactly, but I want you.”

Chapter Two

Scott silently prayed Hannah would relent. If his cock got any harder, he was very much afraid there’d be permanent damage.

She assessed him for a moment and he let her look. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said there weren’t very many women. Scott had learned early on that many women only wanted him for one of two things – to say they’d bedded a professional hockey player or to get their mitts on his money. He wasn’t interested in being a part of either.

“All right. But if I put the brakes on at any time, I want you to respect that.”

“Of course. Forcing a woman is not something I’d ever do. My mother and my four sisters taught me early on to respect women.”

“Four sisters?”

“Yeah, and a brother. He’s the baby of the family. I’m third, so right in the middle. Two girls older, two younger.”

“Wow. Tammi and I are the only children my parents had. The delivery wasn’t easy on my mom and she couldn’t have more after that.”

“But you guys had each other,” Scott said as he motioned to Darren, who’d looked up, that he was taking Hannah. The other man nodded and elbowed his wife, who sent Scott a beaming smile he was hoping Hannah hadn’t seen. “That must’ve been pretty cool.”

“At times.”

“Trust me on this. If I ever treated a woman badly, one of my sisters would find out about it somehow and then they’d collectively kick my ass, hockey player or not. Those girls are scary.” He mock-shuddered and she laughed.

He called his driver on his cell, and they sped to the address of his high-rise on Central Park West. They talked a little more on the way, and when they arrived, Scott got out and then helped her, waving to the doorman as he passed with an armful of Hannah.

“Home sweet skyscraper.” Now that he’d managed to get Hannah to agree to come with him he was actually pretty nervous. What if she didn’t like his apartment? What if he stripped off and she didn’t like him? Though Scott was by no means a manwhore, he was usually confident in his own abilities. The fact he wasn’t now made this whole thing seem sort of surreal. He looked over at Hannah. “I need to get you out of Sutton’s jersey. It’s creeping me out.”

Hannah laughed again and the sound echoed off the marble in the foyer before she clamped a hand over her mouth. Luckily, the elevator dinged then and he ushered her inside, pressing the button for the thirty-first floor. He didn’t have the penthouse, but it was still damn nice and he hoped Hannah felt at home there. A lot of hockey players had some professional interior decorator come into their places, but Scott had preferred to do his own, adorning the place with various treasures he’d picked up during his extensive travels.

They got to the apartment door and Scott unlocked it, stepping inside before motioning her in. She made a beeline for the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.

“Oh my God. This view is incredible.” She turned away from the windows for a moment. “How far can you see on a clear day?”

He shrugged. “Pretty far. I never measured it.”

“Smart ass.”

“Better than being a dumbass.” Scott cleared his throat, moving closer. “Would you like some water or something else to drink?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good, then let’s get rid of the creepy jersey. Arms up.”

Scott was more than a little surprised when she lifted them without complaint. He was able to tug the offending garment over her head and toss it aside with ease. Deciding to go for it, he then took a grip on the hem of the T-shirt underneath and did the same thing. Soon she was standing before him clothed only in a purple satin bra and her jeans.

“This is hardly fair. Can I have my T-shirt back, please?” He gave it to her and she put it back on.

“That seems kind of silly. I’ve already seen you without it.”

“It makes me feel better though.”

Almost before she’d finished speaking, he had his suit coat off and had loosened his tie. The damn thing was pulled too tight to release, though, and finally Scott gave up fighting it. “Shit. This is definitely not the suave impression I wanted to leave.”

Hannah giggled. “Here, let me help.”

Together they worked the tie and his dress shirt off. “Can we take this into the bedroom? I have a nice, big, soft bed.”

She bit her lip.

“Scott, I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. If you want, we can just stay out here. Find a movie to watch, maybe cuddle a little.” He flashed a smile. “Make out a little.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

With an inner sigh and an admonishment to his wayward body, Scott quickly selected a movie from his extensive collection and then popped it in the DVD player.

It turned out his decision not to rush Hannah was sound, as she was the one to make the first real move, rolling on top to straddle him and taking off her shirt again before unhooking her bra.

“So pretty.” He glanced into her eyes to make sure there was no fear or reserve and then placed both hands over her breasts, kneading lightly. Hannah began to move on him and Scott prayed for control. Coming in his suit pants would hardly impress the woman.

Leaning up, he took one nipple in his mouth, coaxing it to a stiff peak. Hannah groaned and shifted once more. “Don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it, but if you keep simulating sex there with your hips, we might have an embarrassing problem.”

His head plopped back onto the couch as her mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean, simulating sex?”

To demonstrate, he took her hips is his hands. “You keep doing this.” Scott moved her up and down on his hard cock and she gasped. “See what I mean?”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m being a tease.”

He smiled. “You’re only a tease if you do it on purpose and then leave me high and dry, neither of which I hope you do.”

She took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. Her gaze flicked in the direction of the hall. “You said you have a bedroom?”

Scott almost let out a whoop, but got himself under control and said, “Yeah.” She moved off him and he rose from the couch, shifting his dick within his way-too-tight briefs. “This way.” Hannah followed him to the bedroom, and when they got there, he shucked his pants. “Your turn.”

With a definite air of appreciation, she looked him up and down before removing her own jeans. He got into bed and held out a hand for her.

“You have condoms, right?”

“Yes.” He silently said a prayer of thanks he’d tossed a box into his shopping basket the other day when he’d been feeling horny.

She climbed in and he rolled on top of her, keeping his weight on his forearms and knees. She whispered, “Kiss me.”

“Gladly.” Scott explored her mouth leisurely, then with more intent, and soon she’d palmed his ass cheeks, pushing her pelvis up into him. “Time for the hood.”

With reluctance, he knelt back on his heels and reached into the nightstand drawer. Realizing he’d have to get off her to get his briefs off and the condom on, he pushed to his feet and accomplished both with an eager quickness. When his dick sprang free, he heard a little noise of surprise from Hannah and had to hide a chuckle, wondering what was going on inside her head to have produced that sound.

Back in bed, he removed her panties, dropping them on the floor beside the bed before spreading her legs and wedging himself between them. Scott lined his cock up with her entrance and watched Hannah’s face closely for signs of pain or distress as he slowly slid inside. When he’d seated himself to the hilt, he stopped and took a deep breath. She felt amazing.

Hannah shifted and he prayed for control. “Move, please. I need you. Move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Scott began to pull out slowly before thrusting back inside and Hannah’s back arched.

“Ahh!”

“Still with me?”

“Yeah.” The word came out breathy, and Scott took that as a sign he should continue. Gradually he sped up until he was pounding into Hannah and she’d thrown both her arms and legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

He reared back and felt for her clit. “I want you to come for me.”

“Help me, help me,” she cried, moving in counterpoint to him.

His hand sped up, rubbing over her distended clit. “What do you need?”

“That, yes…that.” He was still giving her shallow thrusts, which was about all he could manage at this angle, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a couple of minutes everything tightened around him – her limbs, her pussy – and she cried out as her release hit her. Finally he let himself go too and collapsed on top of her a short time later, remembering to pull out and roll onto his back so he wasn’t crushing the poor girl.

“Wow.”

“Mmm.” Hannah seemed already half-asleep, and with a small smile, Scott rose to dispose of the condom and wash up a bit. By the time he got back, Hannah was curled into a small ball, already fast asleep.

* * * *

Sleeping like the dead, Hannah still wasn’t surprised when she felt the head of Scott’s cock nudging against her backside as his fingers reached to fondle her breasts and then between her legs.

She opened a bit to give him better access, and he ran his fingertips around and around until she wanted to beg him to zero in on her now-throbbing clit. She nearly leapt off the bed when he attacked it a moment later. Crying out, she widened her legs still more and whimpered as he brought her to a quick completion.

Then she heard the tearing of plastic followed by fumbling under the covers as he protected himself. Rolling her over, he entered her with a hard thrust and they rocked and pounded together for the short length of time it took him to come.

Middle of the night sex wasn’t anything she’d ever tried, and with Scott, it was definitely exciting. She’d never felt anything like it. He was incredible.

They both drifted back to sleep after he’d rid himself of the condom and woke up late with the sun shining on Central Park. It was Sunday morning and she usually went to church, but couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to crawl out of his bed and act productive.

She heard him moan as he awoke, and he quickly wrapped his arm around her waist. “Uhm, you’re nice to wake up with.”

Hannah snuggled back against him and wondered if he’d want to have sex again before she left. She got her answer a few minutes later, and eventually they rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. After drying off with his big, fluffy towels, she admired Scott’s body for the umpteenth time. He looked at her and grinned.

“I hope you don’t expect to get busy again for a while. I’m gonna need some recovery time. But you were great, sweetheart. Sex has never been like that for me.” His tone was one of wonder, and Hannah couldn’t help but think he might be telling the truth. It was hard to fake something like that. “I want to do it over and over again. Where are those little blue pills when you need them?”

Hannah highly doubted Scott had any need for Viagra, but grinned back. “I think you did fine without them.”

He actually turned a little pink. Oh man, that’s freaking adorable. “You’ve done something to me, you little vixen. Are you a witch? A fairy? What?”

She wrapped the towel around her torso and thrust out a saucy hip. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Then she ran to the bedroom and grabbed her clothes off the floor before he could come after her.

“No need to panic,” he told her with a laugh when he walked in. “I couldn’t get it up again right now if I tried. You’re safe.”

She didn’t know whether to pout or to feel relief. “I’m hungry. I didn’t have anything to eat last night except a slice of pizza at the game and that half an order of French fries afterward.”

“I make some mean pancakes, and I think I still have about half a bag of frozen blueberries. Are you game?”

“Oh, I love blueberry pancakes.”

They ate every last bite of the pancakes, and regrettably soon Hannah was standing at the door, trying to say good-bye to him, but he wasn’t letting her go easily.

His arms encircled her waist, holding her tight to him. “When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my calendar. I have a big ad presentation to create this week and it might take some overtime.”

“Call me then?”

“Uh, sure.”

Scott pulled back to spear her with narrowed eyes. “Hannah? That sounded like a ‘well, that was fun, but let’s not do it again’ tone of voice.”

“No. No, really. It just happened so fast. I need to step back and think.”

He pulled her to him once more, hugging her tight. “I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel.”

“Please, Scott. Give me a little time.”

He searched her eyes and she let him. His expression turned resigned and he relented. “All right, but don’t think too much and don’t forget what it was like between us last night and this morning, and I’m not just talking about the sex. We had fun.”

She sighed and gave him a quick kiss. “How could I forget?”

He stuffed a twenty in her pocket for the cab and she tried to protest, but he insisted. “I’d have taken you myself, but we have a short practice in an hour and I have to get going. Take care of yourself. I will call you.” He kissed her back, more lingeringly, and stepped away from the door to allow her to leave.

* * * *

Soon, with a small wave as the elevator door shut, she was ensconced in the cocoon of metal, marble, and mahogany. Hannah leaned against the wall for the quick trip down. She closed her eyes. What am I going to do about Scott?

In the afternoon, Hannah tried to clean and do laundry, but after a while she gave it up as a lost cause. All she could think about was last night. He had said this morning that it had never been like that for him and she’d been tempted to reply the same. Not even close. Ultimately though, she didn’t have the nerve to admit it to him.

Normally, when she actually slept with a guy, which wasn’t often, Hannah let the man take the lead. He’d kiss her a while, then slowly undress her and nudge her toward the bed, almost always underneath him. And she liked that. It was comfortable. But last night she’d practically leapt on his lap and begged him to do more. Yes, she’d freaked at first and demanded her shirt back, and yet seemingly minutes later, Hannah had yanked it off on her own. She didn’t recognize herself when she thought back over the night.

The telephone rang and she startled. It couldn’t be Scott already. Oh, God. What if it is? What’ll I say? She picked it up cautiously anyway and said hello, then rolled her eyes as she realized she had caller ID and hadn’t even thought to check it.

“Hannah?”

“Tammi,” she said, letting out a relieved breath. The feeling was short-lived, though. Immediately, Hannah realized Tammi would want to know all about last night, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about it yet. But she knew it was useless to try to steer her sister away from the topic. She and Tammi could never keep anything a secret between them. With another deep breath, Hannah waited for what she knew was coming.

“So. Tell me all about your evening last night after you left us to fend for ourselves. The juicy parts anyway.”

“Hah. You were fending away there pretty good when we left. I doubt you even noticed us going. Or came up for air.”

“Oh, I noticed. Yowza. I never realized how hot Scott Richards was. What man candy! And he had eyes only for you. The rest of us could have blown away in a breeze and he wouldn’t have been any the wiser as long as you were in front of him. Spill! Did you two get it on?”

Hannah briefly debated how much to say. Screw it, she’s gonna get it out of me anyway. “Oh, yes. And on and on and on.”

A screech came through the phone. “Get out!”

“He got to me. I don’t know what it was, but he turned me on so fast and so hard, I couldn’t see straight.”

“Did he seem as turned on by you?”

“I don’t think there was any doubt about what he felt. He was ready the minute we walked in his door.”

“Oh my God. Wait. Let me grab a glass of ice water. I’m getting a little overheated here.” The phone clunked down on something, and she came back about a minute later. “Can you imagine if we were both married to hockey players? It’d be like some kind of weird karma.”

“Wait, wait, wait. We’re not going there. Certainly not yet. This is all happening way too quickly.”

“But it could happen. You said it was hot last night. Heat like that doesn’t come without emotion.”

“I liked him. I didn’t expect to, but I did. He’s friendly, courteous, humble in a way…”

“You make him sound like a Boy Scout.”

Hannah snorted. “He’s no Boy Scout. But he does seem a little different than what I thought I knew about hockey players. For one thing, he said he hasn’t had many lovers and doesn’t like the puck bunny sort. Of course, he was trying to get me into bed at the time, but I think he was sincere. Plus he was quieter that I thought he’d be, at least when he wasn’t begging me to have sex again.” She chuckled.

“I’m not sure why you’ve always figured hockey players were all cut out from the same women-chasing, arrogant cloth. Darren isn’t like that.”

“You have told me some stories…”

“Sure, some of them are like that, but so are guys who don’t play hockey. Most of the other players I know are pretty much regular guys.”

“Yeah, that seemed like Scott actually. He surprised me.”

“Well, there you go.”

“But you know me. I’ve never dated a whole lot and rarely had lovers. Meeting Scott last night and hitting it off sexually so fast has blown my mind a little. I need to think.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you think your way out of other relationships.”

“Not really. And even if I did that, it was because the relationship wasn’t right, the guy wasn’t right.”

The doorbell on her townhouse rang and she glanced at it. “Huh. Someone’s at my front door. I need to go answer it.”

“Okay. I’ll be home all night if you want to talk again.”

“Gotcha. Bye!”

Hannah ran to the front door and pulled it open, hoping it wasn’t Scott. She wasn’t ready to see him again. It was a delivery service and she let out a sigh of relief. The boy handed her a package after she verified who she was and then called out, “Have a nice day,” as he pivoted to jog back to his car.

She carried it to the table and fetched her kitchen shears. It seemed soft, but a little heavy too. Carefully, she cut off the wrapper so she wouldn’t damage what was beneath. Spreading the paper and tape, she pulled out something blue. She held it up in the air and shook it out. It was a jersey for his team. With a laugh, she turned it around and saw the Richards on the back and number twenty-eight. Turning it back to the front, she saw his signature scrawled in marker across the logo. “With love, Scott.”

She laughed again and yanked it on. Perfect. It fit like a gl—er, hockey jersey. A wee bit loose, but pretty much the right size since she usually wore a sweatshirt underneath so she wouldn’t freeze in the arena. Feeling silly but not able to resist, Hannah went into her bedroom to check out the jersey in the full-length mirror, turning around to look at the back as well. While she knew she shouldn’t let it cloud her judgment, Hannah couldn’t help but be charmed. Man, am I in trouble.

Chapter Three

Scott flew around the ice in the game-day skate, the sheer joy of playing blocking out most everything but Hannah’s response to his gift. He couldn’t wait to get back to the dressing room to check his phone. The gift shop worker he’d bribed into bringing the jersey to Hannah should be back by now. Yes, it was a hugely risky move which could be misinterpreted as arrogant, especially for a woman he’d known only a short while, but it felt right. He hoped Hannah would take the gift as what it was—a display of his affection. Seeing her in his jersey would definitely get his blood pumping; he would readily admit that. But it wasn’t some caveman-like need to mark her that had driven him to make the purchase.

After the skate was over, Scott lumbered right into the private dressing area and tossed his gross, sweaty gloves on the floor. Grabbing the phone, he unlocked it and grinned when he saw he had a text message. Sure, it might not be from Hannah, but Scott had a feeling it was. How could she ignore his gift?

And she hadn’t. Scott actually noticed his facial muscles stretching as his smile became wider.

Scott-Thank you so much for the jersey. The only one I’ve ever had is Darren’s, and it was actually my sister’s. I will wear it with pride.

The thought of Hannah wearing only his jersey, spread out on his bed with her hair fanned out over his pillow had his dick hardening inside his cup. That wasn’t a comfortable situation, and Scott forced his thoughts to less dirty topics, composing a text back to Hannah.

I’d like you to come see me play. I know tonight is probably short notice, but soon. Maybe this weekend?

Though he was loath to wait until then, Scott figured if Hannah came to a weekend game he could take her out after that, then with any luck, bring her back to his place and have more wild monkey lovin’.

Ow ow ow. Need to get out of this cup before I think any more about Hannah.

Scott put his phone down, reached to the floor to pick up his gloves, and went to take a shower. He needed to eat and get home for his pregame nap. Sleep didn’t always come, but if not, he’d read or just lie there in bed.

Later, Scott was a starter during the game, and as the centerman, he took the opening faceoff. To his chagrin, he lost it, and Scott immediately went into defensive mode as the league’s best player – a man who Scott had fed for a goal during the recent All-Star Game, streaked down the wing toward the Stingray’s goaltender. Luckily, the man threw his blocker up and deflected the puck to the corner, where Scott and a teammate fought for it against a couple of opposing players.

Scott came out of the fray with the puck and an elbow to the kidneys for his trouble. He tried to school his grimace of pain and passed the puck off before turning and laying a good cross-check on the culprit. The ref was watching the play as it advanced, and Scott let out a relieved breath he hadn’t been called for a penalty. He hated taking penalties and was one of the least-penalized players in the league, but sometimes a guy had to stand up for himself.

He hauled ass to catch up with the other forwards and his winger must’ve caught sight of him going to the net because the next thing he knew, a saucer pass was on his stick and he shot. The puck hit the post with a loud ping and careened to the left, where one of the Stingrays’ defensemen had moved up on the play and was now camped right outside the crease. He tangled with an opposing player, but managed to reach out and push the puck past the goal line. The red light went on and Scott let out a whoop.

As he sat on the bench a few moments later, he wondered if Hannah was watching. Was she wearing his jersey? She hadn’t responded to his return text, and Scott was starting to worry he’d come on too strong. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, so like the professional athlete he was, Scott put it out of his mind and concentrated on the game.

The teams traded goals back and forth until near the end of regulation when it was 3-3. The Stingrays had a busy week, and what with the All-Star Game making his particular week even more hectic, Scott didn’t relish the idea of sudden death overtime. His coach barked out his line would be next, and a few seconds later Scott jumped over the boards, heading for the play on the other side of the ice. One of the wingers from the other line was battling it out by the penalty boxes with two opposing players, and Scott flew in to even things up.

When the puck finally landed on his stick, Scott sent it into their offensive zone and the member of his line who’d managed to get on the ice along with him took the pass and weaved around a defenseman, using him as nothing more than a pylon. Even as Scott admired his teammate’s fancy footwork, he felt the burn in his legs as he moved himself into position to receive a pass. As expected, the guy gave the puck to him, and out of the corner of his eye, Scott spotted the third member of his line, finally coming onto the ice as the player from the last line left it.

He sent the puck back toward the blue line and his teammate skated into it, taking a huge slap shot. The goalie didn’t have a chance, and with a little more than two minutes left to play, the Stingrays went up 4-3. That’s how the game ended after a hard-fought remaining regulation time, and Scott went back to the locker room, his mood improved since they hadn’t had to play overtime.

Though he was itching to get to his phone, Scott was obliged to answer a multitude of questions from the New York-area media. It was a good twenty-five minutes after the game before he was able to step into the shower. The hot water felt good on his aching muscles, and Scott debated a quick dip in the hot tub before getting dressed, but then decided he’d take a detour through the dressing area and scope out his phone first. He felt like a thirteen-year-old girl checking his messages so obsessively, but that didn’t stop him.

There was a message from Hannah.

Nice pass. I was out earlier but saw the end of the game. Saturday is the only night I’m free. Is that game okay to come to?

Hell yeah, it was okay with him. But then Scott debated. Should he try to see her before then?

Sounds great. How about dinner or something Wednesday? I’m off and will want to relax.

His phone rang in his hand and Scott jumped, nearly dropping it, then glanced around quickly to make sure none of his teammates had seen him looking like a complete idiot.

“Hello?”

“Scott? It’s Hannah. I figured this might be easier.” There was a slight pause and then Hannah asked, “Are you in the locker room? I can hear some strange noises in the background. I don’t even want to think about what might be making sounds like that if you’re not. It reminds me of a herd of moose or something. Pretty weird through the phone.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re strange all right. My teammates are a unique bunch, let’s just put it that way.”

“I heard that,” one of them called out from around the corner.

“I wasn’t trying to be quiet,” Scott shot back. Returning his attention to Hannah, he said, “I’ll leave two tickets at will call for you on Saturday. Bring your sister.”

“I was actually thinking about bringing another friend.”

Scott’s danger radar went up. “A male friend?”

Now Hannah laughed. “Worried?”

“A little bit, yes,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve laid his cards out like that, but with Hannah it seemed like he couldn’t do anything else.

“Don’t fret. My friend Bethany likes hockey and doesn’t have enough money to go to many games. I thought it would be a nice night out for her.”

“Oh, definitely. Glad I can help then.” Scott wasn’t sure what current ticket prices were, but since he played in Manhattan he could imagine they weren’t cheap. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What about dinner?”

He shivered when a blast of cold air went through the room and glanced down at himself in surprise since he was rarely, if ever, chilly. Then Scott rolled his eyes as he remembered he was still standing there in a towel and his shower shoes. Yeah, maybe he should’ve changed before picking up the phone to text.

“I can do dinner Wednesday night, but it would have to be early. I have a presentation the next day, and I don’t want to be yawning all over everyone while I’m in the middle of it.” She cleared her throat. “And I can’t stay. Just dinner.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll take a train in and meet you at the restaurant. Where did you want to go?”

“Are you sure? I can come out to you. I have a car.”

“No need. There are tons of places in Manhattan I haven’t tried.”

“Is the train safe at night?”

“Listen to you, all concerned. Yes, the train is safe. I take it all the time since I don’t own a car. Now, where are you going to take me?”

Scott panicked momentarily. He hadn’t even thought of a place to suggest. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Not a huge fan of spicy, so probably not Mexican or Indian or anything like that. I like Italian. I like sushi. I dunno. What do you like?”

“Sushi sounds good. There’s a place not far from my apartment. It’s called Fumé.”

“Works for me. Meet you there at five thirty?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Lowering his voice, he then said, “Good night, Hannah. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

He hung up and popped the phone back into his locker, dropping the towel to get dressed. No point in going over to the hot tub now since he’d let his muscles get cold again after the shower, and his body had dried while he’d been talking to Hannah. Soon he was on his way back to his apartment, thinking of other things they could do. Yes, New York boasted thousands of fabulous restaurants, but that wouldn’t be a very creative date if they did it over and over again.

Idly he wondered if she’d ever been on one of those carriage rides through Central Park. Normally he stayed away from the tourist attractions in the area, but for Hannah he was willing to do just about anything. Scott wasn’t completely sure if that made him pussy whipped already, but if so, he was okay with that.

* * * *

On Wednesday, Hannah was late getting to Fumé because she’d taken time to look it up on the internet and to take a quick shower. It took her fifteen minutes to decide what to wear as she vacillated between casual and semi-dressy. Finally, she ended up with a jean skirt with tights and boots, along with a light blue sweater, kind of halfway between her choices.

Scott was standing near the front door, chatting with the hostess as she fawned all over him, finding ways to touch him. He appeared friendly, but was plainly not responding to her attentions. A quick hit of pride coursed through her. Yeah, he’s mine. Hands off. She wasn’t used to feeling jealous, but supposed if she kept dating Scott that kind of thing was going to happen more and more.

When she approached him, he turned to her, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. The hostess glowered. “There you are. I was getting worried you’d stood me up.”

She smirked. “I doubt you’ve been stood up in your entire life.”

His smile widened. “Always a first time.  Our table is ready.” The hostess led them toward the back of the restaurant, and Scott guided Hannah with his hand between her shoulder blades. It was a little set apart from the others, and Hannah imagined he often got the best table in the house. He helped her into her seat, asking, “so are you ready for your presentation?”

“I think so. I don’t do a lot of these in my position, but it does help to be able to add some cool graphics. Presentations can be pretty boring.”

“I can imagine. That’s one of things hockey players luckily see little of, though the league does like sending out PowerPoints when they make rule changes and stuff. They’re usually pretty dry, and we’re all struggling to stay awake by the end.”

“That sounds just like Corporate America.”

The server appeared then, and Scott ordered a nice white wine to go with the sushi, instead of the more usual sake. It was dry and soft with a hint of floral bouquet, and she swirled it in her mouth to enjoy the first clean taste. She noticed Scott did the same.

Hannah nodded toward his glass. “You like wine?”

“Love it. I prefer whites, but I’ll drink a good robust red too. Don’t tell any of my hockey buddies, but I prefer a good glass of chardonnay to a Budweiser any day of the week.”

“I feel the same way. I have a glass of wine with dinner nearly every night. I’ve discovered the New York State wines. There are some excellent wines made in the Finger Lakes region.”

“Me, too! The New York State Rieslings are famous everywhere now, which is pretty cool since I can say I knew them when, so to speak.” He paused and seemed to be considering something and she waited him out, curious. “I’ve been meaning to get up there to visit some of the wineries during the Finger Lakes Wine Festival, but I never seem to be able to make it. Maybe we could go together this summer.”

His invitation sounded fantastic, but making plans for something months away scared her. What to say?

“Maybe. We could discuss it more when the weather is better.” How’s that for wishy-washy? Geez. “It is beautiful country up there.”

“Are you from New York?”

“Yes, I grew up in Corning.”

“I think I know where that is. I played a few games in the AHL in Binghamton before New York called me up.”

The waiter came back for their orders, and they had to beg off to look at the menu. They both picked out an assortment of seafood and tempura and agreed to share in order to taste everything. The waiter topped off their wine and then left.

“Where did you grow up? You don’t sound like a native New Englander.”

“I grew up in a small town in Minnesota called Red Wing and went to the University of Minnesota. Got drafted out of college.”

“Red Wing? Like the shoes?”

“Yes, exactly like the shoes, actually.” He laughed. “They make them there.”

“What did you major in? Basket-weaving?” She laughed, thinking she was teasing him, but he didn’t take it lightly and his eyes looked wounded. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“Not your fault. That’s what everybody figures.”

She reached over and touched his hand on the table. “Truly, I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say. What did you really major in?”

“Economics. And then I got a master’s degree in macroeconomics after I went pro. Those online classes come in handy when you travel as much as I do.”

“Oh, wow. That’s serious stuff.”

“I enjoy it. I manage my own investment portfolio, and some of the guys have asked me to give them help with theirs as well. I’d like to get my doctorate, but that’ll have to wait until after I retire. It’d be a kick to have.”

“Dr. Scott Richards?”

“You know it. Maybe I’ll become a financial advisor to athletes. So many get led astray because it’s not something they ever learned about in school. As you probably know, a good percentage of professional athletes never attended college, and oftentimes those who did were passed no matter what their grade should’ve been.”

“I had no idea that was a problem – you guys getting taken advantage of.”

“No one does. Anyway, everyone figures I’m a pretty boy, dumb jock.”

“But you’re not. I can see that now—not only your education, but the way you treat people. You sign autographs for anyone and everyone; you’re courteous and friendly to other people.” He turned red and she couldn’t help be charmed. Somehow knowing that she’d embarrassed him made him hotter, if that was possible. And she felt like she owed some compliments after her faux pas earlier.

Down, girl. Don’t climb the man during dinner. It’s bad form.

“Did you major in art?”

“Yes. With a minor in computer design, as in designing things on a computer, as opposed to designing computers.” She laughed.

“Yeah. Can’t see you designing motherboards for Apple. You’re way too pretty to be a nerd.”

“Thanks.” Now she tried to stop a blush, without much more success than Scott. “Actually, my interest in art started with the Corning Museum of Glass. I learned to design glass figurines and stuff at workshops there. I do my computer art at work to get money to invest in glass and dyes so I can make glass art at home. That’s my real passion.”

“Fascinating. What kinds of things do you create?”

“Everything, from little figurines to vases and freeform sculptures. Right now, I’m working on a replica of the Mayflower. It’s a challenge.”

His eyes got big. “No doubt. In glass? I’d love to see that sometime. Must be a masterpiece.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s one piece I’m not going to sell. It stays with me.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Their sushi came just then and conversation petered out while they systematically demolished every piece of fish on the platters. It was fairly late by the time they’d finished and Scott had called for the check. She’d been having a good time and almost hated to leave, but he had such a strong personality, she was afraid of being drawn in like red dye into her colorless glass. Scott took it well, though, giving her a chaste kiss before seeing her all the way onto her train. Once it pulled away from the station, Hannah sat, looking out the window, but really her brain was focused on the past few hours. She had to admit Scott wasn’t like she’d pictured him, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

When Hannah and Bethany picked up their tickets Saturday night, she was amazed to find out they were in the fourth row center near the blue line. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the kind of thing he would do. No nosebleed seats for one of his guests.

They settled in and she enjoyed seeing the ice from that vantage point rather from above where she sat with Tammi and the other wives in Darren’s arena. The wives didn’t like to sit too close, preferring to gossip and talk about their families while their men dueled it out on the ice. The team came out, skating in seemingly endless circles for a few minutes. Then they started some drills, and a few of them stopped to stretch.

Scott skated to the boards and lifted his leg to stretch his hamstring. He looked up and must have seen her if his broad smile was any indication. As he continued to stretch, he kept glancing up at her, as if to make sure she wasn’t running. Was he actually surprised she’d shown up? Why did he seem so uncertain of her all the time? The man was one of the biggest catches in the tri-state area, and yet he’d admitted worrying she’d stood him up on Wednesday and seemed relieved now.

Bethany grabbed her arm in a death grip. “Omigod! Scott Richards just smiled at you!”

“Yeah, I know. I met him when I went to the locker room with Tammi after the All-Star Game.”

“You know him? Seriously?”

“Yep. He’s very nice.” And screws very nicely too, she thought to herself. He puts a lot of passion in everything he does. Then she realized where her thoughts were going and blushed when she looked at Bethany’s admiring gaze.

Might as well fess up.

“He gave us these tickets.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I figured your boss at the magazine gave them to you or something. Wow. Scott Richards. You go, girl!”

Oh, I did. Several times. He made sure of that.

“He’s a good guy,” Hannah said as she removed her coat.

“Oh, my God! You’ve got his jersey!”

She decided not to tell Bethany he’d given her that too, so she just smiled and turned her attention back to the ice.

The team started to leave the ice, one at a time, and Scott waved to her before he headed down the tunnel to the locker room. By this time, some of the other fans had noticed their byplay, apparently, and were staring at her as if wondering what was going on.

Hannah stood. “Come on. Let’s get a snack before the game starts. At intermission it’ll be a mob scene.”

They came back with sodas for both along with popcorn for her and peanuts for Bethany just as the game started. Now that she knew him, it was easy to pick out the man as Scott passed the puck and alternately checked opposing players to steal it back if necessary. He skated like the wind down the ice about halfway through the first period, deked the goalie, and scored to make it 1-0. She jumped out of her seat with her arms raised, caught up in the excitement. When she sat once more, Bethany slanted a glance at her. “So, this is just a casual thing, right? Cuz you’re definitely not wearing his jersey and sitting in seats he bought.”

Hannah decided it was best to ignore her friend’s ribbing, save for rolling her eyes. Bethany laughed.

Play continued, and by the beginning of the third period, the Stingrays were ahead 5-1. Scott had earned an assist on the fifth goal and was controlling play as they headed for the enemy goal yet again. He didn’t have a clear shot so he passed to another Ray and started to swing behind the goal.

A huge defenseman from the other team followed, slamming into him from behind. Scott’s head hit the glass hard and his neck snapped back. He fell to the ice like a ragdoll and lay motionless on the ice as pandemonium reigned over his head. Two of the Stingrays dropped their gloves and attacked the offending player, driving him to the ice as another enemy player jumped on their backs and tried to pull them off.

They all landed on Scott and the referees pulled everyone away so the trainers could get to him. He lay still for at least thirty seconds before the trainers managed to rouse him with smelling salts. Hannah could tell he was trying to get up, but the trainers held him down as they motioned back toward the bench.

Hannah chewed her nails to pieces as tears slid down her face while she watched them transfer him gently from the ice to a stretcher. Just the fact they’d brought one out made her want to puke. He said something to the EMTs and they pulled it over in her direction. As they passed, he raised his hand as if to reassure her, and a weak smile covered the pain for an instant.

She waved cheerfully back and then stood as if to leave.

“Where are you going?” asked Bethany.

“To the locker room. I have to make sure he’s all right.”

“They won’t let you in there. You’re not his wife or a relative. Even if you were, they might not let you in.”

She sank back down to the edge of the seat and started in on her nails again. Bethany was right. “What am I going to do?”

Chapter Four

Hannah stood in the atrium after the game, texting and calling Scott, who still wasn’t answering. Finally she called Darren.

“Did you see the game?”

“No. We played at five o’clock. I just got home. What happened?”

“Scott got hit and was knocked out and I can’t get a hold of him and I’m starting to panic.” The words came out in one long streak, and she paused to take a shaky breath.

“He’s a pretty tough customer, hon.”

“Then why isn’t he answering his phone?” Hannah’s voice broke on the last word. How had she come to care for him this much in a week?

It must be the hit. I’m worried about him like any friend would be. Hannah snorted to herself. Yeah, feed yourself more lines. Maybe you’ll even start to believe them.

“If you want, I can call over there. Not sure if I’ll be able to get anywhere, but if it would make you feel better I’ll try.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Where are you now?”

“In the atrium. I-I couldn’t leave.”

“Okay, stay put and I’ll call you back. Are you alone?”

“Yes. My friend who came to the game with me had to leave.”

“I want you to go talk to one of the security guys. Tell him you’re Scott’s friend and that you’re waiting for news on him so they’ll keep an eye on you.”

Hannah agreed and hung up, doing what Darren asked. The young man in the navy blue sport coat with a patch that read Security looked at her with eyes full of pity, probably figuring she was some love-struck fool. And maybe she was, but she’d think on that later. Now she needed to know if Scott was all right.

The phone rang. With a trembling hand she lifted it to her ear.

“Hello? Hannah?”

“Scott?”

“Yeah. I prob’ly sound funny. They gave me pills. I have a little headache.”

“I saw. Are you all right? Did they take you to the hospital?”

“Nah. Got an X-ray here. ’s fine.”

“You’re telling me you got driven into the boards headfirst from some Godzilla-like defenseman and yet you’re fine?” Hannah realized now she sounded hysterical.

But Scott laughed. “I gotta ’member to call Manzus Godzilla next game. He’ll like that.”

“So then are you here at the arena? Can I see you?”

“Where’re you?”

“In the atrium.” His slurred speech worried her, no matter what he said about not being hurt.

“Any guys in blue around?”

“Yes, not far from me.”

“Put ’im on the phone.” She handed the phone to the security guy, explaining who it was, and a moment later the man was opening a door and telling her which direction to head to find Scott. In her relief she nearly left her phone with him.

When she got to an area bustling with activity, she asked about Scott’s whereabouts again and someone pointed her to a room. She peeked inside and Scott waved from flat on his back on a training table.

“Baby…”

Hannah approached and smiled down at him. “How hard did you get hit that you’re calling me ‘baby’?”

“I like you.”

“I like you too, but I didn’t think we were at the ‘baby’ stage yet.”

Scott’s toothy grin looked a little stoned and Hannah bit her lip. “Hannah, sweet Hannah.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “You’re the best thing’s happened to me in a long time.”

“I’m glad,” she managed to get out without her voice being too shaky. Hannah didn’t want to blubber all over the poor guy. He had enough to worry about.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Doc didn’t say anything ’bout not being alone, but I want you there. I wanna hold you.”

How could she refuse a request like that? “I’ll come home with you, but no funny business. You need your rest.”

His gaze meeting hers and looking more clear than it had when she’d come in, he asked, “Maybe a little funny business?”

She shook her head, trying to look stern, though the relief coursing through her veins made that difficult. “Can you leave now?”

“Waiting for the doc’s okay.” He released her hand and patted the table next to him, sliding over to make room. “Sit with me.”

Hannah entertained him until the doctor came, checked him out one more time and pronounced him able to leave. Apparently the team had called a car for him, and she helped him lumber out of the arena and gingerly fold himself into the back of the limo. When it reached his place, they repeated the process, finally getting themselves inside. As she went to step away he palmed her ass and she slapped the offending hand.

Shaking her finger at him, she repeated. “No funny business.”

“No fun if there’s no funny bus’ness.”

“Go sit. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

She wasn’t surprised. Darren was always hungry after games too. “What would you like?”

“Not much food here. My helper lady is coming on Monday.”

“Helper lady?” Hannah joined him in the living area, raising a brow.

Scott sat and then waved a dismissive hand. “She helps me. Cleans, shops for food, picks up dry cleaning. Helper lady.”

“You’ve single-handedly set back the women’s rights movement fifty years.”

He laughed. “Sorry. Dunno what else to call her. Menus by the phone. I star stuff I like.”

She got him a bottle of water and then waded through a stack of menus, finally picking a Thai restaurant. With their order placed, Hannah returned to the living room and sat on the chair beside the couch.

“Come cuddle me. I’m injured,” he said, holding his arm out. With an eye roll she sat next to him and he pulled her closer, sinking his face into her hair. “Love the way you smell.”

“I’ll let Pantene know they’ve got a fan.”

“You feel good squished against me. Better naked.”

“I am not hanging around your living room nude. There’s a delivery coming!”

“After?” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “Yeah, yeah, keep my pants on. See? No fun.” His hand ran down her arm and Hannah suppressed a shudder. “Staying tonight, right?”

“You seem to be feeling better.”

“Pain pills. Gorgeous woman. Best way I know to recover from being boarded by Godzilla.”

They talked quietly until the food arrived. Hannah thought about asking him to turn on his ridiculously complicated-looking entertainment system, but decided flashing lights and noise probably weren’t conducive to getting rid of a headache. It was kind of nice to sit there in the semi-darkness with Scott’s arm around her like a steel band. She could get used to this. The question was – should she?

How would she handle this life, wondering every year if he’d be traded and they’d have to move across the state or even the country? How would she deal with knowing every time he left for a practice or a game there was potential for serious injury? Hannah had been totally freaked by the night’s drama, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to live with that kind of anxiety. But as she looked up at Scott and he gently lowered his lips to hers, she thought maybe it would be worth it.

* * * *

Scott stole a peek at Hannah as she ate. His head and neck were pretty sore, and the doc had told him to rest, but all he could think about was sinking into her tight heat. It was already driving him crazy and it was just past midnight. His balls would be blue and shriveled by morning. Maybe he could get her to take pity on him.

They finished and Hannah carried the plates back into the kitchen. He heard running water and assumed she was washing the dishes. Scott thought about pointing out that Sharelle, aka the helper lady, would do that on Monday, but knew instinctively Hannah would scoff, so he remained silent.

When she returned to the room, she held out her hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Finally a plan I can get behind.” The meal had helped his foggy brain clear and Scott was grateful for that. He hated feeling out of control.

With a shake of her head that made her dark hair spill around her face, she led him into his bedroom, a little frisson of pleasure unfurling that she knew the way. He found he wanted her to know the way – wanted her to know a lot of things. Scott wasn’t much on sleeping around. Sure, he’d done it some when he was younger; what hockey player didn’t? But he was long past the “gotta get laid every night” stage, preferring to date every now and then; oftentimes someone who wasn’t looking for an entanglement any more than he was. Or had been. Now he wasn’t so sure. Being tangled with Hannah sounded pretty damn good.

All those women seemed so empty, so shallow. Scott wasn’t stupid. He knew his career probably wouldn’t last more than five or ten years beyond this season if his luck held. Maybe now was a good time to figure out what he really wanted from life. A wife? Kids? That career he’d told Hannah about at dinner? Scott loved playing hockey, but he wasn’t a one-trick pony. There was more to life than that for him.

But would she believe him? Did she even want a life with him? She’d mentioned she didn’t envy her sister, and Scott was sure tonight’s drama hadn’t helped him convince Hannah things could be smooth sailing.

He’d stripped down to warm-up pants and a hoodie when he got home, and now Hannah was in front of him, unzipping the sweatshirt and leaving him in a t-shirt. She knelt to pull off his pants and he suppressed a groan of need. He couldn’t stop the little sway toward her, as if his dick had a life of its own and was seeking a home base, and Hannah cleared her throat, rising.

“You can take care of those, I’m sure. What do you want to sleep in?”

You. I want to sleep inside you.

“Um, boxers and a T-shirt are fine.”

“Can I borrow something? I’m not eager to wear a jersey to bed, and I’ll boil in what I have underneath.”

“Sure.” He walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of his team-issued shirts. “This should fit.” Scott left it on the bed and turned to remove his bottoms, trying not to tempt himself too much with the flashes of her succulent flesh as she undressed.

“Come lie down. I’ll give you a shoulder and neck massage. You’ve got to be hurting, no matter what you’d have me think.”

He went to the bed and got in, rolling over onto his stomach and trapping his rapidly hardening cock between his body and the sheets.

This might not turn out well. The thought was only magnified when she straddled him, her thighs obviously bare against the skin of his lower back. Now he couldn’t help the moan of pure need.

“Are you all right? Am I hurting you?”

“Yes, but not the way you’re thinking,” Scott mumbled.

Hannah leaned down and Scott felt her hair brushing against his sensitized skin. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“If you say so.” Her hands dug into the knots in his shoulders and Scott groaned again.

“Strong hands. Fucking heaven.”

“That’s from the glass art.”

“Thank you to whoever invented that.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure it was actually invented, but if I ever find out and can travel back in time, I’ll be sure to let them know.”

As she pushed and pulled, working out the various tight spots, Scott began to drift.

Damn pain pills.

He forced himself to stay awake, and when she finished several moments later, Scott rolled over, sighing as his dick finally got some breathing room.

“Do you, um, want me to massage that too?”

“Huh?” Scott’s head rose from the pillow. He was surprised at how heavy it felt, but he forced himself to focus before swearing softly. Yeah, his boxers were totally tented. Where was the sheet when you needed it? “Your choice. I won’t say no. My mother didn’t raise a fool.” He winced as he realized he’d just connected his mom with his erection. Yuck.

With a snicker she reached into the boxers, pulling him out through the slit. Already precome was flowing freely and she spread it over the whole of him, causing a whole different cadence of sound to burst forth from him. Speeding up, Hannah jacked him and after a mortifyingly short time, he came into her hand.

“Oh, shit, that felt good.”

“Better than the back massage.”

Scott chuckled. “No contest.” But now he was really sleepy. His eyes started to drift closed again, not reopening until he felt a soft cloth cleaning him up.

“Sleep.”

“Stay with me.”

“I will.”

In the morning, though his head still pounded like a bass drum, Scott rose, did his business in the bathroom and managed to down a couple of pills without waking Hannah. When he returned to the bedroom, he leaned in the doorway and watched her sleep until he realized he’d look like a stalker if she woke up.

Then he smiled. He knew how to do that without creeping her out. Moving back to the bed, he got in slowly and quietly and then spooned her from behind. Hannah made a contented murmur but remained asleep. Snaking his arm around her, he moved it until his fingers and then the rest of his hand slid underneath the waistband of her bikini panties. His smile morphed into a grin when he found her wet. Maybe she wouldn’t refuse a little morning wake-up call.

Time to test that theory.

Gently, he inserted a finger into her. He couldn’t get in far at this angle, and Scott pushed up to a sitting position. She shifted, and with his other hand, he moved her top leg back to get better access. Glancing up to assess whether or not she’d woken, he then added a second finger and used the heel of his hand to press on her clit. Now she mewled and arched up. Bingo.

“What’re you doing to me?” Her voice was husky from sleep and, with any luck, arousal, and Scott felt himself hardening in response.

“If you don’t know, then I’m doing it very, very wrong.” He punctuated his words with a few gentle thrusts in and out. Seizing the opportunity, Scott moved down her body quickly and pushed between her thighs. Withdrawing his hand, he licked his fingers and then moved the offending panties to the side, leaning in to lick at her juices.

Hannah gasped. “Scott…”

“Shh. Let me make you feel good.” He leaned back and grabbed the sides of her panties. “These need to go.” After making quick work of them, Scott moved in again. “Much better.”

“Oh, yeah.”

When he looked up, Hannah’s eyes were screwed shut. She bit her lip.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you.” To prove his point, he opened her with his thumbs and flicked over her already distended clit. “Show me you want it.” Scott resumed his ministrations and soon Hannah was writhing underneath him. His brain warred between wanting to complete her now and getting them both off. He ignored that and his still-pounding head and continued trying to make Hannah lose her mind. When her thighs closed around his head, though, his decision was made. Time to take his woman to the moon.

My woman?

He put the thought out of his mind, concentrating on taking Hannah over the edge. Shifting his shoulders, he was able to slide two fingers inside her once more, this time curling them up. The squeal he heard in response made him chuckle, but he didn’t stop, relentlessly pushing and tapping on the bundle of nerves contained inside.

“Scott…I…can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Come for me.”

“Feels,” a strange sound tumbled out of her mouth, “weird.”

“I’m not stopping.”

He knew what she was probably feeling. One of the best things he’d ever done was watch a tutorial on giving a woman a G-spot orgasm and then practicing on a “friend with benefits” he’d been seeing at the time. Scott wanted Hannah boneless, breathless. Speeding up, he kept rubbing over the spot.

“Scott! What–”

“Is that feeling? A G-spot orgasm, I hope.”

“A what?” She arched and pushed up with her feet, nearly breaking his wrist, but his athletic reflexes kicked in and he moved with her.

“Come for me.”

Several moments later, during which he worked her without pause even as his fingers cramped, a gurgling noise bubbled up and then she screamed, finally coming, her feminine ejaculate soaking his sheets. Without warning, Scott came, his eyes slamming shut as he emptied inside his boxers. Shit, when was the last time that had happened? Years ago, at the very least.

He collapsed to the side of Hannah, who was breathing as if she’d just run a marathon. His own lungs were demanding oxygen, but he concentrated on her stuttered words.

“What…that…what…”

Scott rolled to the side and inhaled her scent. “A G-spot orgasm. Did it feel different?”

Her eyes finally opened and she looked down at him. “I thought I was gonna pee, but wow, that felt so freaking good.”

Barking out a laugh, he said, “So you’ve never had one of those?” Involuntarily, his chest puffed up.

“Never.” Hannah shook her head slowly. “Never came that hard. You’ve got a slave for life.”

“I’ll remember that.”

She moved and then made a face. Waving a hand down, she asked, “Did I do that?” Her pale face showed red in her cheeks, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion of her orgasm or embarrassment.

“Yeah, that happens. No biggie. I can change the sheets.”

“You? Or your helper?”

“Uh.” He felt his own face flooding with heat. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t want to scare Sharelle.” Hannah looked at him strangely. “The helper lady.”

“Oh. Okay. Need a nap.”

“If you give me a minute, you can have one.” Rising, Scott pulled off his wet boxers, wiping his front down before throwing them in the hamper.

“Have stuff to do. Shouldn’t sleep.” She sat up in bed. “Don’t you have practice?”

“Maintenance day, they call it.” He laughed and then turned away to grab another pair of boxers.

“Getting your oil changed?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

Hannah groaned. “I really need to get up.”

“You really need to let me change the sheets and then spend the day in bed with me so I can do that a whole bunch more times.”

“Shit, that sounds awesome.”

“Glad to know I’m good for something,” he said in what he hoped was a light tone as he moved toward the small linen closet in the bathroom for fresh sheets.

Hannah laid her chin on her pulled-up knees. “Scott?”

“Hmm?” he answered from behind the closet door.

“Look at me.”

His eyebrows drawn down, Scott tossed the sheets on the top of his dresser and approached the bed. “Yeah?”

“You look like someone drowned your puppy. Why are you like that? You’re one of the biggest catches in the whole freaking city.”

“I doubt that.”

Her face softened. “You’re good for a lot of things, Scott Richards. And I’m not just talking about in the bedroom.”

His face flamed again. “Thanks.”

“I’ll help with those.” Hannah jerked her head toward the sheets still lying on the dresser.

Together they pulled off the sheets. It was the most domestic thing he’d ever done with a woman, and yet found himself unable to contain the silly grin plastered all over his face. When they finished, he asked, “Still wanna take a nap? I’m in.” Waggling his eyebrows, he sat and leaned back on the headboard.

“We need to get you fed. You need nutrition after being injured.” Hannah glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “I can get dressed and go grab us something.”

“I do have breakfast food. It’s the only meal I eat here consistently.”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “Oh. Well, then, I’ll go scrounge around for something.”

“Hannah?”

Finally turning, she said, “We should eat.”

“What’s going on? You got all squirrelly.”

* * * *

Hannah stopped and fiddled with the pillowcase. She was a bundle of nerves suddenly and wasn’t exactly sure why. Scott was waiting for an explanation and she didn’t have one, except that she was worried about him. She still hadn’t gotten over the sight of him, lying still on the ice. He, who was always so full of life and rarely stopped moving. But that wasn’t the whole story. Hannah was afraid to even consider the rest.

She looked at him and tried to say something. He was staring at her with a puzzled look on his face, and it seemed as if he were losing patience. “I’m worried about you.”

“It was just a little knock on the head. No biggie.”

“It is a big deal, Scott. That hit knocked you out for almost a minute. I’m guessing they diagnosed you with a concussion. How could they not?”

“Okay, fine. I admit it. This isn’t a maintenance day. They told me to stay home from practice and rest. I have to see a doctor tomorrow to have the concussion analyzed and can’t go back to playing until I’m free of symptoms.”

“I knew it.” Unbidden, tears began to streak down her cheeks. “You’re hurt and you should never have had sex last night or this morning, getting all that blood pumping to your poor brain and all.”

He laughed. “It wasn’t pumping through my brain, though many women think that’s where a man’s brain is.”

“Don’t make a joke of it, Scott. This is all new to me and it’s freaking me out. How many other concussions have you had in your career?”

He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she stepped back so she could see him better. With a sigh he dropped his arms and said, “Only one other minor one, when I was in the minors. I’m not a big hitter and don’t get into fights, so I don’t get injured as much as some guys.”

“Thank God. Now tell me how you really feel this morning.”

He sat on the bed, his expression resigned, and she hovered over him, afraid to touch him and knowing how ridiculous that was. “Okay, doc. I have a wicked headache and was going to try to slip in a few ibuprofens when you were in the kitchen so you wouldn’t know. I already took two, but the headache hasn’t gone away.”

“Maybe you need another one of those stronger pain pills you mentioned the trainer gave you last night.”

“Probably, but I don’t want to be out of it all day with you here.”

“Maybe I should go home and let you sleep. You need to relax.” She started to inch away.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit next to him on the bed. “No. Please don’t. A few more ibuprofen will take the edge off. Then we can spend a quiet day together. Unless you’d rather not babysit a hard-headed hockey player.” Scott tried to smile, but it didn’t work all the way into his eyes.

She let that go for the moment. “Do you have any other symptoms? I can go on the internet and see what symptoms you need to look out for.”

“No need. I’ve been around enough other guys with concussions to know pretty much what to expect. And to answer your question, I feel a little nauseated and the room is spinning some, but only when I move my head too fast. I stupidly took the pills on an empty stomach earlier. And I probably shouldn’t admit this to you, but I don’t really remember what happened last night. It looked bad, huh?”

“Looked bad? I held my breath until I saw you move. I was afraid you were…”

Putting his arm around her, he pulled her into his body. “Oh, baby. You were probably scared shitless. I’m so sorry.”

Hannah’s heart leapt at how concerned he was about her reaction. He was the one with the injury, after all, not her. This was one of the reasons she’d never wanted to get involved with a hockey player. Though she knew they didn’t get injured at every game, she’d felt sick when she’d watched him lying there, crumpled on the ice. But his reaction now actually made things so much easier. Hannah hadn’t expected Scott would be so worried about how she felt about his being hurt.

“You definitely need to eat. I’ll go fix us breakfast and you go take some painkillers. We’ll talk about the rest of the day after we’ve had some sustenance.”

She left him to take his pills and rummaged through his fridge and cupboards for breakfast makings. When he came into the kitchen, she had cheese omelets with bacon and toast ready to put on the table.

It didn’t take him long to plow through his omelet, and she finished up later while he drank coffee and stared at her. Hannah tried not to react, but he had a very intense look about him when he wanted to.

Finally, she broke. “What?”

“You eat very delicately, did you know that?”

“I eat like I have manners, while you eat like someone is going to swipe the food from your plate at any moment.”

“Comes from eating meals on the road with the guys. If you don’t stuff it in fast, you find pieces of steak disappearing. So yes, I eat like someone’s going to swipe the food, because that’s exactly what happens.”

Hannah tried not to look at him like he had three heads, but it wasn’t easy. Hockey players were just a little bit “off.” She was more and more convinced of it every day. “I’ve figured out what we should do today.”

Scott sat back. “Have you now?”

“How is your head and dizziness?”

“Eh. The pills helped some, like I’d hoped, but it still hurts pretty bad.”

“How can you just sit there acting like nothing is wrong when you have a huge headache? I’d be in bed with a warm cloth over my eyes.”

“You get used to dealing with pain.” He folded his arms over his chest.  “All hockey players have to.”

“That’s true. Darren’s mentioned it. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. Okay, you have two choices.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. You can go back to bed and sleep for the afternoon, and that’s my recommendation. Or, you can lie on the couch while I take the chair and we’ll be quiet, as long as it doesn’t aggravate your headache or dizziness, which you will keep me apprised of.”

“I’m not going back to bed. So, I’ll take door number two, as long as you sit on the couch with me.”

“You’re going to be lying down, not sitting.”

“I could put my head in your lap.” He smiled and she could tell he was trying to calm her down. It was a good effort, but head injuries were nothing to take lightly.

“Scott–”

“All right, all right. Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“Not really. I was going to work on my boat, but that’s not going anywhere.”

“You seriously don’t mind?”

“No. I’ll probably work on it in the evenings this week. You’re going to be away for eight days on a road trip, so I should have plenty of time.”

“Looked at the schedule, did you?”

“While I was making breakfast. It’s on your fridge and I had downtime.”

“I’ll only be away if they let me play.” His expression turned crestfallen and she felt badly for him. Hockey was his life. Yes, he’d said he wanted to do other things — at some point — but right now he was a hockey player who couldn’t play hockey. That had to be hard.

“If they don’t clear you to play soon, maybe they will in a few days and you can join the club midway.”

“Maybe.”

She rose and started to clear the table. “Think positive.”

Scott snorted, then waved a hand toward the dishes on the table. “Don’t bother with that.”

“I should at least put them in the sink.”

He stood with his hands in his jeans pockets for a minute, watching her work and then wandered into the living room. When she got there, he’d fetched a comfortable pillow from his bed and was stretched out on the couch. He looked a little pale, and Hannah figured he was probably secretly relieved to just be able to lie still and veg out.

They had sat for about a half-hour, Hannah playing games on her phone while Scott dutifully closed his eyes, when Hannah’s phone started ringing.

It was Tammi. “I’m gonna take this into the bedroom where I can hear her better.”

He nodded absently and she wondered how bad his head really was.

Hannah lowered herself to the bed, feeling a little strange since Scott wasn’t there. “What’s up?”

“What’s up with you is the question of the day. Darren told me about Scott getting hurt and I knew you went to the game, but hadn’t heard anything from you. Darren said not to disturb you in case you were with him, but I was getting worried. How is he?”

“He was lucky. He has a mild concussion. I have him lying on the couch watching a movie.”

“So you stayed the night with him? Darren said he thought you would. Of course you did. You were probably worried sick.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to leave him here alone with his injury in case something bad happened unexpectedly and he had no one here to take him to the ER.” She didn’t mention that she’d already spent the night when they’d first met. Her sister was on a need-to-know basis with this situation.

“Sounds like you care an awful lot.”

“Of course I care. I like him.”

“You don’t have to sound so defensive. This is me, you know.”

“I know. Sorry. I’m a little sensitive at the moment. You got a couple minutes to talk?”

“Sure. That’s why I called. Thought you might need a sympathetic ear. After all, I’ve been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.”

Ignoring her sister’s lame attempt at a joke, Hannah took a deep breath and began. “I don’t know what to do. I like Scott. In fact, I like him a lot, but then there’s the hockey thing. I know you and Darren have had to move around a lot, and it’s pretty cool you guys are finally close enough for me to be able to see you, but for years you weren’t. I also know you’ve dealt with things like injuries, trade rumors, God only knows what else. I’m totally freaked out about this concussion. How do you handle all this hockey stuff?”

“I don’t know. I just do. There’s a great support system on the teams with the wives and families when you have to leave or are moving in. Plus the teams themselves step in with help finding a new place and handling logistics and stuff. They make it as easy as they can.”

“That part sounds good, anyway. But I have a career where I’m doing very well. It’s not like I’m a teacher or a nurse or something so I can get a job if he was traded. Jobs like mine don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“Whoa. You’re talking moving around with him and taking care of his life already. Just how far has this thing gone between you guys? You didn’t meet him that long ago.”

“I know. And it’s not like we’re talking marriage or anything. It seems totally ridiculous to even have any of this on my radar screen, but I just want to be sure I could handle all that being a part of his life would entail before we go any further. If I really don’t think I can, I need to get out now, before I get in any deeper. I could really be hurt here. Him too, really. I don’t want to hurt him by backpedaling later on.”

“I dunno. It sounds like you fell hard and fast for this guy already. Are you in love with him?”

“No. Not yet, anyway, but I don’t think it would be hard. He’s a sweetheart, you know.”

Tami laughed. “Don’t let his buddies on the team hear you say stuff like that.”

With a smile and a lighter conscience, Hannah lay down on the comforter. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to ruin his macho reputation. Heaven forbid.”

Tammi spoke once more, her voice sounding more serious. “I’ve been thinking while we’ve been talking. I think it comes down to the fact that, if you love a guy, you’ll do everything you have to in order to be with him. You put up with a lot because not putting up with it means you can’t be with him, and if he’s your life, you can’t not be with him.”

“I’m not sure that helps my situation right now, but I’ll keep it in mind. If I can figure out what you just said.”

“Let things develop at their natural pace, and it’ll become clear eventually if you love him enough to deal with being a hockey wife.”

“When I’ll figure it out, I have no idea. But you’re right. Putting the cart before the horse and all that. You know me, though. I’m a planner. I don’t like things just happening without my knowing how to handle them. This has gone lightning fast with Scott. Maybe I need to step back a little and let things be for a while.”

“If you think you can.” Tammi sounded doubtful, and Hannah didn’t blame her.

“Unfortunately, Scott makes it hard to keep my distance with his sexy self and my inclination to give him anything he wants when he looks at me with those incredible eyes.”

“Geez. TMI.”

She laughed and said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I think on that note, I’ll hang up before I gag.”

“Don’t you dare pretend you and Darren don’t burn up the sheets. I’ve seen you two at work in public. I can only imagine what it’s like at home. Yuck.”

Tammi laughed back. “Bye. Call me if you need to.”

Hannah walked back into the living room and found Scott fast asleep on the couch. His soft brown hair was falling across his forehead, and he looked peaceful and angelic, not at all the tough hockey player he was. Her heart melted and she knew it was going to be tough to keep this man out of her heart.

Chapter Five

When Scott woke, Hannah wasn’t there, but there was a note was on the coffee table. Rolling slowly, he reached out and snagged it.

Scott,

You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m at home. Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how you’re feeling.

Hannah

He tossed the note back toward the table, but it fell short and drifted to the floor. Raising his head enough to see the clock in the entertainment center, he groaned. It was midafternoon. Scott wasn’t sure what time he’d fallen asleep, but he could see why Hannah had left, since it appeared he’d slept four or five hours.

Not wanting to bother Hannah too much, he hadn’t mentioned he was supposed to be woken up frequently. During the night he’d set the phone to vibrate every few hours and when it did he had heard it, made sure he was still feeling okay, and then gone back to sleep. Hannah hadn’t seemed to notice the noise, or if she did, she hadn’t said anything.

Now, this afternoon, he was probably still supposed to be sleeping in short increments, but man, a long nap felt good.

Life of the party, that’s me.

Scott sat up gingerly. His headache was down to a dull roar, and the dizziness seemed better too. Then his stomach rumbled, and he remembered he had no food since he had been scheduled for a long road trip soon. Picking up his phone to find the number of one of his favorite restaurants, he noticed Hannah must’ve put it on vibrate before she’d left since he had a couple of voice mails and texts. There was a message from the team doctor, one from the captain, plus texts from various buddies around the league who’d seen or heard about the hit.

He returned the texts and the call to the doctor while he waited for his food, but the doorbell rang as Scott began to dial the captain’s number. Placing his phone on the kitchen counter, he then went to the door.

The deliveryman had a look of pity, and Scott sighed to himself.

“Saw the hit last night. Vicious.”

“Yes, well…” What the hell am I supposed to say now? What do people expect me to say?

“Anyway, hope you enjoy the food and get better soon, man. We need you down the line.”

“I’ll do my best to get healthy. I doubt I’ll be out long.”

“That’s good to hear. Later.”

Scott shut the door. Taking the bag over to the counter, he set it down and then went to the cabinets for a plate. After dumping the contents of the containers on it, he took his meal to the living room. The movie had long since stopped, so he picked up the remote and idly flipped through channels until he found a hockey game before digging in to the food. Luckily he wasn’t nauseous anymore, and the pork tenderloin and green beans from the mom and pop restaurant he’d discovered a few years ago and now frequented regularly tasted ridiculously good. He’d considering ordering Kung Pao chicken from the Chinese takeout place just around the corner, but knew it was a bad idea to stray from his in-season diet.

Once he’d eaten he thought about calling Hannah, but Scott felt like a bit of an ass for falling asleep earlier. He was sure if he mentioned it, Hannah would tell him he was being silly, but that was only because she was so nice.

He was still debating when a text came through. It was Hannah. Scott smiled.

Hey-didn’t want to disturb you. Hope you had a good nap and are feeling better. Talk to you this week.

With that silly grin still plastered on his face, he thumbed out a response.

I do feel better, but it sucks I slept so long you left. I’m sorry about that. Yes, we’ll talk soon. Very soon.

Scott considered adding an emoticon, but wasn’t sure if that made him seem unmanly, so he left it off and hit Send.

With his belly full, he was starting to feel sleepy again, but fought it. While he was aware he’d need to rest to get rid of his concussion symptoms, Scott didn’t want to spend all his time asleep. If he did, he feared he’d be in trouble when they cleared him to play. Despite his efforts, though, Scott fell asleep again and woke close to midnight. Sighing, he turned off the TV and trudged into his bedroom, stopping only long enough to take off his sweats and put his phone on the charger.

A couple of days later, Scott had seen the doctor and was feeling a ton better. Hannah was checking in via text mostly and had mentioned how busy she was with some work project, so Scott didn’t ask if he could see her. In the back of his mind, he feared she was putting him off, though. Was there really a work project or had she made that up? And how to actually find out? Show up at her place unannounced like some lunatic and demand to know if she still liked him?

Not in a million years am I letting myself do that. He might as well hand her his balls on a silver platter.

The team doctors considered keeping him out until the guys returned from the road trip even though he showed no lingering symptoms, but Scott begged them to clear him and they finally acquiesced. He made it to Minnesota and went straight to the arena for practice.

While he was lacing up his skates, thoughts of Hannah came to him unbidden. He’d sent her a text to let her know he was leaving for Minnesota, and she’d sounded happy when she’d sent a voice mail back, but it been nearly a week since the hit and Scott hadn’t seen her at all. Now he was out of town, not returning for a couple more days, and when the team’s charter touched down upon its return to New York, it was going to be too late to see her. Dammit, he missed her.

How can I miss a woman I’ve known only a few weeks? This is ridiculous.

But he did. Scott thought of her again during a lull in practice, and then again in the shower; definitely not the best place to be reliving their last encounter. The team took a bus back to their hotel and Scott was occupied talking to his teammates, but when they had the whole afternoon ahead of them with nothing to do, the only thing that sounded good was calling Hannah.

His road roommate asked him if he wanted to go to a movie and Scott said yes, if only to stop this outlandish burgeoning obsession. They met up with some of the other guys at a steakhouse afterward, and though conversation was raucous, Scott found himself checking his phone frequently, itchy to get back to his room.

One of the guys motioned toward the phone on the table. “Got a hot date later or something?”

“What? No.”

“Then what’s with the constant checking? We not enough entertainment for you?”

Scott laughed, hoping it sounded sincere. The last thing he wanted was for the guys to figure out how whipped he was already. He’d never hear the end of it. “You guys are entertaining like a freak in a circus sideshow. Just expecting a call.”

Another man joined in. “Agent?”

“No.”

“Then it must be a chick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been seeing someone, but it’s not a big deal.”

“You stalking her through your phone is definitely not a big deal. Nope.”

“I’m not stalking her. I was just hoping to hear from her.” Scott looked around the table. “Shit, you’re worse than a bunch of preteen girls.”

“Defensive. We get it. Just remember, bros before hos.”

Scott shook his head with a smile. His teammates were nuts, but he loved this job. He reached out and fist-bumped a few of the guys since they seemed to expect it, then sat back, fighting the urge to pick up his phone again.

Luckily, Scott was able to beg off any forms of “entertainment” the guys suggested once dinner was over. He caught a cab back to the hotel, wondering how he’d ever thought a night at a strip club could be considered entertainment. As soon as the cab’s door closed, he had his phone out and was unlocking it. Hannah had texted him about forty-five minutes ago. Time for a phone call. No more of this texting bullshit. I need to hear her voice.

He dialed and waited. After a couple of rings, Hannah picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Scott.”

“Hey, how are you?” Thank God she sounds happy to hear from me.

“Good, really good. I practiced today with the team and I’m playing tomorrow night. I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Okay, tough guy.”

“Why haven’t you called?” Scott swore softly to himself. Why the hell did I say that?

Hannah sounded surprised when she answered. “I was trying to give you time to heal.”

Ugh. What to say now that won’t make me look like a horny ass?

“Not that I expected you to be with me all hours of the day and night, but seeing you would’ve been nice.” Awesome. That made me sound whiny.

“That works both ways.”

“I know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I just–”

“You just what?”

Scott let his breath out in a huff. “I thought I’d be making a pest of myself. I didn’t want you to think I was all needy and for you to get sick of me. I was hoping you’d call me so I didn’t have to wonder if I was bothering you.” Since when do I wear my heart on my sleeve? What is this woman doing to me?

“I wouldn’t get sick of you, and you don’t bother me at all. I like you,” Hannah said softly. “I didn’t want to be in your way.”

“Wow, guess we’re both dumbasses.”

She laughed. “Yeah, it appears that way.”

“I’m almost back at my hotel. How do you feel about phone sex?”

“Geez, I hope you’re alone right now.”

“I am. I’d never say something like that in front of teammates. They’d tease me forever. Anyway, phone sex. You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m not avoiding it. I’ve just, uh, never done it.”

“Hang on. Gotta pay the cabbie.” He handed a couple of bills to the man and climbed out of the car, the phone still to his ear. Hannah let out a squeak and he chuckled. Well, so he wasn’t totally alone. But he was sure the man had heard worse. “Let me get upstairs and call you back. That might be easier.”

“Um, okay.”

They hung up and Scott grinned. She hadn’t exactly said yes, but she also hadn’t said no. Scott actually considered texting his roommate and offering him money to stay away, but figured the man would laugh his ass off and probably come back just to spite him. The two of them were good friends, but these guys, and himself included when the mood struck him, could be pains in the ass. No one meant anything by it, but he didn’t want to expose Hannah to all the shenanigans associated with the guys until he had to.

He undressed and climbed into bed in boxers and a T-shirt. Then he called Hannah back.

“Soooo, phone sex.”

“I don’t even warrant a hello now?” Her tone was flirtatious and Scott grinned.

“Hello. Wanna have phone sex?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“What are you wearing?”

Hannah cracked up. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

“Hey, it’s been a long day. And you’re avoiding again.”

“I’m wearing yoga pants and a fleece.”

“Sexy.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really. I love yoga pants. You ladies have no idea how good your asses look in them.”

“Okay then.”

Better change the subject from the stupid comment I just made. She’ll think I go around checking out women all the time. Way to make her feel special.

Scott moved another pillow behind his head and said, “Take off your pants and the fleece and get in bed.”

“All right, hang on. So, what are you wearing?”

“Boxers and a T-shirt. I don’t want to scar my roommate for life if he comes back early.”

“Good point, though I have no idea how you’d hide what you were doing. Putting the phone down.” Scott heard rustling in the background and then Hannah came back on the line. “Okay, in bed.”

“Now what are you wearing?”

“A bra and panties.”

“Take off the bra and play with your nipples. I want them nice and hard.”

“Take off the T-shirt and do the same,” she shot back.

“Touché.” He pulled the shirt over his head, then set the phone down and put it on speaker. “You might want to find a safe spot to leave the phone and put it on speaker. You’re gonna need your hands for this.”

“Oh, my.”

Scott gave her some time and then said, “Slip your hand under your panties and rub your pussy. Take them off if it’s easier but sometimes it’s sexier to leave them on.”

“O-okay.”

“You sound breathless.” His cock had woken up in a hurry and was now practically pulsing in his boxers. He pulled it through the slit so he wasn’t too exposed and gave it a slow jerk. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah. Normally I’m not much for using my hands, but this is kind of hot.”

“What do you normally use?”

“I have a vibrator. You know, the old battery-operated boyfriend.”

“Hopefully you won’t need that as long as I’m around.”

“Except when you’re on road trips.”

He’d been taking a chance when he’d said that and was relieved when Hannah rolled with it. I guess I might be her boyfriend. I don’t want to date anyone else, and I sure as hell don’t want her to. Scott was surprised by how possessive he felt about Hannah already. The thought of some other guy made him want to ask the team’s enforcer for boxing lessons so he could take care of anyone sniffing around her.

If they weren’t in the middle of this, he would’ve brought up the whole boyfriend-girlfriend subject more formally, but now was not the time.

Scott stroked up and down once more. Yeah, definitely wait ’til later.

“Get your vibrator. I want you to come for me, and if that’s the way to get you there, I want you to use it.”

“Oh, God.” A drawer opened and shut and then Hannah was back. “I’ve got it.”

“Take off your panties.”

“This isn’t gonna take long. I’m totally turned on.”

“Duly noted for the future.” Scott spread the precome oozing out of his slit over the head and shaft and sighed in pleasure. He heard he vibrator starting up. Feeling a little breathless himself, he said, “Put it wherever you normally do – on your clit, inside, whatever’s gonna get you off.”

Hannah moaned and Scott swore to himself, speeding up his jerking. “All ready. Close. Never happened this fast.” She moaned again.

“Right behind you, baby. Go on, come for me. Let me hear you.”

A longer, louder moan came through the phone, and Scott felt the beginnings of his orgasm stirring.

“Scott, oh man.”

“Yes, do it. You sound so fucking sexy. Wanna be inside you.”

“I want you, too.” Then she was silent, save for various moans and groans, and Scott’s eyes slammed shut as he released a tortured groan of his own.

“You sound good too.” Hannah gasped. “I’m close.”

“Come on. Come.” With a few more rough, quick strokes, his back arched and mouth dropped open as his orgasm slammed through him. Vaguely he heard Hannah yell out her own finish. That gave him another stutter before he sank back into the soft bed, breathing hard. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever done, babe.”

“Wow. Wow.”

Scott gave a shaky chuckle. “Ditto.”

Shortly after that they said their good-byes, and Scott was asleep almost immediately. Luckily he stayed awake long enough to clean up and tuck himself back into his boxers or he would’ve had an embarrassing situation.

They won the game the next day, but the coach limited Scott’s ice time, which pissed him off even as he understood why. Afterward, the team hopped on a charter flight and were back in New York around 2 a.m. the next morning. He went straight home and slept. When he awoke for practice there was a voicemail from Hannah saying she’d watched the game and hoped to talk to him soon.

Count on it. Scott left for practice with a shit-eating grin stretching his face.

* * * *

Hannah slammed the door of her apartment and rushed to the answering machine to look for messages. Well, if she was being honest with herself, messages from Scott. She knew he was back in town, but hadn’t gotten anything on her cell, so she was hoping he’d called her landline. Her heart fell. Nothing. Damn!

She missed him like the devil. When she thought about it, they’d only been together twice, although they’d connected by phone and text numerous times. Still, she shouldn’t be practically jumping out of her skin because he hadn’t called. He probably didn’t want to disturb her at work, but today it wouldn’t have mattered because she hadn’t gotten much done anyway since her brain kept coming back to him.

I am a mess. She went into her bedroom to change and the second she dug the phone out of her pants pocket and tossed it on the bed, it rang. Diving for it, she missed and sent it sliding across the slippery chintz comforter. Hannah chased the foolish thing all around the bed and finally snagged it just before it slid off the edge of the other side.

Lying on her stomach, she hit Accept and put it to her ear with a breathless “Hello?”

“You sound out of breath. You okay?”

“Chased the phone around the bed.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She rolled onto her back and scooted up to lay her head on the pillow. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m great. How’ve you been?”

“Missing you.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, and she began to worry that what she’d said had shocked or dismayed him. “Scott?”

She heard him clear his throat and, when he spoke, his voice was deep and thick. “I missed you, too, babe. I’m dying without you. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve gotta see you. This phone-only thing sucks.”

“I’d like that.”

“Lemme see. We’ve got a game Friday night, so a long practice tomorrow and you’re at work anyway. How about we make a big date for Saturday? Dress up a little, go to a cool restaurant or something…”

“That’d be great.”

“While I was away I thought about how I should take you out more often. I’m always so anxious to jump your bones, I don’t let us do much else. I know it’s not like we’ve been seeing each other for months and all we do is have sex, but you’re a great girl. You deserve more to be taken to fabulous places. I’m not a horny bastard all the time, I swear. I like to go out and do the town now and then.”

She laughed softly. “It’s not as if you acted alone those times we wrecked the sheets, you know.”

“Yeah, but still. I want to take you out for a nice evening in the city. How about if I pick you up at your apartment around six Saturday night? By the time we get back to the city and settled in a restaurant, it’ll be seven at least. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

A little jolt of excitement went up her spine. What could he be planning? “That surprise wouldn’t be hiding in your pants, would it?”

“Hey! You wound me. No, this is something else, smartass. I can be a gentleman, you know. My mom taught me well.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready when you get here at six.”

Scott expelled a loud, deep breath and then said in nearly a whisper, “Wear something pretty and sexy. I’m tired of seeing you in hockey jerseys, even if it’s mine.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with. Bye.”

“Saturday. Six. Bye.”

Hannah panicked the minute she set her phone down. She had absolutely nothing in her closet that was dressy and sexy. Her office was casual and she’d recently lost a bit of weight, making anything dressy she had too big. That meant she’d be spending tomorrow night shopping, and she hoped she could find something that would please Scott.

It took her over an hour to get ready Saturday. She’d never spent so much time getting ready for anything, ever. At Macy’s, she’d splurged on a slender, black velvet dress with tiny rhinestones all over it and a snug bodice that ended in spaghetti straps. With her heart in her throat, she’d also purchased a short, faux fur black jacket to wear over it. Good thing Scott was going to be paying for the evening because she’d spent a ton of money on her outfit.

When the doorbell rang and she opened it to find Scott on the other side, Hannah decided it had all been worth it at the look on his face. He simply stood there staring at her for several seconds and then whispered, “My God, you’re beautiful.”

She found herself speechless at his reaction to her all dressed up. “Thank you,” she managed to get out eventually. He looked incredibly luscious too, with a long black dress coat and a gray pinstripe suit showing between the lapels. She fought the urge to just drag him inside and christen her own bedroom with him.

He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go?”

Hannah smiled. “Yep.” She picked up her fur coat and Scott jumped in to hold it for her. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and led her out. He put her into a big, black Lincoln and joined her in the back. “I decided to use a car service so we don’t have to worry about parking and all that.”

They had an incredible dinner at Le Bernardin in midtown Manhattan, a place Hannah knew for a fact had won several awards for best restaurant in the city. Even a quick look at the prix fixe prices made her gasp. She knew Scott made a lot of money — millions — but what he must’ve ended up paying, what with wine and dessert, made her realize she was entering into an entirely different world than the one she was used to. Of course, he didn’t let her anywhere near the bill, coolly extracting an American Express Black card and handing it to the server after a quick glance, seemingly unconcerned glance at the amount.

He helped her into her coat again and said, “I’m glad you have this warm fur coat on, because your surprise is outside.”

“Outside in the dark in the middle of winter? And this is a good surprise?”

“You got it. But you’ll be warm, I promise you.”

He led her out the front door of the restaurant with his hand at the base of her spine, and she looked up to see a horse and carriage in front of her. Stopping dead, she looked at Scott. “We’re going on a carriage ride? How did you know that I’ve always, always wanted to take a carriage ride in Manhattan?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The black carriage was bedecked with red bunting and the horse had a red plume on her head. It looked festive and romantic. She grabbed his head, pulling it down to kiss him soundly. “Thank you! I love it!”

He grinned and helped her into the carriage. The driver helped them surround themselves with fluffy, warm fur blankets. Then he climbed back up on his perch and drove them away from Le Bernardin.

“Would you like to drive through Central Park?”

“Oh yes! That would be lovely.”

“Good, because that’s where we’re going.” Then he pulled her into him and lowered his head for a real kiss. They clung together, their tongues searching and sucking, and he shucked his leather gloves to hold her closer.

Pulling away a bit, he looked at her intensely, appearing to be trying to get his breath back. “Oh, hon, you don’t know how good that feels. I’ve missed the hell out of you.”

“Me, too.”

Then he went back in for another mind-shattering kiss. They kissed back and forth as the carriage headed into the park and then he let her go. “It’s incredible kissing you, all snuggled up in these furs and all, but I want us to enjoy the ride too. We can kiss later when we get back to my place.”

With a mock sigh, Hannah nodded. “You’re right. This is too romantic to pass by. When I’ve pictured going on a carriage ride, I’ve always envisioned sitting arm in arm with a sexy hero. You fit that pretty well, so I want to see if reality lives up to my fantasies.”

“I hope I do.”

“So far, you’ve exceeded them. By a mile.”

They settled into the furs and watched the park go sliding by, holding hands under the covers. Even holding hands with him felt good and she realized they’d never done it. Several miles later, the driver pulled up his horse and spoke to them from his seat.

“This is where you asked me to drop you off, Mr. Richards. Do you and the missus still want to get out here?”

Scott laughed. “We’re not married. Not yet, anyway.” He turned to wrap his arm around her shoulders again. “This is my girlfriend, Hannah.”

Girlfriend. Man, that sounds good. She let Scott hold her around her waist and help her down. “My place is just past the trees. There’s a back entrance.”

She looked up at him with a smirk. “Girlfriend, huh?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m your girlfriend.” Raising one eyebrow, she asked, “And you said something about marriage in the future?”

“Oops. Yeah, I guess I did.” Scott didn’t look sorry at all. Be still my heart.

They started toward the high-rise. Strangely, the words “marriage” and “not yet” didn’t bring the panic she thought she’d feel after only a few weeks of being together. When she’d realized how she felt about Scott, Hannah had discovered that it was not the hockey uniform she was involved with, but the man inside that uniform. And he was worth it. For now, just being his girlfriend made her feel warm and happy.

She slanted a look at him. “Come on. Let’s get to your apartment. I have plans for you.”

He stopped and watched her for a second as she walked away, her head turned back to him. Then he grinned and caught up with her. Yeah, this was just about perfect. For now.

About the Authors

Cynthia Racette, writing as Cindy Carr:

My hubby and I moved to Buffalo, NY, to be with our daughters and grandchildren, so you can see that family is very important to us. We spend as much time with our wee grandchildren because we know what a short time they are little. I have written since I was a teen and was, at various times, a reporter, an editor, and an author. I joined RWA with my daughter Cassandra and we have each had great success since then.

In our spare time, we like to travel, especially to warmer climes in the middle of winter, swim in our pool here at home, read and watch hockey. We're big fans of the Buffalo Sabres. My hubby is a runner and I am a watcher—I watch him run. LOL I will read anything, including a cereal box but I draw the line at phone books.

Friend me on Facebook at facebook.com/cindy.racette

My available books:

Married to the Job

Windswept

Uncharted Fate

Cassandra Carr:

Cassandra Carr is a romance writer whose work has been praised by many prominent publishing industry media outlets such as Publisher's Weekly and Romantic Times. Her books have won several "Best Of" awards. Her novella Unexpected Top was nominated in the E-book Erotic Romance category of RT's 2013 Reviewers' Choice Awards. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out online.

She thinks the best part of being a writer is how she writes about love and sex while most others struggle with daily commutes, micro-managing bosses and cranky co-workers. Her inspiration comes from everywhere, but she'd particularly like to thank the Buffalo Sabres, the hockey team near and dear to her heart.

To learn more about Cassandra, check out her website at booksbycassandracarr.com; like her on Facebook at facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCarr, or follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/Cassandra_Carr.

Other hockey romances by Cassandra Carr (in order of publication date from newest to oldest):

Hiding In Plain Sight (Safe Harbor 2)

Underneath It All (Storm book 2)

Going All In

Moving Day (Storm book 1.5) - FREE SHORT STORY

Should’ve Known Better (Storm book 1)

See the Light (Safe Harbor 1)

Double Vision (Buffalo Intimidators 3)

Cold As Ice (Buffalo Intimidators 2)

Head Games (Buffalo Intimidators 1)

Talk to Me

Crashing the Boards

Seattle Sockeyes--1.5

© Jami Davenport

Can a party crasher melt the icy heart of a reluctant party guest or will she crash and burn along with her fledgling business?

Professional party crasher, Izzy Maxwell, has been hired to ensure the Seattle Sockeyes team party is a rousing success, while team captain Cooper Black is determined that it will be anything but. Armed with killer heels, a provocative dress, and loads of confidence, Izzy is determined to win over the ruggedly handsome hockey player and save the party and her business.

Seattle Sockeyes team captain Cooper Black can’t get beyond his anger over the new owners moving his team to Seattle, the one place on earth he swore he’d never live. Izzy hijacks Cooper, posing as his girlfriend, and his best buddy plays along despite Cooper’s protests, but Izzy’s persuasive talents, their undeniable chemistry, and a couple of intimate liaisons destroy Cooper’s resistance.

But when Cooper finds out Izzy had been hired to crash the party, and he’s been played a fool, the beginning of something special ends before it starts. Can Izzy convince Cooper to take another chance on her or will they both crash into the boards?

Chapter 1—Shutdown

Cooper Black skidded across the ice on his ass and slammed into the boards behind the net, taking the puck with him. The Boston defenseman was on the puck like Coop’s old tabby cat attacking the neighbors’ chickenshit dog. Cooper scrambled to his feet, digging the blades of his skates into the ice, trying to get his balance, only to fall again. Stevich fought like a crazed man, gaining control of the puck, and executing a perfect pass to his center.

If Cooper hadn’t been so preoccupied with keeping one eye on the clock winding down and the other on the puck, he might’ve seen the Russian coming on his blind side. He might have had one more chance on goal, one last desperation shot for a tie to send game seven of the semifinals into overtime.

Only he didn’t get that chance.

The final buzzer sounded.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end with Boston celebrating on the Giants’ home ice. His five-year-old nephew skated better than he had tonight. Struggling to his feet, Cooper skated around the victors and headed for the locker room with his head down. Boston moved on to the finals, and his team moved on to prepare for next season. Always next season.

He couldn’t avoid the press blocking his exit. Too weary to put up a good fight—he’d left all his fight out on the ice—he patiently answered their inane questions.

How do you feel after coming so close but coming up short?

“How do you think I feel?”

What are your plans for the off-season?

“Take a few weeks off for my body to heal and go back at it.”

How many more seasons do you plan on skating?

“Heck if I know.”

And so it went, he’d just managed to extricate himself from the bloodsuckers when the Giants’ PR guy pulled him off to the side. “There’s a group of kids from Make-A-Wish anxious to meet you for pics and autographs.”

Cooper almost said no. He was that tired, but he never said no to kids, especially kids with disabilities. He’d never forget his childhood hero walking right past Cooper and his little brother as if they didn’t exist despite their pleas for an autograph. They’d waited outside the visiting locker room shivering from the cold for what seemed hours, and the jerk couldn’t take one minute to make two small boys’ dreams come true, completely destroying Cooper’s image of the man. Cooper would never be that guy. As long as a kid wanted a moment of his time, he’d give it.

Several minutes later, he put on his best team captain face and yanked open the locker room door. Despite how miserable he might be inside, he’d never let the guys see him defeated or discouraged. Cooper paused in the doorway and swung his gaze around the solemn locker room. He’d attended funerals more cheerful than this.

“What the fuck is going on? Who died?” Cooper faked a grin he didn’t feel and strode into the room, the picture of upbeat confidence. There were too many young guys on this team to let this setback get them down.

No one even looked up at him.

“Hey, guys, we'll get ’em next year. We were that close.” He held up his hand using his thumb and forefinger to illustrate just how fucking damn close they'd been to winning that last game and making it to the finals—the dream that had eluded him for thirteen years.

Finally, Cedric, his best buddy on the team, lifted up his head and rubbed his beefy, scarred hands over his face. Heaving a deep sigh, he turned toward Cooper. Cedric’s stricken expression struck fear deep in Cooper’s gut. “They fired Coach.”

“They? Who the fuck is they?”

“Our new ownership.”

Cooper stared at his friend, certain he’d heard wrong. “New ownership? I've been gone from the locker room thirty minutes and we lost a coach and gained new owners? You guys are playing me.”

Ced just stared at him.

“Right? You're bullshitting me. Isn’t he, Crandall?”

Crandall glanced up and then buried his head in his hands again. The young guys wouldn’t even look at him.

A cold shiver sliced through him. They weren’t shitting him.

“What new owners?” Sure, there’d been all sorts of rumors, but there’d always been rumors. He’d been with this organization since he’d come up from the minors, thirteen years ago. And he’d heard every rumor known to man until he quit listening.

“The Puget Sound Hockey Alliance.”

“That Seattle group that's been stalking every team with a shaky fan base and money-starved owners?”

“The very one.”

“They do have deep pockets, so that’s a good thing.” Cooper forced himself to remain positive. The team’s now former owners had been douches that bled the team dry.

“Sure, if you like rain.”

Cooper sank onto the bench. “No.”

“We’re moving to Seattle.” Cedric confirmed his worst nightmare.

Cooper’s future turned as dismal as a gray Seattle sky. He knew all about Seattle weather. As a kid, he’d been forced to spend a few weeks there every summer with a crotchety old aunt. He hated it there, swore it was one place on earth he’d never live.

He looked at all the down faces in turn, and the truth was reflected in each one. “We’re going to Seattle.” He said the words with such despair, a guy would think he’d been sentenced to death row. In his mind, he was.

As captain of this team, he should be singing Seattle’s praises, waxing poetic over the billionaire owner, and convincing the team this was the best thing that had ever happened to them.

He wasn't that noble. In fact, he was fucking pissed.

Chapter 2—Attacking Zone

Party crashing was an art—if done right.

Isabella Maxwell should know. She’d been crashing parties for years, at first to get a decent meal and later—much later—as a part-time profession with her three younger sisters. She’d never crashed a party she didn’t take from dud to memorable in minutes.

Tonight she might have met her match.

She’d done her research and knew the obstacles and challenges, but nothing prepared her for the scene awaiting her on the party deck of the Washington Queen, a local tour boat rented by the Seattle Sockeyes hockey team for an evening dinner cruise around Elliott Bay.

As security checked invitations at the door, Izzy snuck past them and peeked in the doorway, scoping out the scene inside—DJ in the corner, empty dance floor complete with mirror ball and flashing lights, not a dancer anywhere. Hockey players were slouched in chairs clumped around tables, reminding her of pimply faced preteens at a junior high dance. Only these boys weren’t preteens or pimply faced. They were a formidable wall of broad chests, muscular thighs, and determined expressions. Each one mirroring the other, but she’d done her research. There was one man she needed to win over to salvage this party, and he hadn’t arrived yet.

Her sisters had already boarded the boat, managing to sneak past security, every one of them dressed to kill or at least to charm a professional hockey team, Bethany in her plunging Vera Wang gown and deadly high heels. Emma and Avery, the youngest at twenty-one and identical twins, looked every bit like giddy hockey groupies who’d managed to snag an invite to the party. Standing near the buffet table, they giggled and whispered as they stole glances at the players. Several players stared right back. Nearby, Bethany engaged the team play-by-play announcer in conversation, while he stared at her boobs, but men always stared at Bethany’s boobs.

The stage was set.

Time to get this party started. The Sockeyes were going to have the time of their lives if she had to threaten bodily harm with their own hockey sticks.

“Ma’am, I need to see your invitation.” A security guard with a receding hairline, the waist of his polyester pants pulled up to his armpits, and a determined set to his skinny jaw, stepped in front of her before she could enter through the double doors.

“Oh, that.” Izzy made a show of digging through her saddlebag of a purse, not exactly in keeping with her little black sheath, but it served its purpose. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

The security guard wasn’t the least bit impressed. He tapped his toe on the floor and took a ready stance as if he expected her to run any moment. Just what she needed, a SWAT team wannabe. She batted her eyes at him and continued to dig in her purse.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s here somewhere.”

“Ma’am, you’ll need to leave the boat until you can find it.”

She laughed and rubbed one perfectly manicured finger across his name tag. “Now, Carl, you just hold on one teensy bit. We’ll get this straightened out.” Izzy slipped into her fake Southern drawl; it brought most men to their knees.

Not Carl. In fact, not one hair quivered on his mustache. “My orders are strict. No one, not even the governor, gets in without an invite.” He wrapped scrawny fingers around her arm and pulled her none too gently from the doorway. He might look like a wimp but the guy was surprisingly strong.

No matter. She’d switch to Plan B.

“My boyfriend will be here any moment. He must have the tickets.”

As if on cue, her target for the night walked up the ramp and onto the boat. Cooper Black. The captain of the newly christened Seattle Sockeyes, and the most outspoken man on the team especially when it came to the team’s move and current situation, which he hated—the very man Izzy needed to tame tonight for this situation to turn around.

Judging by the stubborn set of his jaw and those steely blue eyes, this wasn’t going to be easy.

* * * *

Cooper stalked onto the boat hefting a boulder-sized chip on his shoulder.

No way in fucking hell would he cooperate at this fucking party. Not after what the new ownership had done to his team, his coaches, and the staff. It was bad enough they’d forced him to attend, and no one forced him to do anything. Attend was one thing, play nice was another. They’d find that out soon enough.

Oh, yeah, he was in a mood. Not even his buddy Cedric could joke him out of it.

A line of people formed at the head of the dock, waiting impatiently to board the boat. A gorgeous brunette with legs longer than his hockey stick appeared to be holding up the line. She kept digging in her purse and pleading with the rent-a-cop who guarded the door with zealous intent. The guard didn’t look the least bit sympathetic or amused. Instead he politely yet firmly pushed her out of the way and began checking the invitations of the couple behind her.

She frowned and did a quick survey of the area. Her big brown eyes landed on Cooper, and she headed straight for him. Confidence oozed out of her, and he immediately pegged her as a spoiled rich twenty-something who thought the world revolved around her. He’d met plenty just like her in his thirty-two years.

She walked closer with the security guard dogging her heels and turned the full-wattage of her gorgeous smile on Cooper, as if she’d been expecting him. He’d never seen the woman in his life.

Disinterested in whatever game she might be playing, Cooper gazed over the heads of the people in front of him, getting the lay of the land in the ballroom beyond. He caught sight of the suits across the room, minority owners of the team, hanging out with the big guys. Next to them stood the majority owner of the Sockeyes, Ethan Parker, the thieving bastard, and the team’s director of personnel turned traitor, Ethan’s beautiful fiancée, Lauren Schneider. Cooper frowned even harder. They were the enemy.

Cedric elbowed him then focused his blond, European charm on the woman striding toward them. Good, she could latch on to Ced, and Cooper could get back to his grudge match with the team’s new owner.

Only the gorgeous pair of legs glided past Cedric with the grace of an Olympic figure skater, and the woman looped her arm through Cooper’s, catching him off guard. Ced’s grin turned to confusion and his eyes narrowed. He always got the women over Cooper. Always.

“There you are, you bad boy. Shame on you for being late. You know I hate waiting.” She tapped his chest and smiled into his eyes. She was tall, but he was taller, and he wasn’t buying any of what she was selling. Not tonight. Not ever.

Cooper frowned and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like being touched unless it was his idea. “I don’t know you.”

“You’re such a joker, isn’t he, Cedric?” She looked to Cedric for confirmation.

Cooper’s best buddy opened his mouth to back him up, only no words were spoken. Instead, his confusion turned to an evil grin, revenge lighting up his pale blue eyes. “Seriously, Coop, You know how your princess gets when you play jokes on her.”

“This isn’t a joke. I don’t know this woman,” Cooper ground out the words, his foul mood fouler.

The rent-a-cop, identified as Carl by his name badge, stepped forward. “Mr. Black, I’ll have her removed. I can see she’s harassing you.”

“Carl, I told you, he’s my boyfriend. He’s just a little upset at me for having my way with him and his credit card. Check your list again, I’m sure my name’s on it. Isabella.”

“No need to check the list.” Cedric held out his arm. “Come on, Isabella, I’ll escort you inside if this asshole won’t.”

Grumpier than ever, Cooper followed Cedric and Isabella into the ballroom. The woman winked over her shoulder at him as she sauntered into the room as if she owned it, a huge purse clutched in her delicate hand and walking with the grace of an athlete on impossibly high heels. Once inside, she extricated herself from Ced’s hold.

“Thanks so much, Cedric.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, which really annoyed the hell out of Cooper.

“It was my pleasure, Isabella.” Cedric dialed up the charm.

“You can call me Izzy. That’s what Coop calls me.”

“I don’t call you anything.” Cooper stiffened as she advanced on him, not sure what she’d come up with next. By the twinkle in her dark brown eyes, she wasn’t done with him yet. She put her hands on his collar and gazed up into his eyes like a loving girlfriend.

Loving? What the fuck? Feeling a bit claustrophobic, he backed up a step, running into a support post behind him. Her gentle laugh reminded him of the songs of the little birds he fed every day on his front porch. He loved listening to those birds in the morning. Her, not so much. And no way in hell would he be listening to her voice in the morning or any time.

She pressed that sweet body against his in that intimate way lovers had. “I see people I know. I must say hi. You don’t mind, do you, darling?” She kissed his cheek.

“Not one damn bit,” Cooper growled, catching Cedric holding his stomach out of the corner of his eye. The jerk would be rolling on the floor laughing any minute.

Isabella strolled away, as if she was out for a walk in the park. Cooper swallowed as he stared at that nice rounded ass of hers and briefly wondered what it’d feel like in his hands. She nodded at a few people as if she knew them, and joined a group of men several feet inside the doorway, charming them immediately. Their hearty laughter bounced off the walls of the otherwise quiet room as she told some entertaining story, which must have involved a high heel, a little dog, and a motorcycle judging by how she expressed everything dramatically with her hands.

Despite his best intentions, Cooper was mesmerized, then he reminded himself of his intentions not to have a good time just to prove his point. He didn’t know this woman, even though she did attract him on the most basic of levels. But then she’d attract any man as she was drop-dead gorgeous. He’d had any number of gorgeous women on his arm in the past so she shouldn’t be anything special.

Tell that to his dick. It considered her damn special right about now, most likely because he’d boycotted everything Seattle since he’d arrived a month ago, including its coffee and its women.

“Your girlfriend is one hot number, Coop. You’d better keep an eye on her or one of these fuckheads will be moving in on your territory. Including me.”

“Fuck you. You set me up.”

“And it was damn funny.”

In another place and time, Cooper would be angling for a piece of that nice ass, but not tonight, not while the new ownership and coaching staff was watching. Cooper Black couldn’t be bought, even if they did buy his team.

That coaching staff, led by a young first-year head coach, mingled with the crowd, shaking hands and selling the team since the team currently refused to sell itself. Cooper glared at every coach and staff person stupid enough to attempt to engage him in conversation, and his teammates followed suit, loyal to the last man. So far.

He stiffened and prepared for battle as the man he called the asshole—Ethan Parker—walked toward him, as comfortable in an expensive suit as Cooper was on the ice. Cooper tugged on his collar and loosened his bowtie. He hated wearing a damn tux, wasn’t even sure why he’d put it on at the last minute when he’d planned on wearing a Gainesville Giants hoodie. Blame it on his parents. They’d drummed duty and loyalty into his head since day one. His father, a real life Army hero, and Cooper’s personal hero, made sure his son did what was expected of him. In Cooper’s mind, he was expected to attend this party dressed correctly, and that was as far as duty took him. Fuck the rest of it. His loyalty remained in Gainesville with the fans who’d earned it.

He glared at Parker, hoping to intimidate the guy, but even his best you’re-going-to-get-the-shit-kicked-out-of-you glare didn’t dissuade the man.

“Cooper.” Ethan nodded and then smiled at Cedric. “Cedric. So good to see you, gentlemen. Beautiful Seattle night, isn’t it?”

“If you like drizzle and gray,” Cooper snorted. The weather was pretty much par for the course, and it was fucking July already.

Cedric, being a loyal friend for once, shrugged and stared at the shoreline.

“Seattle is ready for a hockey team. Did you realize we have the largest adult hockey program in the country?”

Cooper grunted.

“And you’ll be natural rivals for the Canucks up north.”

Cooper yawned.

Ethan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing to glittering slits. “Listen, Black, if you think your crappy attitude is going to move you back to Florida, you might be right. Only the team won’t be going with you. I’m willing to be patient, but only for so long. This team is here to stay, whether you fucking like it or not.”

Cooper stared straight through Ethan, forcing his face into stone, but he could feel a muscle jerking in his jaw. Satisfied that he’d made his point, Ethan strolled away as if enjoying himself.

“He’s right, you know,” Cedric said from next to him.

Cooper whipped his head around. “Right? About what?”

“He can trade your ass any day to a team with no hope of winning, now or for the next decade.”

“Maybe I want to be traded.”

“No, you don’t. Not when we came so close.” Cedric sighed, as if he was weary of all this but was too loyal to say so. “Don’t look now, but here comes your girlfriend.”

“Just what I need. And quit calling her that. I don’t even know the woman.”

Isabella took a detour to the DJ, spoke to him, and continued across the dance floor. She paused, her gaze directly on Cooper. A slow smile crossed her face, and she raised her eyebrows, glancing pointedly at the dance floor, then at him. He frowned so hard his teeth hurt. He was not dancing with her or anyone else tonight.

She graced him with a sexy little smile, one of those come-and-get-me-big-boy smiles. He looked away. Despite the fact that his dick skated into the rink, he was staying on the bench. His little head had never been very smart anyway, especially when it came to women.

The music started, some pulsing, sexy, upbeat dance tune, and Izzy’s hips swayed with a seductive, hypnotic rhythm while she kept her eyes on him. Pretty soon a few other women joined her, dancing together as women often did. A set of twins, blond-haired versions of Isabella, gyrated on the dance floor. The uncanny resemblance set off his warning bells.

His teammates leaned forward in their chairs, especially the young guys, probably imagining every guy’s most perverse fantasies involving twins. Another equally gorgeous woman with auburn hair joined them, twirling, laughing, having a great time, as if they were the only ones at the party. She, too, could be a sister to the other three. Another weird coincidence? Not a chance. Cooper didn’t believe in coincidences.

Regardless, he dismissed his suspicions. So they looked like cloned versions of Isabella. So what? He had bigger problems. He glanced at his guys and sensed a mutiny in the making. Even Cedric’s tongue was hanging out. Cooper jabbed him with an elbow and got an “umph” along with a couple “fuck you”s.

One of the twins danced over and grabbed Mike Gibson’s hand. The horny rookie just about fell out of his chair.

“Let’s dance.” The cute blonde never quit moving those hips, not once. Cooper shot Gib a look of pure homicide, and the rookie caught it. With reluctance, he shook his hand from the woman’s and pulled away. She frowned at Cooper, then gave him a charming smile; he just glared back. The blonde flounced off in search of another sucker.

Cooper turned toward the rookie. “We all stand together. Remember?”

Gibson shrugged. “The women in Seattle are hot, and this isn’t such a bad place. We might as well make the best of it.”

Cooper stared him down, and Gibson looked away first. The kid might be formidable on skates, but he was no match for a seasoned veteran like Cooper, on or off the ice.

“There’s no disloyalty in dancing with pretty ladies.” Drew Delacorte, a second-year guy from Toronto, bravely jumped in the conversation.

“Do I have to spell it out to you? To all of you? Stay away from the groupies.”

“You came in with one of them.” Delacorte pointed out in a second rare display of defiance.

“She latched on to me at the door. Ced escorted her in as joke.” Why the fuck did he feel the need to explain himself?

“He’s playing hard to get. Isabella’s his girlfriend.” Cedric grinned and took a long pull on his beer.

Cooper heaved a sigh, knowing Cedric would keep this up until the night ended, especially if Cooper made a big deal about it. Unsuccessfully hiding his smile, Drew drank his beer in silence, his eyes on the hot women dancing several feet away. Cooper could feel his hold over the team slipping with each beat of the music. Loyalty was a lost art, but not for Coop, which was exactly why the new ownership would not get his cooperation. Instead they’d understand the full extent of his displeasure. So what if they cut him or traded him?

Cooper leaned back in the hard chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at Cedric. Cedric just grinned his trademark shit-eating grin. Nothing got to Cedric. Everything rolled off his back as he went on with his life, doing everything his way.

“They have to be sisters.” Cedric’s eyes followed the redhead as the song ended, and she strutted off the dance floor, short skirt swaying to the movement of her hips. “I’d like to find out if that one is a true redhead. Only one way to find out.” His slow smile said it all. Ced had picked his woman for the night, and he usually got what he wanted.

The song ended and Isabella danced all the way across the floor to his side.

“Fucking groupies,” Cooper muttered, pissed that they were wearing down his teammates’ resolve.

“Lighten up, man.” Cedric chuckled and nodded toward the banquet table. “Besides, they aren't groupies. Take a closer look.”

Cooper narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't seeing what Ced saw. “Yeah?”

“See the big bags those twins are carrying? Watch them cram food in those bags when they think no one's watching.”

Cooper nodded as it dawned on him. “They're party crashers.”

“Damn right.”

“They aren’t here for the hockey players, they’re here for the food.” One more reason to hate Seattle. They didn’t even have hockey groupies, just a bunch of hot women more interested in grabbing food than horny, athletic men.

“And the entertainment,” Cedric added. “It’s better than popcorn and a movie any day.”

Cooper’s annoyance gave way as a plan formed in his mind. A slow smile spread across Coop's face, the first one since this nightmare began what seemed like a lifetime ago. “I wonder how Parker would react if he found out these starving college students or whatever have crashed his perfect little party with his Seattle A-lister attendees, and he’s none the wiser?”

“Pretty damn hilarious, isn't it?” Cedric continued to stare at the redhead.

“Yeah, here I thought they were enemies, and they're allies of a sort.”

Cedric nodded. “Even if management suspects she’s a party crasher, they won’t kick her out on the off-chance she really is with you.”

“Maybe I can have some fun with them. Make this party crash in style.” Cooper’s smile spread farther.

“Coop, you scare the shit out of me when you smile like that. It means someone’s going to die or get their body slammed against the boards.”

“No dying, no slamming. At least not physically.” Cooper rubbed the stubble on his chin. His gaze was drawn to Ethan Parker, who’d walked across the room and was trying to engage a couple players in conversation. They weren’t warming up to the idea. Ethan glanced in Cooper’s direction, and their gazes clashed with the intensity of two warriors squaring up on a battlefield. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He’d deal with Cooper later, Cooper was certain of that. Fine, bring it on.

Shaking his head in frustration, Ethan walked away from the table of players and struck up a conversation with his head coach.

“She’s heading your way.” Cedric jerked his head, and Cooper forgot all about the team owner. Isabella walked toward him with the loose-hipped stride of a runway model. This time he was ready for her games. In fact, he’d play a few of his own, and he played to win.

Chapter 3—Change on the Fly

Okay, this party wasn’t going as intended. Isabella caught the eye of the team majority owner, Ethan Parker, who’d hired Party Crashers to do this job. He jerked his head toward the players clumped at tables and looking miserable, not mingling, not enjoying themselves. They’d turned down every advance by her sisters to dance. No results, no money. That was the deal she’d struck with Parker, and they needed this money, not just to pay bills, but to take this business to the next level and move a step closer to quitting their day jobs.

She’d need to step up her game. And that game began with the guy who called the shots, the team captain, Cooper Black. She strolled toward Cooper, as if she had all the time in the world, even though inside her stomach was tied in knots. Cooper glowered at her while his buddy wore the biggest grin, obviously willing to play along with her ruse. Thank God, she could use an ally in this place. Cedric abandoned the chair next to Cooper, despite his buddy’s warning scowl, and Izzy sank down into the seat, not as gracefully as she’d like because her feet were killing her in those shoes. What she’d give right now to soak them in a warm bucket of water.

“You're back? Haven't you tortured me enough?” Something in his tone caught Isabella off guard. He sounded almost conspiratorial.

She recovered quickly and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Seriously? Not even close. Let's dance, big boy.”

He watched her for a long moment, and she could almost see the wheels turning. His expression made her uneasy. “I know your game.”

“Excuse me?” She gazed up at him, an adoring smile plastered on her face, but she could tell he saw through it, maybe even caught her moment of uncertainty.

“Your game. I know what your deal is.” His smug smile indicated he thought he had one up on her.

Izzy went all cold and still inside, her smile frozen in place. “My deal?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his ample chest and leaned back in his chair. “You’re party crashers. Do you go around to parties just to get free meals and free alcohol, or is there more to it than that?”

“What are you insinuating?” Anger replaced her fear. She leaned forward, a hand on his arm and gave him her patented bitch glare. Bad idea. Touching him was like touching an inferno. The heat from his body set fire to the heat inside hers, and she barely knew the guy. Get a grip, Izzy. Obviously, she’d concentrated on her business too long and neglected her sex life, so now her sex life wanted a front row seat on this hunk’s lap.

“That you do this pretty frequently.” His smug smile slid off his face as he watched her warily. His gaze kept flicking to her hand, as if he felt the heat, too.

“Hey, money’s tight. We do what we can.” She shrugged and sat back in her chair, taking her hand off him and feeling as if she should dunk it in a glass of ice water.

“You are sisters then?” He almost seemed interested and way too cool and calm.

“That’s right. Besides, the twins are huge hockey fans. We couldn’t pass up this chance to party with the players and take advantage of the food and drink.”

“Opportunists?”

“A little. What about you? What’s your story? It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. Your attitude is ruining the party.” She stared into the most piercing set of blue eyes she’d ever seen anywhere, so piercing they sliced right through her tough armor, down to her deepest secrets. Her knees would’ve given out if she’d been standing, so powerful was his steady, unwavering gaze.

“What do you care?” He studied her, as if reading every line in her heart’s history.

“I hate seeing a good party go bad.”

“It was never a good party. You and I could have our own party somewhere away from this place.”

Panic must have crossed her face because he chuckled.

“Well, you are my girlfriend.” He almost smiled.

“I think it’s time to eat.”

“If there’s anything left, the way your sisters have been shoving food in their purses.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” In response, her stomach, which hadn’t been satisfied in hours, growled like an angry lion. “By the way, I’m Izzy.”

“Wouldn’t I know that as your boyfriend?” Another smile tugged at the corners of his generous, very kissable mouth. This man was all kinds of sexy, and she’d bet her grandmother’s support hose his body looked as good as his face.

“You would think.”

Together they stood, and he escorted her to the buffet table, hand on her elbow, like the gentleman she bet he really wasn’t. Especially not in bed.

They loaded their plates and returned to their table.

He eyed her heaping plate of food, equal to his. “Are you really going to eat all that?”

She nodded as she dug in. Being horny always made her hungry when she couldn’t satisfy the horny—not that she’d tell him that.

“Where do you put it all?” He stared at her plate in amazement then slid his gaze up and down her slender body.

“I’m active.”

“Obviously.”

“So, Izzy.” Cedric grinned at her as he sat down opposite Cooper. “What are you doing dating this clown?”

“She’s not—”

“I like projects, and he’s a project. Besides, he has a soft side.”

Cooper’s teammates at the table elbowed each other and laughed at his expense. Cooper frowned and shot her a warning glare, but she’d never been the type of girl to be silenced by a single glance, despite the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“He does. Really. He writes love songs.” Izzy stroked his stubbled cheek, and he sucked in a breath.

“No fucking way? This guy?” The teammate sitting next to Cooper slapped him on the back, causing him to choke on his food.

Cooper swallowed and rose to defend himself and his manhood. “I don’t—”

“They’re beautiful. He’s very poetic, says my eyes are like diamonds in the sky and my hair is like chocolate silk.” Izzy gazed adoringly at Cooper. He didn’t return the favor.

Matt, a guy she recognized as one of the best defensemen in the league, snorted so loud he could be heard several tables away. “Never knew you had it in you, buddy.”

“She’s making that up.” Cooper looked ready to commit a mass murder and leave no witnesses.

“He’s shy about his talents.” Izzy patted his arm in a loving gesture and got another deadly glare in response. She was having a helluva good time, even if it was at his expense. “He’s such a romantic soul, always leaving me little cards everywhere declaring his love for me. He calls me his little chicken coop. I think it’s so cute.”

The guys were laughing so hard they were wiping their eyes.

Cooper looked like he was going to throw up, and Izzy was just getting warmed up. If he wanted her to stop he’d have to dance with her. He buried his dark head in his food, shoveling it in so fast she got the distinct impression he wished he was cramming her mouth full of food to shut her up.

“What do you call him?” Matt wiped his mouth with his sleeve; obviously manners weren’t his forte.

“Super Cooper or Supe because his ego isn’t the only thing that’s super-sized.” She smiled sweetly at all of them, playing the naïve, innocent thing to the hilt.

Another round of hilarity ensued while Cooper’s face turned redder than her cherry bomb lipstick. Finally, as if accepting his fate, he buried his face in his hands and groaned.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, bringing on another round of hoots from the cheap seats. “You want me to stop then dance with me.”

“Not a chance in hell.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes burning right through her, and it wasn’t just from anger. In fact, that heat zinged right down to her crotch and wet her panties.

“I won’t stop until you do.”

He studied her for a moment, as if assessing the conviction behind her words. “I don’t know you.” He turned to his buddies. “Hear me out, guys. I don’t know this woman. She latched on to me to crash this party.”

“Oh, Coop, don’t be an ass.” Cedric grinned. “You’re just pissed ’cause she’s got your dick on a leash and you fucking don’t want to admit it.”

Several heads around the table nodded in unison. Cedric turned to Izzy. “We love you, honey, even if he’s too much of a dick to admit to his weakness.”

“Oh fuck.” Cooper slammed his fist on the table, drawing another set of head-turning around the room. He jumped to his feet and stalked across the ballroom and out the double doors. Izzy gave the boys a “so sorry” look and ran after him as fast as her heels would carry her, off to do damage control.

Maybe she’d pushed him too far. She desperately needed the man to dance with her. Just a dance or two. Once he hit the dance floor, all his buddies would follow, and the party would be on its way, as would her new business, the very business way too far in debt after her sisters and she purchased clothes and accessories in keeping with their image.

Cooper’s broad back disappeared into the men’s room, the door slamming in her face. She stood outside, wringing her hands. And they said women took forever in the bathroom? This guy must be reading an entire newspaper in there or something.

Or jacking off. Her brain did a deviant detour to a little fantasy in which she walked in, found him jerking on an impressively large dick and said, “Here, let me help you with that.” She had to admit, the man was hot, really hot, and she wanted some of that action in the worst, unprofessional way. She wasn’t opposed to recreational sex, and she’d been too busy to indulge, what with getting her fledgling business off the ground, along with her day job as a barista.

Only there was that pact with her sisters, a tiny little roadblock on a highway already riddled with potholes. When they started this business, Rule Number One pertained to never sleeping with the party guests, no matter how delectable.

Cooper wasn’t just delectable, he was the definition of sexy. And desperate times often called for bending or obliterating rules. Oh, yeah, she was trying every which way to justify an action which had no justification.

Or did it?

This night would be a disaster if she didn’t find a way to rescue it and fast. Despite her efforts, the stubborn man held strong. Too strong. Izzy racked her brain for a different plan, and that plan kept involving naked skin, sweaty bodies, and a lot of groaning, panting, and sweating.

Holy crap.

Izzy fanned herself and stared at her watch. Bolstering her courage, she pushed the door open and went inside, not certain what she’d find or even what she wanted to find.

Cooper glanced up from washing his hands, shock crossing his handsome features momentarily, followed by a slow, predatory smile. She liked him as a predator, didn’t even mind being the prey because that particular role would have its perks and then some.

“Well, honey, this takes party crashing to a whole new level.” He propped his fine ass on the counter, crossed a pair of strong arms over his equally impressive chest, and grinned a sexy, lopsided smile that pushed her off balance, but her years of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t came into play.

She smiled right back, refusing to let him see her sweat. “You have to dance with me.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” His sensuous lips turned down and his square jaw set in that stubborn line she’d come to realize meant she wasn’t getting her way tonight or in the next decade or two.

Unless she called in the big guns.

Izzy’s breath caught in her throat as she put her hands on his belt buckle. She’d never done anything like this before. Never solicited a guest at a party. Never been this bold. But caution escaped her as the full power of his lustful gaze slammed into her. Party be damned, she wanted this man and that insane wanting trumped every other argument her practical side produced.

“Dance with me,” she spoke again, this time her voice sounded husky and low.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It’ll cost you.”

Of that she had no doubt, but right now, she was willing to pay the price.

* * * *

Cooper had to have her. Hell, he’d gone almost three months without a woman, a virtual record for him, and his dick throbbed harder than it had that night in the VIP room of a New York City nightclub while three stunning and very naked women had their way with him and his dick.

Only this was Izzy. Not three nameless, faceless women, and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she did it for him more than a VIP room full of horny, uninhibited women.

Izzy’s full lower lip fell in a full-blown sexy pout. He held his breath, waiting to see what those fingers would do with his belt buckle. She parted her red lips and moistened them with her tongue. He stared at her mouth, forgetting how to breathe. With a sultry smile and deft fingers, she undid his belt and unbuttoned the top button on his dress pants. He sucked in a breath, afraid to move one muscle and destroy the moment.

She was about to go down on him in the men’s room of a chartered tourist boat, and he wouldn’t miss this experience for all the Cups in the world.

With a sly smile, Izzy slid down the zipper. It was her turn to suck in a breath when his penis sprang free in all ten plus inches of hard male glory. She glanced up at him with one arched brow. “Commando?”

“Always prepared. That’s me. Why deal with unnecessary clothing when you can cut right to the meat of the matter.” He found himself grinning. Underwear was overrated and got in the way. He hadn’t exactly planned on finding a woman tonight and taking her home, but it’d been a possibility he hadn’t discounted.

She ran a fingernail over the tip of his penis. He gripped the counter, unable to stand without support. A tortured groan was wrenched from deep in his gut. Hell, he’d been with more women than he could count over the years, from debutantes to anything-goes groupies, but not one had shaken him to the core like this woman with just one scrape of her fingernail across the sensitive tip.

“Fuck me with your mouth, honey.” He put his hands on her shoulders with gentle pressure. “Do you deep throat?”

“As big as you are? I’ll give it my best.” She started to kneel when the door slammed open.

It was Cedric.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Coop. Get a room, would ya?”

Izzy shot to her feet and ran from the bathroom in a flash of sexy dress and long legs, her deadly heels tapping out a desperate beat on the tile floor. Zipping his pants, Cooper pushed his friend out of the way and sprinted after her. He caught her halfway down the hall and pulled her against him.

She stared up at him in shame, her chest heaving. “I just about gave you a blow job in a public bathroom.”

“Yeah, I know.” He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading. Music spilled out of the party deck doors, pulsing, sexy music. He wasn’t going to let her get away this easily. Not when his entire body needed her as much as it needed oxygen.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, trying several doors until he found one that wasn’t locked. The ladies’ room. Somehow that seemed fitting. He pulled her inside and locked the door this time.

Perfect.

Picking her up, he ignored her protests and carried her to the makeup counter. She licked her lips again and swallowed, her eyes locked with his. He kissed her, gently at first until the fire built to an explosion inside him, then he ravaged her mouth like the starving man he was. She wrapped those long legs around his waist and gave as good as she got, not the least bit intimidated by his size and power like some women were.

Her courage and passion drove him fucking nuts.

Cooper pushed her down on the counter and lowered the straps on her dress, revealing the most perfect set of tits he’d seen in a long time, not huge, but not small, just right. Leaning forward, he ran his tongue around one nipple. God, she tasted as good as she smelled, all honey and sweetness with a bit of wicked thrown in. She shuddered underneath him, burying her fingers in his hair.

He drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard then holding it between his teeth and tugging slightly. She whimpered, her hips rising off the table.

“You like that?” For reasons he couldn’t fathom, her answer was important to him.

Izzy nodded, her luminous eyes full of wonder and desire.

“Some women think I’m too rough.”

When she didn’t respond, he took that as a good thing and bent down to repeat the process on the other nipple, this time testing her by biting a little harder. She gripped the table with her hands and tossed her head from side to side. He flicked her nipple with his tongue several times as she writhed underneath him.

“Like that?”

“Yes. I love it.”

Pushing down her dress, he trailed little kisses to her navel, pausing to nip here and there, marking her with his teeth.

He knelt between her legs, pushing aside her G-string. Even in the dim light, he could see her glistening juices. He parted her folds and slipped his tongue inside, pushing as high up as possible. She dug her spiked heels into his back. He followed his tongue with a finger.

Damn, but she was tight. Just like he liked his women, and relatively hard to find among the women he hung with. He slid another finger inside her and pumped, while his tongue worked its magic on her clit.

She arched her back and pressed her crotch into his face, giving him the green light to take her to heaven, and he planned to do just that. With an enthusiasm he’d been lacking lately when it came to sex, Cooper gave her everything he had until she was shaking and screaming his name.

Finally she collapsed, boneless and silent, except for her panting. He watched the rise and fall of her chest and had to smile. Satisfaction surged through him, despite the fact that he hadn’t gotten any yet. He loved pleasing a lady, almost as much as he loved a lady pleasing him. The way he saw it, his turn was next.

Oh, yeah, it was going to be a good night.

Finally Izzy’s eyes focused on his face. She blinked several times, cleared her throat, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Glancing around the room, as if to get her bearings and compose herself, she eventually brought her gaze back to him.

“Now you have to dance with me.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” It was a token statement of resistance. How did a man turn down an order like that?

“We had a deal.” She slid off the counter and straightened her clothing.

Pounding on the door brought them both back to reality. She smiled at him. “I’ll wait in a stall for a decent amount of time. You leave first.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m not done with you.” Cooper gave her a quick kiss, waited for her to hide in the stall, then opened the door. A shocked Lauren Schneider stood on the other side. He smiled at her as if he always walked out of the women’s bathroom.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I went in the wrong bathroom. No wonder it didn’t have urinals.” He saluted her and sauntered off.

She stared after him, her soft laughter following him.

He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

Isabelle would be his completely by the time the night was over, and he’d savor every moment of it. He didn’t think he could wait until they got off the boat.

Now to find a more romantic, private place than a bathroom, one with a lock on the door.

Chapter 4—Body Checking

She didn’t know if it was too much wine or Cooper’s hot gaze melting her inhibitions or a combination of both, but this man had just driven Izzy to the brink of infinite pleasure and pushed her over the edge. She’d never in her life experienced an orgasm so totally awesome in its power as it swept through every cell in her body and laid waste to all of her past sexual experiences. There wasn’t a man on Earth who could equal what this man had just done to her.

And that was only the appetizer. She couldn’t wait to see what he did for the main course. Greedy bitch that she was, she wanted more, and she wanted it badly. But she had a job to do, and there was that pesky pact between sisters—no sleeping with the guests. None. Zero. Zilch. And big sister never broke the rules, though she’d stretched them to their breaking point tonight. They had to get off the boat first so he wouldn’t be a guest anymore. Then it’d be okay. Their pact didn’t extend off the party premises. Or at least, she’d just amended that particular rule.

Izzy walked out of the stall she’d been hiding in, ignoring Lauren’s knowing smirk, and acting as if fooling around in the bathroom was something she did every day.

She stood in front of the sink and checked her makeup, washed her hands and straightened her clothes. All the while Lauren watched.

“Your boyfriend is a stubborn man,” Lauren noted.

“That he is.” It would seem Lauren didn’t know about Party Crashers, which didn’t surprise Izzy. After all, for them to be effective, everyone should think they were real party crashers.

“Perhaps, you can convince him to enjoy the party a little. He’s not doing anyone any favors, including himself, by refusing to cooperate. That is if you really know him.”

“Of course, I know him.” Izzy put just the right amount of indignant haughtiness in her voice.

Lauren didn’t look convinced. “I saw the commotion when you tried to board the boat.”

“Just a little misunderstanding.”

“I wonder. I really wonder.” Lauren looked her up and down as if assessing her. Turning she left the room.

Izzy smoothed back her hair, hoping she didn’t look like she’d done what she’d just done. Lauren was on to her, and that was the number one party crasher rule: don’t ever let the guests discover that you weren’t invited.

Faking a cool, confident smile, Izzy ventured back into the main room. Bethany was on her in a second.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Building good will with the team captain.” She could never lie to Bethany. Her sister saw right through Izzy’s every lie. Either Bethany was damn perceptive or Izzy was a damn poor liar.

Bethany’s perfectly shaped eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Are you melting his icy heart any?”

“Let’s say there’s been plenty of heat.”

“Tread lightly. This isn’t what we’re about. And you have a tendency to fall in love first and ask questions later.” Bethany, on the other hand, did not have that problem. Her heart never seemed to get involved with her dalliances.

“I know, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do for the greater good.”

“Whose greater good? Yours, his, or the company’s?”

Izzy opened her mouth to answer, but Bethany held up her hand. “Do what you have to, but don’t compromise what we stand for.”

“He’s going to dance with me. Once he hits the floor, the team’s boycott will shatter.”

Bethany almost smiled. “I’ll do my part. I’ve been eyeing that tall Swede all night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Bethany winked and sashayed off.

And that left Izzy a hell of a lot of leeway.

Taking a deep breath, Izzy refocused on her job, making this the best party ever. Right now it wasn’t. In fact, far from it. The team sulked at the tables in the back of the room, either wolfing down food or guzzling alcohol and ignoring the advances of the women and the attempts of the coaching staff to get them on their feet. Even though some of the younger players looked ready to cave at times, threatening glares from the veterans pinned them to their seats.

She had to take action soon before the players were too drunk to notice and management was too disgusted to care and her fledging business crashed into the boards on its first skate across the ice.

A few couples braved the dance floor, including Ethan and Lauren, while Emma and Avery grabbed mics and sang a popular country song in their sultry voices. Several hockey players licked their lips as they watched the twins. It wouldn’t take much to break this party wide open. All she had to do was get the cooperation of Cooper, who currently didn’t look the least bit ready to cooperate. He stood in the back of the room, behind the team tables, like a sentinel, in his usual stance of arms crossed over his chest and wearing his trademark scowl. He’d gone back into pissed off mode, despite her best efforts and his.

Time to push him further and see how far he’d go.

* * * *

What a fucking wuss Cooper had been.

Pretty women had been his weakness in the past, and he’d paid dearly for it with expensive gifts, trips, even an apartment or two, and once with his heart. He’d hardened that very heart to women after his fiancée stomped all over it and left the gory remains spread all over Twitter, Facebook, and the gossip sites.

Never going there again. Women were for recreation. That was all. Because in his world, all the good women were married, attached, had kids, or were too young. Cooper didn’t rob the cradle. He liked his women mature, sexy, and adventurous. Yeah, like a woman who’d do him on a public bathroom counter.

Now that turned him on, and he’d lowered his guard twice, forgotten his mission, betrayed his former coach and fans, and the charity he’d left behind. Hell, the whole Gainesville community was mourning the loss of the Giants.

Izzy was a dangerous woman. He’d never felt such instant physical chemistry. Never wanted to fuck a woman as badly as he did her. If Lauren hadn’t pounded on that bathroom door, who knows what they’d be doing about now.

He’d be fooling himself if he thought she was done trying to manipulate him into doing her bidding.

Izzy walked toward him, determination etched on her beautiful face. She wanted that dance. And if he danced with her, his teammates would follow. Parker would win, and he’d have betrayed the very city and fans who’d been so loyal to him over the years. Yet, in the words of his take-no-prisoners agent, loyalty has no place in professional sports. This was a business, plain and simple. A guy goes where the money is, or in his case, where the team happened to be moved.

“There you are, honey.” Izzy slid up next to him, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him soundly. Several of the guys hooted and whistled. Cooper stood completely still, arms at his sides, refusing to touch her, even though his fingers itched to stroke that creamy skin. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed and then some. She pulled him to her like the planets were pulled to the sun, and his body definitely wanted to be in her orbit even as his head warned against the idea.

Push her away now. End this stupid charade. Hell, he could report her to management as a party crasher, and they’d lock her up somewhere for the remainder of the cruise.

Cooper stared into her chocolate brown eyes, soulful eyes, eyes that’d seen a lot, and continued to fight. He liked that. He liked her, and he hated himself for liking her because when he liked a woman, he wanted to please her. That was the way he rolled.

And he knew what this woman wanted.

A piece of him. Not just his body but something infinitely more dangerous. And he didn’t give that away, not anymore.

Pulling away from her, he headed outside for some air to the deck that circled the entire boat. It was a chilly night, but the earlier misty rain had given way to stars. An almost full moon cast a ray of light across the calm water. It was a beautiful night, and he steeled himself against that beauty.

He heard Izzy’s heels clicking on the deck behind him, and he walked faster, hoping she’d give up.

“You owe me a dance,” she called out to him. Her heels tapped louder until she grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“I don’t owe you anything. I believe I paid you quite nicely already. Seems you owe me something.” He stared down at her, vacillating between running like hell and kissing her ruby red lips until they both collapsed to the deck in a tangle of writhing bodies.

“Dance with me.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly, and he had to chuckle. She was a fiery female, and he loved women with spunk because that enthusiasm carried over nicely into bed.

“What do you care? You’re a party crasher.”

She didn’t respond, instead she leaned against the railing, shivering and hugging herself. Cooper couldn’t staunch the wave of sympathy that rolled through him. He put an arm around her waist, pulling her close, as he, too, stared out at the water.

“So how long have you and your sisters been doing this?” He tried to sound casual, but her hip rubbing against his caused his voice to drop to a husky rasp.

“Crashing parties?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed, as if the wind had gone out of her sails. “Since we were kids and our parents would be gone for weeks at a time, leaving us to fend for ourselves after the meager amount of money they gave us ran out.”

He frowned, feeling indignant for her and protective at the same time. “What the hell? Why weren’t they reported?”

“We lived in a private neighborhood, and we did everything we could to keep from being broken apart into separate foster homes. Our parents aren’t bad people, but they should’ve left the condoms on and not had kids.”

“Why did they leave you guys alone? Where did they go?” He really wanted to know. The answer was important to him for some unfathomable reason.

She tilted her head and looked up at him, as if assessing his worthiness to hear the next bit of information. “Ever heard of To the Max?”

“The rock group?”

“That’s the one. Rock and Fawn Maxwell are our parents. They’ve spent their entire lives either chasing the dream or trying to recover it.” Something flickered briefly in her eyes, pain, sadness, vulnerability. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise he’d always keep her safe and secure. Only he didn’t because he couldn’t care, shouldn’t care. Yet a part of him did.

Izzy stared out at the water, her beautiful face an expressionless mask, but Cooper had glimpsed the truth behind the mask.

“They never recovered their dream?” he asked.

“No, and they still haven’t stopped trying, but at least we’re not under their roof anymore.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

“It was. Especially when the house got foreclosed on, and we lived in a fifth wheel on their friend’s five acres. But as our parents’ children, we could sing, dance, and entertain like no one’s business.”

“So you took those talents to parties?”

“Yes. One night when I was sixteen, we were out and about, looking for a way to score some food, maybe a generous stranger or a shopkeeper who’d hire us for a few hours under the table. We stumbled upon an old house used for weddings and such. There was huge reception going on, and the caterers were bringing in tray after tray of food. We were starving, and the food smelled so good. We looked at each other and decided to give it a shot. Weddings are great because usually one side doesn’t know the other side’s guests and family. And we were relatively well-dressed in Mom’s vintage designer clothes.”

“So you crashed the party.”

“We didn’t just crash it, we made it. It was the dullest party ever, and we walked in and got the party started. Both the bride and groom thanked us profusely, even though I don’t think they ever figured out who the hell we were. We snuck out with tons of leftovers and ate off them for a week.”

“And so your career started?”

She frowned for a moment. “You could say that.”

“Why did you pick this party to crash?”

“Hot hockey players and a cruise on Elliott Bay. What party crasher could turn away from that?”

He smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I appreciate it.”

Something seemed a little off with her, as if she weren’t telling him the entire story, but he couldn’t imagine what else there’d be to tell. She’d been open with him, so why hide anything? Yet, something didn’t add up.

“So how about you? Why are you being such a douche about this party? You seem like a nice guy.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her closer to his side.

“I am a nice guy, but I don’t want to be here. I want to be cut or traded, and I’ll take my chances elsewhere.”

“Seattle isn’t such a bad place. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“You’re used to the incessant gloom.”

“You’ll be playing hockey indoors during the gloomiest months, so what difference does it make?”

He stared into her eyes, and forgot for a moment what difference it did make. “I, uh.” He shook his head in an attempt to ward off this weird spell she’d put on him. “I’d been with the team my entire career, loved the city, the weather, the fans, my coaches.”

“The fans here are great. Just wait and see. Seattle is going to be an incredible hockey town.” Her eyes lit up and the corners of her sexy mouth tipped up into an engaging smile. She almost made him want to believe her.

“Are you a hockey fan?”

“I will be. That’s how most Seattleites feel now that we have a team.”

He nodded, absorbing her words, and even toying in his mind with the excitement of starting something new and different in Seattle. But those were traitorous thoughts.

“You’re hurting yourself and your teammates more than anyone else. You know that, don’t you?” She glanced over her shoulder at the party going on inside, or at least attempting to go on.

“I’m proving a point.”

“For what purpose? This team isn’t moving back to Florida. This is Sockeye country now. Why don’t you embrace it? Help us build something to be proud of, instead of tearing it down and undermining it. You’re a leader. Lead. Make the best of this situation. Your teammates need you to be that guy. To shuck off your grudges and move forward.”

“I’m not holding grudges.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been reading a thing or two about this team. Mr. Parker fired your beloved coach and his staff, only brought a few existing employees with him, including his now fiancée, and he changed the team’s entire identity.”

“There was no reason to fire our coach.”

“I don’t know Parker. I don’t know his rationale. I did read he wanted a fresh start, and the old coaching staff wasn’t going in the direction he wanted to go.”

“We were one goal away from playing in the Finals. Parker doesn’t know a damn thing about hockey.”

“He’ll learn. He’s got the money, the time, and the ambition. The team’s old owners were idiots. They bled the team dry and wasted the money on gambling in Vegas. You know that.”

Cooper nodded. She’d done her research, and he couldn’t deny the truth. He’d hated the old team’s ownership. They’d been slimy assholes who’d used the team as their own private bank account until they’d raided the coffers to the point that the team had fallen deeply in debt.

“Mr. Parker is the richest owner in the league. He’s committed to bringing a championship to Seattle and putting the best team possible on the ice.”

Cooper couldn’t mount a single, viable argument. The words escaped him.

“Have you ever won a the Cup?”

“Uh, no.” Cooper hated admitting it, but he’d never even played in the finals.

“Isn’t it a hockey player’s dream to skate for a team committed to bringing one home?”

Cooper shrugged, starting to feel like a stubborn, misguided idiot.

“Did you know that the Seattle Metropolitans were the first US team to ever win the Cup?”

“Uh, yeah, I heard that somewhere.”

“Give Seattle a chance, Cooper. Quit shooting yourself and your team in the foot.”

“It’s a pretty big foot; makes an easy target.” He grinned his lopsided grin, the one guaranteed to make any woman forget her name but definitely not his.

Only her lecture wasn’t over.

“You need to get over it. You aren't going back to Florida. Build your career here or get traded or cut. Is that what you really want?” She fingered the collar of his dress shirt and tugged on his tie to pull his face closer to hers. “I don’t want to see you go.”

“You don’t?” He stared at her lips only a few inches away, wanting to kiss her, yet holding back.

“No, I don’t.” She planted a wet kiss on his lips and drew back before he could recover. “Dance with me.”

“Why is it so important to you?” His voice was raspy, husky with lust.

“Because it’s important to you to move on and embrace your new home.”

How could a man say no to a woman who put him first, a woman with beautiful eyes and a delectable body?

He nodded. He couldn’t help himself. She’d decimated his resolve, not to mention his stubborn vengeance. He hoped his guys forgave him, but she was right. Nothing he did would move this team back to Florida, a team poised on the brink of success, a team he’d watch grow over the past ten years. It might not be the same location, but it was the same guys.

He was their captain. They trusted him to lead them in the right direction, and he hadn’t lately, but tonight would be a start.

* * * *

Izzy couldn’t believe she’d worn him down that easily. A man like Cooper Black didn’t give up his convictions without a fight unless he believed those convictions hadn’t been correct in the first place. When she’d told him dancing was important for him, not her, she’d meant it. To hell with the money dangling on the line for Party Crashers, she wanted Cooper to embrace this city and give his team a fighting chance. For that, she’d do just about anything, and for Cooper, she’d skate into the great unknown or dance in the stars.

Holding her hand, Cooper led her inside to the dance floor. She winked at her sisters over his shoulder as he pulled her body to his. The club music pulsed around them in a sexy, sultry beat, while lights flashed with dizzying speed.

Over his shoulder, the shocked, open-mouthed faces of his teammates swam in her vision. Then they broke ranks and flooded the floor, dancing all around them with any available woman they could find. The party had gone from bust to blast in ten seconds.

And Cooper had led the charge. She was proud of him, as if she had a right to be.

The now crowded dance floor with its pulsating lights and club atmosphere afforded a bit of anonymity to the dancers in the crowd. It was hard to tell where one body started and another ended in the mass of wriggling, gyrating hips, waving arms, and flashes of leg.

She glanced over at Bethany dirty dancing with the gorgeous Swede, Cedric. Bethany had always been as daring as her red hair, the wild child of the family, though the twins were a close second. Her sister threaded her fingers through Cedric’s hair and kissed the hell out of his mouth, while her hands roamed up and down his back.

Cooper tugged on her hair bringing her attention back to him and his large muscular body pressing against hers. She could feel his erection against her stomach.

“So how the hell did we meet?”

Izzy blinked several times. “Meet?” She tried to switch gears from his dick to his question. It took her a few seconds. In fact, so long he clarified the question.

“Yeah, we’ve been together for what? A month or so. How’d we meet?” He grinned down at her and his blue eyes sparkled.

Izzy laughed. He might be an ass at times, but he could be a charmer, too. “I swept you off your feet when you came into my coffee shop.”

“You own a coffee shop?”

“No, I’m a barista. You ordered a double-caramel macchiato.”

“That’s sounds like a girlie drink.” He made a face, and she had to laugh.

“Oh, honey, that’s what I liked most about you. You weren’t afraid to show your feminine side.”

Both brows disappeared under his shaggy mop of luxurious dark hair. “Trust me, I don’t have a feminine side. I’m all male.”

“Prove it.” A dumb challenge, but hey, she was all-in, regardless of the consequences.

A smile tugged on the corner of his so-kissable mouth. He dipped his head and claimed her lips and took a slow, sensuous stroll from one corner of her mouth to the other. She threaded her fingers in his hair. His lips pressed hers, demanding yet oddly gentle. She opened to him, closing her eyes and savoring the sensations of his tongue tangling with her tongue in a dance as powerful as the one their bodies were engaged in.

She inhaled the pure male scent of him mingled with a trace of aftershave, a heady combination of civilized and uncivilized man. Opening her eyes, she found him watching her with interest, those blue eyes shining with desire. He broke the kiss to nibble on her neck. She sighed a sigh of raw pleasure. His lips rained feather-light kisses on her neck, around the shell of her ear.

“I’m going to fuck you before the night’s over.” His steady gaze drove home the promise.

She nodded, unable to speak or even comment.

“I’d like to take you up against that wall over there while everyone watches.” The intensity in his eyes said he wasn’t kidding, and right now she’d probably go along with anything he wanted.

Anything. Including fucking her brains out in a crowded ballroom up against the wall. Waltzing her into a dark corner away from most of the dancers, he slid his big hands under her skirt and gripped her ass, grinding her against him. She was ready, her common sense replaced by blind lust. Izzy wrapped a long leg around his thigh and wedged her hand between their bodies, rubbing his erection. He groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“It’s your turn next, handsome.”

“I’m counting on it,” he rasped as she continued to stroke his erection. “Oh, fuck, you are so hot.”

“So are you.” Izzy nipped his earlobe, and he groaned, sounding like an animal in pain.

“Let’s get to fuck out of here.”

“We’re on a boat.”

“We’ll swim to shore if we have to.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along with him.

She couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t do this. Well, crap, she was going to do this.

“I thought we were going to do it in the ballroom?” she teased breathlessly as he stopped at the dessert table.

His heavy-lidded eyes regarded her. “Ever done it in public?”

Izzy shook her head.

“I figured as much. Probably be better if the first time was private.”

“We’re on a boat with a couple hundred other people.”

“We’ll find a place.” He loaded up a plate with delectable desserts.

“Are you hungry?”

“I will be after I’m done with you. Screwing a beautiful woman’s brains out makes me hungry.”

“You romantic devil. Talk sexy some more to me.” She moved closer to him, drunk on his hard, muscled body and hypnotic blue eyes. She’d lost her mind, her common sense, and every other thing she’d held dear over the years. All Izzy wanted was him, and the consequences be damned. She glanced over her shoulder, but none of her sisters paid her any mind, busy as they were entertaining their own sexy hockey players.

So much for their moratorium on sleeping with the guests.

Balancing the plate on one hand, Cooper led Izzy back toward the private dining areas and hoped like hell no one was using them.

“So we’ve tried both bathrooms. What do you suggest this time?”

“I think I know just the place.”

A few minutes later, after a few large bills were laid in a waiter’s palm, Cooper escorted her into a private dining suite suitable for a small group of six to eight. On the upper deck of the boat, the large windows afforded a great view of the city, not that they’d be looking at the view.

Cooper placed the plate on a spare serving cart and turned to her. “This could get messy.”

“I like messy,” she countered. Oh, God, what was she doing? This was so unprofessional, so incorrect, so bad of her.

“You’d better take that expensive dress off.” He looked her up and down and licked his lips.

“Why don’t you take it off for me?” she teased with a saucy smirk. He seemed to like that idea.

Cooper backed her against the wall and lowered the straps on her dress, freeing her breasts. He dipped his head for an encore performance and sucked on a nipple. She arched her back and moaned while she unzipped his pants, slid her fingers along his flat belly, and squeezed his cock. It was his turn to groan.

“Let’s get—”

Footsteps and voices came closer and closer. They both froze, him with his lips on her nipple, her with her fingers wrapped around his penis.

“Oh, crap, someone’s coming. Did you lock the door?” Izzy asked.

“I thought you did.”

The doorknob turned, and they dived behind the small bar in the corner of the room.

“Hey, in here. Nice and private and no one’s in here.” Cedric’s voice.

“Perfect, big boy, now let’s see if your stamina extends beyond the ice.” Bethany giggled.

“I assure you, it does.” Cedric was breathing heavily, his voice muffled at times. Izzy didn’t want to picture what might be muffling it, such as a part of her sister’s anatomy.

A zipper was unzipped. Clothing rustled. Another zipper, more rustling, a hearty chuckle, followed by heavy breathing. Talk about a mood killer. This was her sister about to have sex with a virtual stranger and only a few feet away.

“They’re going to do it right here,” Izzy whispered.

“Like we weren’t?” Leave it to a man to point out the obvious.

“Yeah, but we were here first.”

“They don’t know that.”

More groaning, laughter, dirty sex talk. Izzy so did not want to hear this.

“I need to stop them.”

“Why?” He nuzzled her neck, planting little kisses along her jaw.

“Listen to them.” She held her hands up to her ears, but couldn’t block her imagination. She had to stop them before they got naked.

So much for the Party Crasher pact. How odd, it wasn’t like either of them had ever done anything like this before. Chalk it up to hockey players with hot bodies and hotter intentions.

* * * *

Cooper couldn’t believe his bad luck, but as a closet optimist, he wasn’t giving up yet. He could take her behind this bar while her sister and his buddy drowned out any noise Cooper and Izzy might make. Izzy’s sister was pretty damn vocal.

Stupid, maybe. Desperate, hell, yes. Hard as a rock, abso-fucking-lutely.

Cooper slid his hand under the V of Izzy’s dress, cupping her breast. She stiffened and shoved his hand away. “They’ll hear us,” she hissed.

“You’re ruining the mood, honey.” He sucked on her earlobe.

“It’s already ruined. I can’t hide here while they’re doing it a few feet away. She’s my sister.”

Well, hell.

Cooper’s brain worked overtime in an attempt to salvage the evening. His dick throbbed, almost painfully. God, he needed her. He couldn’t explain it, but she’d burrowed under his skin, a place he hadn’t allowed a woman in a long time, and she’d done it in a few short hours.

Besides he had an entire tray of desserts he’d wanted to sample—on her body.

Oh, yeah, that’s it. Right there. Bethany let out a rebel yell to equal all rebel yells.

Izzy leapt to her feet before Cooper could stop her. “That’s enough.”

Cooper sheepishly crawled to his feet to survey the scene before him. If he hadn’t been so horny, the twin deer-in-the-headlight expressions on Bethany’s and Cedric’s faces would’ve doubled him over with laughter.

Bethany lay sprawled on the table—the exact table he’d planned to use to take Izzy. Dammit. The straps on Bethany’s dress were pulled down, her skirt was pushed up, and her thighs were spread wide. Cedric lay across the top of her, one hand between her legs, one on her breast.

Bethany screeched, an ear-shattering screech, and twisted away from Cedric. The violence of the motion sent her rolling to the floor and Cedric slamming to the floor on the opposite side of the table.

Izzy ran to her sister’s side, while Cooper walked more leisurely to Cedric’s side and glared down at him.

Cedric sat up and rubbed his back. “Fuck, that hurt.”

Cooper gave him a not-so-gentle nudge in the ass with his foot. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Cedric pushed himself to his feet, still rubbing his back. “I could ask the same of you.” He stared pointedly at Cooper’s crotch, calling attention to Cooper’s unzipped fly. Cooper quickly zipped it up.

Together, they glanced at the women. Bethany was on her feet, smoothing out her dress, pulling up straps, pulling down her skirt. Both women looked as if they’d been out for a stroll in gale force winds.

Hands on her hips, Izzy turned to her sister. “You know we have a pact.”

“And so do you.” Bethany braced her hands on her hips too, making them look like a pair of sexy bookends.

“This—this—Swedish oaf had his hand between your legs, and you were screaming for more.” Izzy pointed accusingly at Cedric.

“Hey, now, I’m not an oaf—”

Izzy and Bethany both shot Cedric a murderous look. The huge man, who’d faced down the toughest men in the league, backed up several steps, obviously not wanting any part of a possible bloody catfight, as he inched toward the door. Cooper was no fool; he skirted the two women himself, several feet from safety and freedom.

“What were you doing in here with that toothless Neanderthal?” Bethany shouted.

Cooper ran his tongue over his mouth. All his teeth were still there. “I’m not—”

Both women turned on him and Cooper froze. He tried a tentative smile and received two kiss-ass scowls in return. Cedric reached the door and bolted through it. In three long strides, Cooper followed.

Both men stood in the hallway staring at the closed door. Angry, muffled words echoed from the other side.

Cooper ran a hand through his unruly hair and smoothed it back. “Damn.”

Cedric blew out a relieved breath. “That was close. I thought we might end up castrated.”

“No shit.”

“I haven’t seen you so tied up over a woman in a long time.”

“I’d like her to tie me up, or even better, I’d like to tie her up.” Cooper grinned. Cedric didn’t.

“Are you walking away or are you going for it?”

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t know. She did stuff to him, not just physically, but emotionally, getting more than his dick involved in this insane attraction to a woman he barely knew. That made him vulnerable, and he avoided vulnerable more than he avoided sushi.

Cooper cast one last, longing look toward the closed door, imagining Izzy all messy and ready for sex. He wasn’t done with that woman yet. The night was young and the boat would soon be docking. This party wasn’t over until the fat lady skated home, and she wasn’t skating off the rink until he said so.

Chapter 5—Drop Pass

Izzy threw back her head and started laughing when the guys ran out like the devil was on their tails. She couldn’t help it. Those big, strong alpha males couldn’t handle a little sisterly disagreement. How funny was that? Bethany joined in, both of them laughing until their sides hurt. Finally, Izzy managed to gain her breath.

“We scared the crap right out of them, didn’t we?” Bethany smiled, even though her eyes were still a little dilated and her hands shaky.

Izzy turned toward her and went on the offensive before her sister had a chance to state the obvious. “What were you thinking, fooling around with a guest at a party? You know we don’t do that.” She spoke calmly in her matter-of-fact, older sister, lecturing mode. No one would guess what a screwed up mess she was inside with conflicting thoughts bouncing around inside her head like a duck in a whirlpool.

“Really? And what were you doing in here with him?” Bethany raised her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the door the men had escaped through.

“We were dressed,” Izzy shot back, trying to muster up indignance over something she had very well planned to do if she hadn’t been interrupted.

Bethany walked over to the dessert tray and made a show of clearing her throat. “I see you were in here for a little dessert.” She popped a chocolate-covered strawberry in her mouth.

Izzy joined her and picked up the small bite-sized cheesecake. “That’s right. Just dessert.”

“Us, too.”

“What the hell were we both thinking?”

Bethany looked longingly at the door. “He’s really hot, sexy, and a great dancer.”

“So’s Cooper.” Cooper attracted her to the point that she’d been willing to ruin her new business, destroy her reputation, and decimate her sisters’ respect. No man was worth that.

Or was he? Obviously in the heat of the moment, she’d thought he was, and so had Bethany. Yet, she expected this behavior from the family wild child. No one expected it from the practical older sister.

“You’re really hot for him, aren’t you?” Bethany asked.

Izzy snorted and licked some chocolate off her fingers. To think she could’ve been licking chocolate out of Cooper’s belly button or off his—

“Isabella!” Bethany snapped her fingers in front of Izzy’s face.

Izzy jumped with a guilty start. “Sorry, he is hot, so frigging hot, I almost gave up everything we’ve worked for just to screw his brains out one time.”

“Me, too.” Bethany tried to look solemn, but she didn’t do solemn well. In fact, her lips twitched until she gave into a full-blown bad girl grin. “Go after him. Even good girls need to be bad once in a while.”

“I can’t. Not here.”

“Then go home with him. I’m sure you’d be invited.”

“I don’t do one-night stands.”

“By the look in his eyes, it wouldn’t be just one night. The man was completely smitten.”

“You think?”

“I know. Trust me.” Bethany turned on the lights, dug a compact out of her purse, and refreshed her makeup. “Let’s go back out and join the world.”

Izzy grabbed her sister’s makeup kit and did her own emergency makeover, but no amount of makeup covered up lips swollen from Cooper’s kisses, eyes shiny with desire, and hair so messy it looked like she did it that way on purpose.

Composing herself, she walked into the hallway and ran headfirst into Ethan Parker. He put his hands on her shoulders and set her back on her feet. “Isabella, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, I, uh, my sister and I were discussing strategy.”

Ethan grinned. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done more than enough. You’re off the clock. Enjoy the party. It’s a rousing success and wouldn’t have been without you and your sisters. The guys are dancing up a storm, talking to the coaches, making plans. You’ve broken the ice, literally, and I can’t pay you enough for what you’ve managed to accomplish.”

“Well, thank you.” It was nothing that couldn’t be solved without having the team captain’s tongue down her throat, hands on her ass, and lips in places they shouldn’t be.

“I don’t know how you did it. The way those boys were scowling at the beginning of the night, I didn’t think anyone would get through to them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker.” Izzy smiled her most gracious smile.

“It was our pleasure,” Bethany added in total innocence.

“Call me Ethan. Great job. You’ll be getting a bonus for this, and I’ll be recommending you to all of our friends.” He grinned as Lauren came up beside him. “Stop by the team office next week, and I’ll have a check waiting at the front desk.”

“I will, and thank you, Ethan.”

Ethan grinned at his fiancée and headed outside to the deck.

“We did it.”

“We sure did.” Izzy should have felt on top of her world, and she did to a point, but there was still the little problem of Cooper and wanting to see him again.

“Let’s get back to the party.” Izzy almost broke into a jog, but something solid stopped her progress as she rounded the corner.

Cooper’s sold chest filled her line of vision. She lifted her face upward. Judging by the thin, angry line of his lips and his hard jaw, he’d heard every word of her conversation with Ethan.

And he wasn’t happy.

* * * *

Cooper had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to let this woman get away. Sure, he wanted to sleep with her, but it was more than that. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he wanted to explore that heady feeling of being with a woman who intrigued him beyond the bedroom.

So he’d gone in search of Izzy to do the right thing and ask her out like a proper guy would do for a classy lady. Surely, the bathroom incidents were aberrations. They’d never happened to her before, but it was this intense chemistry between them—the same crazy feelings he felt—that drove her to do something she would never normally do.

At least that was what he’d wanted to believe.

Until he’d overheard her talking to Ethan Parker.

Humiliated and feeling like all kinds of fool, he rounded the corner with both guns blazing. She’d used him and used him quite nicely. He’d let down his guard for one night, believed in a woman for the first time in years, and this was what happened.

Her eyes opened wide as she spotted him in all his indignant fury.

“Are you going to be okay?” Her sister gave her a pat on the arm.

Izzy gave Bethany a curt nod to dismiss her. “I’m fine. Cooper and I need to talk.”

Without another word, Bethany scurried away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she disappeared back into the party.

“How much did you hear?”

“All of it.” Cooper ground his teeth together, expecting his jaw to shatter any moment or at least for his many implants to be ground to dust.

“I can explain.” She moved toward him, but he held his hands up to keep that mesmerizing body out of his personal space.

“You were paid to do me.” Beneath the anger, he sounded pathetic and betrayed, even to his own ears.

“That would make me a prostitute, wouldn't it?” Now her annoyance matched his. She propped her hands on her hips, stood straighter, and pulled her shoulders back, inadvertently drawing attention to those nice breasts of hers, the same ones he’d been enjoying several minutes earlier.

His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips. “Uh, that's not what I'm saying.” No, he didn’t believe she screwed for money. Not deep down inside. Maybe his instincts hadn’t always been the best when it came to women, but something rang true in her words and her previous actions. Her out-of-control attraction couldn’t have been an act, any more than it had been with him.

“Then what are you saying?”

He didn’t know what he was saying, had no clue what he was accusing her of. His anger turned to confusion.

“Ethan paid us to make sure this party was successful.”

“And to be successful, you had to have me on board.”

She nodded, her own anger fizzling out. She clasped her hands together in front of her and wrung them. “That’s true, but I never planned on it going as far as it did. I just wanted to get you to dance, have a good time. It was never supposed to be sexual.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you didn’t plan on using every means you had.”

“Believe what you want. That’s not what we’re about.” She stared at her feet, obviously embarrassed. “It got out of hand. Something about you just made me forget every rule we had.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?” Cooper ran his hand through his hair, frustrated and confused. “I don’t know what to believe.”

Izzy sighed, looking as sad as the beagle he’d had as a child with those big brown eyes that could melt the hardest heart. Only Izzy wasn’t his trusted, loyal childhood friend. She was a woman with a job to do, and that job had involved using him to reach her goal. Whether it included actual physical acts with him or not, he didn’t know. His heart didn’t want to believe it did, even though his head screamed “sucker.”

Cooper shook his head. “Know what? I was looking for you to ask you out on a date like a gentleman asks out a lady. That’s what an idiot I am.”

“Cooper, I—I’m sorry.” Her face crumpled, she looked ready to cry, and it took every ounce of determination he’d honed over years of scrabbling and fighting in the toughest of sports not to give in to those beautiful brown eyes.

“I’m not. I’m ashamed of you. I thought we had something, and you took advantage of my stupidity. Goodbye, Izzy.” He turned and walked away, grateful the boat was docking, and he could get the hell off the damn thing before he lost his resolve and caved to his baser needs.

He could get that from any number of women, but he’d thought Izzy could give him more, thought she’d stave off the loneliness of a single man, give him a reason to like this new place that’d been forced upon him.

Now he’d get none of the above.

Chapter 6—Delayed Penalty

Izzy held it together until she’d dropped off her sisters and shut the door to her little apartment. When she snapped the deadbolt shut, something snapped inside her.

She threw herself down on the ratty living room couch and cried her eyes out, not caring that her makeup ran or if her expensive dress wrinkled beyond repair. Her tears gushed like a broken water main. Her sobs drowned out the sounds from the freeway next to her apartment. Her heart cracked wider with each second that passed.

She should be thrilled. Ecstatic. On top of the world.

Her company had just pleased a very wealthy client and was on the verge of something big. Really big.

Right now, none of that mattered. It would tomorrow or the next day when the shock of all these crazy feelings wore off and eased the humiliation of being branded a prostitute.

Had she done everything she’d done just for the money? Because if she had, then she deserved that title. God, she’d been a fool over a man who didn’t care one damn bit about her. He’d used her just like she’d used him.

Only it hadn’t really been like that. Not for her. She’d felt something more, a seed of something that could’ve blossomed and grown into a beautiful flower, but instead of nurturing it with mutual trust and affection, she’d fed it with lies and behaved irresponsibly.

Cooper was right about her. She should be ashamed of herself. She had taken advantage of their initial attraction, even though she never planned on it going as far as it had, never dreamed she’d lose her mind looking into those deep blue eyes, and shed her scruples as quickly as she shed her clothes for him.

Shame on her.

He’d wanted to ask her out on a real date, show her the respect she didn’t deserve after her inexcusable and unprofessional behavior.

She’d been an idiot on so many levels.

Sitting up, Izzy wiped her face with tissues, blew out several deep breaths, and blinked the tears away. This was stupid. She barely knew the man. He was gorgeous, ripped, and a great dancer. So what? She called forth her practical side, that side which poo-pooed such bullshit as falling hard for a guy she’d only known three hours.

She’d learn from this mistake. Never again would she enter into any kind of a physical relationship with a party guest, not that it’d been a problem before, but it would not be again.

Her mind flashed back to those laughing blue eyes blazing with desire during their bathroom trysts, sympathetic with concern over her childhood story, and brimming with irritation because she’d latched on to him as a pretend boyfriend.

She sighed. It was over. The party was a success. They’d be making good money along with a bonus.

That’s all that should matter.

Only it wasn’t.

She missed him. She shouldn’t, but she did.

* * * *

Cooper opened his eyes to find Joker sitting on his chest staring him straight in the eyes. His head hurt like hell, courtesy of the half bottle of whiskey he drank when he’d arrived home.

“Hey, buddy. Miss me?” He reached up to pet the scruffy cat.

Joker meowed, most likely bitching about the quality of his life and the crappy servant he’d been forced to tolerate for more years than he could count.

“Yeah, I know. Life’s a bitch.”

Joker rubbed his face across Cooper’s stubble.

“I met a woman last night. I thought she was someone special.”

The cat studied him, as if to say, I know where this is going.

“Yeah, I kinda fell for her. She was gorgeous, great body, great dancer, confident, intelligent.”

Joker’s purring almost drowned out Cooper’s words. Oh, to be a cat and not to have a worry in the world.

“I was going to ask her out until I discovered she’d used me, so I dumped her ass.”

Joker dug his claws into Cooper’s chest, but he didn’t flinch. The pain didn’t come close to matching the pain he felt inside. This was stupid. He didn’t fall for a woman, not like this. Yet he had, and now he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

“Hey, you’d have done the same thing.”

Joker continued to stare at him as if to say dumb shit.

Yeah, he’d wanted to spend more time with her, explore those unfamiliar feelings she elicited in him. He’d always been a bit of a daredevil, and she’d tempted him to take a chance on a relationship.

Only she’d been paid to do it. How did a guy get past that? And how did a guy get past that hot body, expressive eyes, sassy mouth, and long fucking legs? Obviously, he hadn’t. He’d dreamt about her all night long, doing the things to her he hadn’t gotten a chance to do on the boat, and letting her do the same to him.

He was a fool. A damn fool. She’d used him. That was a fact.

Despite it all, the truth behind her words about the team had sunk in. Nothing he did would move them back to Florida. Did he really want to leave his guys, guys he’d built a rapport with, and start over somewhere else?

The answer was no, he didn’t.

Cooper sat up, knocking the cat off his chest. Casting an annoyed look over his shoulder, Joker stalked off in a huff and disappeared out the bedroom door, probably to extract revenge on the leg of an expensive piece of leather furniture.

* * * *

Cooper walked past Ethan Parker’s sergeant major of an assistant, and swung open the door to Parker’s office. Ethen looked up from his computer, surprise crossing his face.

His admin pushed her way past Cooper. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black. He got past me.”

“It’s okay, Mina. He can stay.”

Mina hesitated and Ethan gave her an encouraging smile. With one last, disgusted look at Cooper, she left the office, shutting the door after her broad butt got through it.

“She’s scary, that one,” Cooper joked, trying to break the ice.

“Mina’s been with me for years. I appreciate all she does.” Ethan sat back, put his feet on the desk, and adopted a casual pose that was anything but casual. “What can I help you with, Coop?”

Cooper studied Ethan for a long moment, Ethan looked right back, his direct gaze never wavering. Cooper couldn’t recall one time that the former team owner ever looked him straight in the eyes.

He took a deep breath and let it out, as if it would cleanse him of all his ill-conceived notions. “I’m here to talk about the team, and what I can do to make this transition smoother.”

“Are you serious?” Ethan’s feet dropped to the floor, and he sat up straight. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Dead serious. I’ve been an ass. I want to start over.”

Ethan nodded slowly but didn’t answer right away. He was letting Cooper squirm, and Cooper had to respect him for that. The guy had some major balls. Finally, just as Cooper was starting to fidget, Ethan nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s brainstorm some ideas. Let me take you to lunch.”

“Sounds good.” Cooper hesitated. “One other thing. Isabella Maxwell. How well do you know her?”

“I don’t. Not really. I learned about her company through a mutual friend.”

“What exactly is her company?”

“They’re called the Party Crashers. They have a website. Look them up. They guarantee they can turn a bad party into a good one. Knowing your attitude and your teammates’ toward this move and me personally, I figured that party could use all the help it could get. She did a great job, and I’ll be the first to admit, I didn’t believe they’d be able to pull it off.”

Yeah, she’d done a great job, especially on Cooper. “That’s it? They’re paid to crash parties?”

“Yeah. That’s it. Did you think there was more?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” Cooper stared over Ethan’s head out the window, his brain a confused mash of conflicting thoughts.

“Seems like you two hit it off that night.” Ethan stood and grabbed his coat, shrugging into it as he headed for the door, and Cooper followed. “Any chance you’ll see Izzy again?”

“I don’t know.”

“She seems like a good woman.”

“Yeah, she does,” Cooper said, and he meant it.

Chapter 7—Power Play

When the bell tinkled over the coffee shop door, Izzy looked up and did a double take. A tall, fit man walked in, a hoodie pulled down low over his face.

His body looked a lot like Cooper’s. But lately, she’d been seeing Cooper in every man who walked in that door, as if he’d come looking for her. It’d been a week, and she needed to get over him, but instead she’d taken to Googling his name, staring at pictures, and reading everything she could get her hands on about him, such as all the charity work he’d done in Florida, how he always took time to talk to fans, how he played the game with all-in passion.

A woman had to admire a man like that.

She’d developed a bit of a fan crush on him, become a puck bunny before she’d ever seen her first professional game in person. Nothing unusual with that. Right?

Izzy tugged on the bottom of her Seattle Sockeyes number fourteen jersey that Ethan had given to her when she’d picked up her very generous check. Number fourteen happened to be Cooper’s number.

She glanced around the coffee shop and back to the hooded man lingering near the doorway across the room. Midmorning wasn’t her busiest time, and he was her only customer. A little jolt of fear ran through her, and she prayed she wasn’t about to be robbed.

Izzy put on her bravest smile and waited for the man to come to the counter. His long strides carried him closer as he pulled the hood off his head. Her heart leapt over the Olympic high bar and set a world record. Her mouth dropped open. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter.

“Cooper,” she rasped, shocked to see him. Delight raced through her body, alerting dormant parts to the hot man’s presence, and alerted they were.

Too much.

“Hey.” He stopped in front of the counter, his eyes on the menu board on the wall. “I’ll have a double caramel macchiato.” His lopsided grin warmed her heart.

“Do you even know what’s in one?”

“Drink them all the time, gets me in touch with my feminine side.”

“You don’t have a feminine side.”

He met her gaze but not before his eyes travelled lower and back up. “Number fourteen, huh?”

“Ethan gave it to me. Let me get that drink started right away.”

He nodded. She could feel his eyes on her as she made his drink, watching her every move. She slid the drink across the counter to him.

He took a sip and licked his lips. “Yummy.”

“I make the most awesome macchiato anywhere.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“You do, take it from a connoisseur.” He grinned right back. “Can you join me? You don’t seem too busy.”

“Okay.” Izzy tried not to sound too excited and poured herself a strong cup of coffee—she’d need it to get through the next few minutes—and joined him at a small table near the window. Outside the skies were gray with drizzle. “It’s raining again.”

Another smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “You know, this incessant rain is actually somewhat romantic.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, or it would be if I had a special someone to share walks in the rain with me.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his.

“I’m sure you’ll find that person.” She was afraid to read anything into the emotions lighting up his eyes.

“Maybe I already have.” Cooper looked down at their intertwined fingers then back up. He swallowed and ran his free hand through his dark hair. “Izzy, I’m sorry. I called you a prostitute, and that was inexcusable. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I forgive you, and you were right, too. I was using you—at first. But it went further than that. I never get physically involved with guests or clients, ever. You blew through all my convictions with one epic, sexy smile.”

“Really? Only one.” He preened like a male lion after seducing his lioness into the den.

“Only one.” She watched him, waiting and hoping.

“How about we start over?”

“That would be awesome.”

He removed his hand from hers and stood. Her heart sank. He was leaving? Was that how he started over?

Instead he bent down and took her hand in his again. “I’m Cooper Black.”

She giggled, batted her eyelashes, and gazed up at him. “I’m Izzy Maxwell.”

“Well, Izzy, I think you and I should get to know each other better. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“I’d love that, Cooper.”

“So would I.”

Cooper pulled Izzy to her feet and kissed her soundly, a kiss full of new beginnings and future promises—not to mention, hot enough to melt ice.

# # #

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I hope you enjoyed this brief look into Cooper and Izzy’s growing romance. They’ll be back soon in a full-length novel. Subscribe to my newsletter for the latest on the Sockeyes and other upcoming Jami Davenport books at http://www.jamidavenport.com.

* * * *

BOOKLIST

The following Jami Davenport titles are available in electronic and some are available in trade paperback format.

Evergreen Dynasty Series

Save the Last Dance

Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?

The Gift Horse

Seattle Sockeyes Hockey Series

Skating on Thin Ice (Coming Soon)

Crashing the Boards, Seduced by The Game

Seattle Lumberjacks Football Series

Fourth and Goal

Forward Passes

Down by Contact

Backfield in Motion

Christmas Break

Time of Possession

Standalone Books

Love at First Snow

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jami Davenport has been writing since she was old enough to know the alphabet. An advocate of happy endings, Jami writes sexy romantic comedy, sports hero romances, and equestrian fiction. Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her husband, a former Green Beret turned plumber, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

She works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. In her spare time, Jami rides and shows her dressage horse and grows roses. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, the setting for her first two books. In her opinion, it is the most beautiful place on earth.

Subscribe to her newsletter for the latest information on new releases at http://eepurl.com/LpfaL

Website: jamidavenport.com

Events Blog: jamidavenport.blogspot.com

Romancing the Jock Blog: romancingthejock.com

Twitter:  @jamidavenport

Facebook:  facebook.com/jamidavenport

Facebook Fan Page:  facebook.com/jamidavenportauthor

Seattle Lumberjacks Page:  facebook.com/SeattleLumberjacks

Pinterest:  pinterest.com/jamidavenport/

Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport

Taking a Shot

Book 2.5 in the Portland Storm series

© Catherine Gayle

Dedication

For my Uncle John.

I love you and I miss you, and I don’t know what I would ever do without you telling me I have green hair.

The team started to leave the ice after the morning skate, so this was my best chance, at least to just get it done and over with without Mom crying. I’d had enough of crying for a while—hers, my own, and everyone else’s, too. Dad wouldn’t cry over this—not in front of his teammates, at least—so I should be safe from tears for a bit as long as I could escape Mom’s hovering and get to him.

Dad played pro hockey for the Portland Storm. Game-day skates weren’t open to the general public, but Mom and I didn’t count as part of the public around here. We were family.

Ever since I’d started chemotherapy treatments for my leukemia a few weeks ago, the Storm’s general manager and coaching staff had been allowing me to come and watch the closed practices in addition to the off-day practices.

Mom always came with me. Sometimes it seemed as though she believed she could make me better just by being with me, which was ridiculous. Even these awful drugs might not make me better, so how could she? I wasn’t exactly going to keel over and die while she wasn’t looking, but she didn’t like to let me out of her sight these days, as if she needed the physical reminder to know I was still alive. The only things I needed to remind me that I was alive were the aches and pains I’d been having.

I’d thought radiation was bad right up until the chemo started. Then I discovered that radiation was just the warm-up. Cancer treatments weren’t for the faint of heart.

I figured the bigwigs with the Storm were just allowing me to tag along because I didn’t have a whole lot to do these days. Maybe a little bit because they felt sorry for me, too, but this was one instance where I was more than willing to take advantage of some pity.

Plus, I thought it helped Dad not worry too much, and that could only help him to perform in games the way he needed to. Some days I thought my cancer was harder on my parents than it was on me. Not physically, so much, but emotionally. I didn’t want to die, but I’d just kind of resigned myself to the fact that it might happen. They hadn’t. Not yet, at least. And so they hovered. And worried. And cried.

I wished they would just accept that it might happen. That would be a whole lot easier for all of us.

With my treatments making me so sick, the school district had assigned me a laptop and had given me access to online coursework and a tutor who came to my house once a week for two hours. All I did other than my online classes and tutoring sessions was sleep, puke, try to imagine myself healthy again, and follow the Storm. Everything else had been put on hold—indefinitely.

That last bit, getting to follow the Storm, was the only part of my life keeping me sane, at least now in the early stages of chemo. I’d been going stir-crazy without school and Glee Club and all the other regular teenager things filling my days, and going to their practices and games gave me something to focus on other than how sometimes I wished it would just end, whatever that meant. They gave me something to believe in, and there hadn’t been much of that lately.

My eyes followed my dad as he skated off the ice, gave me a brief wave, and headed down the tunnel with the rest of the guys. It was now or never. I didn’t want to lie to Mom, but if I was going to go through with this, I didn’t have much choice because of her hovering-to-keep-me-alive thing.

Cancer sucks and it kills a lot of people, and there was no question I might die, but it probably wasn’t going to happen today. I was pretty sure I’d feel a lot worse than I did before it was all over. Not that I wanted to feel worse. I just wanted it to end.

I turned toward Mom and tried to look green, which wasn’t all that hard these days. “I think I might be sick.”

“Oh, Katie, today? You don’t usually get sick so many days after a treatment…”

I put my hand up to my mouth, as though I was trying to hold back some puke. “Yeah. Today. I’ll meet you by the parking garage when I’m done.”

I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I took off at a run, bolting up the stairs away from the Moda Center’s ice with my hand over my mouth the entire way. I left my jacket, purse, and the throw blanket she’d brought with us to keep me warm behind with her. That way she’d have to gather it all up before she could follow. That should give me enough time to get to the bowels of the arena instead of making a beeline for the bathroom without her seeing where I was heading.

Sure enough, I got onto the elevator and the doors closed behind me without Mom appearing in the concourse.

I got off at ice level, and I made my way along the concrete walkway toward the Storm’s offices and locker room. When I got to the double doors I was looking for, Daniel “Hammer” Hamm, one of the assistant coaches, was just making his way out and preparing to let the press in. They were standing just outside the doors, three men who’d become increasingly more familiar to me over the last few weeks.

I needed to get in before the press. They would be in there too long. I couldn’t wait for them to finish and leave or else Mom would really freak out. If they beat me inside, I’d have to just go meet Mom and forget all about talking to Dad without having her around.

“Hammer!” I called out, still from some distance away. I was proud that I only sounded a little panicky, not like I was in a full-fledged freak-out.

He looked at me with his eyes squinting into a funny expression. I jogged the rest of the distance even though it left me winded so he wouldn’t have to wait too long for an explanation, and so I wouldn’t have to keep shouting. All three of the media guys spun their heads around to stare at me, too. I wished they would back off.

“Can I get in there for a minute?” I asked. “There’s something I need my dad for. It should only take a few minutes.”

He frowned. “What do you need that can’t wait until he gets home, Katie? We have to let the media in…”

I reached into my pocket and showed him what I’d placed in there before leaving home this morning, keeping it hidden from the reporters who were craning their heads to see while trying to pretend that they weren’t doing exactly that.

Hammer looked down at my hand and swallowed hard a couple of times. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, like Dad’s did when he was trying not to get emotional. Then he nodded, and I put my hand back in my pocket.

“Let me go back in and make sure all the boys have clothes on so your dad doesn’t have to kill anyone,” he said. “Stay right here.” He looked over to the press, who were waiting for their chance to go in and interview some of the players. “It’s going to be a few more minutes, guys. Sorry.”

A moment later, he opened one of the doors and let me in, closing it firmly behind me so no one else could follow. I made my way straight for my dad’s stall.

He shook his head when he saw me, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips. His eyes looked tired, with red streaks and bags under them. He’d only started looking like that and showing his age recently. I hated that I was the reason why.

“What’s going on, Katie?” he asked.

I took a deep breath for courage. Then I emptied my pocket again and held the clump of my hair up for him to see. “It’s starting to fall out. I don’t want to wait and have it leave me with bald patches. I just want to shave it off.” My voice kept cracking over the words, which sucked. I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was.

I’d woken up this morning and had nearly gotten sick when I found this big wad on my pillow. Heck of a way to wake up. Some more had come out when I’d brushed my hair, leaving a bald patch in the back that I’d had to hide with strategic barrette placement. I hadn’t wanted Mom to see it. Or Luke and Dani, my younger brother and sister. They all worried so much, and this would only make the fears more real—bring them closer to coming true. As long as I had hair, we’d been able to pretend that I was just a little sick. This was going to shoot that idea out of the water, though.

It was unnaturally quiet in the locker room. The team had been playing well lately, winning more than losing, so that meant they were usually laughing and joking with each other when they were all together, keeping things loose. So I knew the guys were listening, even if their heads were turned away and they were pretending to keep busy with other things. It didn’t matter if they heard, though. They could handle this—a lot better than Mom could, at any rate. Maybe better than I could.

Dad stared at the hair in my hand for a minute and then kissed my forehead. “Does your mom know you’re down here?”

“No. I told her I felt sick and I’d meet her at the garage.”

“She’s going to kill me.” His jaw was tight, like he was grinding his teeth, and his Adam’s apple bobbed hard a couple of times.

I nodded. “It’ll be better this way.” Maybe not better, but at least easier.

“I know.” He turned to Cam Johnson, one of his teammates, who was a few stalls down. “Jonny? You have your hair clippers here?” Jonny had kept his hair buzzed short, like a military cut, for as long as I’d known him.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He reached overhead and took out a shoebox. He brought it over to us. “You want me to do it?”

“No, I’ll do it,” Dad said. His voice kept getting heavier, deeper. He was barely keeping it together. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to do this with his teammates all around. Maybe I should have just kept trying to hide it with barrettes until I couldn’t hide it any longer.

“Use one of the guards first until you get most of her hair off,” Jonny said. “Then go back over it without a guard. That’ll help keep it from pulling and hurting her.” He winked and gave me a kind smile before he went back to doing whatever he’d been doing.

“Okay.” Dad sorted through the guards in the box. He selected one and settled it over the cutting mechanism.

“Here, Katie,” a deep voice said from behind me.

I turned to see Eric Zellinger, the team captain, holding a folding chair and a towel. “Sit down,” Zee said. “We’ll put this over your shoulders to catch the hair.”

I nodded, biting down on my lip. A lot more of the guys were getting involved in this than I’d counted on. This was turning into something bigger than I’d expected, and it made me wish I’d thought it through better. All I’d been thinking about was Mom and her hovering.

He set the chair on the floor, and I dropped onto it. Dad put the towel around my shoulders. I removed the barrettes from my hair and stuck them in my pocket, not that I’d need them again anytime soon. I held the ends of the towel together in the front, staring down at my lap so he should have easy access. My hands were shaking, so I pressed my fingers tight to my chest so maybe the guys wouldn’t notice how worked up I was.

The clippers buzzed to life by my ear, but then nothing happened. I lifted my head. At least half the team had stopped what they were doing to watch, some of them shifting uncomfortably. I didn’t mean to make them uncomfortable. I just didn’t know what else to do without upsetting Mom.

“You sure you’re ready?” Dad asked. His voice cracked just like mine had.

I wasn’t even close to ready and I couldn’t make my body stop shuddering, but I said, “Yes. Do it.” I tilted my head back so I could see him, and I gave him a big, fake smile before lowering my head again. I’d always been a good actress, but based on the way his eyes were shining, he hadn’t bought it this time.

My attention shifted to Babs—Jamie Babcock, the youngest guy on the team, and the one I’d had the hugest crush on for forever. Or at least since I’d first met him when he’d started playing for the Storm. He looked as green as I’d tried to be in order to convince Mom I was sick. I didn’t want him to see me bald—he might turn his back on me as fast as all my school friends had—but I couldn’t kick him out. I was the intruder here, not him. Besides, I was going to be bald one way or another soon. Unless I was planning on hiding out in my bedroom for the next several months, chances were he was going to see me like that.

“Okay,” Dad said finally, his usually steady voice shaking as hard as I was. He trailed his fingers through my hair in the back, as though he needed to touch it one more time in case it never came back.

I couldn’t look away from Babs, and he didn’t look away from me. He was sitting on the bench at his stall, his hands fisted at his sides, as the cool plastic guard touched down against my forehead. It glided back along my scalp, and large clumps of my hair rained down onto the towel over my shoulders. I caught a piece of it in my free hand. The long, brown strands still felt vibrant and alive.

Not like me. I hadn’t felt vibrant in so long I almost didn’t remember what it was like, and I didn’t know if I wanted to be alive anymore if it had to hurt this bad.

I let the hair slip through my fingers and fall to my feet.

It didn’t take long for Dad to finish the first pass with the guard, even with being careful around my ears. He powered the clippers off and removed the guard, tossing it back into the shoebox behind him. A moment later, the now-familiar buzzing sound filled the room again.

This time, I could feel the metal against my flesh. It was warm from the motor and a little scratchy, but it was oddly comforting. My scalp had been sensitive for days—a sure sign, according to my oncologist, that the hair loss would start soon. Dad went over some spots multiple times, then he rubbed my bald head to feel if he’d missed anything.

He turned the clippers off again, picked up a few strands of hair from the towel, shoved them in his pocket, and kissed the top of my head.

“You’ve got to tell me,” I said. “Do I have any weird bumpy spots?” I needed some warning about things like that before I looked in a mirror. It was going to be enough of a shock to see myself without any hair. I’d always had a full head of long, thick brown hair, ever since I was really little. Even in my baby pictures I had a lot of hair. Mom said I’d come out that way.

“No weird bumpy spots,” Dad said. He sounded gruff. I knew this wasn’t easy for him. None of it was.

“Okay.” I carefully took the towel off, looking down for the first time to see the mound of brown hair at my feet and surrounding the chair.

Jonny brought over a damp cloth and handed it to Dad. It was warm when he wiped it over my head, neck, and face to pick up any loose hairs.

I got up and kissed Dad on the cheek. “Is there a mirror around? I need to see.”

Zee jerked his head to the side, toward another part of the room. “Over here.”

I went to where he’d indicated and stared in shock at my reflection. It was still me—still my blue eyes, even though they seemed tired and sunken in, still my nose and my dry lips, still my slightly hollowed out cheekbones. But I looked like an alien. If my friends hadn’t already dropped me, they definitely would now. Who would want to hang out with the weird alien girl? The lack of hair only seemed to emphasize the features that made it obvious I was sick. I let my hands run over my head as I turned to see myself from every angle.

No weird bumpy spots. Dad hadn’t lied.

The clippers buzzed to life again, and I raced back into the main part of the locker room. My dad was in the chair. Jonny was shaving Dad’s head.

“Oh, Daddy.” I’d been able to get through losing my own hair without crying, but this time I couldn’t hold my stupid tears back. “Mom really will kill you now.”

He winked and reached for my hand. I held it, watching as his salt-and-pepper hair joined mine on the floor around the chair. Jonny finished shaving Dad’s head a lot quicker than Dad had done mine.

“No weird bumpy spots?” Dad asked me.

I brushed away a tear and shook my head. “No weird bumpy spots.”

He got up and left without saying another word, heading toward the mirror.

Jonny started to put the clippers away, but Babs got up and said, “Not yet. Do mine next.”

“No!” I couldn’t believe I’d just shouted at him, but I couldn’t let Babs do that, even though the thought that he was willing to made my belly flip.

I loved his hair. It was this perfect blondish-brown shade, and he had it cut in a faux hawk lately that made me want to run my fingers through it. I couldn’t do anything like that. Dad would kill Babs if he even looked at me funny, whether he’d done anything or not—not that he ever would. I was just another girl with a crush on him. He had more than enough of those to choose from. There was no reason he should choose me over any of the rest of them.

Babs was only a couple of years older than me—only twenty—but I didn’t think age was really the issue for Dad when it came to the thought of me and a guy. He was stuck on the fact that I was still in high school, and he seemed to think I shouldn’t even date until I was about sixty or seventy, or maybe not even then.

It didn’t seem to matter to him that I’d already turned eighteen and was old enough that I could make my own choices. It happened two and a half weeks ago, actually, on the day that I’d started my first chemo treatment. Happy birthday to me. Here’s some cake you can puke up later.

Babs stood in the middle of the locker room, his hands still balled into fists at his sides, staring at me. “I want to,” he said. “I feel like it’s the only thing I can do.”

There wasn’t anything for him to do. I shook my head, this time feeling like I might actually get sick. “Please, don’t. I can handle losing my hair, but I don’t think I can take it if you shave yours off. Plus, all of Portland would hate me.”

He laughed, but it was an angry sort of laugh. Hurt. Like I’d hurt his feelings, which made no sense at all. He clenched his jaw, and it made his dimples come out. “Okay,” he said finally. “But only because you asked me not to.”

I took a couple of steps until I was standing right in front of him. “Thank you, Babs,” I whispered.

“Jamie,” he said. “Call me Jamie.”

As he spoke, I could smell the sweet-and-spicy cinnamon scent on his breath from the mints he was always popping in his mouth. I was that close.

I stretched up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek, right where his dimple always showed up. “Jamie…thank you.” I don’t know what made me kiss him like that, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

He brought his hand up, and I thought he might touch my cheek or my head. My pulse thundered like a wild stampede, and I couldn’t breathe for wanting him to touch me in some small way, even though it was a crazy thought in the first place.

“You’d better back away from my little girl, dipshit,” Dad said from right behind me.

Jamie dropped his hand to his side so fast you would have thought Dad had shot it.

I took a step back, almost bumping into my dad. “It’s my fault. He didn’t do anything.” I turned to face him, and Jamie backed away to busy himself with something else. “Really, Dad.”

“Your mother’s waiting for you,” he said, but I knew he was pissed. His eyes were more bloodshot than before, like he’d been crying. That was probably why he’d left for a minute—not so much to look at his own bald head.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m going.”

“Are you two coming to lunch with us today?”

“If I can get her to stop crying once she sees me like this. I’ll text you to let you know.” I raced out of the locker room before either of us started crying again and hurried past the reporters before they realized I didn’t have any hair left.

My cheek still tingled where Katie Weber had kissed it.

I tried to push that from my mind because her dad was glaring at me from across the table at Amani’s Italian Restaurant like he wanted nothing more than to use his steak knife to cut off my balls and then feed them to me as my lunch instead of the chicken and pasta the waiters were serving us.

Amani’s was our go-to restaurant for a pregame meal. It was a family-style place, where we ordered a few big dishes and all helped ourselves, and the staff always knew to expect us on the day of a home game. They made it feel homey—even if right now, Webs was doing his best to prevent me from feeling any sort of comfort.

Self-preservation seemed to be the wisest course of action after I’d almost fucked up and touched Katie. The last couple of months had really screwed with my head, with her being sick—mainly because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. That was the only excuse I could come up with for whatever idiocy had caused my lapse in judgment. Well, that and the fact that I’d completely lost all grip on reality when she’d kissed me.

Not that Webs would give a shit about my excuses. As soon as he had seen Katie take the seat directly across from me at the restaurant, he’d plopped himself down right next to her, and he hadn’t stopped glaring at me since.

She had a scarf tied around her head now, a soft blue silky one that matched the color of her eyes. For some reason, without any hair on her head, her eyes stood out even more than usual. I didn’t know if she’d chosen to put the scarf on or if her mom had insisted once she’d seen that all Katie’s hair was gone. It didn’t really matter, I supposed. But I liked how it made it easier to see her eyes. You could see a lot in Katie’s eyes, if you knew to look.

Liam Kallen jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow to get my attention, and I snapped out of it long enough to take the bowl of pasta he was trying to pass to me. Kally was new to the team, and he was living with me now. He’d joined us at the trade deadline about a week ago along with Riley Jezek and Viktor Ellstrom. Kally and RJ had been playing for the Islanders, and Eller came over from Winnipeg.

Kally used to be one of the most prolific goal-scorers in the league—until his wife died. Everyone said that when she’d died, he’d stopped living, too. I wasn’t so sure about that, but he was still trying to figure out how to score again, even though it had been more than a year since she’d been killed.

I put some of the pasta on my plate and passed the bowl on to my best friend on the team, Ray Chambers. Razor loaded his plate with about three times as much as I had and then reached for the salad in the middle of the table. I’d never met anyone who could put away as much food as he could, and that was saying something since I had six younger brothers and every single one of us played hockey and ate like a pig according to my mom.

Once I stopped staring at Katie and started eating, Webs finally focused more of his attention on his meal instead of inventing new and exciting ways to torture me.

Razor stuffed a massive forkful of pasta into his mouth. He had barely chewed and swallowed when he said, “So, Katie…you going to prom with the same guy as last year? It’s coming up pretty soon, eh?”

Not only did Razor eat more than anyone I’d ever known, he was also quite possibly the most fucking clueless guy on the face of the planet when it came to tact. I kicked his shin hard under the table.

“Fuck, Babs!”

“Watch your fucking mouth in front of my daughter, asswipe,” Webs grumbled at him.

Razor shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Katie.” But he didn’t sound sorry.

I couldn’t make myself look anywhere but at Katie, though. She’d ducked her head down to stare at her plate and was as red-faced as she’d been while Webs had shaved her hair off a little bit ago. “I don’t think I’m going to prom this year,” she said quietly. She sounded sad. She always sounded sad lately.

Most of the guys started up their own conversations, turning their attention away from her. They probably didn’t want to embarrass her any more than Razor already had. But not all of them turned away. Zee was sitting on Katie’s other side, across from Kally. He handed her a basket of bread and asked, “Why aren’t you going?”

“Who would want to take the bald girl to prom?” She tried to laugh it off, but I could see the pain in her posture, just like I’d seen her fear through her bravery when she’d asked Webs to shave her head. She passed the bread to her father without taking any. “Besides, I’m not even going to classes right now. Out of sight, out of mind. They don’t even know I exist anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Kally took a sip of his water and used his napkin to wipe his mouth. She gave him a dubious look, but he didn’t let it stop him. “You should go anyway. You could show them what they’re missing. Make yourself some good memories.”

Katie gave a tiny shake of her head. “I don’t think I have that kind of courage.”

“You have a hell of a lot more courage than you give yourself credit for,” Kally replied. When she gave him a questioning look, he pointed at the scarf on her head.

She blushed. “That wasn’t courage. That was fear of looking stupid with bald patches.”

“Courage,” Zee said slowly, but his eyes were on me and not on Katie while he talked, “is doing something you know you need to do even though you’re scared to do it.”

What was he getting at? I took another bite and stared down at my plate. That was better than looking at Webs with his ball-busting glares or at Zee and his meaningful glances that didn’t really impart any meaning, at least.

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.” But then she started eating her meal and stopped talking, and that was the end of the conversation.

After we finished eating, everyone headed home. We had a game against Colorado tonight, and most guys take an afternoon nap on game days.

Kally had moved in with me when he’d been traded here because I had an extra room. I’d been living with Brenden Campbell—Soupy to the guys—but he’d moved across the hall to live with his fiancée, Rachel, and her two kids on trade deadline day.

It was nice having Kally around, even if he was closer in age to Webs than he was to me. He was a quiet guy, but he could cook, which was a definite bonus for me, and he didn’t care if I had Razor over to play video games. Plus, he was a deep thinker. At first I’d thought he was a little weird, which wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary considering he was Swedish. It felt like half the team consisted of Swedes these days, so I should know about how weird some of them could be. They tended to stick to themselves and not hang out with the rest of us, and I’d never met one who didn’t have some crazy habit like sleeping naked with the windows open in January. But Kally usually had some pretty insightful things to say—the sort of things that would fuck with your head. At least he did on those rare occasions when he decided to open his mouth and say something.

Since the three of us—Soupy, Kally, and me—were all headed the same place, we’d driven in for the morning skate together in Soupy’s SUV. When we were about halfway home, Kally turned around in his seat and looked at me with that intense stare he got when he was about to spout off something profound and life-altering and mind fucking.

“You could give her that good memory,” he said. Okay, so maybe he really was weird.

I had always known everyone could see straight through me, and Zee and Soupy had been giving me shit about my crush on Katie for over a year, but Kally hadn’t been around very long. How was it that he could already tell?

“Take her to her prom?” I shook my head. “Webs would kill me.”

“This isn’t about Webs. It’s about Katie.” Kally shifted even more in his seat, so much that he was practically in the back with me and had to be breaking the law sitting that way. “Hopefully she’ll be fine in a few months or a year, and she can make a lot more good memories—but she might not be fine. She deserves to have this one, and her dad will see that eventually. He’ll come around. But he can’t give it to her—that kind of memory. You can.”

“He’s right,” Soupy said, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to meet mine. “And she needs a reason to fight. She looks like she’s giving up.”

I knew Kally was right, at least some part of me did, and what Soupy said about her giving up made me feel physically ill. But still… “How the hell am I supposed to get Webs to let me take her to her prom?”

Soupy turned into our parking garage. “You listen to what Zee said. You do what you know is right even though you’re scared.”

“You never know how long you’ll have with her,” Kally said. He turned around in his seat, facing forward again. “Don’t put things off, because you might regret it someday.”

* * * *

Aaron Ludwiczak didn’t see the Colorado player cutting across the middle of the ice toward him, not even in the half-second before he got hit.

I didn’t notice who ran him over. All I could focus on was how hard Luddy’s head hit the ice when he dropped. The impact snapped his helmet off, and it went skidding across the ice in the opposite direction of his suddenly prone body.

“Fuck!” Scotty Thomas, our head coach, paced behind me on the bench while the trainers and medical staff headed out to check on Luddy.

The boys and I were all on our feet, trying to get a better look. After a minute, they had Luddy up on his knees and were helping him stand. That was a good sign—Luddy getting up—even if it wasn’t completely on his own. That meant at least they weren’t going to take him off on a stretcher. They’d had to do that with our starting goalie, Nicklas Ericsson, a few months back. Nicky had only returned from his concussion a couple of games ago. Not that you could tell anything about a concussion based on whether a stretcher was needed or not. And Luddy could still have one.

Hard to imagine that wasn’t the case when you saw the way he hit the ice. The arena crew kept replaying the impact on the Jumbotron overhead, making sure we wouldn’t be able to erase it from our memories.

The trainers brought him past the bench on the way to the tunnel, and he nodded at us. “Give ’em hell, boys.”

Eddie Masters, the head trainer, stopped right in front of me. His eyes were focused on Scotty behind me. “We’re taking him out of the game for concussion protocol. We’ll know more later.”

“Yeah. Right,” Scotty said. “Fuck.” He looked up and down the bench, and the two assistant coaches came over to him. “I don’t want to screw with Zee’s line. They’ve been working together too well lately.”

Good. That was my line. Zee, Soupy, and I had made up the second line for big stretches of the last two seasons. I was pretty sure all three of us liked it that way, too.

“What about moving Kally up to take Luddy’s place on the top line?” Hammer suggested. They’d had Kally skating on the third line this game, but he’d been all over the place while they tried to find a good fit for him, to find someone he could have chemistry with and get him scoring again…pretty much everywhere but the top line.

Scotty dragged a hand over his face. “He hasn’t scored a fucking goal since he got here.” He grabbed the clipboard from Hammer, scouring it with his eyes. You could almost see the way he was trying to piece together line combinations in his head.

“What better options do we have?” Hammer said. “At least for the rest of the game, and then we’ll see what happens with Luddy. Besides, he and RJ are familiar with each other.” RJ had taken over as the top-line center when they’d made the trade sending Sergei Ivanov and Pavel Spanov to the Islanders.

I didn’t know if those two, Kally and RJ, had played together much when they were with the Islanders—at least not since Kally had stopped scoring—but they’d at least watched each other a lot for the last few years. That could help with knowing what the other guy would do.

“Yeah. Fine.” Scotty didn’t look too thrilled, but he didn’t have much time to debate it right now—the ref was heading over to the bench to speed things along. “Kally, you’ll be with RJ and Eller now. Jonny, you’re moving up to Hank’s line. Let’s put this one away for Luddy.”

He gave Zee a nod, and so he, Soupy, and I headed out for the next face-off. We were up two to one halfway through the third. Keeping this Colorado team limited to a single goal was a pretty rare feat. They tended to score early and often, which was a good thing for them since they had problems on the defensive side of things.

We really ought to have scored more against them to this point, though, considering how leaky their defense could be. The less time that remained on the clock, the more desperate they were getting to score. Our one-goal lead wasn’t likely to hold up, but we needed to get the full two points for a regulation win tonight since we were tied with them in the playoff standings with less than a month remaining in the regular season.

The officials were set to drop the puck in our offensive zone, but Colorado had sent Zack Carson and his line out to take the face-off. Carson had owned Zee on the dot all night.

Zee motioned all of us over to him before we lined up, including Andrew Jensen and Keith Burns, our top two defensemen. “I have no chance of pulling it back. Not tonight. I’m going forward with it, straight for the net.”

“Right,” Soupy said. “So be ready for rebounds.”

“Exactly.”

We got into position, with me on Zee’s right and Soupy on his left. If I could get past the Colorado D, I would be the first player to the crease. They should be expecting me to go to the middle and try to help Zee fish the puck out with all the difficulties he’d been having tonight.

Even though I knew Zee planned to shoot it on the net, he could have fooled me. The way he was holding his stick, it looked like he had every intention of winning possession the traditional way and letting our D set up our attack. I tried not to grin and give anything away, but everyone knew I didn’t have a poker face.

I got lucky that the linesman didn’t mess around with dropping the puck—I didn’t have to try to keep a straight face for very long. Zee shot it forward just like he’d planned and confused the Colorado D. Soupy and I both got past our guys. I got to the side of the net just after their goaltender made a kick save. Too bad for him he kicked it out right onto the tape of my stick.

He was still sprawled on the ice from the save, so I roofed the puck. It went in just over the goalie’s glove and under the crossbar.

“That was a fucking beauty,” Soupy shouted at me over the dual roars of the crowd and the goal horn.

We all skated over to the bench and got fist bumps from the guys. Scotty gave us a nod so we stayed out for the next face-off.

Now Colorado was really pushing back. Their forwards were skilled, speedy, and determined even during their worst games, and tonight wasn’t anything close to that. For the next several minutes, we were barely keeping our heads above water. If not for Nicky making one ridiculous save after another, they would have easily tied the game and moved ahead of us.

They hadn’t, though, despite the fact that we were spending a hell of a lot more time in our own end than was good for us.

With only a couple of minutes left, RJ’s line managed to clear the puck out of the zone so they could get off for a line change. Scotty shouted for my line to replace them. I was halfway on the ice when Colorado sent the puck careening back in. It hit Kally’s skate. I had to hold myself dangling over the boards so we didn’t get called for having too many men on the ice.

He shot it back to the other end and got onto the bench, and I was able to drop down to my skates finally.

They didn’t waste any time retrieving the puck again and driving into our zone. As soon as they got set up, their goaltender headed for the bench so they could bring on an extra attacker. The way Colorado cycled the puck, it was like they were putting on a passing clinic. We couldn’t quite catch up to them. Every time we’d prevent a pass one direction, they’d find a seam going the other way.

A hard pass to the point. I dropped to block the shot, and it hit off my shin and bounced right back to their D. The point-man sent it to the half-wall, then to the other defenseman streaking in for a back door opportunity. Nicky made the stop, but he couldn’t control the rebound. Colorado retrieved it again and kept the pressure on.

We needed a whistle. Colorado kept cycling the puck, kept us chasing them for so long we were just trying to suck in air and not blow the game.

They sent the puck back to the other point. He passed it straight to the guy I was covering, who had his stick cocked for a one-timer. I squared up to block it, and this time it hit my skate. The puck sailed between both defenders and out of the zone.

They spun around to chase it, but I somehow found another gear despite my exhaustion. I beat them to it at center ice.

I took a swing.

The puck went in the net.

The Moda Center went berserk.

After that, with a three-goal lead, it was pretty much just a matter of running down the clock without giving them anything. My line headed back to the bench, and Hammer gave me a solid whack on the back of my helmet. “Nice work, Babs,” he said. “Fucking right.”

I was watching the action on the ice when Soupy elbowed me and pointed to a group of girls in the front row behind the penalty boxes. They were all wearing skimpy tops and looked so young I wondered why they didn’t have dads like Webs running guys off. Each of them held a sign up to the glass.

Be my prom date, Jamie.

Tiegan + Jamie = 4Eva.

My Goal: Make a Storm with Jamie Babcock.

There were probably half a dozen more than that, too. I’d started ignoring the signs about a week into my rookie season; they were only a distraction. The boys never let me off the hook about it, though. Soupy and Zee kept trying to get me to auction myself off as a prom date for charity or some shit like that.

“Fuck off,” I said to Soupy.

He laughed. “You could have your pick of them. I’m sure they’d all be thrilled to go to prom with you if you’d rather take one of them than Katie.”

There wasn’t a girl in the world I’d rather do anything with than Katie Weber, and he fucking knew it. Hell, apparently everyone knew it, judging by my earlier conversation with Kally. If they hadn’t known it before this morning when she’d had her dad shave her hair off and I could barely hold it together, they all knew it now. I hadn’t been able to look away, hadn’t been able to hide anything I’d felt while watching it.

No poker face.

The horn sounded, marking the end of the game.

I couldn’t get down the tunnel fast enough.

Maddie Shaw had latched on to me a few months ago when we first found out I was sick, and it didn’t look like that was going to change now, even though I looked like an alien. Granted, she had always been a little different than most other little girls, or most people I knew, for that matter, so I didn’t ever count on her reaction being what I should expect.

Maddie was Rachel Shaw’s eight-year-old daughter. Rachel and Soupy were engaged and living together these days, plus Rachel worked for the Storm’s GM, so I saw Maddie and her brother Tuck all the time—even more than usual now that I wasn’t in school. They both had this bright red hair and a lot of freckles just like their mom, but that was where the similarities between the two kids ended.

Tuck was a few years younger than his sister, but he reminded me a lot more of myself, at least when I wasn’t sick—full of energy, completely outgoing, and into everything and then some. As far as I could tell, the kid had never met a stranger, and he had a unique knack for getting everyone to like him.

Maddie was shy and quiet, though. She liked to stick to herself and read a book more than anything, or maybe talk with one or two people—but almost never kids her age. It was a lot more common for me to find her having a deep conversation with an adult than playing with another kid.

Maybe that was why she liked me—because even though I was technically still one of the kids in the Storm family, I was also one of the adults.

The last few weeks, I was gladder than ever that Maddie liked to hang out in a quiet corner. Chemo drained me, completely zapping all the life out of me. I didn’t always have the energy to even talk much, especially late in the day when most of the Storm’s games took place. By then, I was often talked out, and I could count on her to be off in a corner with a book and to welcome me in. But she always let be if I needed to just sit quietly.

That was what had happened tonight. When Mom and I had gotten up to the owner’s box for the game, Maddie had been in her usual spot—in the opposite corner from all the other kids and their noise—with her nose buried in a book. She’d smiled when I sat down next to her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that all my hair was gone and I had a stupid scarf covering my head to help keep it warm. “Want to share my blanket?” she’d asked.

I’d taken her up on the blanket. I was always cold these days, whether it was actually cold wherever I was or not.

That was exactly how we remained after the game, both of us cozy beneath the blanket, when I heard Jamie’s voice behind me. I’d been expecting Dad and the other guys who had families watching the game up here to arrive sometime soon, but I hadn’t been expecting Jamie. These days, he usually just headed straight for wherever the team was going for dinner along with the other single guys.

I couldn’t stop myself. I whipped my head around to stare at him. He’d paused to talk to the kids near the entrance, especially Tuck, who thought Jamie was the best thing since Candy Crush. He had on a suit with a skinny tie like the Swedish players all preferred. Liam Kallen’s fashion sense must be rubbing off on him now that they were living together. All the guys wore suits to and from their games—league dress code—but tonight Jamie hadn’t taken the time to dry or style his hair like he usually did before leaving. It was wet and slicked back, which somehow only made him more perfect in my eyes. Thank God he hadn’t shaved his hair off. I wouldn’t have been able to see him like this if he had, and that would have been a travesty.

I had to get myself together.

Maddie put down her book and spun her head in the same direction. “Mr. Jamie had a good game tonight.”

“Yeah, he did.” I forced myself to turn around in my seat and look at Maddie instead of gawking at Jamie like a stupid teenager. He had more than enough teenaged girls staring at him all the time. He didn’t need me to do it, too.

She was still looking over her shoulder at him, though. After a minute, she looked at me and grinned. “He’s coming to talk to you. I have to go tell Mommy something.” That was all the warning Maddie gave me. She got up from her seat, took her book, left me the blanket, and pranced away.

“Hi, Maddie. Bye, Maddie,” Jamie said behind me.

My heartbeat stuttered.

What was he doing? After what had happened in the locker room this morning, he must have lost his mind to even think about coming near me. Dad was already emotional, and these days he was on high alert with everything concerning me. It wasn’t like Jamie Babcock wanted anything more than just friendship, though—not that Dad would care about that. Still, it would be a lot better for Jamie to just stay away from me right now.

But he didn’t.

Jamie moved between me and the chair in front of me, smiling in that way that brought out his dimples and made me tingle everywhere. “Hi, Katie. Mind if I sit with you for a minute?”

I checked over my shoulder. A few more of the guys had made it upstairs now, but Dad still wasn’t among them. “I don’t know if that’s smart,” I said. “My dad—”

“He won’t be happy,” Jamie interrupted. “I know. I’d still like to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I agreed, mainly because I couldn’t tell him no. I wanted him to be next to me. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to let myself imagine he could feel for me even half of what I felt for him. I wanted so many things that would lead to Dad killing him. Maybe it was selfish of me to give in so easily, but I didn’t have it in me to stop myself right now. Who knew cancer made you selfish?

He sat down in the seat Maddie had just vacated. His arm brushed against mine, and I shivered.

“Are you cold?” He adjusted my blanket before I could answer, drawing it up close to my shoulders. His knuckles brushed against my chin, and he snapped his hand away like I’d scalded him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

I hated that he felt like he had to apologize for touching me, especially since he was just doing something nice. “It’s all right,” I said, unable to stop my smile. I was pretty sure I was blushing, too, and for a moment I wondered if my scalp would be all red like my cheeks when I blushed. “Dad didn’t see.”

“Yeah. Right.” Jamie chuckled. He leaned over in his seat, resting his forearms on his thighs with his hands together. Then he sat up suddenly. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what Kally said at lunch. About how you should go to your prom. He’s right.”

I shook my head, trying to keep my hot tears at bay. Enough with the stupid crying, already! I couldn’t go to prom. Not with my bald, alien head—whether I wore a scarf to cover it or not. The kids at school weren’t like Dad’s teammates, and they weren’t like Maddie Shaw. Teenagers could be unbelievably cruel. The second I walked in looking like this, I’d be mocked right back out the door, and I’d never live it down. I just wanted to hide away from them until I finished chemo and my hair grew back and I could pretend none of it had ever happened, and maybe even longer than that since they’d all forgotten I existed.

“Don’t say no. Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it. I’m thinking about how they’ll all laugh. How they’ll make fun of me because of my bald head. I’m thinking about how no one would want to go with me.” As soon as they’d heard the word cancer, all my supposed friends had turned all weird. They’d dropped me like it was contagious or something, like they could catch leukemia from spending time with me. Mom kept saying that it was just that they didn’t know how to be around me anymore, that they were scared and that teenagers just weren’t equipped to handle some things that life throws at you. I didn’t buy it. “I’m not going,” I said emphatically.

“I wouldn’t say no one would want to go with you.”

The look Jamie was giving me stole my breath and made my stomach flutter, but not like it always seemed to do lately when I was going to be sick. This was night and day from that—all crazy electricity and jangling nerves, kind of exciting instead of gross and sick feeling.

“Don’t tease me,” I said. I scrunched myself up in my seat, trying to put a little distance between us.

I wasn’t the only one who’d fallen head over heels for him pretty much the day he’d arrived in Portland. So had at least half the single girls here between the ages of ten and thirty.

He’d always been nice to me, but he was nice to everyone. If someone needed help, Jamie Babcock was the first person to notice it and do whatever was needed. Even when he’d been about to shave his head this morning, it was just because he was a nice guy.

I’d never really let myself believe anything would come from the friendship we had, even if I’d been daydreaming about him—and more than daydreaming—for two full hockey seasons now. “Don’t make me wish for things that aren’t ever going to happen. It’ll ruin my image of you.”

“I’m not teasing you. I want to take you to your prom.” He reached out as though to take my hand, but I looked at him like he was crazy and he pulled his back. “They won’t laugh if I’m with you.”

It didn’t sound like he was being arrogant. He was just stating a truth, and he was probably right. They wouldn’t make fun of me. They’d be jealous, which would be yet another reason for them to talk about me behind my back.

I shook my head. “If you really want to take some girl to prom, I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding a taker. You could have your pick of all those girls with the signs.”

“I don’t want to take some girl to prom. I don’t want to take one of the girls with the signs. I don’t want to auction myself off for charity to be some lovesick girl’s prom date. I want to take you.”

“But…why?” came out of my mouth before I could think better of it. Because I might very well be one of those lovesick girls he was talking about, even if I didn’t bring signs to the games. And if he took me to my prom, you can bet it would feel to me like he was just doing it because he’s a good guy.

“You’re kidding, right?” He looked out at the arena where only workers remained, cleaning up the mess left behind by the crowd. He was blushing, which I’d always adored about him. Most guys his age wouldn’t blush. But Jamie wasn’t most guys. “You’ve got to be the only person on the planet who can’t see straight through me if you really don’t know the answer to that question.”

He couldn’t mean that he liked me. I mean, yeah, he had always been really nice to me and hung out with me at team events, but that was just who he was. He had latched on to Tuck and Maddie, too, once they’d moved in across the hall from him. The way he treated me couldn’t mean anything…could it?

But why would he tease me about something like that?

My pulse was roaring through my head and these crazy, jittery tingles kept racing around in my chest and belly, and I couldn’t force a single word past my lips without fear that I’d make an absolute fool of myself. I could only stare at him and wish that he’d look at me again.

“Will you go with me?” he said finally. When he faced me, his blue eyes were so dark they were like the midnight sky, and he looked just as sick and anxious as he had when he’d watched Dad shaving my head. “Will you let me take you to your prom?”

“I…” My whole body shook so hard that even my lips trembled. I pressed them tightly together, trying to rein in my response.

That was when he touched my cheek with the back of his hand. I half gasped, half sighed and turned my head in toward his touch, seeking more like a greedy cat.

Of course, that was also the moment when my dad walked into the owner’s box. Jamie’s gaze lifted over me to the doorway, but he didn’t take his hand away.

“I’m going to murder that dipshit,” Dad said, but somehow his voice was growing distant, like he was moving farther away from us instead of coming closer.

Jamie’s lips quirked up on one side. “Zee and Soupy hauled him out of here. Looks like they were waiting on him to come in like that. I don’t know how much longer we have before he comes back to finish me off.” He laughed. How could he laugh about something like that? “So will you? Let me take you?”

“But my dad…” No matter how tempting it was to forget reason and agree to go to prom with Jamie, I knew it was nothing more than a dream. There was no chance my father would ever agree to let one of his teammates take me out, whether it was to my prom or anything else. That would be an absolute nonstarter.

Jamie moved his hand, and his fingers dipped beneath the edge of my scarf. I wanted to pull away, but the look in his eye held me in place while he used nothing more than his fingertips to caress my newly bald scalp. “I’ll deal with your dad. Let me worry about that.”

Maybe having no hair made my skin more sensitive, or maybe it was the effects of the chemo—I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that my whole body was zinging with awareness from the way his fingertips were dancing over the skin an inch or two above my ear.

I’d dated a few boys before. I’d been kissed and touched in various ways, and it had all been exciting and wonderful and new, but this was so different. The way he was touching me was so much more intimate, and I felt more vulnerable and scared and raw than I could ever remember feeling in my life, but I didn’t want it to end. Because it was perfect.

It made me wish I wasn’t sick, that I was whole and alive and vibrant like I used to be.

I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me because everything I’d said about not wanting to be the bald girl at prom was still a massive deterrent to going, and I had a very real fear that my father would do actual physical harm to Jamie, but I said, “Okay. Yes. I’ll go with you.”

He smiled, one of those amazing, shy smiles he had that made his dimples come to attention and left me wanting to kiss him. “Good. Now I’d better go deal with Webs before he hurts one of the boys.”

I took his hand when he pulled it away from my head, holding it in mine for just a second. “Don’t…don’t let him hurt you, either.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, squeezing my hand and sending a flood of warmth through to every nerve ending I had.

Before I could come up with a reasonable argument to convince him to leave by escaping through a back alley or some other means where he wouldn’t have to go near my father, Jamie let go of my hand, winked at me, and was gone.

Mom came over almost instantly, like she’d been watching and waiting for Jamie to leave. “Do you want to tell me what that was about, or would you rather keep it to yourself?”

“Prom,” I said.

That damn wetness popped back into her eyes, and she said, “Oh,” all soft and touched and mom-like while she tried to blink the tears back.

“Don’t let Dad hurt him,” I begged. “Please.”

Mom nodded and steeled her spine. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Just like that, her eyes were focused and she looked like Super Mom, ready to set the world right, at least for today.

I felt sorry for anyone who didn’t have a mom like mine.

Heck, I felt sorry for anyone who didn’t have a dad like mine, too.

They might drive me crazy sometimes, but it was only because they loved me.

“I asked Katie to let me take her to her prom. That’s all.”

Webs hadn’t stopped glaring at me since I found where Zee and Soupy had dragged him. For now, he was just sitting on a bench in the concourse. That meant he wasn’t trying to close the distance between us so he could wring my neck or rip my head off my shoulders or any of the much more horrifying things involving certain parts of my anatomy I’d been imagining ever since Kally had put the idea of taking Katie to prom in my head this afternoon.

I didn’t expect he would stay there very long. Not with the energy vibrating off him like it was. You could almost see it pinging through the air around him.

Zee was sitting next to him, and Soupy was standing off to the side—by all appearances, both of them ready to hold him back if needed. I didn’t attempt to delude myself that they were doing it for my sake. It was for Katie, just like my somehow finding the balls to ask her and then coming here to talk to Webs about it was for Katie.

It was like Jim Sutter, our GM, was always saying: the Portland Storm wasn’t just a team and a business. We were a family, and we took care of our own. It was my turn to do some of that taking care of our own bit.

“I don’t give a fuck what you asked her,” Webs growled at me. “She’s my little girl, and you’re going to stay the fuck away from her and keep your hands to yourself.”

“No, he’s not. Not this time, Dave.”

I would know Laura Weber’s voice anywhere. It was so much like Katie’s, smooth and warm, but a little older and more careworn. I turned my head to see her marching straight for us, looking more determined than I’d seen her look about anything since Katie’s diagnosis. She’d always been a force to be reckoned with, as long as I’d known her, but it was like she’d forgotten all of that when Katie had gotten sick. They’d all been losing a bit of their fight lately, the whole Weber family.

“She’s still in high school,” Webs shot back at her. “I’m not letting one of my fucking teammates, who’s a grown-ass man, anywhere near my little girl.”

“And she’s got cancer.” Laura didn’t stop until she was standing between me and Webs, like she could somehow stop him from killing me just by standing between us. She planted her hands on her hips and stared at her husband while I tried to maneuver myself around her. There was no chance in hell I was going to let Katie’s mom be a shield for me. She glanced at me but then returned her focus to her husband. “Cancer trumps your illogical need to keep her under lock and key until she’s past her child-bearing years.”

“The fact that she’s sick is one more reason she’s not going. She needs to stay home. She needs rest.”

“All she does is rest!” Laura practically shouted at him. “She can rest the whole day leading up to prom so she’s got the energy to go. But she’s going. And Babs is taking her. And that’s all there is to it because what she needs to do more than anything else is live—really live and not just survive like she’s been doing the last few months.”

It was almost as though she’d kicked me right in the nuts with that one. There was something in the way she’d said it, something that made it seem possible that if Katie didn’t really start living again, then maybe she wouldn’t survive it at all.

That’s the thing with cancer, in my limited experience. It doesn’t matter what the doctors say about your chances. If you give it the finger and keep going with your life, you have a hell of a better likelihood of kicking its ass than if you just give everything up and count on drugs and therapies and all that bullshit to fight it for you. At least it had always seemed that way to me, but I’d never had cancer before. I’d only watched my aunt go through it a few years ago—and I’d watched her lose. She’d shut herself off like Katie had once they’d started pumping the drugs into her, and it had eaten all the life out of her eyes until one day there’d been nothing left. She’d given up, and it had taken her away from my uncle and my cousins and my mom.

I couldn’t handle seeing that happen to Katie. I wasn’t ready to let her go.

It seemed like Laura’s words had hit Webs just like they’d hit me. He looked as nauseated as I felt.

She moved a few steps closer to his bench and sat down next to him. “She has to remember that she’s still alive. She has to remember what she’s living for or we’re going to lose her. This whole ordeal has just proven that, no matter how much we may want to, we can’t protect her from life.”

“I don’t want to protect her from life,” Webs grumbled. “I want to protect her from dipshits like him—”

“He’s not going to hurt her, Dave, and you’re seriously deluding yourself if you for one second believe otherwise.”

I was a lot more afraid that I was going to be the one to get hurt in all of this—that I would end up with a broken heart. Someday, when Katie was healthy again and ready to get back to her life as it should be, she would move on. She’d probably head to LA or New York, somewhere she could pursue an acting or singing career. It was what she’d been dreaming of as long as I’d known her. I’d have to let her go, even though it would probably rip me to shreds. It would be worth it, though, getting hurt in the end. At least it would if it meant giving Katie something—anything—she could hold on to.

If it meant getting to hold her at least for one night.

“I don’t like it,” he said, looking straight through me.

“None of us likes it,” Laura said. “It makes us feel helpless because we can’t do anything. But for once, try to imagine what it’s like for Katie.”

I had to wait a long time for Webs to respond.

* * * *

We had several games on the road after that, so I didn’t get the chance to see or talk to Katie for over a week. I got to see Webs a whole lot more than I might have liked, since he was still more than happy to glare at me and tell me all the horrible and painful things he’d do to me if I did hurt her in any way.

I’d do anything to keep her from getting hurt, though.

Once we got back, I was really glad I’d taken Zee’s advice last season and bought a tux. He’d told me there would be black-tie dinners, an annual Casino Night, and God only knew what else that I’d need one for during my pro career, and it just made more sense to have one of my own instead of wasting time trying to rent one. When you considered the fact that most hockey players needed custom-made pants anyway because we tend to have big thighs and asses, it really seemed stupid to rent.

Even still, I’d had to get some adjustments made to mine before Casino Night about a month ago. Everyone had warned me to get one with extra allowance for alterations because I probably wasn’t finished growing. They’d been right. I’d added a couple more inches in height and about fifteen pounds of muscle since I got drafted the summer I was eighteen.

My tux still fit me now, though. My body hadn’t changed too much since Casino Night. I adjusted the cummerbund and bow tie, looking myself over in the mirror. Fuck. I should have gotten a haircut, at least. It was a lot shaggier than it should be, and my faux hawk probably wasn’t the best choice for an event like this, but there hadn’t been time for that once we’d landed at PDX. I’d just had time to get home, eat something, and get dressed.

I rubbed some product between my hands and tried to get my hair to settle down—without much luck. Yeah, I really should’ve worked in time for a cut. If I was going almost anywhere else, I could toss a ball cap over it and pretend there wasn’t a problem. Not tonight.

After a minute, I gave up trying to get it to lie flat or even to stop poking up in random ways. There wasn’t much point.

I headed to the living room. Kally came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. He looked me over and nodded.

“You’re doing a good thing,” he said. “Katie’s really lucky to have you.”

He had it all wrong, though. I was lucky to have her. I tried to shrug off all the jumbles of things racing through me. At least for tonight, I had to keep it together.

“Got big plans for tonight?” I asked him. In the few weeks since Kally had arrived in Portland, there hadn’t been too many times that he and I weren’t doing something together on a night off. I’d been trying to help him get to know the area, to make sure he wasn’t alone too much. It had to be tough, being the new guy on a team that had been together all season.

He shook his head. “Not really. I think I’m just going to drive around and see the city. I haven’t had much opportunity for that.”

“Yeah. Well, if you get bored, call Burnzie,” I said. Keith Burns didn’t believe in boredom. He always had something going on. Granted, probably not the sorts of things that would interest Kally, but still. I hated to see the guy alone, knowing what I did about how his wife died. It had been all over the news—the mainstream news, too, not just the hockey news. She’d had a flat tire on the highway and had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler while she was trying to change it.

He’d been gone with the team on a road trip. I hadn’t ever talked to him about it. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or if it would be stupid or rude of me to try to get him to talk. But everyone knew.

“I doubt I’ll need to do that,” Kally said, grinning.

I could never tell if his smiles were real or if he was just trying to pretend he was okay.  How long does it take to get over something like that? I hoped I didn’t have to learn anytime soon. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Get out of here. Go get Katie, and don’t worry about me.” He swallowed a big swig of water. “I can look after myself.”

I didn’t have time to argue with him unless I wanted to be late picking up Katie. Considering all the threats Webs had issued lately, I didn’t think that would be a good idea.

I pulled into their driveway about five minutes early.

Luke Weber—Katie’s younger brother—opened the door. “You’d better come in and help or you’ll never get out of here. Mom’s fussing over her.”

As soon as I stepped into the foyer, I could hear the commotion.

“This one looks so pretty with the color of the dress, though,” Laura said.

“But it’s flannel,” Dani Weber—the youngest of the Weber siblings—said. You could almost hear a horrified shudder in her voice.

“Exactly. It’s flannel,” Laura countered. “Which will keep her head warm.”

“I’m not wearing a flannel scarf with this dress.”

“You could just stay home and not have to worry about what scarf to wear,” Webs put in hopefully.

“She’s going,” Laura and Dani said at the same time.

“Not in a scarf that doesn’t look right,” Katie said. “I’d rather go with nothing on my head at all.”

“But you’ll get cold,” Laura argued.

Luke glanced over at me, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline almost comically. “See what I mean?”

He led me into the living room, where dozens of scarves of every color and fabric imaginable were draped over all the furniture. Laura must have started shopping for them the same day they got the diagnosis. Katie stood in the middle of the mess wearing an ice-blue dress that made her look like a princess. She even had on gloves, those long satiny ones that went up higher than her elbows. It was like she’d stepped right out of a fairy tale.

She looked up and saw me then. And she smiled.

My tongue got thick and dry. No one had caused that sort of reaction in me in a long time—no one but Katie. I cleared my throat. “You look beautiful.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, and she blushed. “Do you mind? If I don’t wear a scarf tonight? I haven’t found a wig I like yet, and I just…” Her eyes fell down to the flannel scarf in her hand.

“I don’t mind whatever you do. You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

Webs shot me a go-to-hell look and grunted, and I was sure he was about to spout off another threat, but Laura’s eyes turned soft and misty before he could. “But if you get cold…” she said.

“We’ll take a scarf with us,” I said, and I felt the weight of Katie’s gaze fall on me. “And a sweater. Just in case.” She had those gloves going up her arms, but her shoulders were bare. I didn’t know how warm that dress was, but it didn’t look anywhere close to as warm as my tux, and it was cool out tonight.

Katie nodded. “Just in case.”

After a little more hemming and hawing, Laura finally relented and agreed to let us go as long as we took a warm scarf and sweater with us. I draped them both over my arm to carry them for Katie, and she picked up a small, white evening bag. I reached for her hand, but Webs cut between us and put a hand at the small of Katie’s back.

He lifted a brow at me in challenge.

I turned tail and headed for the door. The sooner I could get her away from his prying eyes, the better. Part of me wondered if Webs had gotten them to install video cameras at the school gym so he could spy on us from home. I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Wait!” Laura practically shouted behind us. “Pictures. I need to have pictures.”

“They’re already late enough,” Webs said, but he turned around. “They’ll have a photographer at the prom, won’t they?”

“Have you seen the kinds of pictures those photographers take?” Laura countered.

“It’ll be fine, Mom,” Katie said. “You’ve got the pictures from last year anyway. And we’ll make sure they take good ones. Won’t we?” She looked at me when she asked that last bit.

I nodded. “Absolutely.” Not that I had a clue how I could make sure of something like that, but I had seen Laura Weber staging photo shoots before at team events—ordering people around like a drill sergeant. If I let her stop us now, we’d be here for another hour. Maybe longer.

She scowled, but she let us go.

When we got to my car, I opened the passenger door for Katie. Webs helped her in and shut the door before spinning around on me.

I had my free hand up in self-defense without thinking. “I swear I’m not going to—”

“Shut up, Babs,” he interrupted.

I dropped my hand to my side, readjusting my grip on Katie’s sweater and scarf. “Sorry.”

“I just wanted to thank you. For this.” Webs waved his hand haphazardly, encompassing everything around us. “And to say I’m sorry I’ve been an ass. I just don’t know—” He cut himself off just as suddenly as he’d cut me off, and he blinked hard a couple of times. “I just needed someone to blame. Someone to take it out on. And I used you for that, even though it wasn’t fair.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” It might suck for me, but it made me really glad Katie had a dad who cared enough to be like that. That’s how families are supposed to be.

“I do,” Webs said. “And I really do appreciate what you’re doing for my little girl, but if she isn’t inside my house by midnight, all my previous threats are back in play.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from laughing. Moments like this, I was never sure if he was joking around with me or being serious. I figured it was somewhere in the middle. “Yes, sir. I’ll have her back.”

“You’d better. And if you fucking call me sir again…” Webs headed back toward the house without finishing his thought. “Take my little girl to her prom, Babs. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

I headed around to the driver’s side and got in with an uncontrollable smile on my face. I set her scarf and sweater down on the center console.

Katie put her hand on my forearm as I put the key in the ignition. “Was he horrible? Please tell me he wasn’t awful to you.”

I turned the key, and the engine purred. I might have been purring, too, because she was touching me. Shit, I was a mess. “He wasn’t awful. He just loves you,” I said finally. I almost said something crazy like Just like I love you, but I stopped myself. I didn’t even know if I loved her. I knew I liked her a lot—more than I should, considering she was Webs’s daughter. But tonight wasn’t about me spilling my guts and making her feel like she needed to reciprocate. Tonight was about giving Katie a night where she could be a princess. “But we’d better not be late getting you home. I don’t want him to turn my car into a pumpkin.” Or me, for that matter.

I’d never imagined I would think the school gym looked pretty, but that was exactly the right word to describe it.

The prom committee had strung tons of white Christmas lights from a disco ball in the center out to every corner of the enormous space, like a canopy of fairy lights hanging above us. Ribbons of red and white—our school colors—had been woven through them. They drifted down to flutter over our heads. The typical folding tables you’d expect to find had been covered with delicate tablecloths, and each of them had some sort of centerpiece—a flower arrangement, candles and mirrors, those sorts of things. Even the chairs had been draped with cloth covers, so they fit the decorative scheme.

I held Jamie’s hand tightly to steady myself and let my head fall back to take it all in as soon as we got inside. I wobbled slightly, dizzy from tilting my head back so far.

He gently tugged me closer to him, lending me more of his strength. “I’ve never seen a school gym decked out like this before,” he said.

“Never? Not even at your own prom?”

“I didn’t get to go to my prom.” Jamie shrugged and flashed a dimpled grin in my direction. “We were playing in the Memorial Cup while it was going on.”

“Oh, yeah.”

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that he probably would have missed out on his prom, among countless other things when he’d been in high school—things I took for granted. He’d played for the Windsor Spitfires in major junior hockey, so he hadn’t even lived with his family for his last couple of years of school. He’d lived with a billet family.

My dad may be a professional athlete and so I had a lot of privileges that other kids hadn’t, but for the most part, Mom and Dad had made sure our lives were as normal as possible. Even now, most people Jamie’s age were off in college trying to figure out who they wanted to be when they grew up. He was already living it.

“Do you ever feel like you’re missing out?” I asked. “Do you wish you’d done things a different way?”

“Sometimes.” Jamie put his arm around my back, supporting me more than he could by just holding my hand.

I got goose bumps everywhere he touched me. It was like an electrical current was flowing to each point of contact, leaving me hyperaware. He met my gaze and held it so long I had to fight off a head-to-toe shiver.

“But then I remember,” he said, “that I’m experiencing things most other people never will, so I should be grateful for what I have. And then I remember that if not for the path I chose, I wouldn’t know you right now. I would hate that.”

He made it sound like knowing me could make his decisions worthwhile. Like I really mattered to him. I hadn’t felt like I mattered to anyone but my family in months. My heart thundered so loud he must’ve been able to hear it.

I bit my lower lip. “Should we go get pictures taken now, do you think? So we don’t forget and my mom doesn’t kill us?” I needed to redirect my thoughts—to do something so I could stop myself from wishing for more than what Jamie was really offering. Wishing for anything, really.

“If you want. I’ll do anything you want me to do tonight, Katie.”

He sounded so serious and earnest. There he went, being completely perfect again. It seemed like I was destined for a huge letdown at some point because I kept building his pedestal higher and higher in the sky, so high he would surely have to fall from it somewhere down the line.

But not right now. Right now, at least for tonight, he could be perfect.

“Then let’s do that before I change my mind and don’t want permanent reminders of how I look.” Getting pictures taken as an alien princess might not be my brightest move ever.

The photographer was set up in the opposite corner from where we’d entered the gym. As we walked over to him, I felt stares following us each step of the way.

I couldn’t make myself look at them. It would hurt too much to see their pity or disgust at my bald head, or their shock to see me at prom, or their jealousy that someone like Jamie would be here with someone who looked like I did right now. I didn’t want to feel any of the emotions those things would call to the surface. Not tonight. So I stared straight ahead at our destination, not letting my eyes wander even the tiniest bit.

There were a few couples ahead of us in line when we arrived at the photo station. I watched the photographer work, but all the while I kept reveling in the corded muscles in Jamie’s arm as he held me close to him. He made me feel safe and secure, just like my dad always had, but it was different, too. None of the boys I’d ever dated had made me feel that way—like he could fight off anything in the world that might hurt me.

They couldn’t fight off everything, though—Jamie and Dad. They couldn’t fight off leukemia. The drugs and doctors had to do that. And me. Somehow, I had to find the strength within me to fight back, and the courage, too, even though all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry some days. Even though sometimes I just wanted it all to end. I had to figure out how to kick cancer’s ass even though I didn’t feel strong enough to kick a fly’s ass right now. He was making me want to find that strength, though. I let myself lean on Jamie a little more than I had been, let him take a bit more of the burden of my weight.

Parker Jones and Sasha Marino were up first—the quarterback of the football team and one of the cheerleaders. The photographer and his assistant had them pose under a flower-lined arch, with Parker standing behind and just to the side of Sasha, putting his hands on her hips. It looked as completely forced and unnatural as it possibly could. I’d seen dozens of good pictures of those two over the years—they were completely photogenic—but something told me these would not be among their better shots. They definitely wouldn’t be going on the keeper shelf. The photographer worked them through a series of three other poses, each as awful as the last, before they were done.

When Parker and Sasha walked past us, I realized I was still staring at them. Sasha caught my eye. She smiled, but her eyes kept moving back to the top of my head. I bit down on my tongue so I wouldn’t say anything I might regret. I’d known before I’d ever agreed to come here that these were the types of reactions I would get. Expecting something and experiencing it were two very different things, though.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jamie said quietly in my ear once they were gone. “They’ll get over it. If they don’t move on, then they don’t matter.”

“I’m not worried about them.”

“You are. You’re all tense.” He slid his hand up my back to my shoulder and kneaded, his hands touching my bare skin and making me shiver. “I don’t want you to worry about anything tonight.”

Right. No worrying. That was easy for him to say. Not so easy for me to do. I took a breath and tried to relax into him while we watched the photographer pose the next three couples in the exact same horrible poses he’d put Parker and Sasha in.

“I don’t want to do those poses,” I said to Jamie when the couple in front of us was finishing up. It was bad enough that I was going to be an alien in my prom pictures. I didn’t want this guy’s bad staging to make them even worse than they already would be.

“Okay. Then we won’t do his poses.”

A moment later, the photographer called us over and positioned us beneath the archway. Like everyone else, he kept staring at my head. I was starting to wish I’d given in and worn the scarf as Mom insisted, but more because I hated how they were staring at my head than because of being cold. He looked up at Jamie. “If you’ll stand just behind her like—”

“We’re going to do our own poses, actually,” Jamie interrupted him.

“But, I…” He trailed off when Jamie turned me around to face him, wrapped both his arms around me, and enfolded me in a hug. “Right,” the photographer said. “You’re right, that’s better. Just…here.” He adjusted my arms so I was holding on to Jamie’s rib cage and tilted my head so I was looking toward the camera, my cheek resting on Jamie’s chest. “That’s it. On three…two…one.”

As the camera bulbs flashed, I felt Jamie’s lips press down on the top of my head. My pulse came to a standstill and then jolted back to life. What was he doing? Why would he kiss me like that? No one had kissed me like that other than Daddy, right after he’d shaved my head—not in as long as I could remember.

“Beautiful. Stay right there,” the photographer said. I forced myself not to snap my head back and question Jamie, and the bulbs lit up again. After a few shots, the photographer urged us to try something else.

Jamie tipped my chin up so I could look into his eyes. “Hold on around my neck.”

I had to stretch up on my tiptoes to reach him that way. While I did that, my breathing going haywire, he dropped his head down so that our foreheads were touching and the end of his nose brushed the end of mine.

It was too perfectly sweet and intimate. I couldn’t take it. The way he was looking at me, I felt like I was naked—not just my head, but all over—and he could see every part of me. Surely the camera must see it, too. I turned my eyes away, desperate to find a way to protect my heart from shattering like glass.

“No. No, look at him,” the photographer said. “Just like you were a second ago. It was perfect.”

It was perfect, which was why I couldn’t keep doing it without falling apart.

“Just for a minute,” Jamie said quietly.

I raised my gaze up to meet his again, mainly because he’d asked me to, but the sting of tears pressed at the backs of my eyes. He had a tear in his eye, too. The realization of that left me weak-kneed, and only Jamie’s strong arms holding on to me kept me upright.

The photographer snapped a few shots, and then he asked for one more pose. I didn’t want to do another pose. I wanted to walk away from there and not look back. Because even if the camera wasn’t seeing the most hidden, private parts of me, I knew that Jamie was—parts that had been buried so deep that I wasn’t even sure if I’d seen them before myself. The parts where all my fears had been hiding. The parts that weren’t ready to die yet. The parts that still had some hope.

And that was terrifying. I didn’t want to be so vulnerable. So exposed.

I tried to let him go because I needed to walk away and pull myself together again, but Jamie lifted me into his arms before I could. I sucked in a breath, my jaw hanging slack. I put one arm across his shoulders for balance, but I didn’t need to. Jamie wouldn’t drop me. He would never let me get hurt if he could help it—I could feel that in the gentleness of his touch and see it in the concern drawing his eyebrows together.

He sat on the gym floor, keeping me in his arms and positioning me on his lap.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want,” the photographer said. He directed his assistant over to adjust my legs, wrapping them so that they curled around. She fidgeted with the way the skirt of my gown draped over them before giving a satisfied nod.

When she moved out of the shot, sniffling and brushing away tears of her own, Jamie said, “I want to kiss you.”

I must have misheard him. My whole body trembled, and I shook my head. “What?”

His gaze traveled over my whole face—my eyes, my cheeks, my lips—as though he was memorizing every detail and etching them on to the surface of his mind. “Can I kiss you?”

“I—” I couldn’t breathe for needing to let my tears loose, but I could never tell him no over something I’d been dreaming of for so long. “Yes,” I whispered.

His lips pressed to mine, soft and tender, and the dam holding back my tears burst just as the camera’s flash lit us up. He cupped my cheeks with both hands and used his thumbs to brush away the wetness on my cheeks. Gently, so very gently, he moved his lips over mine. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t even slow the tears because I was too filled with emotions. They were of every variety, all filtering through me at such a rapid pace I couldn’t even hope to keep up: joy, fear, hope, longing. My sobs kept coming, uncontainable and impossible to explain with words.

Our kiss tasted like cinnamon breath mints and the salt of my tears.

My eyes fluttered open when he broke away from me. His were so blue, so intense, so deep as he stared back at me, still caressing my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Do I need to apologize?” he asked, his voice cracking on the words.

My gut clenched at the thought of him apologizing for making me feel so incredibly safe and protected and loved. “No. Please don’t.”

Jamie nodded. He kissed me again, on the forehead this time, and I heard the shutter of the camera once more.

A boy whose face I recognized but whose name I couldn’t remember stood over us, holding out a stack of tissues for me. I took them from him and wiped my eyes. “Thank you,” I said, but my voice was all stuffy and watery.

He kept his hand out and reached for mine. “I can help you up, Katie.”

When I was on my feet again, Jamie stood next to me and put his arm around my waist. He turned us, and in the area where the line waiting for the photographer had been, there was now a massive crowd—probably at least a hundred students, many of whom had been my good friends—all of them staring. Or I thought they had been my friends. Maybe they still were. Half of them were crying just as hard as I had been.

My breath caught, and I couldn’t make my legs move. I leaned back into Jamie’s chest.

“Are you all right?” he asked me, his voice soft and sure by my ear.

I nodded.

“I’m right here with you,” he said, and he guided me toward this sea of faces I’d written out of my life.

Before I could process anything that had just happened, I got sucked into the sobbing whirlwind of people I’d thought had written me off as dead. Some reached for me to hold my hand as I passed. Others drew me in for a hug.

“We’ve missed you, Katie,” they said.

They’d missed me? If they’d missed me, why hadn’t they made any effort to see me? To support me when I might be dying? Why had they all been avoiding me like I had the plague? Maybe Mom had been right after all and they just didn’t know how to deal. Maybe they were just as scared as I was.

A few kept saying, “You’re so brave.”

I didn’t feel brave. I had felt terrified every single day since the doctor told me I had cancer, and my fear only seemed to grow by the minute. Even now, I wouldn’t be here at all if not for Jamie—if not for him asking to bring me here, for him holding on to me and lending me his strength. I would be hiding out in my house and letting that fear take root in my mind. Letting it suck all the hope out of me until I wanted to give in.

It took nearly ten minutes for us to get through the throng and back into the main part of the gym, where they had the dance floor and tables and chairs.

Jamie must have sensed my exhaustion because he guided me to a chair and held it out for me. “Let’s sit for a minute.” He said it in a way that made it seem like he was just as tired as I was, but anyone with two eyes could see he was fine. He sat in the chair next to me and took my hand. “You are, you know. Brave,” he added when I gave him a questioning look. “So brave.”

He made me want to be brave.

I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off Katie the whole night, not even when some of the guys from her school sat down and wanted advice on becoming a pro in their sports or when the girls came over and begged me to sign their arms or…well, some specific other places I had no intention of signing. The girls flirted and tried to get me to dance, but I was only here for Katie. I didn’t want to be rude to them, but I really wasn’t interested in anything they had to offer.

I didn’t mind the requests for autographs so much. I’d gotten used to that by now. Everywhere I went someone wanted a piece of me. It was just the other pieces of me they wanted that got to me. It took some work on my part, but eventually, the overzealous girls backed off.

Every time one of the guys cut in for a dance with Katie, or one of the girls came to catch up with her, she seemed even more bewildered by the attention than she had when I’d kissed her. She’d been so sure that none of them cared about her anymore, when the truth was probably just that they didn’t know how to tell her and show her. So often, cancer seems like a death sentence. How was someone our age supposed to react when we found out one of our own was in a battle like that? It just takes some time to adjust, I supposed. God knew I’d needed it.

I still wasn’t sure what had come over me when we had gotten our pictures taken. I just knew that Katie had given a piece of herself in that moment, not only to me but to everyone who had been watching, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself from kissing her. No—I could have stopped if she’d wanted me to. I just didn’t want to stop, and she didn’t ask. I wanted to hold her close and make her feel loved.

She’d laid herself bare in front of all of us, and the photographer had captured the moment. Katie had been crying a lot lately, but these were a different kind of tears. It wasn’t just her fears and sadness keeping her locked up tight; it was so much more. Like everything under the moon that a person could feel had all crashed into her at once and it was too much for her to keep inside any longer. I’d never witnessed anything more beautiful, so I could only imagine what the images would look like.

The thought had never crossed my mind that I might start to fall in love with her when I’d asked her to go to her prom with me. I had just wanted to see her come back to life. Well, she had, and now I was pretty much royally fucked. Getting Webs to let me take her to prom was one thing; getting him to let me really go out with her was something else entirely.

I was setting myself up for a huge heartbreak. I knew it. There just didn’t seem to be any way to stop it from happening now. Maybe it was better not to try. Maybe I needed to feel that heartbreak so I could appreciate these moments—seeing her laughing and living—all the more.

The band finished their song, and the guy who’d most recently asked Katie to dance brought her over to me. Her smile was as bright as the twinkling lights overhead, but her cheeks were too flushed and her eyes were more sunken in than they had been only a short while ago. She was wearing out fast.

“Thanks, Shawn,” she said, her voice winded, as she sat in the empty chair beside me.

He winked at her and nodded at me. “Any time, Katie.” He gave an awkward wave and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

I took her hand in mine. “Why don’t we sit this one out?” I didn’t want her to get so tired that she couldn’t enjoy everything she wanted to experience tonight. She needed to pace herself.

She nodded. “That’s probably best. I think they’re about to announce the king and queen, anyway. Then they’ll have their coronation dance. We should have a little while to get some rest in.” Her eyes moved to the stage where a few of the teachers were gathering and taking over the use of the microphone from the band.

At least she wasn’t going to try to convince me she wasn’t tired.

I pushed a plate of fresh fruit in front of her and followed it with a glass of water. She dug in with no further prodding.

After a few bites, she said, “You should have some, too.”

I shook my head. “I’ve already had plenty. I’m fine.” Besides, as long as she was okay, I was okay.

A woman called for everyone’s attention in the microphone. Once it got quiet, she turned it over to the senior-class president, a girl in a hot pink dress who I recognized as one of the first to talk to Katie tonight.

“As pretty much everyone should know, we had a last-minute revote on the prom king and queen.” She took out an envelope and slid her finger under the flap, then pulled out a single card. “The results for both king and queen are unanimous on this revote. For the first time ever, we have no prom king.”

A half-eaten strawberry fell from Katie’s hand and back to the plate. She shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said only loud enough for me to hear.

I thought I might understand, though, and if I was right it made me gladder than ever that I’d worked up the guts to ask her to come with me. But I just shrugged and shook my head, and I kept my attention focused on the stage.

“Now, as to the prom queen…”

The class president gave the band a nod, and they started playing again—the familiar strains of Bruno Mars’s “Just the Way You Are.” A few other students jumped up on the stage, and they all started dancing. I recognized a couple of them as members of Katie’s Glee Club, and that was when I knew I was right.

Katie laughed, her eyes lighting up.

By the time the lead singer started singing, the crowd had parted and joined in the dancing, too.

“A flash mob?” Katie shouted at me in disbelief, her voice barely audible over the music. “Who are they mobbing? God, I would have loved to be part of this.”

But she was about to be. She just hadn’t accepted that someone could have done something like that for her…yet.

Sure enough, the lead dancers who’d joined the class president on stage jumped down to the dance floor as part of the routine, and the five of them danced their way through the path that had opened up in the crowd.

When the chorus kicked in, every single person in the gym—students and teachers alike—was singing along and pointing right at Katie. Her jaw dropped when she realized what they were doing. Fresh tears filled her eyes.

I put my hand on her back and leaned close. “Take it all in. Every moment of this.”

After the second verse and chorus, the lead singer had joined everyone else on the dance floor. He took the microphone to the class president, and the band dropped their volume down and went into a holding pattern of sorts.

“We love you, Katie,” the class president said over the music. “We all miss you, and we want you to know that we’re all behind you—every single person here, students and teachers alike. You’re not in this battle alone, and when you don’t have the strength left, we’re going to fight even harder. The Glee Club put this together for you with Mr. Jenkins’s help, and we unanimously voted for you to be our prom queen.” Then she handed the mic back to the singer.

Two of the dancers came over to collect Katie, but she was shaking so hard when she got to her feet that I worried she would fall. I got up with them, supporting her with an arm around her back. They led us out to the middle of the dance floor, and the crowd of dancers converged around us. Someone came forward with a wreath of flowers and put it on Katie’s head right as the band kicked it into gear again.

Katie wobbled slightly, and I pulled her closer to my side, urging her to lean into me. She let most of her weight fall back, putting her hand over mine where I held her waist while they finished out the flash mob. As the strains of the music faded, everyone backed away until Katie and I were alone in the center of the gym. The lights dimmed except for a spotlight hitting the rotating disco ball above us and the Christmas lights draped everywhere. The band started into another song, a slower one this time.

“Can I have this dance?” I asked.

Swallowing hard, she nodded and sniffled, then turned to let me pull her close. “Did you know they were doing this?”

“No.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. I rocked from side to side more than anything. I’d never been much of a dancer, and I didn’t want to do anything to wear her out any more than she already was. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She just held on to me.

I made note of every detail of this moment—the way the lights danced over her and illuminated her flowers and dress, the feel of her body pressed against mine, the soft flutters of her breath on my neck. It was all perfect.

At least for this one moment in time, she was my princess. No matter what happened, I would have this to hold on to.

Jamie hadn’t minded staying until the very last moment of prom, even though I was too tired to keep dancing. After our dance, when they’d named me prom queen, he’d sat with me at a table and let me enjoy everything the night had to offer.

But now everyone was leaving. Most people were going on to after-parties, but I definitely wasn’t up for that. Plus, Dad wouldn’t be happy if we stayed out too late. It was already eleven, so there wasn’t a whole lot of time left before he’d be calling in a search party and hunting Jamie down. I didn’t want anything like that to happen.

I was leaning on him a lot more than I ought to be as he guided me back out to his car. I couldn’t seem to help myself. He kept drawing me closer anyway, so I knew he wasn’t upset by it, and it felt really nice to have his arms around me.

We got to his car, and he opened the door for me. “Do you want to do anything else before I take you home?” He drove a flashy, black sports car. As far as I could tell, it was the one splurge he’d allowed himself after signing his first pro contract. Otherwise, he was still just a regular guy from Ontario, as completely ordinary and down-to-earth as anyone else you might meet.

But he wasn’t ordinary. Ordinary guys wouldn’t do all the things he’d done for me tonight. But then again, ordinary high school students wouldn’t do the kinds of things my classmates had done for me tonight, either.

Maybe I needed to adjust my expectations a little.

I stifled a yawn while I tugged the skirt of my gown so it wouldn’t get trapped in the car door. I didn’t really want to go home yet, but I wasn’t up to a whole lot right now—definitely nothing I could think of. “I don’t know what else we can do at this time of night.”

Jamie grinned, and both his dimples popped into place, making my heart pitter-patter. “We could go to Voodoo Doughnuts.”

“Yeah?” I laughed and gave him and his tux a once over, then looked down at my gown. “Aren’t we a little overdressed?”

Voodoo Doughnuts was one of the most iconic places in the city—a twenty-four hour doughnut shop that made the craziest doughnuts you could imagine and had a wedding chapel in their lobby.

“Does it really matter?” Jamie said. “We’re in Portland.”

He had a point. Years ago, the city, or at least the residents, had adopted the slogan of “Keep Portland Weird.” They’d really taken it to heart in every way. “No, it doesn’t matter,” I said. “Let’s go.”

He closed my door and went around to the driver’s side. I shivered when he opened his door and got in.

“You’re cold? Here.” He passed over my scarf and sweater. I still didn’t really want to wear them, though; they would ruin the look of my gown. “Please?” he added when I hesitated.

I gave in without a fight, but mainly because I really was cold and it was almost impossible to warm up again if I let myself get too cold.

There was a wedding taking place in the chapel when we got there, so we actually looked like we belonged. Jamie led me to a small table by the window and helped me sit. “What’s your pleasure?”

“The maple bacon bar,” I said without hesitation. I had one years ago, and it was divine—an oblong, hole-less doughnut with a maple glaze and a strip of bacon on top—but I usually avoided them because of all the fat and sugar. But if now wasn’t a time to indulge, when was?

He winked and headed for the counter.

I got so caught up in watching the wedding taking place that his return startled me. He’d bought a whole box of doughnuts, not just one or two for each of us. The box was full, and each doughnut was a different kind.

“Is your blood sugar low or something?” I joked.

“Nah. I thought we could take some to your family, too.”

Yeah, Jamie Babcock was getting to be more and more perfect by the moment. I melted a little bit at his thoughtfulness, particularly since I had a feeling Dad had been treating him miserably ever since the night he asked if he could bring me to prom.

Once I’d finished eating mine and the wedding ended, I really couldn’t stop myself from yawning.

“All right, Cinderella,” Jamie said. He stood up and collected the box, holding out his other hand for me. “Time to get you home.”

I didn’t want the night to end, but there was no chance I could come up with the energy to fight it. We headed out to his car and got in. He started the engine, but he didn’t back out of his spot right away.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Jamie shook his head, but he was blushing. God, I loved how he blushed and got embarrassed about things. It helped me to remember that he wasn’t that much older than me—not too far out of my reach. He took my hand. “I just— I really want to kiss you again, without everyone watching and before I get you home. I don’t think your dad will like it too much, and—”

“Jamie?” I had to cut him off because my heart felt like it would explode if he kept talking about kissing me instead of actually kissing me.

His eyes were so dark I couldn’t tell the blue from the black when he faced me. “Yeah?”

I leaned toward him and tilted my head up. He angled his head at the same time, and we bumped noses.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Knock it off and kiss me.” I was laughing when our lips finally met, which was a thousand times better than crying.

He pulled away far too soon. Even though it had been just a sweet kiss, my pulse was galloping through my veins. He put the car into gear and backed out of his parking spot. “It’s almost midnight,” he explained.

“You’d better get me home, then.” I didn’t want to have to hold Dad back if we were late. I was too tired for that.

All the downstairs lights were still on when we pulled into the driveway. I knew better than to think Dad would have gone to bed without making sure I was home safe first. He liked to torture the boys I dated, both before and after our dates. No wonder I’d never had a boyfriend for long. My dad could be pretty intimidating.

Jamie held my hand the whole way inside, even as we went into the living room where Mom and Dad were waiting up on the couch. Both of their gazes immediately fell on us—Mom’s happy, Dad’s mad. Dani and Luke were both in there, too. Dani was reading a book and Luke was playing a video game on his Nintendo DS. They both looked up and then went back to what they were doing, but Dani had a huge grin on her face. Dad glared at our connected hands.

“We stopped at Voodoo Doughnuts before coming back,” Jamie said. He set the box down on the closest table. “Thought you might like these for breakfast tomorrow.”

Mom smiled at him. “Thanks. Did you have a good time?”

A good time didn’t even come close to describing what tonight had been. I yawned as soon as I opened my mouth to answer her.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Mom said.

Dad still wouldn’t smile, though. “Practice in the morning, Babs. You’d better get home.”

“Yeah. Headed that way,” Jamie said. But he pulled me back into the entry hall with him before he left, drawing me in close to him like he’d held me when we danced. “Thank you for letting me take you out tonight.”

Those stupid tears were pushing at the backs of my eyes again. I just wanted them to go away and stay away. “Thank you for taking me.”

“When the pictures come in, can I have a set?”

I hadn’t even known if I’d wanted a set of them—because of my alien head—but he’d insisted on buying the biggest package, not just the bare minimum for Mom. “You want them?”

“Yeah. Because that was the first time I got to see you—all of you. And it was beautiful.”

“I—”

He kissed me on the forehead. Dad cleared his throat right behind me. Jamie and I both jumped.

“Good night, Babs,” Dad said. He opened the door.

Jamie let me go and took a step back. “Good night, Katie.”

He was through the doorway and Dad was closing the door behind him when I hurried to block him.

“Jamie?” I said.

He stopped and looked at me with a goofy grin, his blush and his dimples making him as adorable as ever.

“I’ll keep a set for you.”

He smiled all the way to his eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon,” Dad said gruffly. He closed and locked the door.

I stretched up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see him tomorrow at your practice.” Before he could respond, I hurried up the stairs to my room and closed the door behind me.

Jamie had given me the most perfect night of my life, and I wasn’t going to let anyone spoil it. Not even my dad. I didn’t know how many more perfect nights I had left, but I did know this: I was done with forgetting about all the things I enjoyed and loved. I may have cancer, but that didn’t mean I had to stop living. Jamie had given me that tonight. He’d given me a reason to kick cancer out of my life, or at least to give my all fighting for that.

I touched my fingertips to the spot on my forehead where he’d kissed me, leaning back against the door and sighing.

There was no way to know what life was going to throw at me next. Whatever it was, I was going to embrace it. Anything less was cheating myself.

# # #

TAKING A SHOT is book 2.5 in Catherine Gayle’s PORTLAND STORM series. If you enjoyed it, you can find more about the Portland Storm players in the first two books, BREAKAWAY and ON THE FLY. The next installment in this series will be available in June, 2014.

BREAKAWAY:

She’s reaching for a breakaway pass.

Dana Campbell has spent the past seven years in self-imposed isolation for a crime she didn’t commit. The danger is well in the past, but her panic attacks make it impossible to have a normal, healthy relationship with a man. Even her counselor has given up on her. She has to find someone she trusts to help her fight through the panic, or her seven-year ordeal will become a lifetime sentence. There’s only one man she feels safe enough to ask.

He got caught with his head down.

As the captain of professional hockey’s once elite but now fading Portland Storm, Eric Zellinger knows a thing or two about keeping his focus on the job. Questions are flying about his ability to lead the team back to the playoffs. If they don’t make it, he might be shipped out of town. It’s the worst time possible for his best friend’s kid sister to divide his focus. How can he give her what she needs without jeopardizing both the Storm’s playoff hopes and his future with the team?

It’s her only chance, but it’s his last shot.

ON THE FLY:

Injury after injury has put Brenden Campbell’s professional hockey career on hold for years. Now he’s playing for the Portland Storm and determined to make it stick. Few things in life drive him more than being told he can’t have something he wants, and what he wants most is to prove he belongs. Brenden also wants Rachel Shaw, the cute, little redhead who just got hired as the general manager’s new assistant. But then she went and made herself off-limits, telling him: “I don’t date.” Those three words pretty much guarantee that he’ll do everything he can to change her mind.

Rachel is changing things up on the fly for her family, moving them somewhere she can be the kind of mom her kids deserve. Allowing anyone else to be in their lives is out of the question, at least until her instincts get back on track. How else can she be sure who to steer the kids clear of? Right now she trusts no one, including herself, and especially not a man like Brenden Campbell. He’s way too handsome and a little bit cocky. Falling for a guy like him is a mistake she can’t afford to make twice.

* * * *

Catherine Gayle is a bestselling author of Regency-set historical romance and contemporary hockey romance with a New Adult feel. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

If you enjoyed this book and want to know when more like it will be available, be sure to sign up for Catherine’s mailing list. You can find out more on her website, her blog, at Red Door Reads, at Hockey Romance, at Facebook, on Twitter, and at Goodreads. If you want to see some of her cats’ antics and possibly the occasional video update from Catherine, visit her YouTube account.

A Valuable Trade

© Jaymee Jacobs

“Dallas.” Fuck.

“We’ll pack up your things and send them along for you. Thank you for your years of dedication, Bryan. Good luck with your new team.” The general manager of the Tornadoes stretches out his hand, which I reluctantly shake. Then I shake my coach’s hand—well, my ex-coach’s hand. I can’t look either of them in the eye.

As I leave the GM’s office and head for the exit, the threshold from my old life to my new one, I run into a couple of my teammates. My former teammates now. They express their regrets regarding my trade and say they’re sorry to see me go. That they’ll miss me. But it’s not like that matters.

Soon after my conversation with my old GM, I get a call from my new GM of the Dallas Comets. He’s excited to bring me on board and talks a lot about how I’m going to fit in with their team and help them make the play-offs. He lets me know that they’re going to take care of everything for me and help arrange my move; that way, I only have to focus on my play.

I don’t want to go, but I don’t really have a choice. So I head home to my girlfriend Corinne to break the news to her. Somehow, though, she already knows. As soon as I walk through the door, she stands and asks, “Is it true? Are they sending you to Dallas?”

My shoulders fall. “Yeah. Just got the news.”

“How can they do that? How can the Tornadoes just give you away?”

“It’s the business side of hockey,” I explain to her. “The Tornadoes needed a forward, and the Comets needed a defenseman. Unfortunately, I’m the guy caught in the middle.”

Corinne frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t be selfish, Bry. You’re not the only one involved in this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Come with me, of course. I’m flying out tonight.”

“I can’t! I have to pack everything up, arrange to move it all, get this place listed...” Her voice fades out as she thinks about all the things that need to be done.

“The Comets’ll take care of all that. Cory, baby,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her body into mine. I need the comfort more than ever now. “I just need you with me. Please come with me to Dallas.”

She takes a deep breath; I feel her body expand and then shrink back down. “I think I should stay, though. Oversee everything. And then I’ll follow you down.”

It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I’m getting traded, and I could use the familiarity of a friendly face to keep me company in a new place. But what else am I supposed to say? I’m saddened that she won’t be joining me on my flight. “Okay.”

“Texas,” she spits out. “I can’t believe we’re going to Texas. Why couldn’t they have traded you to New York? I’ve always wanted to live there.”

I wish I had an answer for her—or yet, a better locale to take her to. Dallas is a great sports town in general but not necessarily a great market for hockey. Corinne doesn’t sound very pleased with it either. She and I met our freshman year at the University of North Dakota, where I had been playing with the Fighting Sioux. Once I went pro and started playing for the Tornadoes, she kept up with her studies and graduated with great grades. She wanted to move to New York to start her career, but I persuaded her to come with me to Raleigh by telling her that long-distance relationships don’t work. I don’t think she ever really adjusted to North Carolina.

Because of a freak snowstorm in Raleigh that lays down more snow than anyone expected, I’m stuck here until the following morning. I know I won’t have a chance to make it to the morning skate before the game they’re playing tonight, so I’ll have to play without getting a practice under my belt. It’s bad enough getting traded...but how am I supposed to make a good first impression when I have no practice and no chance to learn the new systems?

The flight feels both too short and too long. I want it to be over, but I want it to never end, either. But I can’t have it both ways. When I get off the plane and pick up my bag, I keep my head down and head toward the taxi stand. As I navigate through the crowd, though, I see my name scrawled on a poster board and tentatively head toward the holder of the sign. It’s got to be a joke, though. The person picking me up is a caricature of a Texan. She’s wearing dark jeans with a hole in the knee, a clingy white tank top, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. Or is it a cowgirl hat? Is there a difference?

“Hi, Bryan, I’m Georgiana Pierson. I’m from the Comets. Welcome to Dallas! We’re so excited to have you.” She has a southern drawl, but it’s anything but slow. The smile on her face is wide and genuine. She extends a well-manicured hand. I expect a weak handshake, but she surprises me with a firm grip and vigorous pump. “We’ve got housing set up for you, and I’m going to help you get settled in before tonight’s game. If you need anything as you get acclimated here—and I do mean anything—then I’m your girl. Let me help you with your bag.”

I’m kind of overwhelmed by her. She talks fast and moves even faster; before I can tell her that I’m more than capable of handling my own stuff, she takes the duffel bag of mine and hoists it over her shoulder. The sight is reminiscent of something out of a rodeo, the way she manhandles it. She’s solidly built, but not in a masculine kind of way. No, she’s all woman, with curves and dark brown curly hair that spills out of her hat almost like a wig. Her brown eyes smile just like her mouth. It’s kind of catching, except I don’t feel like smiling. As we head for the door, I wonder if she’s picking me up from the airport on a horse.

* * * *

I may not be a hockey player, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know how hard trades are. When I said goodbye to winger Tim Fletcher, it was like I was losing a brother. I may not be a player on the Comets, but the players have always made me feel like I was a part of the team. Like I was one of them. I care about them, and I try to make sure they’re all taken care of. Sure, it’s a part of my job, but Lord knows I don’t just do it because I’m paid to do it; I do it because I want to. I’m like a mother hen keeping her chicks in check. I’m polite and kind, but I can get feisty and sassy if I need to in order to get things done.

So when I meet our newest star at the airport, Bryan Comstock, I can immediately tell that he’s wary about this new city and his new team. I can see it in his slumped posture. He’s a big man—or at least that’s what his bio says. He’s six feet tall and 195 pounds, but he looks smaller as he walks toward me. Of course I’m sad to see Tim go, but he’s not under my wing anymore—so my allegiance stays with the Comets. Now, everything in me is telling me to take care of Bryan and help him adjust to Dallas. My maternal side comes out, and I want to fix whatever’s wrong. After all, I’m a problem solver. I make things better.

Bryan never smiles at me, even though I try my best to make him feel as welcome as he should. We’re all hoping that he’ll lift us out of the slump caused by injuries and fatigue, as well as by a little bit of complacency. As I drive him into the city, I do what I can to break through to him, always by talking about Dallas and the promise of the future of the team as well as his bright potential here—and never talking about the past or Carolina. None of those things matters anymore. I do most of the talking as we cruise down the highway with the windows down; it’s hotter than a goat’s behind in a pepper patch. Before coming to the airport, I had been making sure everything was set up and ready for Bryan’s temporary housing, until he is able to find something of his own, and I am hot, sweaty, and dehydrated from working in this heat.

I really didn’t know who this guy was before the trade. We played the Tornadoes months ago and won, but I don’t remember much out of that game. Especially Bryan Comstock, who I wouldn’t have recognized if I hadn’t been shown his picture before being sent to the airport by management to pick him up. Physically, there’s not much that makes him stand out. He has brownish hair cropped close to his head, brown eyes, and thin pink lips. He’d be handsome if he smiled, but he doesn’t look like he does much of that.

Bryan looks stoic but also a little queasy, I think. It had been a big day for him, with getting the news and all. I know that Tim was taken aback, too. It’s hard to start over in a new city alone, but that’s why I’m helping: to ease the transition. When we get to the small townhouse where he’ll be staying—bought by the Comets for instances just like this, conveniently complete with a car in the driveway for him to use—I help him bring his bag inside and give him a brief tour before telling him that directions to the arena are printed out and on the passenger seat of the car.

“And the keys are on the counter. So you’re all set,” I tell him. “Coach said not to worry about trying to figure out our system yet—we’re just gonna let you play your game, and we’ll see what you’ve got. I know I’m excited to see how it goes.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look excited. I wish I could make him see that this is going to be good for him. I want to tell him that he’s going to fit in well here. I want to tell him that he’s a top-four defenseman, and that’s where he’ll be put here in Dallas. He was on the third pairing in Carolina, always held back by the bigger names on the Tornadoes’ roster. He wouldn’t have been able to show off his skills like he can here in Dallas. He’ll get more minutes, he’ll get more chances, and he’ll make a bigger splash.

But I feel like even if I tell him all that, he won’t believe me. So I don’t bother to say those things. Instead, I reach out and touch his arm. I make sure he has my card so he can call if he has any questions about the team’s routine or about Dallas in general, but he doesn’t even glance at it before he shoves it in his pocket and just nods at me. So I then tell him that I’ll see him around the rink and leave him there for the afternoon to get acclimated to his new, albeit temporary, home in Texas.

Lord knows I’ve got my hands full of stuff to do back at the arena, so I leave Bryan and head back home so I can shower and change into appropriate work attire before going back into the office. It’s a lot of work, taking care of my Comets, but I can’t imagine doing anything else.

* * * *

It’s a scary thing, walking into a brand new place and trying to be a part of something where you don’t belong. I’m not the biggest guy, so I try to take up more space so I look important, like I should be here. Like I’m worth the upheaval, I guess.

There are so many introductions that I can’t keep them all straight; it’s not just players and coaches and managers, but equipment managers and trainers and media personnel and...so many people I can’t even remember. I do my best to go with the flow, but I feel like I’m drowning, just a little bit. The whole thing is awkward because I’m not sure what to say to all these people who I’m meeting. I just hope that they don’t think I’m being rude, because I don’t want to come off like that.

By the end of the introductions and getting my new equipment, I’m more mentally exhausted than anything else. I’ve had to learn names, lines, and pairings, directions, instructions, and more. I have to become a part of the team’s routines and different players’ superstitions. Sometimes I forget that they also lost a player, a friend, and I think that I’ve somehow got to replace him. I hope I don’t let them down.

I walk out of a meeting with my new head coach when Mark Klingensmith, a UND alum and automatic comrade, asks me how I’m doing.

“Good,” I tell him with a nod. I don’t tell him how excited I am to just get on the ice. Once I’m in the rink, I know I’ll feel a little better. The one thing that I know I can do is skate. It’s like the one thing that hasn’t changed and never will. It doesn’t matter what colors I’m wearing or what arena I’m in as long as I’ve got blades tied to my feet and a stick in my hand.

“We’re glad to have you here,” he adds. “Have you met everyone? Did you get a complete tour of the arena?”

I snort a laugh, not meanly but just because that’s an impossible question to answer. “It’s kinda hard to keep track, but I think I’ve met everyone. And yeah, I got a tour.”

“All right, well, I guess we can just focus on the game tonight then. But if you do need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll help ya out however I can, and of course there’s always George.”

“George?” I ask, completely unaware to whom he’s referring.

Klingensmith nods at me. “Yeah, George. I know if you’ve met anyone here at all, then you’ve met George.” I give him a blank look, and he laughs at me, claps me on the back, and then points down the hallway. “That’s her there.”

I look down the hall and see Georgiana standing there; she’s the only person I do remember meeting today. She’s talking to Adam Harris, a winger currently on the IR. She looks different because she’s obviously dressed for work—I’m not exactly sure what she does here, but I know that she works for the Comets somehow. She’s in a skirt, a blouse, and heels, but I recognize her because of her distinct hair and big smile, but that’s all that’s familiar. Maybe I didn’t really see her earlier today because I wasn’t fully paying attention, or maybe it’s because it’s been a hectic day and I kind of hated her for having to usher me into this new life. Now she looks professional, not like the cowgirl I saw at the airport, and also more feminine in the way that I’m used to seeing girls be around Raleigh.

“That’s George?” I still feel like I’m missing something. I watch the way her curls bounce as she laughs at something Harris says, laughing deeply like she just heard the funniest thing ever. It’s the exact opposite of the way I feel. I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve laughed so freely like that.

“Yup, that’s her.”

She sees us looking at her, and she waves at us, pats Harris on the bicep, and makes her way down to us. With every step, her high heel clicks on the floor. She greets us. “Hey, y’all.”

“Yo, George, how’s it hanging?”

“Just like yours, Mark,” she chuckles, her eyes sparkling as she looks at him, “shriveled and a little to the left.” Then she turns her attention to me. She sounds more serious when she’s talking to me than how she addressed Klingensmith or the way it looked like she was interacting with Harris. “Hi, Bryan. Good luck tonight against the Monarchs. I’m looking forward to watching you play with Justin.”

“Thanks, uh, George.” I stumble over the name.

“You don’t have to call me that,” she informs me, and it makes me feel a little better. I feel pretty ridiculous calling a girl like her George. “You can call me Georgiana. Or my friends call me G.”

“Nah, she’s George,” Klingensmith laughs, and he puts her in a headlock. I expect her to squeal or say that he’s messing up her hair, but she doesn’t. She surprises me by elbowing him just hard enough for him to let go of her. He rubs the spot on his ribs. “She’s just like one of the guys.”

* * * *

I can only laugh at Mark when he pouts and rubs his side, complaining to me about how the trainer’s going to give him grief. We have enough injuries and certainly don’t need any more, but the second I let any of these guys get away with anything is the second that our team order spirals out of control. I gotta keep my boys in line.

Like I said, I’m the mother hen. As the Director of Team Services, my sole responsibility is taking care of my Comets. Sure, the majority of my time is spent reserving blocks of hotel rooms for road trips, organizing flights and buses to pick the team up, scheduling team activities like dinners on the road and charity events—but in Bryan’s case, I feel like an ambassador to Dallas and a representative of this team. At the very least, I’m a concierge. I want to make sure he’s comfortable, and he clearly is not.

“One of the guys?” he asks, eyeing me carefully. He doesn’t know how I fit in here, which is understandable considering he obviously doesn’t feel like he fits in here either.

“Just about. You’ll be seeing an awful lot of me around here.” I could offer him my back story, like how I went to the job fair because I really wanted to work for the football league, but I got a position with the Comets instead. I was a lowly assistant until there was some kind of mistake or mix-up about rooms in Colorado, and I took the initiative to sweet talk a desk clerk and got the boys into rooms with barely enough time to nap before their game against the Colorado Storm. Sometimes, it’s not enough to have good ideas; you’ve got to take initiative. That’s the only reason someone as young as me got this top position. A little southern charm goes a long way.

Mark asks me, “Where are we staying when we go to Detroit? Please tell me it’s not the Embassy Suites again.”

“The Embassy Suites,” I reply with a smile, watching him pull a face and groan. I put my hands on my hips. “Maybe you should have said something sooner, Marky Mark. How else am I supposed to know?”

“You take special requests?” Bryan questions, still trying to figure out my dynamic with the players.

“No,” I joke, “but I do take bribes.”

“She puts together the team’s road schedule,” Mark says, putting his arm around my shoulders. “You ever want a little free time when we travel, she’ll work it out for ya.”

“I accept cash only, no checks or credit cards,” I giggle as I slide out from underneath the weight of his arm. That earns the teeniest, tiniest hint of a smile from him, and I accept that as a victory. I figure I should quit while I’m ahead. “All right, boys, go get ready for the game. I’ll see y’all tonight.”

I spend the rest of the early evening in my cool, air-conditioned office, attached to the phone like usual. We’ve got two long road trips in March, one at the beginning and one at the end. I have to confirm a shit ton of reservations and then try to book practice times at various arenas. Only then can I figure out travel times. The only reason I’m any good at this job is because I’m organized, and also I’ve got a good phone personality. That’s what it takes to get things done in this business.

Right before the game, I change back into my jeans and then a Comets shirt for the game. I’m no diva; I don’t usually make so many wardrobe changes during a typical day, but I was dressed down to do the physical work of cleaning up the townhouse to prepare for Bryan’s arrival, and then I had to make sure I was wearing something more appropriate to be in the office. Now, I want to be comfortable to watch the game. I never wear a number when I support the team because I don’t want to appear to play favorites. Sure, some of the guys are a little more fun to be around, like Adam, but I’d never let the players know that.

I watch Bryan carefully when he’s out on the ice. Just like in Carolina, he’s wearing number 22. He’s paired with Justin “Rocky” Rockwell, our number one defenseman. While the Comets are in their offensive zone, the defense makes a change, and Justin and Bryan pour over the boards and take up residence on the blue line. The centerman and the wings buzz around the net, shooting the puck and trying to bury a rebound to score against the Monarchs. After a solid minute of controlling the play, one of the Monarchs’ defensemen gets his stick on the puck and immediately shoots it toward center ice, with the hopes of allowing his team to change lines and get fresh legs on the ice.

Bryan pinches down along the boards, trying to keep the puck in the zone to further the onslaught against the Monarchs. He’s almost there, but the Monarchs’ defenseman beats him to the puck and chips it over his stick, over the blue line, and to the red line. Bryan gets caught down low, and the Monarchs use that to their full advantage. A new line of Monarchs spills over from the bench, and the Monarchs’ left winger pursues the puck to the opposite end of the ice, hoping to score.

Knowing he’s out of position, Bryan does everything he can to get back. He turns on the jets and skates full throttle; he’s trying to gain the zone so his partner Justin isn’t stuck in a one-on-one situation. He’s getting closer, but it’s not enough. The Monarchs’ left wing takes the shot, and Justin goes down on one knee to try to block the shot. The puck glances off Justin’s shin pad but doesn’t change trajectory enough and still heads for the goal. Our goalie Lars “The Wall” Wallander is caught off guard by the direction change and can’t adjust in time. The puck flies past him and hits the twine.

Justin slams his stick against the ice, frustrated that his block may have been the reason Lars didn’t make the save. Bryan slumps into a defeated posture, his shoulders low and his head down. I can see that some of the Comets tap him with the blades of their sticks to show their solidarity. It’s his first game as a Comet, and he tried to help the team out. Unfortunately, the outcome isn’t what he had hoped for.

That’s the only goal of the game. The Comets never respond with a tally of their own and lose to the Monarchs 1–0. It’s not a bad game, and Bryan shows some glimpses of just why we wanted him. By the time I make it down to the locker room to offer my sincere condolences, I find that they’ve made plans to go out to deal with the loss. As usual, Adam’s the one to make the plans. It doesn’t matter that he’s injured; he’s always in the middle of these plans—especially since he’s so close to returning and is bubbling over with pent-up, unexpended energy. He looks at me and immediately invites me along, too. “Tonight, George! Club Onyx!”

“No thanks, Harris. I’m not going to a strip club with you.” I pause. “Not again, anyway. Twice was enough for me to learn my lesson.”

“Aw, come on! You’ve gotta come. I’ll pay for your lap dance. It’s the only thing that will make us feel better after this.”

“I can’t,” I tell him with a laugh. “I’ve already got plans. I’m going line dancing.” I sling my bag over my shoulder, ready to leave after a long day of hard work. “Y’all are more than welcome to come with, though. It’s no Club Onyx, but it’s still fun and will get your mind off everything.”

He looks like he’s thinking about it. Adam glances around at his teammates, who shrug and leave it up to him. When he turns back to me, he’s wearing his patented mischievous grin. “Are you bringing your friends?”

“Yeah, they’re going to be there,” I laugh. Adam swears up and down that he loves my friend Allison, who pretty much wants nothing to do with him. I’ve warned all my friends to never date a hockey player—after all, I hear all kinds of things in the locker room—but that doesn’t mean that they don’t enjoy the company of hot, buff men who can afford to keep the liquor flowing.

“All right then. Boys, we’re going line dancing.”

As I head for the door, I see Bryan sitting in his brand new stall. He doesn’t even have a permanent nameplate above him. He looks fucking miserable, and I know what he’s thinking: that he should have had some effect on the team in his first game here. I pause there and ask, “You’ll be coming out, too, right?”

* * * *

I don’t know the first thing about line dancing. I get roped into this like a calf in a rodeo. But the team’s going out and I’m a Comet now, so I don’t feel like I should say no. George is some kind of ringleader. After all, I don’t know how this team works yet, but I feel like it would have to take more convincing for Harris to not want to go to a strip club.

But I decide that I can go and not participate. Just because I’m in Texas, it doesn’t mean I have to wear boots and a hat and drawl my words. I don’t have to line dance. When we get to the place, it’s just like a bar with a huge wooden floor. The place is in full swing with country music blaring, and I immediately start to wish that I hadn’t bothered to tag along. Not only do I feel like I don’t belong here, but I feel like it doesn’t matter if I’m here at all.

It wasn’t that bad of a game, I guess. I mean, in Carolina, we played games like that against some of the teams in that conference: tight, low scoring games, which are so frustrating because of the way they play the trap. But the Comets can’t afford any more losses if they want to secure a good spot in the play-offs.

I don’t know what I was expecting, considering I didn’t get to practice with the Comets. On a couple of occasions, I had been caught out of position—which was only because I didn’t know the system to know where I was expected to be. The power play wasn’t as good as it could have been because we had such a hard time gaining entry, but a lot of that was because of how the Monarchs play their game. But I was brought in to be a PP specialist, and I look like a mistake because I failed in that regard tonight.

Corinne hasn’t called yet, even though she had told me that she was going to watch the game. I text her but never get a response. Not even a stupid little message. I know she’s busy, too, because she’s taking care of all this stuff back in Raleigh for me, but I wish she’d call. I really feel, I don’t know, unwanted?

The guys all show up at the same time, so we gather around some tables and ask for some pitchers of beer so we can drown our sorrows. I look around and try to take in the ambiance of the place, and I get sucked into watching the synchronized movements of several girls on the floor. Their feet are moving, and they’re laughing and swinging their hips. It’s kind of mesmerizing, and I get caught staring as the girls in the line turn and all face in our direction. My eyes meet George’s, and she smiles at me as she never misses a step.

She’s dressed similarly to what I first saw at the airport. She’s got on short little jean cut-off shorts and a red tank top, and she’s back in her cowboy boots and hat. Her skin has the sheen of subtle perspiration. This is what they mean when they say girls don’t sweat—they glow. George definitely has a glow to her. In fact, there are quite a few guys who ogle her as she dances, not because she’s the prettiest girl here but because of the way her personality shines through. She’s laughing and moving confidently, obviously having a great time. None of the leering guys approaches her, though, because they see the way she’s interacting with all the big, burly Comets as she waves to greet our arrival. It’s like she’s protected, automatically off-limits unless they want to risk life or limb. I wonder if it bothers her.

Meanwhile, my teammates treat her pretty asexually. None of them looks at her like the way these other guys do, which I can’t quite figure out. George is beautiful and vibrant. I can’t take my eyes off her whenever she’s in the room. Maybe it’s because they’re like a family, and digging on her would feel incestuous—but as much as we all know that you’re not supposed to dip your pen in company ink, it happens way more often than anyone wants to believe.

When the song ends, she leads her friends over to us, and the guys all welcome the female presence. George introduces me to five new girls, but I’m having a hard enough time remembering all the new people I’ve met here in Dallas so I instantly forget their names. It’s not like I need to remember them anyway.

The guys are all laughing and drinking, generally having a great time and forgetting about the game. I’m drinking my beer but sipping it slowly, and I pretty much stare at my phone the whole time. I’m quiet, but I usually am. It’s much worse, though, because I don’t feel comfortable around these guys yet. I start to try to think of a way I can leave early without seeming rude or antisocial when George appears in front of me with a shot in each hand.

“Do you dance, Bryan?” she asks me, downing one shot and sliding the other across the table at me.

I accept it and drink it quickly, feeling the burn. “No. Definitely not.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a good time, I promise. Probably just what you need.”

Peering out at the floor, I see a bunch of her friends with some of my new teammates, and they’re all laughing as the guys misstep and stomp on some toes. It looks painful. “Uh, no... I don’t think so...”

“Bartender! We need more shots over here!” Then George turns back to me. “There’s a point when someone’s had just enough alcohol to get out on the dance floor but is just coordinated enough still to learn the moves. I guess we’re going to find out what your number is.”

“It’s going to be high,” I warn her seriously, but it doesn’t faze her.

Instead, she quips, “Do you think it will be 22?” George makes a pun off my jersey number and cracks up over her own joke, but true to her word, she keeps the shots coming—and matches me gulp for gulp—until dancing suddenly sounds like a really, really good idea.

* * * *

Bryan’s eyes are just a little red and glassy when he finally accepts my hand and I’m able to pull him behind me on the floor. I’m surprised it took as many shots of Jack as it did, but I couldn’t stand to see him look like that anymore. It’s like his eyebrows sag a little too close to his eyes, like a sad puppy. Between that and his perpetual lack of smile, all I want to do is remedy that. Drinking and dancing always work for me, so I bring him out on the floor with me. I just wanna make sure my Comets are happy.

He moves like he’s never danced before. The guys cheer as Bryan stands beside me, watches my feet, and tries to mimic my movements. The alcohol’s making my vision blurry and my mobility hazy, and Bryan and I end up bumping into each other over and over again like we can’t maintain our balance long enough to stay on one foot when we need to. He’s smiling but not laughing, but it’s an improvement nonetheless, and I think he’s in a good mood—if not at least better—now. He deserves to be, after all. Bryan had a great debut with us even if the team didn’t win.

I don’t know how long we dance for, but by the time we make it back to our seats, we find that a lot of the team and several of my friends are gone. Adam’s lingering around with Allison, practically hanging on her, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if she does plan on giving in to him.

When I look away from them and glance back at Bryan, the smile’s gone again. He checks his phone and even frowns. So I stand right next to him and place my elbow on his shoulder so I don’t have to talk too loudly. “Bryan, are you happy that you’re here? I really think you should be happy to be here.”

“Yeah, I think in the long run it’s a good move for me,” he says, but it’s not in a way that I exactly believe him. “It just takes time to get adjusted.”

“I’m telling you that this is definitely good for you.” If my speech is slurred, I don’t notice it, because my brain is moving just as slowly. And Bryan seems to be following along just fine, but that also may be what my brain is thinking that that’s what my eyes are seeing. “You shouldn’t need to adjust too much.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see when I get a practice under my belt.”

I shake my head. “You were so good tonight, one of our best players. You passed so well, nice breakout plays. Bryan, you’re going to be great here. Just go with it. You belong here.”

He nods tentatively and chuckles a little bit. “It’s okay, George. Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just, I want my Comets to be happy and successful, and you’re my Comet now, too. You played so great with Justin. Just please, Bryan, be happy to be here. You can do so much more here than you ever could in Carolina. See that. Know that.” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him as I try to offer comfort and encouragement. This is definitely something I don’t usually do, but I feel like Bryan needs the special treatment. All he does in return is pat me on the back awkwardly.

Adam comes up behind us and interrupts us with a laugh. He teases, “Jesus Christ, Comstock, what did you put in her drink?”

Allison giggles and adds, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen G this drunk. Not even on her twenty-first birthday.”

That makes Bryan smile—a real smile. “That’s because she tried to keep up with me. She’s a lightweight.”

“Shut up,” I order, pushing against his arm. All the boundary lines are blurring. “You’re drunk, too.”

He raises one shoulder in a lazy shrug and then slurs out, “Maybe.”

Adam waves his phone in the air. “Well, don’t worry, kiddos. I got it covered and called us some cabs. They should be here by now.” He was optimistic and ordered three—one for me, one for Bryan, and one for himself and Allison. However, Allison won’t buy into that, and she takes one for herself to head home alone. Adam looks at Bryan and me. “Okay, so who’s gonna split a cab?”

“Bryan and I will,” I say, figuring in my head that the team townhouse is at least in the direction of my apartment, whereas Adam lives on the opposite side of town. “Go home and cry into your pillow that Ally ditched you. Again.”

“Shut up, George,” he grumbles. “She wants me. She’s just playing hard to get.”

“Whatever,” I reply in a singsong voice, mocking him. Bryan and I get into a yellow cab, and I rattle off my address, thinking that Bryan can handle the rest of the trip on his own. However, he’s practically falling asleep against the windowpane, and I’m afraid that if I don’t do something, he’ll never be able to make it home safe and sound. Lord knows I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to him. So I coax him out of the cab with me when we get to my place. “It’s okay, Bryan, you can sleep on my futon.”

When we get inside, he looks tired and drunk, but there’s something else there, too. He looks drained, defeated, and sad, like the day has finally caught up to him, and his travels as well as the game and the mental effort have totally exhausted him. My heart feels for him; I may not really know him yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be empathetic. Maybe it’s because I’m drunk and my inhibitions are lowered, but I reach out for him again. It’s not that I don’t touch the other guys, because I do—but most of those are playful arm punches or nudges, the same way I treat my two older brothers. Something in Bryan calls out to me, calls out and begs me to comfort him, and alcohol has numbed my ability to think that maybe, quite possibly, this isn’t exactly appropriate.

His body is toned and firm, and I can feel how strong he is. When I touch him, the heat he throws off warms me straight to my core. I fit up against him, like my body belongs right next to his.

I don’t see a problem with this until it seems like Bryan misinterprets my gesture. As I wrap my arms around his middle and lift my head to say something to him, to say those magical words that I’ve been diligently searching for all day since I met him to erase the misery that’s written across his face, he puts my lips to use in a different way. He kisses me.

* * * *

I don’t know if this is something instinctual because I’m seeking a feel-good moment or if this could possibly be something else—something more. But when George puts her arms around me, I kiss her. It doesn’t involve any thinking whatsoever; I just do it. Only after my lips touch hers do I realize that I’ve made that move.

Or maybe George has made the move, because she’s the one hugging me. She’s been close all day: picking me up from the airport as the first friendly face I saw in Dallas, arranging everything she could for me to help me transition to the Comets, and then just generally being a constant calming influence on me throughout the day with her presence, especially at the bar where I was sulking. When I met my new teammates and coaches, I felt like they were sizing me up and analyzing my every move. George wasn’t like that. She’s been encouraging, like she can already see my strengths and how I’m going to improve the team—because I will improve the team. She’s sure of it, which makes me kind of sure of it, too. Or at least it makes me want to be sure of it.

Once we start kissing, we don’t stop. There’s no awkward pause in which we pull back and look at each other like we’re making sure that this is something we mutually like and want to keep doing. We just do it. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her without considering any potential consequences, because my brain doesn’t care about any of those silly things. All my brain cares about is forgetting where I am and what I’m doing here. And as I feel George’s body pressed again mine, the only thing I’m thinking about is how good it feels, how I want to do it some more, and how to take this further.

As far as I’m concerned, there are no negative consequences. I’m consumed by the way I feel. It’s been a shitty two days, with getting the news of the trade on Monday and then traveling on Tuesday and immediately having to play, and my life has been completely turned upside down by the brutally few words it takes to deliver a devastating blow: “You’ve been traded.” So the fact that I can feel remotely okay, like my world isn’t crashing down around me, is a miracle in my eyes. If this is what it takes to make me feel human again, then I’ll do it. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had sex or had something sexual initiated that wasn’t routine and boring, which is a whole other ball of wax but no less motivation to see where this takes me.

Her fingers knead into my back as I run my hands up from her ass to her soft breasts. The more I feel her, the more I want her. After all the stress of the day—packing, flying, playing, dancing—my body feels renewed and ready for anything. George grabs a handful of my dress shirt and pulls me in the direction of her bedroom. I guess I won’t be sleeping on her futon tonight. Which is great, because I don’t really like uncomfortable futons anyway, and my new bed at the townhouse isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on either.

It takes longer than expected for our drunk fingers to unthread buttons and disengage zippers, but we get each other naked. I’m so hard that it hurts. I reach between her legs and feel between her folds, and she bucks against me. George places her hand over mine and manipulates my fingers so I’m touching her how she wants to be touched. She presses the pads of two of my fingers against her clit and applies firm pressure. I like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to demand it. She moans and writhes, so I know she’s enjoying herself. Once I get the hang of it, she lets go of my hand and grabs my cock again.

That’s foreplay enough for me. I pant out, “Are you ready?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you have a—”

“Here,” she says, reaching into her nightstand and producing a condom. I take it from her and roll it on. Then I push her down on the mattress, ready for the next phase. As she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees, I crawl up behind her and grab her hips. George sticks her ass out, and that’s all the invitation I need. I take my dick in one hand and aim it right toward her center.

It feels so good once I’m inside her. She feels so good. Everything is just really, really good. When I mumble her name, I know I can’t call her by her nickname, because it would feel too weird to call out the name George when I’m inside of that person. And G just doesn’t feel right either. So instead I call her by her full name. “Georgiana.”

“Bryan,” she whispers throatily, and it’s the best thing I’ve heard all night. Better than the shouts of my new head coach, better than the announcer introducing me to the team in the arena, and way better than the country music being played at the bar while I tried to learn to line dance. When I hear her say my name like that, it makes me wanna go all night and rock her world, but the alcohol has made me lethargic, and instead I want to gain maximum pleasure with minimum expenditure of energy.

While I slide in and out of her and concentrate on how great she feels, so warm and wet and tight, George reaches down between our joined bodies and touches herself. I like that, because I want her to take her pleasure from this, too. In a matter of strokes, she’s panting and moaning and arching her back like she hasn’t had sex like this in a long time. She’s calling out my name, over and over again. I feel like a stud.

My fingers dig into her soft flesh, holding on to her tightly as I pound away, moving in and out of her as fast as I can go. She tightens around me, and by sheer dumb luck we come together in a sweaty mess of contorted bodies. We collapse on the bed, drunk, exhausted, and sated. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out for the night.

* * * *

When I wake up in the morning, I wake up alone. At first, nothing seems wrong or out of sorts because my head is killing me and I have the worst hangover I’ve ever experienced. All I can possibly care about at that moment is drinking some water, popping a handful of ibuprofen capsules, and crawling back under my covers. I check out the time on the clock and deem that it would be best to consume my remedy and try to sleep some more, so that’s what I do.

Except that plan kind of backfires on me. I can’t sleep even when the Motrin kicks in, because I remember that I told Bryan to sleep here with me instead of go back to the townhouse. And that he did more than just sleep here—he slept with me. Lord knows I’ve never crossed that boundary before, sleeping with someone I work with, and I have no idea what ramifications will come from my actions. The most important thing, though, is that I’ve got to find out Bryan’s opinion on the whole matter. Will we chalk this up to a drunken mistake, or is it more than that? And, regardless of the answer to that question, what will we do about our working relationship?

If I’m being honest with myself, I certainly wouldn’t mind doing that again. Not the getting drunk first part, but the sex with Bryan part. It had been a long, long time since I had sex that good and a while since I had had sex, period. Sex was like fast-food: when I first stopped having it, I missed it. But the longer I went without it, the more I forgot what it was like so I didn’t crave it as much anymore.

It was just too hard to try to make a relationship work when the guys I met were all intimidated by my job as well as by the Dallas hockey players themselves. Any potential boyfriend would be worried either that the guys would come after him if he broke my heart or that there was something going on between me and at least one of the guys, like they couldn’t trust a woman who could work with a bunch of hockey players. But I always had a strict rule about being professional and not dating absolutely anyone I worked with. Well, at least I did. Now I’m not so sure. I’m awfully confused now.

My alarm goes off, and I force myself out of bed, still feeling like hell. I shower and get ready for work. It’s supposed to be another warm day, so I’m left with the problem of trying to find something to hide the bite mark on my neck. Of all the things that I remember about last night, being bitten isn’t one of them. I choose a scarf to strategically cover the bruise and hope that no one questions my wardrobe selection during this February heat wave.

When I get to work, Adam is waiting for me outside my office. He asks me what the plan is for Detroit.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, opening my office and sinking into the seat behind my desk. I still feel like hell, and Adam is too much to handle sometimes when I’m completely sober and alert. “Why?”

“I’m just checking. I want to know what time I need to catch the flight.” He’s smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s great news, Adam!” I respond as enthusiastically as I can muster considering how badly my brain hurts. “It’ll be great to have you with the team again.”

“Yeah, I’m really excited about it,” he begins to ramble. At some point, though, I tune him out. It’s not that I don’t care, because I do—I’ll be really glad to see lucky number seven back out on the ice, and we need all the intangibles that he brings to the team. When he notices that I’m no longer listening attentively, Adam asks, “Are you okay, George? You seem...I don’t know, off or something.”

I mumble, “Sorry. I’m recovering from last night.”

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk,” he laughs. I try to laugh, too, but I can’t. “I’ve never seen you like that before. It was kinda funny, I have to admit. Stock is pretty rough looking, too. I don’t know which of you is worse, but at least you don’t have to skate this morning.”

Frowning, I don’t say anything more. I feel bad for Bryan because I can tell that he desperately wants to make a good impression on his new team—and he obviously didn’t feel like he was successful in doing that last night since the team lost—and showing up for practice hungover couldn’t really help his cause. Then again, I think to myself that maybe if he had stayed the whole night at my place instead of leaving at some point, he would have gotten more rest and might be less worse for wear.

“You sure you’re all right?” Adam asks me again, a glint of concern in his eyes. It’s weird, seeing that expression from him.

“Yeah, sure,” I tell him, crossing my fingers behind my back so he can’t see. Southern women don’t lie. “I’m just out of it.”

* * * *

When I wake up in the morning, I feel pretty good. I’m in a warm, soft bed with a beautiful woman. Her naked breasts press against my arm and her leg is entangled with mine. Ask any guy: there’s nothing better than this.

I roll over, wanting to nuzzle my face in that mess of brown, curly hair. But her dark hair throws me for a loop—Corinne’s hair is blonde and straight. This isn’t Corinne. Shit. This is George. Shit fuck!

Not only did I just have sex with someone involved with my new team, which could severely compromise the opportunity I’m supposed to have out here, but I also just cheated on my girlfriend. One night away from Corinne, and I sleep with someone else. I feel horrible. I am horrible. After all the persuading it took to have her come with me to Raleigh, I screw it up.

The last thing I want to do is tell her and feel the wrath of her reaction, but it’s the first thing I do as I leave George’s apartment. I leave as quietly and as stealthily as possible because I can’t face George until I talk to Corinne. It’s early in Raleigh, but I know it can’t wait.

“Bry? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” she asks immediately, knowing that something is wrong if I’m calling so early. There’s tension in her voice, maybe annoyance or worry—I can’t quite tell for sure.

“No, Cory, baby, I’m sorry. I fucked up,” I confess in the cab, not even caring that the driver can hear me at my worst.

“What happened?” She pauses, and when I don’t respond right away, she presses, “Come on, tell me. What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “But I...I had sex. With someone else.”

She isn’t really angry or even disappointed with my actions or me. I could have been able to handle that, I think, if she had blown up at me or started crying over the phone. No, instead she’s resigned. Corinne sighs heavily into the phone and asks, “Who was it?”

I don’t want to make excuses for myself. I’m not going to tell her that I was sad or upset or miserable at having to be in Dallas, or even that I’m struggling to cope or deal with being traded. But most of all I don’t want to drag George into this. George has done nothing but nice things for me and treated me with sympathy without making me feel ridiculously pathetic, and she doesn’t even know that I have a girlfriend. She had no part in this, so I’m not going to implicate her. “Someone I met yesterday. I’m really sorry, Cory, I want you to know that I feel horrible about this.”

Corinne pauses for a long time. Finally, she tells me, “I need some time to think things out, Bryan. I’ll finish things up here for you but... I don’t know if I want to move to Dallas. I don’t know if I can do it.”

The things she says to me ring in my ears. “What?” I’m stunned. “You don’t want to be with me?”

“I would like to be with you, Bryan, but this is all so much. I moved with you to Raleigh because you asked me to, but I don’t like it here. And I don’t know if I can just pick up and follow you around wherever you get traded. And, to be quite honest with you, I don’t know how I feel about having to move to Texas.”

“It’s...nice,” I say to her. Not that I really know; I haven’t seen much of the city.

She huffs, “I don’t know anyone in Texas.”

“You’d know me,” I say quietly, avoiding noticing that the driver’s looking at me in the rearview mirror.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking a lot about this since Monday and especially since you left yesterday. You’re so serious about the game now that you’ve gone pro, and it’s stopped being fun for me. I love you, Bryan, I love you lots, but I don’t know if this is really working out for me anymore. Things have never been as good as they were in college, and I think you know that, too.”

Yeah, I know that. Life was different after Corinne had graduated from UND, but I figured our relationship had changed because we were maturing and becoming adults and that’s what adults do.

Now I have a brand-new opportunity for me in Dallas, and I have to seize it. This is important; it’s my future. It’s not an easy transition, but trades take time. I’ll mesh with my new teammates. It would help to have my girlfriend with me, but not if she’s going to be upset and hold a grudge against me, like I’m forcing her to come with me. Especially since she’s already made it clear that she wasn’t happy in Raleigh, either.

Corinne promises me that she’s going to think about the move some more and call me in a few days when she makes up her mind. However, I don’t hold out any hope that her decision is going change. I know it won’t. She also tells me to contemplate where my heart’s at, because she thinks I don’t really love her if I cheated on her on my first night away from her in Dallas. I assure her that I do in fact love her, but I don’t tell her that I think we’re not “in” love anymore. We just didn’t realize it until now. Maybe we can salvage our relationship though; we’ve been together for five years, and I’d hate to waste that. I try not to think about all that during practice, because I need to focus on what’s happening on the ice. After practice, I head into a lot of meetings with different coaches to learn all about the Dallas system.

When that’s all said and done, I’m mentally exhausted. I really want to go back to the townhouse, but I have another stop to make. I head down the hallway toward George’s office even though, after the morning I’ve already endured, it’s the last thing I want to do. But I have to.

* * * *

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” I say, knowing before the door even opens that it’s going to be Bryan. I’ve been bracing myself all morning—especially when I knew that their practice was over—for this confrontation with him. But I’m still not prepared, although I don’t think I ever would be.

He pokes his head in sheepishly and offers me a shy smile. “Hey. How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Not so good,” I tell him honestly. My head’s still throbbing, and now my stomach’s in knots from worry and anxiety.

“I brought you some Gatorade,” he tells me, placing the yellow bottle on my desk for me. It’s a nice gesture, to bring me something to make me feel better, but it says a lot already that he doesn’t hand it to me. He sets it down on my desk so I have to pick it up. I already feel like I know where this is headed. In some ways, I’m relieved, but in other ways, I’m sad—and also, I feel like I should have known this was going to happen since he wasn’t there when I woke up. I mean, men don’t usually run out of my bed first thing in the morning; southern men are more chivalrous and respectful than that.

“Thanks, that was nice.” I twist off the cap and take a few gulps. It’s a peace offering, and I accept it to show him that we’re okay and we’re going to get past this. Because I can tell he’s feeling remorseful about what happened, I decide to make this as easy on him as possible. “I’m sorry about last night, Bryan. It shouldn’t have happened. That was so unprofessional of me, to think I could let you stay at my apartment. I should have made the cabbie drop you off first, to make sure you got back to your own place all right—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupts me. “I took advantage of you. You were drunk.”

“You were, too.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But I should have known better.” Lord knows I don’t understand what he means when he says that; we both should have known better than to mix pleasure with business. His eyebrows furrow together and his posture slumps. His voice changes, and I can barely hear him. I know before he speaks that he’s utterly ashamed of himself, but I don’t know why that is until he tells me. “This morning, I had to tell my girlfriend what happened.”

Oh my God. He has a girlfriend. Bryan had an affair, and I was the other woman. My stomach twitches and rolls in my torso. It’s everything I can do to not throw up that yellow Gatorade. My eyes close, and my hands clutch my desk for support. I might as well be on a roller coaster. “Oh no, I’m sorry—”

“Please, don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. And even if you did, it’s not your responsibility, it’s mine.” His tone is more forceful when he says that. He shakes his head instead of rattling off excuses. The fact that he doesn’t try to justify his behavior makes me more sympathetic toward him. He looks down at his feet, and he speaks quietly again. “We’re going to think about things and decide what to do in a few days.”

I nod. I do feel a little sorry for him; he looks so sad and dejected, and my first instinct is to soothe and support him. It’s the “mother hen” instinct in me. But I’m also a southern belle with loads of self-respect, and I don’t think I want to cut him any more slack. I’m finished with our conversation, so I say, “Well, I hope that everything works out for you.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. See ya later.” And then he leaves my office.

* * * *

Thursday’s game against Detroit is a good game for the Comets. We come out strong, and I’m playing well. By the end of the first, we’re up by two goals—both of which I’m on the ice for. The spirits of the team are up, which means a lot considering we thought we played well against the Monarchs and still lost. Even though we’re up, we try not to get ahead of ourselves. It helps to have a lead, but that doesn’t mean that we’re safe. Not against a team like Detroit.

We win. It feels fucking great to win. The Comets collectively snap a five-game losing streak, so I’m doing my job here by helping them win. Individually, I play a fucking great game. I’m a plus-three, the only one on the team to get such a ranking, and I’m also the second-highest one on the team in ice time, only following behind Rockwell. I even get an assist, my first point as a Comet. It’s a step in the right direction. I feel like a part of the team, but most of all I don’t feel quite like a bargaining chip. The Tornadoes’ general manager had told me that on Monday that he had told several inquiring teams that I wasn’t up for sale—and the only reason I got traded was because it was for a guy they had had their eye on, and the Comets had asked for me by name. Back then, I hadn’t believed him. But now, I believe it. I feel it. I feel valuable, like my new GM knew what he was doing and knew that I’d fit in here and make the difference they were hoping for.

I enjoy the trip to Detroit for more than just the W we earn. It also gets me a reprieve from Dallas and all that that implies, as well as time to do all the thinking that Corinne wants me to do. Our schedule on the road is regimented, and I try not to think that that’s all George’s doing. But I think about her when we get on the plane to Michigan, when a bus picks us up from the airport, when we get to the hotel, when I walk into my room, and every other time my life is influenced by a decision that George has made for me. I think it’s crazy when I realize how much she’s involved in my new life now—between the team stuff as well as the way she tried to help me out mentally and emotionally with the trade—and I didn’t even know she existed a week ago.

On Friday, we have practice at the arena. I expect to see George there at some point, but I don’t. And I don’t make a concerted effort to go to her office. I figure that she’s either busy or avoiding me, and in either case I can’t blame her for staying away. But still, I want to thank her, because I feel like I wouldn’t have been a force on this team without her initial help. Even though we’ve done things we weren’t supposed to and it spilled into many facets of my life, she has also been a positive influence on me when I really truly needed it. I can’t forget about that.

While we were on the road, it was easy to not worry about the guys finding out. Even though George and I hadn’t discussed it, we knew that we should keep our little tryst a secret. It would complicate things unnecessarily. And I have no idea how my teammates would react to hearing about it. Would they be mad that the new guy came in out of nowhere and scored with George? Or would they be happy for her that she got some action, regardless of who gave it to her? I still haven’t figured out how she fits into the equation in relation to the team, because they treat her like one of the guys—seen in their interactions with her around the rink and with guys like Harris and Klingensmith—but they also kind of act like protective older brothers—like how they kept other guys at bay at the bar.

I go all day without seeing her on Friday because we don’t go out as a team, since we have an afternoon game on Saturday, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel to not see her. Even though I’ve only been in Dallas for a few days, I’ve associated her with the rink and with the city. I really don’t like not seeing her because I miss out on her calming, light, fun presence. I miss her smile and hair and the way her eyes light up and the way she looks at me and the way she makes me feel.

So I call Corinne on Saturday morning; I don’t need any more time to figure out that our relationship is over. She agrees.

“If you didn’t want to be with me, Bryan, then you just should have said so instead of cheating on me. I still can’t believe you did that. I know that we were having some problems and things weren’t the same as they used to be, but that’s no excuse to cheat on me. How many times has it happened?”

“None! That was the only time, Cory, I swear. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m so sorry about that?” I ask her, feeling exasperated. On Tuesday night, I had not been at my finest. I’ve decided, though, that I feel worse about not entirely regretting my decision. “I didn’t realize that we weren’t...working. I wasn’t looking to be with anyone else, but it happened. Cheating wasn’t the only problem we had though, you know? This just opened the door to let us talk about it all. I feel like you weren’t honest with me by not telling me that you hated Raleigh. What was going to happen when everything was packed up and it was time for you to come down to Dallas? Were you going to come down and just be miserable here and not talk to me about it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what was going to happen.” Corinne sighs. “But I guess we don’t have to wonder about that anymore, because it doesn’t matter.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” I reply, and that is the end of that conversation—and the end of my five-year relationship.

* * * *

It’s tough to not go to the locker room after the practice. I want to go and congratulate the guys on their win in Detroit, and I want to watch the practice on Friday, too. I usually do, and it’s one of the high points of my work days to take a break from the phone and the planning and watch the guys skate around and practice for forty-five minutes to an hour.

I’m avoiding all of them just because I’m trying to avoid Bryan. Some of the guys stop by my office to say “hey” and see what’s up with me because I didn’t go to practice. I greet them and ask how they are, and they talk to me for a little while. As soon as they press me to find out why I didn’t show up to watch them, I simply tell them I’m very busy and that I have to get back to making calls for the upcoming road trip. I think that they can tell that something’s up, but they don’t push me, seeing as though they don’t know how to handle this kind of situation. As they like to say, I’m one of the boys, meaning I don’t partake in passive-aggressive behaviors or beat around the bush. I’m typically an open book, but right now they can’t read me, so it confuses them.

The truth of the matter is I don’t know how my guys would respond if they ever found out about the one-night stand I had with Bryan. None of them has ever tried anything with me, but I like to think that that’s because I made it very clear from the get-go that I was a professional, and I never planned on engaging in that kind of behavior with them. The day I walked into that locker room and was introduced as the new Director of Team Services, I firmly shook their hands, looked them squarely in the eye, and made myself appear to be dominant. Between that and busting their balls, I think it helped to cement the dynamic of my relationship to that group of hockey players.

And I don’t talk about my romantic relationships around them, but that’s mostly because I don’t have romantic relationships anymore. I’ve been on some dates here and there, but they don’t stick because, so I’ve been told, I’m too dedicated to my job, and also because of my job and my involvement with a group of twenty-some men. It’s totally sexist and I hate it, but I love my job too much to sacrifice it for a relationship with some guy and a chance at romance.

So my Comets have absolutely no way of knowing what’s suddenly wrong with me or why I’m holing up in my office instead of being social with them. Thank goodness that the team has an afternoon game on Saturday so I don’t have to make up an excuse of why I can’t hang out with them that night. Before they head out for warm-ups, I pop my head into the dressing room and give them my usual “Good luck, y’all” before the game against Nashville. Two points would mean a lot to the guys at this point in the season.

And they get those two points in a great game. They battle hard for the victory, coming back from behind and winning the game 3-2. The best part is that Bryan gets an assist on the game-winner as well as his first goal as a Comet. It’s a dirty goal, but it counts, and that’s all that really matters. I know that he has to be proud of himself. Lord knows I’m proud of him, just like I am proud of each of my boys, but I really feel so happy for him because I could see how worried and miserable he was. This has got to make him happy—not only because he’s fitting in so well so soon after the trade, but also because the fans are so evidently appreciating his efforts and glad to have him here. They think that the general manager is a fucking genius and that we got the better end of the deal.

I’m so swept up with emotion that I can’t help myself when I see the guys after the game. I congratulate them all on the win and their tireless effort on the ice, but I give extra attention to Bryan. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until after I touch his arm and squeeze it softly. “Great game. And congrats on the goal. Surely the first of many to come.”

He smiles at me warmly, and I forget that I’m not supposed to stand this close to him. Yesterday, I had purposely tried to keep my distance from him, but it’s like I’m drawn to his side as soon as we’re in the same room, like I’m the iron to his magnet. I had planned on saying that little spiel and then ducking out to head home, but Adam approaches us. I can see that he looks down at my hand, which is still on Bryan’s arm, so I clear my throat and let go of our newest defenseman.

“Great game, Harris. Well, I’ll see you guys on the flight on Monday to Phoenix,” I say, trying to extricate myself from the situation.

“Aren’t you coming out? We’re all going for a big, nice dinner,” Adam explains. He’s looking at me carefully and inquisitively.

I know that if I say no, then he’s really going to think something’s up, and I can tell that he’s already suspicious. I have to relent. “Oh, okay.” But I try to make up for it. “I didn’t realize you guys had plans. I’ll probably have to go change first. Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry, that’s fine,” Adam responds, gesturing to my jeans and Comets shirt. Meanwhile, the guys are all in their suits. I start to shake my head, wanting to insist that I go home before I can join them, but he refuses to accept that answer from me. It’s like he knows that if I leave, I won’t meet them for dinner. “I’m telling you, it’s fine. Come on, you’re riding with me.”

I sigh, not at all pleased with this new change of events, but I don’t feel like I have a choice, so I follow Adam out to his car.

* * * *

I try to concentrate on all the endorphins and feel-good chemicals coursing through my veins after that game against the Predators. In order to do that, I try to focus on the great game that I played. That goal probably shouldn’t have been a goal, but what the hell—a goal counts, so I’ll take it. I’ve got ten on the season now, which ties the high that I had set a few years back at UND. Who knows, maybe I’ll even surpass that total and set a new personal best. Maybe I’ll even hit the forty-point mark and have the best season ever.

I’ve gotta focus on that because hockey’s the only thing I’ve got going for me now. I should focus all my energy on the team and how I could help them make the play-offs. At the rate we’re going, we should be able to clinch a spot before the end of the season. That’s a lot of work to look forward to. I think about all that as I drive to the steakhouse where we’re all supposed to meet for dinner and some team bonding, I guess.

In the lobby of the restaurant, I watch as Harris slides out of his suit jacket and holds it out for George. Harris laughs and says, “Here. You know, if you wanna be dressed up. If you’re worried that they won’t let you in.”

“Uh,” she says skeptically, hesitating enough that Harris puts it on her. She looks kind of like a wire hanger with hair because the jacket hangs off her. Except she’s much, much prettier than a wire hanger.

Harris laughs as he rolls up his shirtsleeves. “See? Makes a world of difference.”

Klingensmith chirps, “Almost. Here, you need this, too.” He loosens his tie, pulls it over his head and then tosses it around her neck. We all chuckle as she looks down at herself, dressed in mismatched, oversized men’s clothing over her jeans and Comets shirt after the game.

Harris laughs at George in her new outfit. “You need at least fifty more pounds and six inches before you’ll look like a real hockey player. Then maybe you’d be the same size as Comstock here.”

George looks up at me sheepishly, and I can just tell, somehow, that she’s thinking about my body. She purses her lips together and looks away from me, and the guys notice her facial expression. “Thanks a lot, guys. I look totally presentable now.” She sighs as she holds up her hands, which are completely covered by the length of the sleeves. The hostess gives George a strange look as she waves us back to the banquet room—the only place in the restaurant big enough to accommodate our large group of people—but she doesn’t say anything about the dress code to George, not while she’s surrounded by so many well-dressed, obviously important guys.

“See? Not a problem,” Harris laughs again as we all gather around the table. It’s a game of musical chairs as we figure out who sits where and next to whom.

I’m looking out of the corner of my eye because I don’t want anyone to see that I’m really trying to figure out where George is sitting and where I should sit in relation to her. I want to sit nearby but not too close to her. Even though she was merely being nice by congratulating me after the game, I can tell she’s still trying to keep some distance from me. Not that I blame her for that, and I certainly want to respect that. Not only were we unprofessional by sleeping together the very same day we met, but then I had to tell her that when we had sex, I was part of a couple. I can’t imagine that that’s news anyone ever wants to hear, so I can’t blame her for not wanting to be around me. I wish that it didn’t have to be this way though, because I really like being around her.

* * * *

A lot of the time, I liked sitting in the middle of the table, completely surrounded by my loud, boisterous men. I can get just as rowdy as them. Usually I like the way everyone talks over each other in order to be heard and the way that, after a few beers each, the ties and suit coats come off, the top buttons of their shirts come undone, and they relax and let loose after a game. It’s a fun atmosphere to be a part of, and it’s even more fun to be right smack dab in the middle of it all—the one who gets reached across for the pepper or the one over top a high five gets slapped.

But I really don’t think I can be amidst that tonight at this table with all these guys. Sure, I had a blast at the game, but it’s easy to get into the games—especially when it’s a close game and a big one on top of that. Hockey’s such a fast-paced, emotional game, and I don’t think it’s possible to not get swept up in it. I’ve since come down from that high, and now I’m back in the funk that I’ve been in since I woke up on Wednesday morning.

I strategically pick a chair at one of the corners of the table because that will minimize the amount of people who can sit around me, and I’ll only be forced to interact with whoever sits next to me and across the table from me. The guys argue—like usual—over where they want to sit, who they want to sit by, and which seat will give them the best vantage point to check out the hot bartender or the television, whichever their preference is. Mark takes the seat next to me and asks, “How did you get relegated out here at the end?”

Smiling, I come up with my best white lie. “I just didn’t wanna get elbowed on both sides tonight. You guys eat like pigs.”

“But pigs with table manners,” he laughs, tucking the cloth napkin into the collar of his shirt. “Does it make me a cannibal if I order the ribs?”

I look at him with a cocked eyebrow and open my mouth to offer the first snappy retort I can think of, but Mark interrupts me and exclaims, “Stock! Come sit down here, with us!” When I turn my head to see Bryan, my mouth is still wide open and I’m sure my eyes are, too, looking stunned and unsure. The tips of his ears are red as he ducks his head and takes the seat across from me without a word. There aren’t many other available seats at this point, and chances are he would have been forced to sit here in the corner anyway. Just my luck. This man is unavoidable.

Mark, who invited Bryan to sit down here with us, ignores him and talks to me again. “So George, what have you been up to all week? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I’ve been busy,” I mutter, grabbing my napkin and spreading it out across my lap. I’m looking down at my hands as I smooth out the white linen. “Long road trip coming up in a few days, so there’s lots to do. And plus you guys were in Detroit for a couple days there.”

“But still, it seems like normally I still see you in the hallways or something. It feels like I haven’t seen you at all. Are you coming on the road trip?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, but then I force myself to smile at him. I don’t want to sound like I’m upset or nervous about having to be with these guys nonstop for a four-game, eight-day road trip or even give them that impression. I’m trying not to disturb the equilibrium of the team, especially since they’ve been playing well and have won the past two games—two out of three since Bryan has joined the Comets. I don’t think anyone can deny that he’s made a positive impact on our team, but he’s wreaking havoc on my personal life and possibly my professional life, too. I guess only time will tell how this will affect my ability to do my job. “Of course I will be.”

“Just checking.”

The conversation lulls, and I think about trying to find something to talk about, but then I realize that I’ll probably just say something stupid. So whenever I’m tempted to make an ass out of myself, I take a sip of my beer. I’m uneasy and I keep trying to avoid looking up because every time I do, I somehow manage to catch Bryan’s gaze. That makes both of us blush a little and then quickly look away. I’m surprised Mark hasn’t noticed yet. I keep fidgeting and accidentally kicking Bryan under the table, which makes it worse. I mumble an apology every time, but I’m sure he’s getting just as annoyed as I am.

Before I know it, my glass is empty. The waitress notices and brings me a new one without even bothering to ask. The guys have commandeered the bread basket, so I’m drinking my second beer on an empty stomach. I think about Tuesday and put my glass down, refusing to drink any more until I get my food.

The alcohol is making me warm, especially since I’m sitting next to Mark who’s practically a heat factory, so just like how some of the guys are doing, I take off the jacket and tie I’m wearing. I pull my hair off my neck, twisting it and then sweeping it over my shoulder to my front to try to get some cool air against my skin. I lean away from Mark to try to get away from his heat output and, in the process, move my foot somewhere to get better leverage. It hits something, and I simultaneously see Bryan twitch.

* * * *

“I’m sorry,” George mumbles, flicking her eyes down to the tabletop as color sweeps across her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” I assure her, again, because it’s okay. I wish she didn’t feel so bad about it, like she’s mortified that I may be construing this as her trying to play footsie or something like that under the table. Also, I wish she’d just look at me so I could smile at her or something to let her know that this is all okay—not just the accidental kicks, but being around me. I can understand why she thinks I’m a horrible person. After all, I used her to cheat on my girlfriend, and what kind of person does something like that? But I didn’t purposely use her, and I certainly didn’t mean to hurt her in the process. Things have just been messed up for the past couple of days in so many ways. After everything she’s done for me since I got here, I don’t want to repay her by making her miserable. On the contrary.

She’s acting quite different from the girl I first met, the one who manhandled my bags and smiled at me from ear-to-ear. Now she’s not smiling at all and is lacking that fun presence she exuded when I first saw her at the airport. I can tell it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that because I miss that girl, the one who made me feel so welcome and at home in strange new place, even if I didn’t appreciate it at first. I appreciate it now.

But I don’t know what to do reassure her or get her back to her old self. Maybe she thinks I’m mad at her for what happened, that she wrecked my relationship with Corinne, but I’m not mad. And it certainly wasn’t her fault. Maybe she’s embarrassed that she got drunk and slept with someone she works with, but I’m not embarrassed and I don’t think she should be either. It may not have been the smartest move or the most professional, but it’s not like I regret it.

It’s almost kinda funny and definitely a little ironic, I think, that when I start to feel comfortable as a Comet, surrounded by my new teammates here in Dallas, she’s the one who’s starting to look uncomfortable. I wouldn’t be feeling so good without her help, and now she’s the one who looks miserable. George looks absolutely relieved when our dinners start arriving so she can eat and keep herself distracted by that task.

When we’re all finished eating, the guys begin planning their evening. I can tell that George wants no part of this but feels like she doesn’t have a choice since, because Harris practically dragged her here, her car’s left at the arena. I figure I can help, so I nudge her foot under the table to get her attention and then quietly say, “I’ll take you back to the rink, if you want.”

She hesitates but looks like she’s going to accept my offer, but we get interrupted. “Yo, George. Club Onyx? This time, we’re celebrating!” Harris bellows.

George winces. “No Club Onyx, please. Seriously.”

“Aw, come on! I’ll buy you a lap dance!” That’s something I’ve heard from him before, when he tried to coax her to go there on Tuesday after our loss against the Monarchs. He laughs as he claps me on the back. “I oughtta buy one for Stock here, too, to celebrate his first goal.”

I can feel my face get hot but don’t say anything to Harris, even though I’d prefer no lap dance. George looks at me with her brown eyes and sees right through me, picking up on the fact that I’m a little uncomfortable with that situation. I never did like strip clubs and always try to avoid them. I think she even tries to cover for me, “I told you once, Adam, and I’ll tell y’all again. No. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“So what? Candy had a crush on you. I’d be flattered if a girl offered me a free dance in one of the back rooms.”

“I could see her herpes through her see-through G-string!” She gagged, shaking her head like an Etch A Sketch to get that memory out of her mind’s eye. While I wasn’t there to witness that, just the idea of it makes me laugh. “Don’t you get how gross that is? I did not want that anywhere near me. I do not want to see Candy again.”

“Whatever,” Harris mumbles, obviously wanting to go to Club Onyx but coming to grips with the idea that it wasn’t going to happen if he couldn’t convince George to go.

So I decide to offer a suggestion of my own. “Why don’t we go back to that one bar we were at? You know, that one on Tuesday?”

I watched as the guys look around at each other and debate that option, and they seem to be okay with it—at least enough that they agree to head there after dinner. We all just throw handfuls of cash on the table, enough from each of us to cover our individual bills and then some to tip the wait staff. Then we all make our way to the bar, which is more packed than it was on Tuesday. But we find a couple of tables to crowd around. People are line dancing, which is what I was hoping to see. George likes dancing—it was so evident when I saw her move on the floor on Tuesday—so I hope that dancing now will make her happy.

George sits on a high stool around one of the tables, rolling the sleeves of her t-shirt up to her shoulders to combat the heat. We all get beers, no fancy drinks, and hang around. We can’t really talk much over the music, which is probably a good thing. After a little while, some of the guys branch out to talk to some girls, and some guys leave to head home to their families, wives, and girlfriends.

George’s been mostly quiet, so I decide to do something more. I first head to the bar before I approach her, the first time I really try to talk to her on a personal level all day. I set a shot glass on the table in front of her and nod at her to take it, and then I knock back my own. I choose my words very carefully. “Do you dance?”

George smiles, like she knows exactly what I’m doing. She smiles like she did the moment I saw her at the airport: wide and genuine. Then she copies exactly what I did and said when I replied to that question when she first proposed it a few days ago. She downs the shot of whiskey, grimaces from the burn, and says, “No. Definitely not.”

“It’s a good time. I promise.” I hold out my hand, and she breaks the replay and accepts my offer. Pulling her up off the stool, I lead her out onto the crowded floor, and we take a stance beside each other. George jumps right into the line dance, knowing all the steps, and I do my best to follow along and join in. I’m definitely not drunk enough for this, but at least since I’m sober this time, I really take in the way she laughs at my incompetence.

* * * *

Bryan can’t dance, but his effort more than makes up for his lack of ability. His eyes are so intense as he watches me and tries to pick up the simple, repetitive moves. It makes me laugh, and I feel grateful to him for doing this for me, making a fool out of himself just so my mood would lighten.

I make him suffer through three dances before I nod in the direction of the table and put him out of his misery by letting him off the hook. We get the attention of the waitress, and she quickly gets us two cold bottles to quench our thirst.

Taking a long swig, I relish the feeling of the cool liquid as it flows down my throat, and I can feel it hit my stomach. Then I look at Bryan, who’s playing with the label of his beer. “Thanks.”

“Hmm?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Thanks. For dancing with me.” I wonder if he knows that dancing is one of my go-to coping mechanisms to de-stress. “It was fun.”

“I hoped you’d think so.” He scooches his stool a little closer to mine. “Thank you. For helping me after my trade. This wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for you.”

My stomach clenches, appreciating his kind words. I had wanted to make his transition smooth, to help him adjust to Dallas and the Comets and see his potential here, instead of being as sad about it as he had looked that day. It’s instinctual and natural to reach out for him and place my hand on his. “No, you had the potential, the skill, the talent to fit in here and contribute to the team. I didn’t do that.” But I do think about all the things I did do, none of which was any good for him, and that makes me sad. I look down and remove my hand from his.

But he grabs my hand so I can’t pull it away, which makes me look up at him. His smile is shy but sincere. “Georgiana.” The way he says my name sends shivers up and down my spine; I remember the way the way he said it in my bed, when he was inside me, and that hazy but strong memory is instantly conjured in my brain with that one word. It’s funny how he can say so much when actually saying so little.

I just look into his dark eyes for a while. His thumb rubs back and forth over my knuckles, and I wonder briefly if he knows he’s doing it. I’m getting lost, getting caught up in something I know I shouldn’t get caught up in—which is why I was trying to avoid him in the first place. I don’t want to do it, but I know I have to break this spell. “So, what happened with your girlfriend?”

Like I did with this spell, Bryan breaks my gaze, glancing to the side and his eyebrows do this crazy fast lift thing before they fall back into place low over his eyes. “Corinne and I are no longer together.”

Corinne. So that’s her name. It makes me feel worse now that I know it, because it makes her more...real or something. I want to tell him again that I’m so sorry, because even if he tries to pardon me, I had a hand in breaking up his relationship. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been dumb enough to bring him into my apartment instead of seeing him off like I should have if I were being a true professional. I don’t know why I thought I could do that, or how I thought it was possible.

Before I can say the words, though, he continues, “But it was over a long time ago, way before my trade even. We just didn’t know it yet until we had a reason to reevaluate things. We needed a reason to call to it quits.”

I roll my eyes. “So I was just the catalyst, hmm?” It sounds clichéd and stupid. I don’t buy in to it.

“A little bit, yeah. But it was everything. The whole deal with the trade. She didn’t love me enough to want to follow me here. Turns out that she hated living in Raleigh, but she just sucked it up and never told me. And I didn’t love her enough to rely on her for comfort during this hard time. I needed you for that.”

I don’t have anything to say to that. How much of this am I supposed to believe? I want to tell him that I think he’s full of shit, but I can’t find a nice way to say it so I just say his name and let my voice fade away into silence. “Bryan...”

“Georgiana.” Again, all it takes is him saying my name like that, in his deep voice, letting all four syllables roll off his tongue like a melody. He leans in close, closing the distance between us slowly yet surely. Bryan tilts his head and closes his eyes once he’s close enough to know that he’ll hit his mark, and he most certainly does. His lips are slightly chapped but still soft, too. He doesn’t move; he just keeps our mouths connected for a few seconds.

Then he backs up, in turn breaking our mouths apart, and opens his eyes to look at me. Meanwhile, my eyes have been open the entire time, nothing less than shocked by Bryan’s sudden yet confident move. He must be feeling good now, because the guy I met earlier in the week would never have done something like this; he never would have had it in him.

Bryan smiles at me encouragingly and imploringly, waiting for me to react or do something to indicate how I feel. I can tell that he hopes I’ll reciprocate, and I want to—I do—but I’ve got some trepidation about it. He just got out of a relationship with someone else. Did he have sex with her on Monday, the day he was traded, and the day before he and I had our drunken tryst? The idea of it makes me feel kind of sleazy, and I’m not sure that he’s ready to jump into something new with me, even if he’s acting like it. Did he make her feel the same way I felt when I was with him?

That last question is what launches me forward in his direction. I want to recapture that feeling, the way I felt with him, the way he made me feel. At first, I plant my hands on his cheeks, but that quickly evolves into me holding on to his big ears as my lips crash against his, our teeth clacking together as my mouth mauls his. I can feel by the way his face moves that he’s smiling. Bryan puts his warm hands on my forearms, holding me there in position so we won’t stop kissing, and I lose track of time as we make out in a public place, like horny teenagers.

The music’s loud, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t hear the eruption of noise behind us. There are only a handful of my Comets still hanging around, but I’ll be damned if they don’t all see Bryan and me going at it at the table in the corner.

* * * *

“Oooooooh!” The sound of the guys calling out behind their hands is utterly distracting, but I guess it saves us the trouble of figuring out how to let them all know that there’s something between us or something starting. But until one of them says actual words, there’s no way of telling what they think about the two of us kissing each other.

George’s body freezes; I can feel as her muscles tense. She’s embarrassed, leaning back and putting a few inches of space between us again. Her hands fall from my head, down onto my shoulders, and then all the way down to my knees. I’m worried that she’ll let them fall away from me completely, so I grab them in mine and give them a reassuring squeeze.

She smiles at me nervously as her face turns a pretty shade of pink, obviously grateful that I have her back. I know that she could just as easily brush this off as another alcohol-fueled mistake in order to avoid this confrontation as she could accept responsibility and own this, so I wait for her to take the lead. George licks her lips as she prepares herself for what is likely to be a verbal assault, or at least a few little jabs. I’m hoping, anyway.

They look at George then look at me before looking back at her. I think I can read their minds, and they’re all wondering if she’s going to slap me for invading her personal space or trespassing on her lips. They looked shocked that she’s letting me touch her. I watch as she pulls herself together and puts on a stern expression as she turns to Harris, Rockwell, and Klingensmith. She barks out, “What?”

Instead of looking at us, they all start to look at each other, trying to figure out what’s going on because they don’t know what they’re seeing. Rocky speaks up first. “Um, you were...uh, kissing...him?”

“Yes, that is what that’s called. Does that surprise y’all?”

Rockwell looks like he’s under a spotlight or—probably more appropriately—a police interrogator’s lamp. “Well, kind of...”

“Do you think I don’t kiss people, Justin?”

I choke on a laugh, and then I squeeze George’s hand, trying to tell her that she should be nice to my defense partner.

“No... I mean, I don’t know. Yes?” He’s confused and floundering. “It’s just, well, we’ve never seen you...or at least I’ve never seen you...kiss someone...like that.”

Klingensmith speaks up. “And never one of the guys.” He turns to me. “Stock, you just got your hand caught in the cookie jar.”

I smile at him. “Jealous you never had a shot?”

Klingensmith scrunches up his face in disgust, like he just puked in his mouth. “No. Ugh, God no. Are you crazy? That’s George. That’s gross.”

George furrows her eyebrows and hollers, “Mark! Seriously?”

“I didn’t mean that you were gross, I just mean that that’s gross. You’re, like, my sister or something. I don’t want to think about that. And I certainly don’t want to even think about being a part of it. Stock, man, best of luck to you.” Then he turns to Harris like a light bulb just went off over his head. “I told you! Pay up, man! I told you there was something weird going on between them.”

“Fuck,” Harris groans, but he doesn’t reach for his wallet. “I thought she just didn't like him.” That makes George cover her mouth to hide her giggle. Harris throws in his two cents. “Okay, yeah, but like...why him? I mean, if you were going to go after anyone on the team...” He looks down at himself and cocks an eyebrow, like he’s thinking that he’s a total stud and should have been the one to command George’s attention—for no other reason than he thinks he should always be the one to be fawned over by people of the female persuasion.

“And that is why, Adam, it never would have been you.” She turns to me, a gleam in her eye that is much more preferable than the scared look that was there just a few moments earlier. “Do you wanna get out of here now?”

I feel like a stud. Nothing would make me happier. “Yup.” I never let go of her hand as we stand up from our stools and breeze past them as we head for the door. I feel light and free in a way I haven’t for a very long time. We walk to the team car that I’ve been using since I got here, and I open the door for her. When I get into the driver’s side, I ask, “That wasn’t so bad. And now everyone knows.”

“No, everyone will know by tomorrow,” she tells me. “The whole team, the coaches. My boss,” she sighs. I worry that she’s worried, but she turns her head and smiles at me. “Let’s wait ’til tomorrow before we count our victories, and let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?”

“Okay. So, uh, where to?” It’s a broad enough question that I get to let her decide where to take our night.

“Would you mind taking me home? I’m tired and don’t feel like getting my car right now. I probably shouldn’t be driving anyway,” she rationalizes. At least I think she’s rationalizing spending the time with me. Maybe she’ll then have me pick her up sometime tomorrow so I can take her to the rink to get her car.

“No problem.”

George gives me directions to her place from the bar because I don’t remember the taxi ride, but other than that, we don’t talk. That’s okay with me, because I’m not much of a talker anyway. I reach across the center console and entangle my fingers with hers until I pull up toward her building.

“You can park there,” she says, pointing with her free hand toward a spot near the door. I infer that it’s her spot, and it’s empty because her car’s not here. I do as she instructs, but I hesitate as the car idles. George lets go of my hand and opens her door as she asks, “Would you like to come up?”

It’s my turn to freeze. Do I want to come up? Yes. Yes, I do. But should I? No, I probably shouldn’t. But I don’t want to actually say the word “no.”

She smiles at me as she stands beside the open car door, leaning down so I can see her face. “In case you didn’t know, Bryan, the answer’s ‘yes.’”

I turn off the ignition and follow her inside her building.

* * * *

I’m feeling pretty good as I open my apartment door and hold it open for Bryan to come in behind me. He’s smart, sliding the deadbolt into place and locking the door securely. It’s a safe neighborhood and a very safe building, and I feel even better knowing that I’m not alone in my apartment, but I’m not worried about whether or not the door’s locked. I like that he closed up behind him like he doesn’t plan on leaving tonight.

But I feel kind of self-conscious once I have him in my living room. I’m not quite sure what to do next. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” he replies, so I grab a bottle of Dasani out of the fridge and hand it to him. He cracks the lid and downs seemingly half the bottle in one big gulp.

And again I’m not sure what to do. I try small talk. “You guys don’t have a practice tomorrow, do you?”

Bryan shakes his head. “No, we got the day off since we won, and we don’t play next ’til Tuesday.”

“Cool.” I feel a yawn coming on, and I press the back of my hand against my mouth as I try to stifle it.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you, uh... Do you want me to go?” he asks. He’s kind of shy about it, and I think that’s cute.

“No,” I tell him. “I want you to stay.” I feel another yawn threatening to escape.

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Only if you come with me,” I flirt.

“Yeah, definitely.” His smile is big and broad.

He knows where he’s going, and he takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom. I watch as he removes his suit piece by piece: his jacket, his tie, his dress shirt, and his pants. In just his blue plaid boxers, he pulls back the covers and slides underneath the sheet. To even up the score, I step out of my jeans and take off my bra so I’m clad in only my black panties and my Comets shirt. I feel his eyes on me the entire time as I lean over and turn off the lamp.

“Good night, Bryan,” I whisper, placing my hand on his chest as I kiss his jaw. For good measure, I press my lips to his.

Without responding verbally, he kisses back. This is no little peck. When I lean away from him, he leans forward and follows my body in order to keep kissing me. I let him, loving the attention he’s lavishing me with.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says as he drags his lips to my neck. It’s the same spot that had been bruised and needed covering.

“No, don’t stop,” I tell him, enjoying this way too much to want it to ever end. I’d be lying if I said that Tuesday’s events don’t replay in my mind. Even now, I keep thinking about what we did and that fuels all the emotions and hormones that are raging within me.

But he does stop—the exact opposite of what I said. I look up at him as he asks me, “Do you think we should take this slow?”

I want to laugh at him because we can’t possibly slow down since we slept together the same day we met, but there’s an innocent, naïve look in his eyes that makes me think he’s not totally ridiculous. But even though it endears him to me, that doesn’t change the way my body’s reacting to him. I place one hand on his cheek, which is warm and flushed. “I want you.”

Thank God that’s all I have to say to set him back in motion. I’m enjoying this experience more this time around since we’re sober and fully aware of what we’re doing. And of course it’s even better because we know why we’re doing this, because we like each other. It’s different this time—slower and more intimate.

I’m flat on my back, waiting impatiently for Bryan to finish putting on the condom, my fingers moving just enough between my legs to keep me warmed up for the action to come. He watches me for a moment before he bats my hand away and replaces my fingers with his thumb and then pushes himself into me. He’s a fast learner, and he knows exactly how to push my button. I really like the attention. Being with Bryan is better than I remember and better than all the daydreams that have been playing in my head.

But the best part is when I wake up the next morning to find him still in bed with me, snoring softly and nestled against me.

# # #

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jaymee Jacobs is a hockey fan with a writing habit. When not cheering on her Pittsburgh Penguins, Jay writes stories about her favorite sport. She started publishing in 2013 and has released three full-length novels: Play the Man, Shots on Net, and Game On. More information can be found on her website, jaymeejacobs.com

Jaymee Jacobs

Author, Play the Man; Shots on Net; and Game On

Twitter: @JaymeeJacobs

~ * ~

Heir Apparent

© V.L. Locey

Acknowledgements

A hearty “Thank You!” to Mike, aka Glovesave235, for his invaluable insights into the mind of a goalie. Heir Apparent could not have happened without you! Let’s go Rangers!

As always, a hug of appreciation must go to my hockey guru, Lola. May your Pens score often.

Of course a hearty thanks must go to my family, hockey loving nuts that we are all! Your support means so very much to me.

One

The first time I saw Cam Evans play I was five years old. My father had taken me to my first ever professional game as part of my fifth birthday party. It was just me and Dad. Mom and Jane, my sister who is four years older than me, stayed home since both disliked how cold the stadium was. See, Mom had been to “The Game” many times before in our home state of New Jersey. My father lived, breathed, and defecated Pittsburgh Puma hockey. His den was a shrine to the Pumas; the walls had even been painted green and gold, the Puma team colors.

So yeah, back to my first time seeing Cam Evans in net. I was five; my toes were cold despite the two pairs of socks my mother insisted I wear. My cheeks were warm with excitement. Three rows back from center ice we sat in the Jersey Jaguars stadium, two green and gold backers among a sea of black and silver. Well, sat is a misnomer. Our seats were empty more than they were filled. I stood throughout every period, my eyes dried out like parchment from absorbing every movement Cam Evans made in the crease. Of course at five, I didn’t know a butterfly goalie from a soccer goalie, I just knew that whatever that man in the mask was doing, I wanted to do it too. That day the obsession began.

My father was elated when I said I wanted to play hockey. On our way home from the game we stopped at the nearest sporting goods store. Dad purchased me skates, a stick, and a puck. I still have the skates and puck. That first stick was broken years ago. Countless hundreds have been purchased in its place. Mom became a hockey mom that evening. She must have logged in a million miles shuttling me to rinks all over the eastern seaboard. Years of practice, games, scrimmages, stitches, tears, tantrums, and thousands of dollars for bigger, better, newer equipment followed. Man, that first stick was something special, though. So was Cameron Evans.

Imagine the knot in my throat now to be sitting ten rows behind the legend at Dawson Wells Arena, watching the man I idolized working the crease as only Cam Evans can work the crease. I was leaning forward, my elbows to my denim-covered knees, my sights intent on the man as he stayed tucked tightly into his net. I was a little bolder than Cam. I tended to range out, dancing dangerously at times on or beyond the arc of blue ice under my skates.

“So, Jacobi, what do you think?” I tore my eyes from that famous number fifty in green and gold. My dad smiled at me. A larger ball of anxiety formed directly behind my Adam’s apple. Finally I was here. In “The Wells” as the Pittsburgh arena was called. The call to come up from the Dawson Hills AHL franchise had come yesterday. Gregor Rosovich, the backup tender for Cam Evans, had been placed on waivers after a dismal performance filling in for Evans, who had started to develop performance issues of some kind. Gregor had been a so-so netminder throughout his career, so when the waiver word appeared, Gregor decided to retire. With his retirement, the call was made to Dawson Hills. I was told to have my backside in Pittsburgh before the next game. I did a Sammy Hagar driving from Jersey.

My dad had wept when I called him with the news. Then he had met me at the stadium, where he hugged me so hard for so long I feared cracked ribs. Now here we sat. There was no denying that I was Roger Neal’s boy. We had the same reddish-blond hair, same angular face that housed deep green eyes, a normal nose and functional mouth. My height and weight, two hundred and forty pounds on a six foot six body, was exactly what dad was when he played defense in the minors back in his glory days.

“Do you see how he’s working the glove side?” I asked as we slowly rose from the gold and green seats. “He’s off his game." Another shot from Cam’s teammate soared cleanly over his mitt to shake the twine. “What do you think is inside his head?”

“He’s Cam Evans,” Dad said, tossing me the hastily packed Dawson Falls Dragons duffel I had brought with me. “Whatever his issue is of late, I know it has to be eating him up. That’s why he’s doing double practice, I bet. That last healthy scratch knotted his knickers.”

“That son of a bitch is intense,” I said with admiration. We left the practice behind. Within an hour, I had been assigned a cubicle, had spoken briefly with the head coach, Arthur Webern, and was told by the goalie coach, Ivan Mars, to get dressed for scrimmage. I sincerely thought my father would faint when I emerged from the locker room with the Pittsburgh golden puma on my chest. The large two and four on my back felt heavy as hell.

“Just do what you always do, son. No matter what happens, you know we’re proud of you,” Dad said, squeezed the back of my neck, then disappeared down one of a hundred hallways under the ice. I had to inhale then exhale a few dozen times before I could make my legs work. Down the gold and green runway I went, my skates sounding dull as they hit the thick carpet runner leading from dressing room to ice. I took just a minute to let the import of this all embed in my mind. My first practice as a Puma was about to happen. All the blood, sweat, tears, and pulled groin muscles would be paying off as soon as I touched blade to frozen water. My hands trembled a bit inside my blocker and catcher. My leg pads felt too big. My mask a touch too small . . .

“You coming out or what, kid?” Pierre DeLoux, our first line center and team captain asked, spewing ice as he hit a side stop in front of the team exit. “Nerves a little bit bad?” the Quebecer asked.

“My knees just locked up." That amused the team captain tremendously. With his arm around my well-padded shoulder, I was escorted out. Introductions were done quickly, a smile accompanied by a glove rap or pat to the helmet. I stood at center ice, the multi-million dollar Jumbotron over my head, enrapt with the approach of Cam Evans. He seemed larger than life, but in reality I had about six inches and sixty pounds on him.

I had studied his form, his technique, his life. This was the first time that I had stared directly into his brown eyes. Some sort of sucker punch to the gut occurred when we locked sight.

Fuck. I was rattled badly. Not because I was attracted to a man. I’ve known that I was gay since that time I was playing basketball when I was thirteen and inadvertently rubbed bellies with John Reynolds on a layup attempt. I came down with a whole new understanding of who I was that day. No, it wasn’t that. It was the rush of lust that sprang up for such an older man. My sexual partners had generally been dudes around my own age of twenty-two. All one of them. Who has time to cruise when you have hockey, final exams, hockey, and even more hockey? Maybe I need a life. Or a therapist.

I shook off the attraction, chalked it up to simple adoration like any fan, then removed my blocker to extend my bare hand out to the legend. Cam gave my hand a quick look before placing his sweaty palm into mine. His touch made the wheels in my mind spin aimlessly. I stumbled over the greeting I had planned. Cam was as cool as a refrigerated radish. He smiled at my stupidity, ran his fingers through his neatly trimmed brown hair, then waved his hand at the goal.

“They say you’re the next me. Show us if the talk is real or bullshit.”

I gaped for a moment. The entire team stood around the two of us, some leaning on their sticks, some simply chewing on their mouth protectors, while some shifted from one skate to the other with evident impatience.

“There can never be another you, Mr. Evans, but I’ll show you what Coach Truhill taught me,” I said. A low murmur of approval moved through the Pumas. Alex Truhill was a legend among collegiate coaches and had coached some of the best in the league. It had been an honor to play under him during my four years at Boston College. Exhaling sharply, I pulled my mask over my face then skated to goal. Cam had already scuffed the ice nicely. I gave it a fresh go-over to suit me. Once I had a little snow wall in place to hopefully slow down the puck, I whispered my special silent prayer, dropped down into my hybrid stance, and waited for the team to line up. My tongue tasted tinny. My eyes locked onto Brad Cooper, the first-line right winger.

Cooper was the top scorer on the Pumas and could deke better than any other player I had ever seen. My glove hand was up. My stick was down. Brad Cooper locked eyes with me, winked, flipped a puck skyward with the edge of his stick, then proceeded to race down the ice toward me. His moves were so slick, so smooth, so sure, that I almost pulled myself too far to the left. Cooper switched up at the last minute. The puck flew at the gaping hope that should have been open over my left shoulder. I caught the puck in my glove. The “Thwak!” of rubber in the basket filled me with pride.

I had about zero point one second to revel in outmaneuvering the Puma`s deke master. Shots then came fast and furious, each player attempting to sucker me in. After the last shot went wide of the net, I looked behind me. Two pucks rested against the twine. Two missed shots out of twenty-three shots on goal. Not bad, but not good enough. I straightened up, flipped up my lid then grabbed a squirt from the bottle of water attached with Velcro to the top of the goal. I grimaced at the grape sports drink when it ran down my parched throat. I hate the grape flavor.

“Not too badly.” Ivan shouted from his spot between Coach Webern and Cameron Evans. “You’re gliding a bit. Paddle-down stops too soon.”

I nodded at the famed Russian goalie coach. Cam Evans said nothing but his brown eyes never left me in his crease. I had to look away then because ten men were lined up to deliver slap shots to the newbie in the net. The first one hit me so hard in the center of the chest I felt the bruise pop up. I remember reading that the great Bobby Hull had a slap shot clocked at over one hundred and eighteen miles per hour. Most are around a hundred MPH, give or take. That one felt all of a hundred as it rebounded off my sternum. Possibly two hundred. There was no time to whine even if I had wanted to. Which I didn’t. An hour flew by. I was soaked with sweat, banged up, dehydrated, and elated.

“Guess the reports about you were true. Good stuff out there, kid. Just watch your tendency to paddle-down too soon,” Cam said after I had skated off the ice.

“I’ll do that, Mister Evans."

“Drop the Mister, okay? You don’t have to remind me that I’m old enough to be your father,” the living legend said while we made our way off the ice.

I swallowed quickly to try to salvage the gaffe. Cam clapped my shoulder, his brown eyes growing warm. He was carrying some serious stress lines around his eyes. Pity, since those had to be the prettiest eyes I had ever seen on a man. The way his dark lashes framed those pools of chocolate…

“Sure, I can call you something else, sir.” Shit.

“That was not an improvement." I felt the edges of my ears grow hot. Cam sauntered into the locker room. I searched for a closet to hide in even though I had vowed to never go back into one again. But a nice tidy area to hide my face at the moment wouldn’t be looked down upon. Sir!? Shit. Shit. Shit. I chugged into the locker room hot on Cam Evans’s heels, making bumbling words that sort of sounded like apologies. The man stopped short. I nearly rear-ended him. I skittered backward. He turned to look down on me. I know, physically he was looking up, but trust me, he was looking down at me.

“Okay, kid,” he said raising a hand to stall my blathering. I clamped my mouth shut. The sounds and smells of a room packed with men ebbed and flowed around us. “Jack, right?”

“No, sir, Jacobi. Jacobi Neal,” I muttered, stepping to the side to allow one of our D-men to jog past naked as that proverbial jaybird. My gaze stayed on Cameron Evans. He really seemed to be the most impressive male here.

“Jacobi,” he chuckled. I didn’t see what was so amusing about my name. “Yeah, that sounds like your age group. Jacobi, do us both a favor, will you?” I nodded like the oaf I am. “Just relax. I hold my dick to piss the same way you do, right?”

“Sure, right.” I laughed nervously. My face was aflame now. “I knew that. I’m just…”

“It’s okay. I remember my call-up as well. You’ll make a fine backup for the Pumas.” He held out his hand. I shook it with a little too much enthusiasm. I stood there smiling like a moron. A wet towel slapped me in the side of the face. I sputtered as I spun to find the culprit. Soon I was inundated with soaking wet towels. Some smelled like sweaty balls. I had a flash of Alec Baldwin appearing on NPR on SNL. I won’t go into detail about the shower of jock straps that followed, but I did scrub my head four times in the shower after the initiation was over.

Two

An hour after my first scrimmage I was seated on a stool as some reasonably nice lady chewing peppermint gum tried get my hair to lay down flat. Her efforts were in vain. I smiled sheepishly at Clark Hunkers, the host of Puma News, the team’s weekly show that aired every Sunday at ten. Clark was a retired defenseman who had played with the Pumas about twenty years ago. He wore outlandish suits, had no hair, and his nose sat on his face as if it owned it.

The hair lady finally gave up. Hunkers kept telling me not to be nervous, that at one time Paul Cooper, Legendary goalie for the Pumas back in the sixties, had sat in that same exact seat. As the nice lady with the wad of gum dabbed some sort of TV makeup onto my face, I wondered if Paul had felt like he wanted to toss his cookies. More than likely not.

Bright lights flickered on. The gum lady tugged the paper from my collar then sashayed off. Hunkers watched the sway of her hips then winked at me.

“Nice tits, huh?” Hunkers asked as he shrugged into a blue jacket that was covered with bright yellow catamounts. My gay status was a non-fact in my opinion. I didn’t hide it or promote it. I refused to make it something to discuss. All that should matter is if I can play. And I can.

Looking at Hunkers’ jacket made my stomach feel even less stable. The sound guy hurried out to mike me up. There were three cameras all trained on the two of us. Behind us was a green screen. I wanted to glance back to see the famous introductory segment playing. I had seen that segue a thousand times as a kid.

“Good Sunday morning, Pittsburgh! Welcome to Puma Talk,” Hunkers said into the camera. I stared at the prompter as his lines rolled past. “Today we’ll be getting a behind the scenes peek at the fourteenth annual Puma Parade through the Pittsburgh Municipal Children’s Hospital. Then we’ll hear from Dave Dawson, who will go in depth with Coach Webern in the ‘Coaches Corner’ segment. First, though, we’re going to have a chat with Cam Evans’s new relief man, Jacobi Neal. Welcome to Pittsburgh, and to Puma Talk, Jacobi.”

I mumbled a nervous thanks.

“Word has it you’re the reason the Puma minor league club over in Jersey, the Dawson Dragons, won the Calder Cup last year.”

I blinked at the man and his nose stupidly.

“No, it wasn’t me who won it. I just stood there and blocked a few shots. It was the team that rallied in that final game. Christenson’s goal with four seconds left to tie, and then the OT goal from Brooks Timor, as well as the defense keeping the snipers contained, that’s what won us the Calder.”

“Ha!” Hunkers laughed loudly. “Blocked a few goals, he says!” The old D-man jerked a thick thumb at me. “For those of you who don’t know, Jacobi here blocked an amazing forty-three shots in the rubber game of the championship. The only goal scored by the other team was a deflection off two players! Forty-three shots blocked! That stat beat Cam Evans’s long held forty-two SOG from eight years ago. I bet Cam has to be watching you. Do you think he’s wondering if he’s seeing himself twenty years ago. I’m sure you’ve heard the comparisons?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard them. I don’t agree with them. Cam Evans is a legend. I’m just a kid from Trenton who still plays street hockey with the guys when I go back home, you know? It’s the guys playing with me who make me look so good.”

“Humble and talented, that’s our new backup tender, Jacobi Neal! Next on Puma Talk, we’re off to the races for charity! Good luck and welcome to the Pumas!” Clark said. I shook the extended hand strongly once again.

“Thanks, Hunker.” I sighed in relief when the cameraman waved us out.

“Good going, kid, you nailed that in one take!” Hunkers beamed then patted my shoulder before I was led out of the press room by gum lady. I meandered around, just drinking it all in. Finally I found the weight room, then the locker room. I hurried inside to gather up my stuff. I had two hours before I had to be back. Time enough to find a hotel room to rent, grab a meal, then get back to suit up. I ran into Brad Cooper, the King of Deke, as I was exiting the stadium. Cold wind blustered across the empty parking lot. I located my dad sitting in my green Range Rover, reading the paper to pass the time. He was famous for car-waiting.

"Nice saves,” Brad said as a gust whipped around the stadium. I jogged over to him. Cooper was a nice-looking guy with dirty blond hair, green eyes, a great cleft in his chin, and a winning smile. He was probably a couple years my senior, if that. We sized each other up. It was hard to tell what a man’s body was like in uniform. Heavy winter coats didn’t help either, but I could see his legs were long, strong, and his thighs muscular inside his jeans. Yeah, this could work. The vibe was there. I smiled at him, glad to see he stood close to my height. The wind kept flipping his hair into his face. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but Pete Dunlop has a huge-ass place across the Monongahela. Seriously, the place is massive. He always has spare bedrooms. If you want, you can follow me over. I’m crashing there for a few weeks." He began bouncing up and down to stay warm. “I just split with my partner, and yeah, you know . . .”

“He got the apartment?” I asked. Brad nodded. Oh yeah, this could work well. My father chose that moment to blow the horn. Both Brad and I startled. “Listen, my dad’s here, so I’m going to go with him to find a hotel. Can we maybe hook up after the game? I mean, to go check out Dunlop’s place?”

“Sure, no problem.” Brad smiled then ducked his head into the next punishing cold blast. He ran to a frosty blue Durango. I hustled over to the toasty warm Rover.

“Seems a smart man like you would flirt inside where it’s warmer.” Dad peeked over at me.

“You’d think, huh?” I laughed then placed my hands over the hot air vents.

“Jacobi, be careful,” he said as I dropped the Rover into drive. “I’m not sure exactly how this dating thing works between players. Back in my day, athletes hid being gay. I don’t want to see you break rules or something. Is that considered fraternizing?”

“Dad, it’s cool,” I said as my fingertips slowly warmed. “I’m not planning on falling madly in love with anyone. I need to put all my effort and concentration on securing this chance to make the team.”

“Oh, well, all right, as long as you have your priorities straight.”

We sat at a red light waiting to leave the stadium. I looked over at my father. “I’m all about priorities, Dad." I would not let them down by letting my romantic heart lead me off the path. “So, what chain is your favorite?”

“I’m kind of partial to the people who leave a light on for you."

“Then let’s see if we can find a room and grub close by.”

“Your first professional game starts at seven,” he said wistfully.

“Yep, game starts at seven.” I reached over to pat his knee. I wasn’t sure who was more awed, me or him.

* * * *

On reflection, my awe probably overpowered my father’s. As the team lingered just outside the cattle chute that led from the locker room to the ice, I couldn’t seem to remember my multiplication tables. Ever since I was a kid heading into my first midget game as netminder I went over the times tables mentally. It helped me focus as well as combat the nerves. I was stuck on three times seven. I mean, Hello? Who the fuck can’t remember what three times seven is!

“Dude, inhale before you pass out,” Brad said. I glanced over at him in panic. His green eyes were full of mirth. He reminded me a leprechaun that threw body checks that separated fillings from teeth.

“Man, I cannot remember what three times seven is."

He rubbed my head. “Twenty-one."

“Thanks,” I murmured, kneading the muscle over my thumping heart anxiously. I didn’t object to the head pat. For some reason everyone on the team seems to think goalies are like gnomes, in that if you rub their head, you get good luck. It’s real common to see each player line up to pat – or even kiss – the goalie’s helmet after a win. Some teams, like the Puma’s, like to get a pregame rub or smooch in as well.

“You excited?” he asked, bouncing his well-taped stick off the rug. You could taste the anticipation in the air. We were facing our division rivals, the New York Empires. Cam was famous for the hard-on he got when he went up against the Empires’ goalie, Dustin Abernathy. Nodding in reply to Brad, I glanced over at Cameron. He was standing by himself, mentally gnawing at something. His eyes were heavy-lidded. His lips parted slightly. His stubble-covered jaw relaxed. It was damned sexual to be honest. I imagined he would look that way when I was sucking him off.

“Whoa!” I coughed, ripping my sight from Evans. Cooper clapped my shoulder, squeezed, then got in line. I fumbled along after him, my mind stuck on that erotic image. I refused to look up. The stadium announcer shouted out, “Make some noise for your Pittsburgh Pumas!” and the concrete holding the stadium together vibrated. My feet moved by themselves. Once I hit the ice, my mind let go of the sinful picture of Cam and me. I stood among the revolving Puma emblems rotating on the ice. The stands were dark. “Click Click Boom” by Saliva was playing. Shit, but I love Saliva. I love hockey. I seriously love hockey. This right here is almost as good as sex.

My eyes roamed the ebony velvet that blanketed the stands. If only I could be in Cam’s spot right now. Plowing up ice with my skates, slapping the pipes with my stick, adjusting my water bottles on the back of the net . . .

Someday.

I made a complete circle of our end of the ice, inhaling the frozen air mingled with the aroma of athletics and excitement. I was such a junkie for this sport, it was pitiful. Smiling like a fucking loon, I ambled off the ice to the bench. I eyed the little spot in the corner. The bench area in Pittsburgh is old and doesn’t have enough room for us goalies with all our pads, so we’re given a special seat in the corner. I stood as the national anthem was sung. After the crowd settled down, I wiggled around on my seat until I was comfortable. Shoulder to the glass, eyes locked on the face-off occurring, I felt the butterflies inside lessening. I lost myself in the game, amazed to be sitting here, dressed, watching the team and the man I had grown up idolizing while being a part of it.

The first period didn’t go well for us. Right off I sensed that Cam was having troubles. The Empires were struggling to maintain .500. The Pumas were second in the Atlantic Division, with only a point separating us from the much hated Boston Badgers. We should be hanging these guys out to dry like wash. Ten minutes in and the Empires had socked two soft goals past Cam. I studied each move the goaltending legend made. His stick work was sloppy. He was slow to respond. He didn’t seem to be reading the plays as they happened. And, the curse of all professional athletes, he seemed to be lacking self-confidence.

Of course, not all the blame could be put on Cam. The defense had fallen apart a few times. Still, the fans expected to see Cam Evans make routine, as well as stellar saves. When he didn’t, the natives got restless, as did the press, the GM, the coaching staff, the team, and the whole organization right down to the dude who washes the dirty towels.

During intermission, Coach Webern preached about tightening up, not letting ourselves get pinched, and working to maintain steady pressure in front of the Empire net. I heard all of this, yet I was visually intrigued by the quiet conversation Ivan and Cam were engaged in. Since it didn’t concern me, I tried not to appear as if I were trying to eavesdrop. The two men were deeply engrossed with Cam silently nodding at whatever it was the goalie coach was telling him. Cam’s short brown hair was plastered to his skull, accentuating the perfection of his cranium. His hair was thick still, and plentiful. Worry lines were chiseled around his downcast eyes. It was after we were on the bench for the second period that I heard the first murmur of discontent from one of the Pumas.

“Man, I don’t know why they don’t let him sit. We got you now.”

I gaped at Stew Dickson, a tall, dark, trolling goon who had come over in a mid-season trade in hopes of beefing up the fourth line.

“He’s Cam Evans,” I said, tugging at the cups digging into my groin. “He’ll bounce back; you watch. He always dips a bit in performance during December and January.”

“Jesus, why don’t you just drop down and suck his dick,” Stew said, turning from me to bitch to Grant Preston. I had the strongest urge to punch them both witless. Then I realized they were already witless. Brad took the end of the bench beside me.

“Hey,” I said, leaning forward to ensure our conversation was as private as possible on a bench packed full of hockey players. Brad lowered the towel from his face. “Is Dickson always such an assgoblin?”

“Oh yeah,” Cooper said, returning to scrubbing his face as well as the inside of his visor. I sat back, pushed the brim of my Puma ball cap back a little, then watched Cam struggling to make simple saves. The bobble of a shot to the chest made me grimace, as did the rebound off a Tinkerbell shot from the blue line. Evans should have had that puck trapped on the ice with ease. Instead the Empires fell on the rebound like hungry hyenas, jabbing at the puck and our frazzled goalie until someone slugged the first Empire he could find. The scrum was nothing exceptional, but it did get the heat off Cam. The buzzer signaling the end of the second period was a blessed relief.

Miraculously we managed to pull a win out of our asses. We were all assigned video to watch. I grabbed a fast shower. As I dressed, my sight kept dodging to Cam as he sat in his cubicle, still in his gear, his shoulders collapsing inward. The press had been in to poke at the team before we showered. I tried to stay in the corner, melding into the shadows kind of thing to try to avoid being asked about Cam. As I was sliding my arm into my coat, I padded over to Evans. There was this huge, uncomfortable moment when he raised his head to look at me, his brown eyes shuttering quickly to mask the melancholy.

“That was one incredible glove save on Zerbloskovich,” I said. It really had been. The quick snap of the puck out of the air was classic Evans. Cam stared at me for a full minute. I felt like crawling into my duffel bag.

“You don’t need to stroke my ego. I know why you’re here.”

My mouth dropped open. An equipment manager hustled past, skates draped over his shoulders. I waited until we were alone again.

“I’m your backup, that’s all." This was all so bizarre I had to double-check my reality by biting the inside of my bottom lip. Yeah, that hurt. So this was really happening. I was standing here trying to bolster Cam Evans’s flagging self-confidence. “Look, I know it’s been tough for you lately, but you’ll--”

Cam shot to his feet. The man gave me a blow to the chest that staggered me. “You don’t have the fucking right to tell me what’s been tough. You’re still a fucking sucking pup, Jacobi!”

“Fuck you then!” I stalked away before I decided to coldcock his old ass. It was right then that I decided I would get Dad settled in his hotel room, locate Brad, and go look at the mansion on the other side of the Monongahela. I shoved the confrontation with Cam to the back of my mind, texting Brad as I left the aging goalie alone in the dressing area. Within an hour Dad was happily watching the eleven o’clock news in his cozy hotel room.

I, on the other hand, was sharing a good laugh with Brad Cooper, who was looking more fuckable by the minute. Looking back on it, using Brad to squash the sting of Cam’s shitty behavior was a less than stellar thing to do. I have apologized to him, and he and I are awkwardly square now.

We arrived in Mount Washington and I got the grand tour of the house Brad was sharing with Pete Dunlop, a second-line winger for the Pumas. We chatted for a few then a handshake sealed the deal. I was to move in tomorrow, stay until I found an apartment or was shipped back down to the Dragons, and never touch the Coors in the fridge. Brad showed me around the huge colonial. The second floor held four bedrooms. One was Pete’s, one Brad’s. I had the pick of the remaining two.

I chose the one that looked out on a pretty spacious backyard. The lawn was covered with snow. I cleared a hole on the frosty window with my hand. Brad was saying something. I found a dark spot in the snow, a shadow caused by a snowdrift no doubt, but that darkness amid the white held me. I wondered what the hell was eating Cam. What darkness had a grip upon him? My bottle of Bud dangled from my fingers. Brad’s hand on my shoulder brought me back from the shifting moonglow below. I turned to look at him. He leaned in to kiss me. We both tasted like hops and barley. He was a nice kisser, firm but gentle, not one of those who slobber all over your face. I set my beer on the windowsill. He did the same. We stumbled to the twin bed. The bare mattress was a firm one. Things got kind of hot for a while. Mostly frottage, with him gyrating against my erection as we groped each other. He wanted more. I did as well but something held me back.

“I think we better take a breather,” I whispered so as not to draw Pete upstairs. Brad nibbled on my neck for a moment longer then rolled off me. We lay there on that naked bed for a few minutes, working to bring our breathing down.

“I was kind of hoping that would happen,” he confessed, his body solid and warm next to mine on the small bed. We both had legs dangling off the sides. I felt him looking at me. Being a pussy, I stared at the ceiling. “Look, I know this has been a crazy-ass day for you . . .”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I said, once more going back to Cam’s shortness with me. I would be damned if I would continue to let that hurt me. I rolled to my side, stared into those needy green eyes of Brad’s, and said shit that the following morning would baffle me. Brad was in a vulnerable place. The man lapped up every word like a dehydrated poodle. Brad was desperate to feel loved again. I was intent on cramming Cam Evans to the deepest recesses of my mind.

Pity it didn’t work.

Three

Video.

Honest to Christ, if I never watch another hockey video, I’ll die a happy man. I looked up, glassy-eyed I’m sure, from the Dell laptop when someone cleared his throat. Cam stood in the doorway, working the casual star look for all it was worth. White silk shirt, tailored blue jacket, jeans, Italian loafers, hair windblown, jaw covered perfectly with a two-day growth. Cameron was tall, lean, powerful, and motherfucking sexy. I reached up to pause the video on the laptop. I could feel my pulse in my groin. Not a good sign.

“Ivan said I’d find you in here,” he said, filling the doorway. I glanced around the goalie coach’s sparse office. “Listen, about last night…”

I lifted a hand. He clamped his lips tight. “It’s okay,” I said. “I just want you to know I’m not here to take your job."

Cam stepped into the room, nodded at a knot of players heading to the weight room, then closed the door after they passed. I kicked a rolling chair out for him. He smiled uncomfortably before sitting down.

“Yes, you are, and that’s okay.” I started to argue. It was he who silenced me this time with a raised palm. “You say you’re not, and maybe in your heart you think you’re not, but on some deep, competitive level, you are. When you hit that ice last night, and the crowd was on its feet, tell me you didn’t fantasize about skating over to the net.”

I averted my eyes. Cam chuckled sadly.

“Been there and done that." I found myself drawn to look at him. There was something about him. The way his eyes turned up at the corners, or the laugh lines, or maybe even the strands of silver that were threaded through the cocoa brown. Hell, maybe it was his full bottom lip or the sandalwood cologne he wore. Who knows? “I didn’t mean to get on you like that, though. I watched your tapes last night. You’re good, Jacobi, damned good. Maybe Cooper good.”

I sat in that cheap office chair with my mouth open. Cam reached out to playfully close it. His fingers were warm. I so wanted them to stray over my cheek but they didn’t. He simply shut my mouth then smiled while placing his hands to his thighs.

“Thanks."

“Ivan was right. You’re ready for the pros.”

“Thanks,” I repeated.

“You’re welcome,” the legend said while slowly rising. “You up for an hour in the weight room?”

“Ivan said I need to do the video,” I replied as he ambled to the door. “I didn’t really mean the ‘fuck you’ last night."

“It’s okay, kid, sometimes I need a brash young gun to tell me to go fuck off.” He turned to level those piercing brown eyes at me. “Don’t think I’m going to just lay down for you, Jacobi.”

The videos were largely unseen after that because I could not get the lurid picture of Cam Evans lying down for me - naked, with his ass in the air, his balls hanging hot and heavy. My cock was engorged. Thirty minutes passed until I could leave Coach Mars’s office. I kept a wide berth from Cam for the rest of the morning. I couldn’t avoid him on ice, but I had gotten a pretty good grip on the lust by then. My time in the net started out sloppy. My mind was working too hard on burying the gay porn reel starring Cam and me. When I allowed three consecutive shots through my five-hole, Ivan skated over to ask if I was sick. When I said no, he then asked if I had any intention of staying in Pittsburgh longer than a day. Message received.

I blocked out everything, including the man at the other end of the ice working his crease tight as a widow’s pantry. After the scrimmage, I took an extra thirty with Ivan working on my tendency to glide. According to the coach, I slide slowly backward as the play enters the defensive zone. That moves my weight to my heels. When the shot comes, I sometimes have trouble with extension to the corners of the net. I could see what he was saying, so we spent some time practicing blocking shots while keeping my weight off my heels. Cam worked on glove shots. When we came off the ice, Cam was behind me, asking me about something he had heard from the other guys. Ivan was already in his office, anxious to get off his feet for a few hours.

I stopped dead right in front of the home team bench, my plain gold helmet under my arm.

“What did you just ask me?” I inquired. Cam never looked away. His eyes bored into mine.

“I asked if the talk about you being gay is true.” My gaze darted down to the amber eyes of a puma painted on the top of Cam’s helmet. I found him still riveted to me when I looked up.

“Yeah, I’m gay.” You could hear the ice creaking underneath our skates.

With that knowledge under his belt, he lumbered off the ice, carrying his stick on his right shoulder like an angler does his fishing pole. I was too stunned to move. Generally I don’t give two shits what people think. They accept my homosexuality or they don’t. But this man… this man was something fucking else!

My skates chewed up the distance. I located Mr. Evans in the locker room, talking with DeLoux about some charity event on the weekend. I couldn’t confront him here. As I angrily peeled my padding and undergarments off, I began to wonder if I wanted to get into it with him. By the time I was getting my balls Zestfully clean, I had decided to say fuck Cam and his freaking odd behavior. He was a different generation. Maybe his cold reply was how he planned to handle the queer in the net. What. Ever. He could be Frosty the Snowman all he wanted. I had better things to do then worry about one man’s weird-ass rejoinder.

* * * *

My dad was home, safe and sound, after a lovely flight where he ate too many nuts. He feared constipation. Why he tells me this shit I don’t know, but he does. Mom was taking down the Christmas decorations. Sis was off on a date before she had to return to work in two days. Me, I was sitting in my new house with Brad and Pete, watching a basketball game while we feasted on Chinese. Man, do we professional athletes live the high life or what? Dad and I chatted for about ten more minutes before we said our goodbyes. I leaned forward to grab an egg roll from the coffee table covered with takeout containers.

“So what’s the story with Cam Evans?” I asked nonchalantly while dipping my egg roll in some hot mustard. Pete muted the game.

“What do you mean?” he asked, rubbing his stomach as he eyed my moo goo with lust. I shoved it toward him. A grin split his face. He gave me some of his beef and broccoli in return.

“He’s just… I don’t know, weird. I mean, I grew up idolizing the dude, but he’s just out there.”

“Man has just got some shit going down is all,” Pete said between spoonfuls of moo goo. The game had lapsed into commercials so Pete, the commercial hater, turned the set off. Just as well, the Pittsburgh Wings were losing anyway. I shook my head then swallowed.

“No, it’s more than his sketchy performance on the ice,” I said, using my jeans as a napkin. Brad was spread out over a green recliner, listening intently to the talk. “He jumped all over me yesterday, accused me of coming up to take his spot . . .”

“Well, you are,” Pete pointed out unnecessarily. “Look at the facts. He knows he’s got one year left on his contract. After that it’s time to hoist the sweater to the rafters. I figure he’s got nothing but the game since he and his wife split years ago.”

“Whatever, fine, I might someday take his position, but I did not come here to oust the fucker right today,” I argued, my second egg roll hovering over the spicy mustard as I spoke. “So after he gets all conspiracy theory on me, he apologizes this morning. No, wait.” I shook my egg roll at Brad who had opened his mouth. “So it’s all gummy bears after we say we’re sorry. After practice he gets me alone, asks me if I’m a faggot, then skates off without saying a fucking word when I confirm that I am.”

“He asked you straight up if you were a fag?” Brad inquired, his eyebrows having climbed into his hairline.

“Well, no, I mean the 'F' word was never used.” I shoved the egg roll into the mustard with gusto. “It was clearly intended though. Did he ever display any homophobic tendencies before?”

“No, no way. I would have known. I’ve been out for three years. Every guy on the team knows I’m gay. Never been any problem with anyone, especially Cam,” Brad said, his eyes roaming over to Pete who was nodding in agreement. “Shit, Cam used to have me and Troy over to his place for dinner all the time.”

“Great. Must be me he hates on a personal level.” I sighed then stuffed the remainder of my egg roll into my mouth. We hashed over the Cam situation for another half hour. There was no conclusion to be arrived at, it seemed. Obviously the animosity Cam was displaying was because I was a threat to his manhood or something. I found that to be pretty stupid, as I would undoubtedly spend this whole season on the bench unless Cam was injured. That was, if I even made the team. After the Cam thing was talked out, we finished the food, drank the one beer each we allowed ourselves, then moseyed to our bedrooms.

I had new sheets to put on the rented bed. It crossed my mind to go ask Pete just how many players had lived here, and thusly had fucked a wide contingency of people, on the mattress I was to slumber upon. I opted to have faith that the new sheets purchased on the way from the stadium would repel any sex cooties. As I stretched the end of the fitted sheet over the bottom right corner of the mattress, it occurred to me that I had to start searching for a place. Tomorrow, I vowed. Right after practice I would sit down with the newspaper.

It took me close to an hour to get the bed made, my clothes out of the suitcases and duffels then into the dresser, and to grab a shower in the small bathroom. At least that was one blessing. No sharing a bath. I turned off the light, slid into bed naked, rolled to my back then spied the moon glowing brightly outside. I would also have to purchase some drapes or blinds or a burlap bag. You know how hard it is to fall asleep in a strange place? I had the new surroundings insomnia pretty badly, so I was awake an hour later when Brad scratched on my door.

If I were to say that I was shocked or surprised, that would be a bald-faced lie. In a way I was hoping he would come searching for some. I was eager to erase the previous sixty minutes spent thinking about Cameron Evans. My body was ready for action, but the hard-on I was fondling under the covers was not a result of fantasizing about making love to Brad. Nope. The monster in my palm was stiff because of the restless cravings about Cam that were clogging up my thoughts. I lay there, knowing a certain blow job, if not more, was just on the other side of the door, yet I remained quiet until Brad stopped angling for admittance. Then I yanked off to a vision of Cam and me intertwined on some mystery bed. A session with the team shrink was just another hand job away I began to fear.

* * * *

A week later we had slid to third place in our division. The Pumas had lost two crucial games, thus giving up much needed points. Cam was under tremendous heat from the press and fans. And to top it all off, we were starting a road trip tomorrow. Traveling was always hard, but add in the fact that our team was struggling to score, and it added up to a hive that had just been stirred with a nasty stick.

The Milwaukee Marauders were, at the moment, swarming around Cam like a mob of Africanized bees. And man, was our star twine-tender getting stung big time. Three goals had flown into the net in the first eleven minutes of the first period. The fans were furious.

"Neal, you’re going in!" Coach Webern shouted over the din of the fans. There was no joy in Pittsburgh. People were pounding on the glass behind us, taunting the players, holding up signs while flipping us off. I coughed to clear the sudden tightening in my throat.

"Right, Coach," I said as I stood then looked down the ice. Cam was skating to the bench under a deafening roar of ridicule. He never looked at me as we passed. I didn’t expect him to. The net looked wider then it had before. I heard my name being called over the loudspeakers. The nineteen thousand Puma fans began chanting my name. I’ll admit it felt pretty good. My mask sat atop my head. I worked the crease a bit, moving some of the ice Cam had plowed up. I took a drink, rolled my head twice, pulled down my mask, and crouched in position.

"Two times two is four," I murmured as the face-off took place at center ice. The recitation helped me focus. The fans drifted away into white noise static. I locked onto the puck, my mind shifting from multiplication tables to reading the plays as they happened. It’s really hard to describe how my mind moves from the shit going on all around me to the game. I do know it’s something that is automatic now. The focus, the concentration, it all revolves around a frozen chunk of vulcanized rubber.

Odd as this may sound to those who don’t participate in hockey, my team began to tighten up. The odd man rushes diminished. Our D-men began using their bodies to help block shots. In short, they were doing for me, the backup, what they hadn’t done for the starting goalie. If asked to explain it, and I would be later in the postgame interviews, I would say that they knew I was scared scatless. That was no lie. The first shot I had to block sent my heart into triple-time, but I tucked the puck into my chest then held it there until the linesman tapped my shoulder with a knowing smile. It was a long-ass forty-four minutes after I left my seat, but I managed to hold the Marauders to only those first three goals. Our guys netted two, so the final score wasn’t terrible. It was still a loss though.

Maybe, most importantly, Cam had been pulled for the first time in his illustrious career. He had been forced to sit on the bench, towel around his neck, on home ice, and see me save the team’s ass. Some cruelly wicked Puma tradition put the goalies side-by-side in the dressing room. Maybe someone thought all tendies were bonded blood brothers or some righteous bullshit. Whatever the reason, I had to sit beside the man as accolades were dropped onto my head right along with the pats, rubs, smooches, and noogies. He was eerily silent as we prepared to face the press.

Brad found me staring at my feet, clad in my compression shirt and leggings. I had shed the three cups this goalie wears. Yeah, three. I wear two goalie cups over a regular cup. You may think I’m being overprotective of the Neal family jewels, but you catch a slap shot moving at over a hundred miles per in the nuts just once. I guarantee you’ll be triple protecting the old gonads as well. My elbows were on my knees. Brad clapped my shoulder before sitting down beside me. Cam glanced at us, his gaze hard to read.

"You okay?" Brad asked, his gear shed in favor of his DRI shirt and leggings as well.

"Yeah, I’m cool. Just kind of shell-shocked or something." It didn’t feel right to be pumped up while Cam was sitting a foot away from me. "When do we have to do the press thing?"

"Don’t sweat it," Brad said with that charming smile. "They’ll gobble you up." He ruffled my hair then went off to find some pants. I felt Cam looking at me. When our eyes met, his were guarded.

"Are you and Cooper an item?" he asked, his hands dangling down between his knees.

"No, not really," I responded softly, turning on the bench to face him. I had to elbow my leg pads back into my cubicle. "We just, you know, hang out."

Cam studied me so closely I wanted to squirm. What the hell was his sudden interest in the world of man-love?

"Hang out like buddies or hang out like lovers?" Someone walked by talking about the score in one of the other games. We were clinging to our position in the rankings by the skin of our teeth. If all the other teams in the Eastern Division lost tonight, we would stay in third. But if they won, things would shift. We could possibly slip out of third, and that would take us out of Cup contention.

"Why are you asking me these questions?" I inquired after Pat Meehan ambled away. Cam shifted on the bench. An inch closer. The vibe was very conspiratorial. He ran his hand over his face. I waited. He exhaled slowly. Whatever was up was obviously difficult for him to say. I leaned to the left slightly. Being this close I could smell his sweat. The aroma did bizarre things to my body.

"Are you homophobic?" I inquired. He looked at me as if I had stabbed his dog. I was at a loss, so I just started grasping at straws. "Are you thinking of experimenting sexually?" I asked, my voice gruff with desire. I would so sign up to be his test subject.

Cam’s brown eyes went as wide as dinner plates. He threw a terrified look around the subdued locker room. As soon as I saw that deer in the headlights reaction, I felt the pieces fall into place.

"Are you gay, Cam?" I whispered, moving closer to him. He left the bench like someone had shoved a hot poker up his rectum. My eyes followed his ascent then they puzzled over his departure. I was on my feet, determined to follow the man when the press corps came loping in like wolves on the scent of a wounded elk. Seeing the predatory gleam in some of the reporter’s eyes, I sat back down soundly to answer a slew of questions with as much tact as I could. Even when some of the inquiries pissed me off, I replied as if my mother would be listening, because she would be.

I was learning which guys were cool, and which were shit-stirrers. I especially liked a gal from the Pittsburgh Intelligencer, Lydia Bacon. She was sharp, knew the game, and always asked thought-provoking questions. And she never tried to get a player to talk dirt on another player. Lydia also looked like one of Santa’s elves. She was about four foot eight, weighed maybe eighty pounds, had a round face that housed bright blue eyes. Even her dark hair was cut in a pixie cut. The girl was too cute. If I were straight I would ask her out.

"Do you think, given Cam Evans’s performance so far this season, that there will be a changing of the guard?" Some guy with a severe overbite and acne asked.

"No," I replied immediately, the soft-covering of the various microphones coming closer to my face when I spoke. "Cam Evans is the starting goalie for the Pumas. I’m only here to step in when he needs a break."

They weren’t buying my story. Somewhere inside, I really wasn’t either. I would never admit it, but those forty-some minutes playing professional hockey were the fucking best forty-some minutes in all my twenty-two years. Did I want more? Oh, hell yes. Would I be a dick about it? Hell no. One game does not a legend make, as my father always told me. I tried to look around the glut of reporters in my space, but couldn’t see if Cam had returned or not. I assumed not, or the voracious horde would have leaped on him, fangs bared, eyes glistening with feral hunger. Man, that English minor crept up at the most bizarre times. Lydia wiggled through the mob of men. I smiled up at her. She winked at me.

"So, Jacobi Neal, you just appeared in your first pro game. What are you going to do now?" she asked with a squeaky voice that made me chuckle whenever I heard it.

"Call my dad." Brad was right. They gobbled it up. Sad thing was, it wasn’t a put-on. I was going to call Dad, just as soon as I found Cam Evans.

Four

There are moments that really define a person’s life. Your first romance, graduating college, finding your soul mate, getting married, your first child, buying your dream house, and, if you’re a hockey player, skating onto the ice wearing a pro uniform. As I was tugging my jeans over my damp ass after a shower, the call came in that would lead me to the next monumental happening in my life. I had already experienced the first romance, Joey Alterman in my junior year of high school, as well as the college graduation and the virgin skate on league ice.

Standing in the Puma locker room, barefoot with my pants zipped but not snapped, I glanced at the caller ID on my phone. There I saw the path to my future opening up like some Elvin trail though a forest of evil. Time for me to stop rereading The Hobbit, I guess. Of course, I didn’t know that the incoming call from Cam Evans was in any way, shape, or form my trail to a soul mate. At that time I only knew two things. One, that Cam was hiding something massive which was killing him, and two, that he was in desperate need of a friend. Placing the cell to my ear, I felt a rivulet of water from my wet hair skip down my spine. Or maybe that was the finger of destiny.

"Hey," I said into the phone, turning from the rest of the guys as they dressed. I placed my shoulder to the edge of my cubicle, my head lowered, my stance definitely closed off. "You okay?" I asked Cam. My stomach tied itself back into knots.

"Sorry to leave you to field all that shit alone, kid."

"No problem," I said rolling, my shoulder upward to heighten the “Don’t Bother Me” vibe.

"Some mentor I’m turning out to be."

"It’s cool. Sometimes RL turns into a real assgoblin, you know?"

"Are you even speaking English at the moment?" I smiled to myself as I leaned an inch farther into my cubicle.

"Mostly," I replied, inhaling the tang of my sweaty skates hanging a foot away from my face.

"Listen, I think…if you’re willing to talk…about things that we started to talk about in the locker room?"

"Sure, absolutely, man. When and where?" His sigh of relief nearly brought tears to my eyes. I was familiar with the strangulation of being closeted, if only for a few years until I found the fortitude to come out. I could not imagine having spent twenty-five years living such a deadly lie. Maybe I was putting the horse way before the buggy, but I suspected not.

"Can you meet me under the Kaufmann`s clock?" After getting some quick directions, I finished dressing at warp speed. I didn’t even take time to tie my sneakers. Phone containing those all-too-important directions in hand, I ran out the door and into Brad. Not literally but close enough. He was lounging around in the hallway, waiting for me, I have to assume. He was obviously glad to see me, if his warm smile was any indication. I, on the other hand, was already planning the lie I would feed him. Shit.

"Hey," I smiled, cramming my hands into my front pocket so I could cradle my cell phone.

"Hey," he said then fell into step with me. "You really did a great job in net tonight. Want to go grab a pizza and head home?"

"Yeah, I would love that, but I kind of already told a buddy I’d meet him somewhere." It wasn’t a lie, so why did it feel like one? Brad was all sorts of “Hey, no probs” and “Catch you later then” as we hit the parking lot. I felt like a dick as I hurried to crank over my Rover. The heat was slow to thaw the window, giving me plenty of time to think about whatever the fuck it was I was doing.

I confirmed my decision. Going to find Cam was the right thing to do. He needed someone to talk to. It had nothing to do with how hard I got every time I thought about the man. Maybe I should have just gone with Brad. He was a good guy. I could have gotten some pizza followed by another dry-hump session. Fuck, I was seriously confused at the moment. Blowing out a breath heavy enough to balloon my cheeks, I fished out my cell, fed the info into my cold GPS, and headed off to find this clock.

* * * *

Turns out the Kaufmann Clock was this old, gold clock with naked Grecian men on either side of it. It’s a damned impressive clock that is a Pittsburgh landmark, I would learn later. It seems that it is quite the thing to meet someone under this over one-hundred-year-old clock. It was where I found Cam, bundled up in a thick blue parka, sipping a hot beverage. The corner of Fifth Avenue and Smithfield Street was pretty quiet. I pulled up in front of Macy’s, parked, then jogged over to Cameron.

"You could have picked somewhere warmer to meet," I said. Cam began walking. I fell in beside him.

"Like where?" the man asked, his face nearly concealed by the huge hood over his head. "Tell me one damned place in this town that we could meet to talk without someone knowing it was us."

I padded along beside him with no reply for his comment. He was right. Everyone knew his face in “The Burgh.” The longer we walked, the more I accepted that I would freeze to death. We made two complete laps in total silence. Cam stopped to drop his empty coffee cup into a trash can. We stood under a streetlight, our breath twin clouds of steam hovering in front of us.

"You have to understand that this…I don’t know how to go about…shit." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his parka. Again, we started walking.

"Look, man, if I knew for sure what we were dealing with, maybe I could help a little better," I said. A biracial couple hurried past us. I burrowed into my flimsy coat until all that stuck out of the collar were my eyes.

"I have a daughter. She’s a senior in high school."

"Awesome," I mumbled into my coat. My forehead was extremely cold. Like ice cream eaten too fast cold. We kept walking that block.

"She is awesome." I peeked over at him. I wished he would drop that fucking hood so I could see his face. "And not aware of how things were with her mother and me."

"How things were, or how you were pretending they were?" I chanced it. What the hell? He would either slug me, call me a motherfucker, or stalk off. Whatever happened it had to be better than roaming around this fucking city block when the temperature was a balmy four degrees. "I mean, that is what you’re dancing around, right? That you’re so far back in the closet you just discovered Narnia? Why not just admit that much to yourself before we both succumb to fucking hypothermia."

I should have known that Cameron Evans was a man of action. I mean, I followed his career all though my school years. He was fast. My back was against the wall under that old clock before I could register the shove. Cam then got all sorts of in my face. I did not raise my hands. His angry exhalation was flavored with vanilla.

"Are you calling me a queer?" I shrugged one shoulder.

"I call them as I see them. Now, you can either step off or you can kiss me." I threw the challenge out without a second thought. I stared into the shelter of his hood, finding his dark eyes in the shadows. They flickered down to my blue lips. "Whatever you decide to do, do it fast. I’m cold, tired, and hungry."

He did. He captured my mouth with a kiss so aggressive my teeth ground into my lips. Yeah. This was it. This was what I had been pushing him to do…hoping he would do. His hands slapped to the wall on either side of my head. I grabbed his hooded head then ran my tongue over his bottom lip. The tempting taste of his latte lingered on his tongue. Then he lost the fingertip hold he had found on the slippery slope of sexual honesty. Cam stumbled backward. I remained flat to the wall, my lips warmed nicely. He threw horrified looks up then down the street.

"Cam, man, it’s okay. It is okay to kiss a dude on the street. It is totally acceptable."

"No one knows." He pulled his hood even farther over his face.

"Then tell them. Go to your daughter, tell her. Tell your ex-wife, unless she already knows?"

"No, she doesn’t know, but she suspected. I need more time to…think this through."

"Cam, don’t you think you’ve lived a lie long enough, dude?" I asked as he retreated farther into his parka.

"It’s so much easier to hide in the dark," he murmured then left me under the clock, back flat to the wall, lips tender from our kiss.

* * * *

Things did not improve for Cam, or the team, over the next few days. We lost the next game by a one goal margin. The fans were online, screaming for the coach to do something. They rode Cam to the ground. Sports writers questioned if his time was up. There were rumors of an impending trade, that the man was injured, that he and the coach were fighting. No one guessed the real dilemma the man was facing. I had kept a distance from Cam for the entirety of the road trip. I have to think that the team just assumed there was conflict between him and me. There was, but it was not the issue they thought it was.

I was confused about the kiss under the clock, my role in it, the lust that I felt whenever I looked at Cam, the ongoing sort-of relationship that Brad and I had started, and how I combed my hair. In short, my head was a disaster area. I was rewrapping my wrists, deep in concentration, when someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up at Ivan. Cam was seated beside me, lost to the turmoil that had followed us to the Dourman Center in Vancouver.

"Coach says you’ve got the start, Jacobi." Ivan’s eyes roamed to Cam after delivering the news. "Take the night and rest, Cam."

Ivan clapped Cameron on the shoulder. I met the cold look the man who had kissed me a week ago now leveled at me. It was hard to breathe properly with the cocktail of excitement blended with pain bubbling in my gut.

"Torn between belting me or kissing me again?" The fire that erupted in Cam’s sensual brown eyes was impressive. He turned his back to me. I called myself a hundred different names, none of them good. As I finished readying myself for my first pro start, I kept glancing over at Cam on the sly. He was dressing with jerky motions, his aggravation evident in the sharp way he moved. I thought I should say something to him. Apologize for being flip when he was facing the worst crisis of his life. The words were ready to tumble out when Brad plopped down on my left.

"Just heard that you were starting." Brad smiled. I nodded then smiled in return. Several members of the team gathered around, to rub my head or wish me well. Brad grabbed my noggin and smooched the top of my head loudly. The guys all chortled. "We really need this win, Jacobi," Brad said. I mumbled something in reply. I was fully aware of our situation. "Look, just do what you did down in the AHL, okay? Same difference, right? Just a bunch of jocks in jocks."

"Yep, just a bunch of jocks in jocks." My nerves were jangling. The thunder of over eighteen thousand Vancouver Vipers’ fans filling the arena over our heads slithered into my pulse. Brad slapped me on the back then returned to his cubicle to finish dressing for the game. When I looked over at Cam’s spot, it was empty. I searched the locker room for him, but didn’t see neither hide nor hair of the man.

It was maddening to sit there, mulling over how badly I wanted to talk to him. I knew I needed to get my shit together. Cam’s tumble from the top was his own doing, right? If he would just be honest with one person, he could pull his ass out of this psychological tar pit he was mired in, right? Why should I fuck up my career over some stifled queer, right? I needed to stop letting the memory of that kiss haunt me, right? Just say, fuck this mess. Just say, fuck it. Fuck me. Just…fuck me and fuck Cam Evans.

"Two times two is four."

* * * *

Vladimir Oleczar was lying on top of me. It was not anything sexual, trust me. The Russian had a nose that slid sideways over his face, a black eye, no front teeth, and a lingering smell of fish on his breath. I shoved the Vipers’ first-line center off of me, or, I should say, I shoved at the Russian. The pileup in my crease was keeping Vlad pressed to me intimately. Thank God for hockey padding. There are some dudes you want snuggled tight between your spread legs, and some you don’t.

A scrum was breaking out directly to the left of the pile-up. Whistles were blowing. Players were shoving. Vladimir was breathing flounder in my face. But hey, we were winning, right? And the penalty call for goaltender interference that had to come would be the icing on the cake. We only had three minutes left in the third period. If I could keep the puck in front of me, we’d wrap up the first win of our road trip with a 2-1 final score.

"Vlad, man, ever hear of breath mints?" I grunted as the mountain of ripe men atop me began to lessen.

"You hear of being pussy?"

"I’ve heard of it," I said as I rolled to my side to gain my footing. "Generally it’s mentioned with your name attached to it."

He called my mother a particularly nasty name. I skated off to find my stick. Let the refs figure out how many penalty minutes the Vipers would get. My job now was to stay focused on keeping my net free of pucks. So imagine my surprise, and that of the Puma team, when no penalty was assessed to the fishy Russian for plowing into me in the crease. I immediately got into the referee’s face to argue my case. The blind bastard informed me, and my team captain, that the Russian had been pushed, and thus was not of a mind to intentionally cause me harm.

"Wasn’t of a mind?" I shouted over Pierre’s shoulder. "Being a goon is all that carp-sucking fucktard ever has on his mind!" I threw my mask to the ice in a fit of pique. DeLoux steered me to the bench. A time-out had been called by Coach Webern. My mouth kept flapping at anyone in black and white stripes I could find. Brad skated up beside me, my mask in his hand. I met his look and knew the payback would be doled out. I smiled at the winger, turned to grab a new water bottle, and locked eyes with Cam.

The uproar that was shaking the stadium dimmed to nothing. If someone would have offered me a cure for cancer to describe what I saw in those hooded brown eyes, I would not have been able to save one poor, suffering soul. There were far too many emotions twirling in the man’s eyes to ever be able to express just one. Coach Mars shouting at me jarred me from the depths of Cam’s gaze.

"You’re a wall, Neal! Bricks and mortar." My head bobbed up and down. I sucked half a bottle of water down. "Keep your hands in front of your body."

"Right," I said before I skated back to my crease. The sounds of the stadium began to flicker out. "Eight times four is thirty-two," I whispered as I pulled my mask onto my head. We lost the face-off. A wrist-shot streaked at me, clipping the front of my mask then sailing into the stands. I looked at the clock as play was stopped. Two minutes and thirty-one seconds left. I tossed my head left then right, rolling it around until my neck cracked. The next face-off took the action to the Vipers’ end of the ice. I tried to stay tight on the action. My mind slid from the game. I glanced at the bench in search of Cam. He was a study in noncommittal expressions. If only I could get him to open up to me. Shit, if only I could get him to kiss me again, I’d–

I never saw the slap shot from center ice. It sailed over my glove hand, hit the pipe, then dropped down behind me like a grenade. Which it kind of was. The home fans exploded. I turned around to stare at the fucking puck. Then I beat the holy shit out of my goal with my stick. Dale Asaba, our third-line left winger came over to talk me up. I did not want his voice in my ear and politely told him so. He patted my helmet then skated to the bench for a line change. That was it. I vowed that I was done dicking around with Cam Evans, his need to linger in the closet, and my need to feed what was becoming a sick obsession. Filled with resolve, I slid back into the net, the pipe resting on my spine. No way was anyone getting anything past me again. The remaining minute plus trickled away. The buzzer sounded. We took a TV break. When I arrived at the bench, Ivan began telling me to put the tying goal from my mind.

"I’m good, I’m good," I told the goalie coach. The man tugged on the knot of his tie. He looked to the corner. I tensed when I felt Cam lean over to whisper something in my ear. He smelled clean. I smelled like a sweaty shoe with a rancid athletic supporter hidden inside it. "I’m good," I told the veteran.

"You are. You’re damned good. Too damned good for my peace of mind," Cam whispered as the fans chanted, stomped, and made some real noise. "Don’t let our shit fuck this up for you."

"Our shit?" I asked, not daring to look at anything but the trainer dabbing some goop under Tony Vicente’s eye.

"Yeah, our shit," he said before he clapped a hand to the back of my sweaty neck. "Now find your fucking center, focus, and show these assholes what you can do."

I pulled back, stared at him for a full moment, then returned to my net. Right. Our shit. When had it become “Our shit”? Probably when he kissed me. Yeah, that would have been the moment. I worked my crease on instinct. I dug deep, pulled out my concentration from the wall of confusion it had been hiding behind, and resigned myself to playing the best hockey I could for the next five minutes.

Four-on-four hockey commenced. I not only found my center, I bitch slapped the Marauders with it. I blocked four shots in one ten-second assault on the net. Two minutes into overtime, Brad did what Brad does best. He pulled Michael Dewey, the Marauders’ tendie, to the left after a breakaway. As Dewey surged left, Brad deked to the right then flipped the puck into a two-hole shot that made me wince in sympathy. The fans fell silent as the red light behind the Marauders’ goal lit up. I tossed my arms over my head in celebration. Within a second the whole bench was in my space. I accepted a pat, rub, and even a few kisses to my helmet. The stadium was like a morgue. The rush was incredible! I was flying so high I barely noticed the warm hand settling into mine as the congratulations began to ebb.

"You did one hell of a job, Jacobi." Cam’s smile was brittle.

"That was some pretty intense mentor-y shit you passed on," I replied, trying to keep in mind that photographers were snapping pictures by the hundreds. Cam patted my head. We left the ice, me following him, to the visiting team locker room.

I emerged from the chaos an hour later, still smiling, to board the bus. The vibe was cheerful, the win really helping to boost confidence as well as morale. I dropped into a seat toward the back. The window at my right was cleared from the heater running full bore. Someone reached over the back of my seat, ruffled my wet hair, then sat back down. A body plopped down beside me. Brad began talking. I nodded at the appropriate times, laughed when it was necessary, and joked when the time called for it. But the celebratory mood was lacking until Cam climbed onto the luxurious chartered bus. No matter that there were close to thirty men crammed into the motor coach, he didn’t take a seat until he had located me. I inclined my head an inch. He dropped down then fell into a rather animated conversation with one of the trainers. I had to wonder where my “Fuck it!” resolve had gone.

Brad talked until we entered the hotel, and even on the ride up to our floor. I was sharing a room with a big Finnish D-man by the name of Likka Erola. Likka maintained a massive bevy of puck bunnies even though he shaved his head and wore clothes that were at least forty years out of date. See, Likka, for all his flaws, had the biggest dick I have ever seen that was not in pornography. The first night we were here, he sauntered out of the bathroom after a shower, naked as the day he was born. I couldn’t help the way my eyes bugged out of my head when I saw the baseball bat he called a cock dangling down the inside of his thigh.

"Big dick, ya?" I nodded dully. He roared with pleasure, took the anaconda in his hand and told me that American women were huge fans of his big prick. Personally, I tend to shy away from something that looks like it should be found under a Clydesdale, but dayum, that dick of his was impressive.

"So, Jack-Oh-Bee," Likka said as I swiped my key card through the lock, "I have two hot babe coming up. You do good for team, I do good for you. You pick which to fuck."

"Oh, wow, thanks, Likka." I threw my duffel onto the double bed I had claimed. "But you do know I’m gay, right?"

The towering man studied me intently. "Ah!" he said as his light blue eyes grew wide with understanding. "So that is why you are so dumb with my dick! I am sorry, Jack-Oh-Bee, but I do not do the man sex thing."

"That’s cool," I grinned, already backpedaling to the door since Likka was unzipping his pants to free the monster. I rushed out the door, said hello to the twin redheads, then closed the door behind the giggling women. "Oh man." I snorted then looked down the corridor. Cam was just stepping out of the elevator. He paused, surprise at finding me alone in the hall clear on his handsome face. "Likka is entertaining," I said.

"Ah," Cam replied knowingly. "Would you like to hang out in my room for a while?"

"Oh, uhm, yeah sure, that would be cool." I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. Cam walked up to, then past me, his expensive cologne quite pleasant. I padded along beside him, feeling underdressed. He was in a sleek blue suit. I was in jeans and a Marianas Trench long-sleeved tee with a ski vest. Real classy, right? At least my hiking boots were new. Cam ran his card through the lock, never saying one word until we were safely ensconced inside his room.

Five

"Nice," I said as I checked out the private room. "So how do I go about getting a suite with no rutting Finn in it?" I asked, eying the neatly made California king.

"Addendums to contracts are wonderful things." Cam deposited his bag to the floor in the corner. I was hunkered down checking out the contents of the mini-fridge when he dropped an anvil on my head. "That kiss the other night… I can’t stop thinking about it. Can you?"

I grabbed a bottle of flavored water, stood up, then twisted the plastic cap off my drink. "Do you ever gently lead up to something?" I asked before downing half the bottle. Cam shook his head.

"No, I didn’t mean it like that. Please, sit down." He waved at a brocaded chair in the corner beside the bed. I lowered myself into the seat. Cam sat on the edge of the bed, working at the knot in his tie. "I shouldn’t have done it. I know you’re dating Brad–"

I leaned forward, my elbows to my knees. "No, not really. We made out once, that’s it."

He stopped tugging his tie out from under his collar. I nodded at the dull look he gave me. The room began to feel overly warm.

"Oh. He seems rather… He seems to think otherwise." Cam resumed pulling his tie free.

"Yeah, I know. I guess…" I stared at my water bottle." I guess I’ve kind of let him think something might happen, you know? I mean I like him, and he’s a good kisser but, yeah, it’s not a thing."

"Do you find it easy finding men to…"

"Sleep with?" I leaped in when he tripped over it. I had never seen a man so conflicted. Cam leveled a dark stare in my direction. "I didn’t mean to sound like I was talking down, but if you can’t even be honest with yourself, how the hell are you going to ever be honest with someone else. Can you even admit that you’re gay?"

"Yes!" he snapped, shooting to his feet. He began circling the room as he peeled his dress shirt off. He wore a pristine white wife-beater under his shirt. My cock twitched as I ran an appreciative eye over his bared biceps. "I’m gay, Jacobi."

"Good man." I saluted him with my water bottle. "Now can you tell me what it is two gay men do with, and to, each other?" I asked, placing my ankle to my knee. The man resumed his pacing. He had a nice stride due to his long legs. My gaze kept going back to his arms. Then they would drift over his shoulders. I love nice arms and shoulders.

"Stop it." Cam paused in front of the sliding glass door. The patio outside held several inches of old snow. "You make it sound as if it’s so easy. Like coming out is a fucking lark. Not all of us were raised in a generation of tolerance like you were. Some of us… Hell, some of us can’t even begin to work out how to tell our mothers that we’re gay." He began drawing something in the steam on the slider. I felt horrible. I had been pretty glib.

"It’s not as easy for the younger gays as you seem to think it is," I said to his back. "I mean, yeah, it’s a lot better for young dudes now to be open, but it’s still a stigma. We’re still facing oppression all over the world."

"I know." He sighed, lowering his index finger when the most atrocious tree I have ever seen drawn on a steamy window was completed. Cam Evans may be a goaltending god, but he sucks donkey dick when it comes to drawing. "So, do you find it easy locating partners? I’m tired of slumming around in men’s rooms or dark corners in seedy bars."

I exhaled slowly. Man. I turned my thoughts over for a few seconds. "Okay, first off, for me, finding partners isn’t an easy thing. I don’t have time for cruising gay bars. My whole life is this," I said as I swung my bottle of water in a circle to encompass the room. Cam turned from the outdoors, his eyes settling on me. "Hockey is all I can do at the moment .Sure, I want someone special, but this break may be the only one I ever get. I worked my ass off to make it this far."

"And I’m fucking this opportunity up for you, aren’t I?" I quickly began to argue it, but the man was too sharp. He held up a skilled hand. "Don’t deny it. I know this bullshit is shattering your concentration. It is mine as well. I keep telling myself that I need to come out before I put a gun to my head but–"

"Cam, do not ever say that again. Ever." That he would even mention it scared to me my marrow. He padded back over then dropped to one knee in front of me. My entire body reacted to his closeness.

"I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to toss out like that." He reached for my hand, the one laying on my thigh. His touch was electrifying yet soothing, if that makes any sense. Like my fingers had been seeking out his for as long as I could recall. "I don’t know what to do. Do I come out then find someone to love openly? Or do I find that special someone before I come out? Would someone be willing to be at my side as I batter down the closet door? Would they, Jacobi?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice nearly nonexistent. "Yeah, someone would be willing to be at your side for that, and so much more."

Cam lifted my hand to his face. Eyes closed, nostrils flared to inhale my scent, he rubbed the back of my fingers against his freshly-shaved cheek. My grip increased on the water bottle when he placed his lips to my fingertips. I was now beyond erect. I was harder than stone. My balls were beginning to ache. His dark eyes were finely attuned to the task at hand, as it were. My breathing became jagged, raspy.

When the tip of his tongue moved over the end of my index finger, I thought I would blow apart right then and there. I didn’t though. My head actually fell back to the chair when he slid that index finger into his mouth. I heard the heater coming on. The room was way beyond warm. It was stifling. I had to get some clothes off. So did Cam. Now.

"I want to take you to my bed, Jacobi," Cam said then ran his tongue between my fingers. "Did that sound totally archaic?" he asked after a groan rumbled up from deep within me.

"God, no, it sounds like… I do too, I mean, fuck… Yeah, it sounds good, Cam. Really good." I found him staring at me. Right then it happened. Cam still says he felt it as well. Call it what you want: kismet, destiny, fate, fortune, lot. At that moment, in that suite with the ugly tree on the misty sliding glass door, two men fell in love. My water bottle hit the floor. I reached for him, my fingers weaving into that nicely styled brown hair. It was thick, springy, soft. Just as I knew it would be. I used that hair to pull him up as I leaned forward and down.

His eyes drifted shut before mine did. His lips parted with ease. My tongue met his. They danced a fiery dance. A flamenco, if one dance needed to be picked. When the kiss broke, we were both gasping for breath. Cam pushed me back into the chair gently. His hands moved over me softly, palms flat, fingers splayed. Even when I knew it was coming, the moment his right hand moved over the bulge in my pants, my mind left my body. Don’t know where it went. Maybe on the floor with my water bottle? All I know is that I was nothing but a shuddering mass of nerve endings that all cried out at once.

I have to give the man props, he didn’t act like a man who had been mourning the loss of sexual partners. Cam looked to be in total control. Until he freed my cock from my jeans. Then his grasp on that famed calm, cool, and collected demeanor slipped a bit. I lifted my ass in anticipation. He had a moment or two with the laces of my boots, but eventually they were discarded, as was any other bit of clothing I was wearing.

"I’m negative, just so you know." He glanced up at me, his teeth toying with a nipple. My balls contracted tightly. My fingers dug into the arms of the chair. Cam grabbed the base of my cock. His fist tightened. I moaned loudly, my head kicking back sharply.

"So am I. I have condoms but no dams." Fucking hell. I hated this part. It always feels awkward.

"I hate dams."

"Me too. I want you to come down my throat." I wanted to ask when, but he took me deep into his mouth at that moment, so I got my answer. His fingers opened to release the constriction around my cock. Someone cried out. The shout bounced off the lovely tan walls. The cry of passion was mine. I came hard. So hard that Cam gagged when I pushed his head downward. He took all of me, even if it did make his eyes water slightly. I pumped in and out of his mouth, my hips pumping and thrusting until the tremors began to abate.

I rasped out a shaky apology. Cam stood up, took me by the hand, then led me to the bed. The man didn’t have to ask. I sat on the mattress in front of him, staring into chocolate eyes as I shoved his pants over his ass. The high-priced boxer briefs came next. Cam’s prick jutted out, thick and veined, the head deep purple. I lapped at the droplet of clear liquid that threatened to drip on the floor.

"Fuck, you taste good," I said. I had every intention of sucking him off. I cupped his balls, pondered sliding to the floor so I could suckle his heavy orbs, but Cam had a different plan. One that involved me on the bed, ass in the air, his prick buried deep inside me. Who was I to argue with the living legend? I gave him what he wanted, gladly. He rode me hard. Harder than he would have normally. He pounded me into the wall, off the side of the bed, then once more into the headboard. I clawed at the bedding like a cat, trying to get purchase. Cam’s cock was relentless. When his orgasm arrived, he thrust into me so deeply I had to bury my face into the mattress to smother the whimpers of pain. The man came and came and came, repeating my name with each pulsing spurt of ejaculate.

"I am so sorry," he whispered afterward. He slid out of me, removed the used condom, and then crawled into bed beside me. I was kind of out of the talking mood at the moment. My ass was sore. He curled up beside me, stroking my hair from my face as I lay there covered with sweat. "I would fully understand if you left and never came back."

"It’s okay," I said, rolling to my side to face him. He glanced down at my body then he kissed me with such emotion I forgot about the pain. I threw a leg over his hip, sucked his tongue into my mouth, and began working on getting him into the game yet again. My head was clear now. All the murky shit had left. All it had taken was recognizing that Cam was the one. Brad, well, I’d have to be dealing with him tomorrow. Who knew how long it would take Cam to deal. Even if it took years, I would be here.

"Hey," I asked as I sucked on his neck a few moments later. He grunted. Our semi-erect pricks were rising up once more, his sensitive head nudging mine. "You know what I think?"

"That you need to fuck me?" he asked, his fingers roaming over my shoulders.

"Well, yeah, that too," I murmured against his thumping jugular. He chuckled warmly. I tried to get closer to him, needed to get closer. I rolled him to his back then ground my mouth against his. When we came up for air we were rigid again. My elbows were locked, my hands fisted on either side of his head. "I think someone needs somebody at his side when he comes out."

"Any someone?" he asked, reaching up to shove my damp hair from my eyes, our bodies sticky with drying sweat as well as semen. "Or a special someone?"

"A special someone," I replied then claimed his mouth, and his love, with another kiss. "This special someone," I whispered between forays into his mouth.

"You do realize I’m jealous of you, your skill, your age? I’m battling with the knowledge that my career is just about over." I tasted his lips tenderly. "I wanted to ship you back to the AHL the day you arrived. So cocky, so sure of yourself and the power of your youth. Fuck, you make me feel old yet young at the same time."

He flung me to my back. I let him be the aggressor. He needed to remind me that I was the pup and he was the old dog. I was the student; he was the master. I was the heir apparent, he, the reigning monarch. I gave up the reins to him. The dude needed to have some sort of control over some part of his life. When he was hard again he took me with gentle passion. I cradled him to me, my arms and legs wound around his damp body. Cam moved with deep strokes that left me whimpering and spent underneath him. I climaxed first, my seed coating our chests as Cam pumped in then out with sure, strong strokes. His orgasm followed a few moments later. I clenched around him as he convulsed, panting like he had just completed drills, then dropped down onto me. The weight of him pressing me into the bed as his cock kicked inside me made me mad with renewed need. I kissed him hungrily. He groaned into my mouth then disentangled himself from me.

"I need…to clean up," he said, his hair looking like he had stepped into a wind tunnel. His lips were swollen, his eyes drowsy with passion, his body slick with sweat and spunk. Fuck. I wanted him again. He rolled from the bed as I reached for him. Gaining his feet, Cam glanced down at me. "Jesus, Jacobi," he said upon seeing my cock standing up. I reached down to cup my balls. Cameron shivered at the sight then made a less than speedy retreat into the bathroom. I rolled my eyes as the door shut quietly. Water ran. The heater came on once more. Warm air blew over my moist flesh, making it erupt in gooseflesh. I tugged a blanket over my pimply skin. I was awoken a short time later by Cam, who was freshly showered as well as dressed. I yawned, stretched, then smiled at him contentedly. The fucker looked edible in a pair of team fleece pants topped with a clean wife-beater.

"Man, you shower fast."

"Jacobi, as much as I would love to have you stay here . . ."

My mind was kind of sluggish, what with the fantastic sex combined with the comfortably warm bed, but what he was saying eventually sunk in. I sat up. The dirty sheet slithered over my chest then pooled in my lap.

"I thought us fucking each other raw would help nudge you toward the closet door a little." He stood stoically beside the bed as I kicked the covers aside.

"Jacobi, this was a wonderful experience, and I want to continue seeing you, but . . ."

I waved a hand at him angrily before stepping into my pants. "Save it, okay. I get it. It’s okay to plow me like a field, but it’s not okay to be open about us. Fine. Whatever. When you grow a fucking pair, just let me know."

"Jacobi, stop being such a fucking assgoblin about it!" Cam barked. I spun around, my pants dangling off my hip bones, my shirt in my left hand. Our eyes locked.

"You are far too fucking old to be using my lingo." I stalked over to the man, grabbed him by the back of the neck, then attacked his mouth so violently his teeth nicked his top lip. I lapped up the metallic taste of his blood as I ravaged his mouth time and again. Cam was all into the kiss. His hands roamed over me, shucking my unzipped pants off my ass so he could massage my buttocks. Then he pulled back. First it was mentally then physically. I swear the mental shove-off was harder to take then the physical one.

"Just go back to your room, will you? I’m not ready yet." Deep down I sort of knew one night wouldn’t be enough to propel him out of the closet. I mean, I hoped it would be, but fear like Cam had would take a long time to overcome. My hand still rested on the back of his neck. I tugged him back flush to me. My brow rested against his.

"I want more than just sneaky screws, Cam." I was being honest with the man. He nodded then stepped back. The sigh almost escaped. I finished dressing. Cam walked me to his door, his fingers wound through mine.

"Can you come tomorrow night?"

"Dude, no one is on the other side of the door listening." He was in no mood for joshing. "Sorry, I know this is really rough. Yeah, I’ll come tomorrow night. We’ll have to make up some shit though. Is that what you want? More lies?"

"Yes, just for now. I need to figure this out, Jacobi. Let me . . . let me call my daughter first. I think, well, I think I can tell her. Can you do that?"

"Sure." I smiled, proud of his resolve. Relief flooded his face. He kissed me gently then shoved me out the door. The corridor was empty. I stepped into the hallway, turned, then pushed my hands into my front pockets lest I reach for the man hiding in his hotel room. "Catch you later, Cam."

"Night, Jacobi." The door closed in my face. That huge sigh from earlier blew out of me. I ambled back to my room to sleep alone.

Six

Expecting our starting goalie to be in a better place inside his head, Cam was put back in for the last game of the road trip. I was overall pretty cool with it. The man held up reasonably well for the first period. He looked sound, like he was finding his groove. Then the second period came. Cam buckled like a rusty water pipe. It was painful to watch. The team was losing confidence in their goalie. I know it sounds cruel, but the mentality of a team can shift from empathy to antipathy quickly. The men were beginning to mumble that Cam wasn’t giving one hundred percent. Maybe he had grown soft with the big money, fancy car, designer clothes, and TV commercials.

I listened to the grumblings from the team with a wince. If only Cam would come out! That night I told Likka, who was taking a day off from sex, that I was going to go check on Cam. Try to talk him up, you know? The Finnish mountain told me I was good boy. An hour later, as I lay under Cameron with his prick buried in me, I wasn’t sure how good I was, but I sure as hell knew how in love I was. Cam spoke little that night. We had sex. He withdrew from me, pinching his condom tightly around his flaccid dick then disappearing into the bathroom to take a shower. When he came out, I was dallying in bed.

"You got something against my spunk on your skin?"

He gave me a clipped reply but would not meet my eyes. I lay in his bed naked, fingering the tiny speckles of seed on my lower abdomen. It was obvious from the way his nostrils flared that he was turned on. But did he ask me to stay? No. He wrapped himself in his blanket of fear then begged me to leave because he was expecting a call from his daughter. I did, but it was not happily. I knew where his head was at, but shit, did that mean I deserved to be shoved out the door like some cheap whore? It made me feel used, dirty, and less understanding of Cam’s delicate situation.

The only thing that made me feel slightly less trampy was the knowledge that Cam would at least be broaching the subject with his daughter. He had vowed to me as he made love to me that he would tell her when she called tonight. Likka seemed mollified with the noncommittal reply I gave him about Cam. I slid into the bath to wash off the smell of sex. The light was out when I emerged. Likka was snoring loudly. I rolled to my side, pillow over my head, and prayed that sleep would come quickly.

On the return trip home I obviously couldn’t ask Cam about his conversation with his daughter. Nor could I after we got back to Pittsburgh because he left before I could say word one to the man. It kind of tweaked me, but I didn’t think anything about it. I resolved that I would call him after I got unpacked. That didn’t happen. What did happen was Brad coming to my room, eyes glittering with need. Yeah, it was one of those things. I saw him closing the door behind himself in the small mirror over the dresser. My eyes followed him as he closed the distance. I sidestepped when he reached out to embrace me from behind.

"What’s up with you?"

"Nothing man, I’m just not really into being groped without giving a dude permission." Brad stiffened slightly. "I mean, we made out one time. That’s not an open pass to my dick whenever you feel like it."

"Whoa, just back the fuck up, okay?" Brad said. I threw a balled-up hoodie into the hamper then spun around to face him. "I think you were just as into that make-out session as I was. Maybe if you weren’t being such a fucking cock tease, I wouldn’t be all over the place trying to figure out what it is you want from me."

"I am not a cock tease!" My hands fisted at my sides. "I’m just not used to a man being such a bitch about shit! Next you’ll be texting me to ask me to pick up some tampons and chocolate on the way home."

That one got me pushed soundly into the wall. "Fuck you!" Brad snarled. I raised my fists. Our landlord busted in. I think we would have come to blows if not for the big body shoving itself between us.

"I’m out of here!" I yelled as I grabbed my vest off the bed.

"Good, stay the fuck out!" Brad shouted over Pete’s bare shoulder. I exited like a typhoon, slamming every door I met until I was out in cold so severe it felt as if I had walked out into Antarctica as opposed to Pittsburgh. My Rover was blocked in. I didn’t feel like going back in to ask Brad to move his ride, so I called a cab then went to the corner to wait for it. I was stuttering with cold when I relayed the address to the cabbie.

The yellow taxi was an older one. The upholstery smelled like wet ashtrays. The radio was cranking out Rasta. I tried several times to get Cam but his phone kept kicking me to voice mail. At least I knew his address. Hell no, he hadn’t given it to me. I had asked Likka, who had been to Cam’s numerous times over the years. How nice is that? Having to beg your fucking lover’s address from a teammate? When we reached the affluent neighborhood Cameron called home, I was worked into a frothing anger at Brad. I wasn’t too keen on Cam either, but since I was on his doorstop about to beg for a room, I kept my anger in check. When the double doors of the sprawling Spanish home opened, Cam looked stunned.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He jerked me in off his stoop like I was a mangy tomcat returning after a week of debauchery. I shook free of his grip. The foyer of his house was incredible. Dark paneling, bronze wall sconces to carry the Spanish feel inside, a thriving green plant as tall as I was.

"Yeah, hi to you too." I stepped back from the man. He glanced up the steps leading to what I assumed was his living room. Cam reached over to dim the light hanging over our heads. My stomach did some sort of sick flip-flop. "Do you have another man here?"

"Of course not!" He tried to take my arm once more. "I’m sorry for being so curt, but you’re not supposed to be here."

"I need a place to crash," I said, morbidly intrigued by how his brown eyes flitted all over. The fucker was hiding something. Then she stepped into view at the top of the steps. A young woman of perhaps sixteen with long brown hair, wide brown eyes, and Cam’s nose. I gaped at the teenager. She hugged her lean midsection in a move so typically teen girl I almost smiled. She was dressed casually like her father, jeans and sweaters for both. "Hi there!"

"Hi." She hugged herself tighter. I pushed around Cam.

"My name’s Jacobi," I said as I climbed closer to her with my hand out. She eyed my palm warily then glanced at her father.

"He plays on the Pumas, Jane."

I turned to look at Cam. The. Mother. Fucker. He had never mentioned me to her. Probably he never even told her about us, or his homosexuality. When I found his eyes, he beseeched me to remain silent with his gaze.

"Oh, yes! I recall reading about you on the internet." She continued to talk. I stood on the third step with my mouth open an inch as my heart hung in fucking tatters.

"I, uhm, I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, yeah, I’ll be on my way." Cam opened the door. I stepped outside in a trance. Like a zombie I stumbled down the steps, the sudden blast of frigid air making my eyes water.

"Jacobi, I just need more time." That was Cam whispering at me. I didn’t reply. I left him to his secrets. I was done with him. Done with the lies, the pain, and the need to coddle Cam Evans. From this point on, his position was up for grabs. I hoped losing his spot as the starting goalie hurt as badly as what I just endured.

My feet carried me an entire block unbeknownst to my brain. I stopped when a pair of halogen lights swept over me. I turned, eyes shielded with the back of my hand. I guessed it was a cop coming to check on the stranger strolling around Fox Chapel.

"Jacobi!" the driver shouted. I raised a lip at Cam. The headlights died. I saw he drove a red BMW X5. Classy. I spun around then pounded down the sidewalk. He drove along beside me, the Beemer’s lights off. "Jacobi, would you stop acting like such a petulant child and let me explain?"

I stopped walking. I threw him a glare. "Petulant? You think that was petulant?" I asked through clenched teeth. Then I strolled over and kicked the driver’s side door in. "That was petulant." I gave the door another kick just for the giggles.

Cam came out of his car like his ass was aflame. I had time to get my arms up but he didn’t throw the punch I had expected. He tackled me to the ground then he threw a sloppy left. I blocked it with ease. We then got into a rolling, kicking sort of show where we spent more time pounding each other on the back then we did actually trying to connect with the knuckle to face. A porch light coming on broke up the skirmish. I staggered to my feet. Cam backed up to his car.

"I swear our lives would be so much easier if I just yelled your fucking secret out for the whole neighborhood to hear!" I threw the words at him like a sharpened dagger. He physically jerked at the threat. "Don’t worry, I wouldn’t out anyone." His big body remained tense. I padded closer so the conversation would be private." You stay the fuck away from me, you lying prick. I am so done sucking your dick in both the physical and literal terms." I jabbed an icy cold finger into his designer jacket with each word.

"If you would just let me explain, Jacobi." I threw a hand up into the air to silence the man. It worked. His kissable lips flattened out. I stalked off into the night, ignoring the call from Cam’s neighbor. I heard Cam feeding the concerned homeowner a line of bullshit about one of his teammates being a little tipsy. Cam was good at lying. Truth told, he was a fucking expert at deception. It suddenly hurt to suck in a breath. I blamed it on the painfully cold air.

* * * *

The following morning at scrimmage I played as if my life depended on it. Revenge is a mighty strong drive. It spurs a person onward better than any motivational speaker. After paying for another cab ride home, I lay in bed all night, plotting out how best to hurt Cam. I know. It was petty, little, mean, small-minded, and shitty of me. If my mother knew I was being such a rotten person, she would weep. Did I want to make my mother cry? No. But I was in pain. That’s my defense for being a massive bottle of feminine refreshment anyway. After the AM skate I sat in silence beside Cam, removing pads and tape with erratic, aggressive movements. We never spoke a word to each other. I was so intent on ignoring the pretender I never saw Ivan until his big feet were in my line of vision. Cam and I both raised our heads simultaneously.

"What do you think, Cam? Are you here?" Ivan paused to tap his temple." Are you ready for  the start?" I slipped a sneaky look at the legend. His chin was up, his eyes bright.

"The best way out of a slump is to play through it, right?" Ivan nodded at that reasoning before he walked away. I felt Cameron looking at me. "I wish you would meet me somewhere so we could–"

I got to my feet, peeled off my leggings then went to the showers. I hoped he enjoyed looking at my ass because that was all he would ever do with it again. The blast of water hit me in the chest. It stung for a moment. How the hell had my life gotten so convoluted in such a short span of time? And the really stupid-ass thing was that I wasn’t in the shitpit quite deep enough, I guess. I then went home to compound the mess even more. This cluster was my own doing. My bruised heart prodded me along, whispering rancid, hurtful things into my ear, until I found myself knocking on the door of Brad’s room, my mind whirling with dark glee at the thought of rubbing this under Cam’s regal nose. Brad was surprised to see me looking so contrite. I was surprised to see him in nothing but a towel knotted around his waist.

"Look, man, I was in a bad place last night," I mumbled, hand kneading the back of my neck. "I didn’t mean to say that shit to you. I wanted what happened between us to happen. Maybe I was scared of it, you know?"

Brad leaned a strong shoulder to the doorframe, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "So you’re saying what here, exactly? That you wanted me all along but were afraid to admit it?"

I nodded. He folded his arms over his chest. The time to act was here so I leaned into him for a soft, searching kiss. It lacked the fire that Cam and I had when tongue slid over tongue, but that didn’t matter. I was done with emotion. All I wanted now was sex I could use as retribution. Somewhere in Jersey my mother was feeling a huge disturbance in the Force. I was just about to slide my hand inside Brad’s towel when my cell phone chirruped in my front pocket. The vibration did pleasant things to my groin. Brad pulled away slowly as I fumbled to tug my phone free. As soon as I saw who it was, the semi-erection I had wilted.

"It’s my mom." I seriously didn’t know what to do.

"Let voice mail pick it up." I shook my head. I guess that was it. Brad rolled his eyes then closed his door in my face.

"Hey Mom," I said as I dragged myself back to my room.

"Jacobi, did you keep the receipt for the sweater you bought me for Christmas?" I dove onto the bed then rolled to my back.

"Maybe," I said as I stared at the ceiling.

"Honey, are you okay?"

No, Mom, I was not okay. I was so fucking confused that I almost seduced a man I didn’t want in order to stab the man I loved in the heart. I wanted to cry. Or punch someone. Or fuck someone. In lieu of those options…

"Mom, you got a few minutes?"

* * * *

As soon as I walked into the locker room, I could feel the tension. It settled on the skin like August humidity. The team was already anxious. I dressed in silence. My mother had told me quite a lot during our forty-five minute talk. Cam was already geared up. He sat stiffly, lost in the world he entered before a game. My fingers itched to touch him. Mom had imparted lots of wisdom to me, some useful, some just comparative. After the mother/son chat I had spent an hour and a half lying on my bed, hands resting on my stomach, thinking while staring at the newly-painted ceiling.

"Jacobi." My mother had chided as only a mother can. "Why would you pull away from the man when he needs you most?"

"He hurt me, Mom."

"Of course he did. He’s hurting inside too deeply to do anything else. Try offering him your support again. Being mean isn’t like you, son."

"What if he lies to me again? What if he never comes out?"

"Do you remember learning to ride a bike?"

I could not figure out what this had to do with two gay men having relationship problems.

"Vaguely."

"You were ten." I could hear the reflective smile in her voice. "You were so scared of riding that bike without training wheels. Your father refused to let you give up, though. Every day after school for over three months he would hold the back of that seat as he ran alongside you. Some people need someone to hold onto them a little longer than others when they’re afraid."

Yep. She had gotten me right in the feels.

"Hey." Cam’s dark eyes opened slowly  I could see the unease lingering in those chocolate depths. I slid closer to him. He watched me closely, perhaps waiting for me to attack him again. All I wanted was to hold him. "I understand why you didn’t tell Jane."

"Jacobi…"

"I know. It’s cool. I shouldn’t be pushing you to do something you’re not ready to do. I’m still with you. "I patted his thigh. I couldn’t feel his toned thigh, of course, not with all the padding. The sentiment was there even if the sensation wasn’t. Cam placed his hand over mine. He held on tight. My eyes flew around the locker room then came back to Cam.

"I told her. She, uhm… She still loves me."

"I love you, too, you know?"

Cam nodded. His eyes were dewy. He lifted my hand, his fingers trembling strongly.

"I know. The feeling is quite mutual." His lips were soft on my knuckles. Then he stood up. I held onto him as he cleared his throat. The locker room fell silent. I ran alongside him as his training wheels fell off one shaky confession at a time. I am still running alongside him five years later. Now it’s me with the upstart pup sitting in the corner eying my crease with lust.

Cam finds that highly entertaining.

# # #

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, New York Rangers hockey, comic books and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie,  a pig with a President`s moniker, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

V.L. is a self-published and conventionally published author. She is a proud Torquere Press and Secret Cravings Publishing author. When not writing romantic tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand, writing, or cheering on her beloved New York Rangers. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, and GoodReads.

Blind Pass

© Bianca Sommerland

The Dartmouth Cobras 0.5

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

BLIND PASS takes place four years before GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras #1). Many players were not with the team at the time and I’m sorry if you’re not getting your favorites, but so many love Tim Rowe that I had to tell his story. I hope it brings a smile to your lips to see him meet the love of his life and become the strong man the Cobras all leaned on for so long. Happy reading!

Chapter One

Late January

Thirty-thousand feet, nothing but an endless stretch of blue below, no escape in sight on the long flight from Dartmouth, Nova Scotia to Florida. Tim rubbed his temples with the index and middle fingers of both hands and wondered how likely their chances of making the play-offs would be if he gave a few of his boys a crash course in free-falling. There had to be parachutes on the plane. They’d be fine as long as they landed in one piece.

However, with tempers flaring between the men, they might not survive this flight.

“Give the baby his fucking pillow, Kral.” The Dartmouth Cobras’ captain, Sloan Callahan, stared out the window, not even bothering to turn as the two men struggling in the aisle bumped into the empty seat next to him. “He don’t kick your ass for being a pain, I will.”

“The baby” was the team’s rookie left winger, Ian White. When he’d joined the team at the beginning of the season, he’d been a couple inches shorter than the defenseman, Peter Kral, and a few pounds lighter. White had gained about twenty pounds since and now matched Kral in height. Tim wasn’t sure if it was boredom from the long delay before their flight or what, but the players were taking turns getting on each other’s nerves. Kral picking on the rookie for the black pillowcase with a white Transformer’s logo on the pillow the kid carried around to every away game made things so much worse. The team had started calling White “Bruiser” after his first week on the ice. Started because he managed two black eyes, a nasty bruise on his jaw, and a lump on his forehead during that same week.

Now it was because he was recognized as a gritty fighter who would throw down his gloves to defend his teammates. And he turned into a damn caveman when he got riled up.

Kral had gotten White nice and pissed off. Tim undid his seatbelt and apologized to the young assistant trainer sitting next to him as he slid past to separate his players. He banged his head on the underside of the luggage bin as he straightened. The dull pain slowed him down for just a second.

Long enough for things to deteriorate. Shoving and snarling, both White and Kral ended up on the floor. Their biggest defenseman, Dominik Mason, the only black player on the team, hauled White up to his knees by the back of his neck. Tim couldn’t tell what Mason was saying, but he caught a few growled curses from all three.

Better and better.

Near the back of the plane, the team’s head coach, Paul Stanton, glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, looking at Tim expectantly.

Right. Apparently controlling the team is the assistant coach’s job. Get to it, Rowe.

“That’s enough, boys.” Tim pried Mason’s hand from White’s neck. Mason’s jaw ticked, but he stepped back. Now all Tim had to do was separate the idiots on the floor. “White, Kral, get up. You’re representing the team and—”

“I’m gonna kill him! Then I’m gonna throw him off the damn plane!” White’s teeth snapped together at the sound of ripping fabric. The stupid pillow was between him and Kral. The pillowcase had ripped. White released it and drew back his fist. “You son of a—”

“What’s going on here? Excuse me, sir.” A curvy flight attendant carefully sidled by Tim and caught White by the wrist. “Young man, on your feet.”

“He ripped it! That’s mine, you asshole!” White stood and lunged for Kral, who’d scrambled back a few feet. “I’m gonna kill him!”

Thankfully, White didn’t try to get past the flight attendant. But he was shaking with rage and Tim knew he was going to completely lose it if someone didn’t rein him in. The way White’s eyes glistened had Tim wondering if he didn’t need fucking restraints.

The flight attendant spoke quietly to White. Then turned to Kral and held out her hand.

Kral rolled his eyes and passed her the pillow. “Was just fucking with you, kid. You don’t gotta cry about it.”

Several players were standing in the aisle now. They moved as the most levelheaded of them all, Max Perron, made his way up to Kral’s side. His voice was low, thick with his Texas accent, but carried clearly as he put a heavy hand on Kral’s shoulder. “Was the last thing his dad gave him before he got killed in the mines. Ratty old thing, but means a lot. He’s had it since he was eight. You’re smarter than this, man.”

“Shit, I didn’t know.” Kral hunched his shoulders and stared down at his hands. “Why didn’t you say something, Bruiser?”

“Don’t fucking pity me, just stay away from my shit.” White rubbed his eyes with a fist and turned to the flight attendant. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll go sit over there.” He pointed to the empty seats near the front of the plane. “Won’t cause no more trouble.”

“I’d appreciate that.” The flight attendant smiled and followed White to his new seat. She handed him the pillow. “It’s a tiny tear. Do you have someone who can fix it for you?”

White shook his head. “Grandma’s got arthritis bad.”

“Well, I’m with you boys when you head home from Miami. Would you let me take care of it?”

Tim grinned when White nodded with a hesitant smile. All the players were sitting and behaving, so he could keep his attention on the kid. And the sweet lady taking care of his boy.

Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun, but wavy tendrils framed her face, softening the neat updo. Everything about her seemed soft, from her rounded cheeks and sweet, plump lips, to the thick black eyelashes around her big brown eyes. She wore a crisp, dark blue uniform, all proper with the skirt hitting just above her knees, but her full, curvy figure had a luscious appeal that made him wonder how she’d feel in his arms. She laughed at something White said and the sound drew Tim closer to her.

The plane jolted, making the floor beneath his feet became unsteady as he reached her side. He wet his lips with his tongue when she looked over at him, not sure what the hell he was going to say to her, but needing to say something. He wanted to make her laugh again, wanted to use the time on the long flight to get to know more than her name.

Her name… He glanced down at the badge on her chest. Madeline.

“Sir, are you quite all right?”

She grabbed his arm as the plane shuddered, and he put his hand on her waist to steady her. A melodic ding sounded as the seat-belt light flicked on.

White cleared his throat. “Coach?”

Quiet, boy! Tim rarely lost his patience with his players, but in this moment, he needed to be left alone. With Madeline. “One minute, White.”

“You might want to sit down, brother. And let the lady do her job.”

Tim frowned, turning slightly as Dean Richter, the team’s general manager, spoke up behind him. His half brother usually either slept through flights or used the time to catch up on paperwork. Since Dean hadn’t interceded during White and Kral’s little scuffle, Tim had figured he’d been sleeping.

Madeline’s big brown eyes opened wide. She stared at Dean, her pale cheeks going pink when Dean’s gaze shifted to her. Dean studied her face, the edge of his lips tipping up as he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I appreciate how well you handled the children.”

“Hey!” White folded his pillow against the window, scowling as he propped his head on it. “I ain’t a damn child.”

Both Dean and Madeline ignored the rookie. And Tim.

Not all that surprising—women tended to forget him fairly quickly when Dean showed up. His brother had an aura of power and authority that couldn’t be ignored. It didn’t usually bother Tim since the type of women ready to kneel at his brother’s feet didn’t interest him at all. And with the way Madeline’s lips moved as though Dean’s presence made speaking difficult, she was clearly one of those.

He gave them both a stiff nod and slid into the seat beside White.

White shifted around like he was trying to get comfortable. He sat up straight when Dean and Madeline moved farther back in the plane, watched them for a bit, then shook his head. “Damn, you gonna let your brother cockblock you like that, Rowe? Call her back over and ask her for some peanuts or something.”

“Peanuts?” Tim arched a brow at the rookie, rolling his eyes as the kid shrugged and looked over the back of his seat. “You’re gonna lose your tough guy card if you start trying to play cupid.”

“Maybe, but she’s nice. And the GM ain’t been nice since his wife walked out on him.”

This was true. The divorce had been finalized only two months earlier, yet the marriage had been over for years. Dean hadn’t had many lovers since, and all were submissives who wouldn’t dare ask him for more than a single night of pleasure. And most seemed to find that more than enough. His brother was an intense Dom, but he had nothing of himself left to give.

No, he did give of himself to his family. His fourteen-year-old daughter, Jami, was his whole world and there was nothing Dean wouldn’t do for her. And Tim knew very well Dean would back off the woman if he showed any interest in her.

Maybe peanuts are a good idea after all.

But the captain’s voice came out over the speakers, asking for the flight attendant to take her seat and buckle up. Tim kept his eyes on Madeline as she waited for Dean to settle in and then headed to the front of the plane. She met his gaze while strapping herself into the jump seat and flashed them a bracing smile as the plane began to shudder.

Turbulence didn’t bother Tim; he’d been on enough flights to have experienced worse than this, but by his side, White was gripping the armrest and cursing under his breath with each jolt. Tim patted White’s arm, grinning at Madeline as he spoke in a mock whisper. “You face O’Reilly without a second thought, but you’re scared of a little turbulence?”

“O’Reilly ain’t shaking me around a million miles over the ocean.” White ground his teeth and pressed his eyes shut tight. “Shitshitshit.”

“You fought with your friend for your pillow just a few minutes ago, Ian.” Madeline used White’s first name in a soft voice that carried, and for the first time, Tim noticed she had a sweet southern accent. Maybe Georgia? Either way, he found it soothing and noticed the tight muscles in White’s jaw loosened a bit with her every quiet word. “You’re in no more danger now than you were before. Less, actually, because you both could’ve been injured while out of your seats.”

White’s brow furrowed. He opened his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“The plane ain’t gonna flip over or nothin’? You told us how to use the air masks, but they aren’t out.”

It was very, very hard not to laugh at how ridiculous White was being. And yet Madeline shook her head, her expression serious. “The plane won’t flip. And the masks will come out if they’re needed, but that isn’t likely.” She leaned forward in her seat, her tone so quiet there was no way anyone beside Tim and White could hear her. “Are you always afraid when you fly, Ian?”

Scowling, White shook his head. “I’m not scared. Just don’t wanna die.”

Damn, the kid was tough, but Madeline was right. His skin was cold to the touch, and he was shaking harder than the plane. How had Tim not noticed this before? With how often the team flew, one of the players being this messed up every time they were up in the air shouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Not that there was any way to avoid putting White on a plane, but if Tim had known, he would have made sure to either sit with the kid or put him next to one of the players he could trust to keep White calm.

Like Madeline was doing right now. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, darlin’. I used to be scared to death of flying.”

Tim’s lips quirked at the rookie’s amazed, “Really?” The way White’s mouth hung open made him look so young. Poor kid’s like twelve. Not literally, obviously, but at his age, Mom had still called Tim her baby.

“Really. I was a dancer, did competitions all over the place so I traveled a lot in my teens. Never made it through a single flight without praying that the plane wouldn’t go down. But after I retired from dancing, I realized I missed being able to see the world. So I became a flight attendant.”

“And you weren’t scared no more?”

“Oh, I was terrified. I didn’t want anyone to know, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hide it. During training they went through every horrible scenario you can think of and taught us how to handle all the things that could go wrong.” At a beep, Madeline undid her belt and stood. She continued even as she went to fetch the beverage cart. “By the time I was hired and went up the first time, I was prepared for just about anything.”

“Just about? The plane didn’t go down, did it?” White clamped his mouth shut, lips twisted like he knew he’d said something stupid. He took a deep breath. “I mean, people live, right?”

“Sometimes, but no, the plane didn’t go down. Water?” She held up the large bottle, then scooped some ice into a clear plastic cup and filled it at White’s nod. “I messed up the flight number and stuttered half of my safety instructions. Tangled up the elastic on the mask. Public speaking is much scarier than flying!”

For some reason, White seemed to find that hilarious. He choked on the water he’d swigged, forcing Tim to pound on his back to get him to stop coughing. A loud click click click sobered White up fast.

Before Tim could assure White it was nothing, Madeline had it covered. She leaned over Tim, her body heat spreading over him, the delicate floral scent of her perfume surrounding him, as she pointed out the window and winked at White. “It’s just ice. You’re not scared of that, are you, honey?”

Looking sheepish, White shook his head.

Before Madeline could move away, Tim touched the back of her hand. He didn’t say a thing, not wanting to embarrass White, but it meant a lot to him that she’d taken the time to ease his fears. He tried to express his gratitude with his eyes and a slight curving of his lips.

Her cheeks grew nice and rosy red. He could feel the heat from her skin as she leaned close to whisper in his ear. “You’re very welcome, Tim.”

* * * *

What the hell is wrong with me? Madeline stared at herself in the mirror above the sink in the Miami airport bathroom. She’d changed out of her uniform quickly, as usual, for some reason never feeling clean after a few hours on a flight, but this time, she didn’t just feel fresher, but more…alive. And about as giddy as a teenage girl who’d finally earned a smile from the handsome high school quarterback.

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. Through her years working as a flight attendant she’d met rock stars, actors, and plenty of athletes. None of them fazed her because each and every good-looking young man reminded her of her three younger brothers. Being twelve years older than the eldest, she’d had a hand in raising them and never could seem to put aside that motherly instinct. The wild antics of the rich and famous and not-quite-grown-up amused her, which was probably why she was chosen so often for chartered flights.

The boy, Ian White, hadn’t been any different. He was the same age as her second youngest brother, all tough and yet vulnerable, just like Jonathon. She looked over at the pillow she’d taken to fix for him, which brought on a vision of the boy’s coach.

Assistant coach. Tim Rowe. She’d never heard of him before she’d been assigned to the flight. A few of the player names were familiar, but she always took the time to memorize the names of passengers on smaller flights to give them more personal service. This was the first time she’d ever considered making it more “personal” than was appropriate.

After applying a bit of gloss to her lips to defend them against the dry winter air, Madeline shook off the lingering sensation of Tim being so close and picked up the pillow to tuck it under her arm while grabbing the handle of her suitcase with her free hand. She walked out of the bathroom, mentally going over all the reasons she should keep things with Tim professional.

We will be working with the team for a very long time. You don’t want things to get awkward.

Of course, there was no reason for things to be awkward. She was a grown woman, and if anything happened between them, she wouldn’t fool herself into thinking it would last.

He walked away without looking back. If he was interested, he’d have . . .

Have what? For all he knew, she’d been more interested in his brother.

Aren’t you?

There lay the real issue. Dean Richter possessed all the qualities she typically looked for in a man. Self-assured, power oozing off him in waves, his very presence telling her that, if he got her alone, she’d willingly surrender every ounce of her control. Most of the time that was exactly what she needed from a man. The knowledge that she could just let go.

Her cheeks were hot again and she stopped by a small vendor to buy a bottle of cold water. Yes, just recalling how she’d responded to Dean had her hormones dancing like a million little fireflies in the night. Who could resist a sexy older man who looked at you like he could already see you naked beneath him?

Dean could give her a night she’d never forget. Could satisfy all her darkest urges.

She took a few long gulps of water, letting it cool her down as she idly looked over the men in the crowd milling about the terminal. Before long, she realized she was looking for his face. Not Dean’s, but Tim’s. Softer eyes, a voice that held concern when he spoke to White, his expressions so easy to read. She hadn’t mistaken his interest in her. If he’d asked her to meet him, for coffee, for dinner, for… Ugh, she wasn’t making any sense. Honestly, she hadn’t had a man in her bed for way too long. Appropriate or not, she wouldn’t have said no to either man.

But Tim was the one she wanted to know. Maybe sex with him would be a bad idea after all. She liked him already. Things could get complicated.

“Hey! Madeline!” The masculine shout came from the line in front of Subway. It was White, and his boyish grin made her smile as he grabbed his bag of food and ran up to her. He shoved his shaggy brown hair off his forehead. “Sorry, ma’am. Just glad I didn’t miss you. Do you think it’ll take long to fix my pillow?” He shifted the strap of his large duffle bag on his shoulder, continuing before she could answer. “Not that I wanna rush you, but I can’t sleep good without it. I know it’s stupid. The tear ain’t that bad, so I could just take it—”

“It’s not stupid at all. And don’t you worry, I can have it ready for you before the game’s done tonight.” She couldn’t help reaching out to pat his cheek as his grin widened. Damn, she missed her little brothers.

“Maybe you could meet up with Tim and he could make sure I get it?” White glanced over his shoulder and Madeline spotted a few of the other players, waiting in the distance. Tim wasn’t with them, but White lowered his voice as though afraid to be overheard. “Just don’t tell him I suggested it.”

“White!” The black-haired team captain, Callahan, shouted, leaving the group as though to come get White. “Hurry up!”

Without thinking, Madeline put her hand on White’s arm. “How do you suggest I meet up with him then?”

“You can…ah…” White scowled as if he was frustrated with himself for not thinking that far ahead. Then he scowled at Callahan as the other man joined them. “I can find my own way to the hotel, Captain. Chill out.”

Callahan’s lips thinned. He glanced over at Madeline. “The kid bothering you, miss?”

“Not at all. We were trying to figure out how I will meet with Tim to return the pillow once it’s all fixed up.” Madeline patted White’s forearm, smiling when his tense muscles relaxed under her hand. “I’ll get ahold of the team’s travel coordinator, Ian, and take it from there. No worries.”

With his lips softened and an amused light in his eyes, Callahan changed from hard and cold to dangerously attractive. Still too young for her, but her wariness of him faded away as he motioned toward the escalators. “Or you could follow us down to the bus and just ask Tim.”

Refusing would make it seem as though she was avoiding Tim, but by going to the bus, she might give him the wrong impression. Would he believe she only wanted to ask him about returning the pillow? What if he thought she was coming on to him?

Would that be so bad?

Yes. She preferred for men to make the first move. To get a feel for what they expected from her before she set herself up for disappointment.

“You don’t have to do it, ma’am. Really.” White stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders. “Stupid to go to all this trouble.”

“Enough of that, White. It ain’t no trouble, is it, miss?” Callahan curved his hand around the back of White’s neck in a rough, affectionate gesture that had White snorting and elbowing his captain in the ribs. The same hold would have frozen Madeline. She wet her lips with her tongue, missing Callahan’s next words. He chuckled, repeating himself. “Come on, he doesn’t bite. Not unless you ask real nice.”

The last thing she wanted was for this young man to think she was afraid to speak to Tim. But she was tempted to elbow Callahan herself when she nodded and he smirked. As they walked to the escalator, she gave him a sidelong look. “Didn’t your momma teach you it isn’t polite to speak to a lady that way?”

All the teasing, the friendliness, disappeared from Callahan’s expression. He glanced over at her. “No. But she wasn’t a lady herself.”

You really stepped in it there, genius. Madeline sighed as Callahan quickened his pace, noticing how the other players avoided him as though sensing his mood. White stayed close to her, taking her suitcase and his pillow when they reached the bus, offering to keep an eye on it while she went in.

The bus was huge, the seats larger than those on any bus she’d ever been on, but it was still a bus, with little space to move around. All the players either stayed outside or quickly sat to let her pass, making her feel very self-conscious as she made her way toward the back of the bus.

Tim, who’d been sitting at the edge of one of the last seats before the bathroom stall speaking to his brother, glanced over and stood quickly when he spotted her. His head hit the bottom of the luggage compartment. Hard.

“Fu—damn it! Ow!” Tim laughed at himself and rubbed his head as he moved closer to her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again until we got back on the plane. Not that I didn’t want to, I—”

Dean snorted without looking up from the clipboard in his hands.

Usually, uncertainty in a man turned Madeline off. For some reason, it made Tim more approachable. She stopped worrying about how coming here looked and smiled at him. “Ian asked me if I could get his pillow back to him after the game tonight. We both agreed it would be easier if I met with you to return it.”

“The pillow…” He blinked. Nodded quickly. “Of course. We’re staying at the Marriott. I could meet you in the lobby—of course, White could meet you there himself.”

“Yes, he probably could.” Madeline decided to just go for it. She wanted to spend some time with Tim, away from his brother and the team. That he hadn’t taken over and asked her out didn’t change that. This would probably go nowhere, but she needed to see that for herself. So she went for blunt honesty. “I think he’s playing matchmaker, which is adorable. I couldn’t disappoint him.”

The skin around Tim’s eyes crinkled as he gave her a broad smile. “You do know he’s twenty-two, not twelve? And a big boy like that isn’t ‘adorable.’”

“Ha! I’ll have you know men don’t fully grow up until they hit their thirties. Most of your team is made up of children.”

“True.” Tim cocked his head slightly. “So you’re going out with me to make the boy happy?”

“I don’t know, Tim.” She grinned at him, having more fun just talking to Tim than she’d had on actual dates. “You haven’t asked me.”

Casually resting his hip on the arm of a seat, arms folded over his chest, Tim shrugged. “I said we could meet in the lobby.”

Something slapped a seat in the back of the bus. Dean made an irritated sound as Tim looked over at him. “You, brother, are an idiot. If you don’t ask her out for coffee, I will.”

Dean’s sharp tone made Madeline shiver. She could imagine him using that tone with her if he wasn’t pleased. Could see herself doing everything in her power to make sure he rarely had a reason to.

She’d been in the lifestyle for a few years, going to clubs in different cities, always sceneing with men more like Dean than Tim. There was no way she’d refuse if Dean asked her for coffee…or pretty much anything. He pushed all the right buttons by simply being in the same space as her.

Tim seemed to notice. He gave her a stiff smile. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. He will take you.”

No mistaking his meaning. She frowned, irritated that Tim wasn’t making more of an effort. Even more irritated at herself for wanting him to. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here to see him. But I do think I’m wasting both our time. I’ll meet you in the lobby after the game. Good luck.”

Before she could turn her back on him, he put his hand on her arm. She went still. He spoke softly. “Wait.”

For several beats, she stood there, shaking with a strange mix of humiliation, frustration, and…anticipation. His grip on her arm was firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep her from walking away. She sensed something in him that she’d been missing before, a power that wasn’t quite as bold as his brother’s, but no less intense.

“I think I misunderstood—it doesn’t matter. Would you like to have coffee with me? Or we could go out for a beer.” He loosened his hold on her arm, but didn’t move it. “I’ll pick you up wherever you’re staying.” His lips twitched at the edges. “We’ll have to stop by the hotel to bring White his pillow though.”

“Naturally.” She wasn’t sure why it made her so happy that he’d finally stepped up, but it did. She turned to face him. “And I wouldn’t mind a beer actually. My treat if your boys win.”

“Hell no! I’ve made enough of a mess of this.” He lifted his hand, brushing his fingertips across her cheek, his gaze as soft and warm as his touch. “Let me show you I can be a gentleman.”

Dean covered a laugh with a cough.

Madeline ignored him. Which was so much easier now with Tim so close. All the Doms she’d been with were sure of themselves, took control of her easily, fulfilled her needs—and nothing more. She had a feeling Tim could give her more, which was frightening and thrilling all at once. She hadn’t gone on a date in a very long time unless one was to count a few meetings with potential Tops. Having a beer with a man who clearly wasn’t trying to get in her pants as quickly as possible, who wasn’t interested in her submission, would be a nice change.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a ‘gentleman.’” Oh, that sounded lame. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Forget I said that. Going out for beer would be nice.”

“Nice?” Tim slid his hand into her hair, moving forward until she was trapped between a seat and his body. His lips were so very close to hers, close enough to feel his breath on her flesh, his heat. “Nice sounds boring.”

She swallowed hard, waiting for him to kiss her. Knowing if he did she was a goner. “It does.”

“I promise not to bore you, Madeline.”

“Good.”

“I hope you enjoy the game.” He released her hair and took her hand. Bent down to press a kiss to the back of it. Smiled up at her when she stared at him. “The way you were looking at me, you were about to make me into a liar. You should go before I stop caring that this bus is about to get very crowded.”

Hell, she was going to need a very cold shower when she got to her hotel room. She quickly gave him her cell number and got off the bus. She knew she was blushing when a few of the boys grinned at her.

That had to have been the strangest way she’d ever been asked out on a date. To have had him simply come on to her would have been simpler, made her feel sexy, but she might have turned him down because he wasn’t a Dom. Somehow, he’d managed to make her forget that she needed that dominance from a man. She wasn’t thinking about doing a scene with him, but she did want to be near him. Wanted him to touch her, to feel his lips on hers.

Which was so wrong, because she knew it could never work. She’d stopped dating a long time ago because her needs weren’t going to change. Accepting that meant she didn’t date. The men who satisfied her needs didn’t date women like her. Her job kept her away for too long for her to serve as a proper sub, even if she’d consider delving that deeply into the lifestyle. Diving in once a month to take off the edge was usually enough. She was happy with her life, had never considered changing it.

And she didn’t have any reason to start.

Chapter Two

Tim straightened his tie as he held open the door to his rental car for Madeline outside of her hotel, arching his brow at the small, black plastic box on top of the pillow in her arms. She looked adorably flustered, her hair pulled back into a soft ponytail, tendrils framing her face—which he was pleased to see was free of makeup except for a light peach lip gloss and maybe some mascara. Her cheeks were pink, but he had a feeling that was natural.

“I’m sorry, my mother called about some trouble my youngest brother got into. It looks like I’m going to be an aunt again!” She shook her head as she slid into the passenger seat. “I completely lost track of time. Won’t take me long to finish mending the pillow, though.”

“In the car?” He held the box for her as she put on her seat belt. She nodded and he returned the box to her, then closed the door and found himself grinning like an idiot as he went around to the driver’s side. By the time he pulled the car out onto the road, she had a needle threaded and was making precise stitches that almost disappeared into the material.

Her focus on the task, the comfortable silence between them, had him taking the opportunity of every red light to just look at her. She was a refreshing change from the young women who hung around the team—those girls did nothing for him. The laugh lines around her lips, the sparkle in eyes that had seen the world, made her absolutely beautiful. This was a woman who’d lived, who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t be shy about telling him what that was.

Part of him still wondered if she wasn’t better suited to his brother, but Tim wouldn’t let old insecurities ruin a good night. His boys had won the game in overtime. Callahan was proving to be the ideal captain after only a few months in the position, his talent and natural leadership skills providing the team with all the direction they needed. White had dropped the gloves—big surprise there—when an overeager forward from the Panthers crashed the net. The fight had ended with White spitting blood and holding two teeth in his hand, but he’d won and earned the respect of his teammates. Not that most hadn’t respected him before, but they’d seen him as more of a hothead than anything. It was hard to stand behind a player who had a hair-trigger and got penalties for losing his cool. A man who made the other team think twice about targeting your star players? He was invaluable.

“Done!” Madeline put away the needle and ran her hand over the pillowcase as they pulled up in front of the hotel. “Would you give White a shout so he can come meet us? Then we can go have that beer. Did you have a particular place you’d like to go or would the hotel bar do?”

“If we stay here, the boys will likely join us. So it depends on how much time you’d like to spend with my entire team.” He got out of the car, handed the valet his keys, and texted White as he joined Madeline on the sidewalk. “There’s a bar within walking distance with a live band that plays rock classics. I usually go there every time I’m in Miami, but it’s not the type of place the guys like to hang out.”

“Sounds nice.” She shot him a playful look when he raised his brows at her. “And no, I don’t mean boring. Do they serve any good imports or just weak local brews?”

This woman is something else. He laughed and put his hand on the small of her back as he opened the front door to the hotel for her. “They have some pretty incredible local brews. If by local, you mean American?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“What makes you think only foreign beers are good? I’ll assume you’re not saying that just to sound like you know what you’re talking about?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t seem upset by his comment. Instead, challenge lit her eyes. “I’ve been all over the world, spent a month touring Europe in my early twenties, determined to expose my palate to more than the moonshine my daddy let me try when I turned nineteen.”

“Nineteen? You were a good girl then?” He could picture her as a teen, long skirts and modest shirts, so polite and proper while under her parents’ roof. Then running wild as soon as she got the first taste of freedom. She’d have broken his heart if he’d met her back then.

The sweet smile she gave him had him wondering if his heart was safe, even now. She laughed, the sound full of light and warmth, pulling him in as she faced him in the center of the lobby. “Are you implying I’m not a good girl anymore, Tim?”

“I wouldn’t be with you if you were a ‘girl’ anymore, Madeline.” He could tell she liked his pointing that out. Many women didn’t want to be reminded they were no longer young, but he had a feeling she was confident with who she was. Which was sexy as hell. “But about your refined palate, I’d like the chance to prove to you that some domestic brews are just as good, if not better, than anything you’ve had overseas.”

“You’ll have it.”

They chatted a bit more about beer, and about her travels, before they both realized White was taking way too long coming down from his room. Tim checked his phone to see if the boy had texted him back. The message he’d sent wasn’t marked as read.

Had White fallen asleep?

All the rookies roomed with a veteran player. Tim would have liked White to have roomed with Perron or Mason—the latter could have helped the kid pick his fights a bit better from the start—but the head coach had paired him up with Mirek Brends, a Swedish defenseman who didn’t speak much English. Which made calling Brends to check on White pointless. He considered calling Callahan, but the team’s captain had probably gone out to celebrate with a few of the guys.

“Maybe White’s not here?” Madeline seemed to read his thoughts, but concern shadowed her eyes. She’d decided White needed her to look out for him.

The kid clearly needed someone to do it. Tim wouldn’t have left him alone if he hadn’t been cleared by the team’s doctor, but White had said he’d be in his room watching TV because he wasn’t feeling up to going out. He wasn’t impulsive, so Tim didn’t see him changing his mind.

He did see him putting on a brave front for the doctor and the team though. Tim didn’t want to second-guess the doctor, but he couldn’t help worrying a little. He glanced over at Madeline when she cleared her throat to get his attention.

“He wasn’t feeling up to going out. He got in a fight and was a bit roughed up.” Tim braced himself for her to give him hell. One of the things he’d liked most about her was that she cared about the boy, but that could be the very thing that ruined his chances with her. He scratched his jaw when she simply looked at him expectantly. “I’m sorry to delay our date, but I want to go check on him.”

She inclined her head. “I thought you would. Should I wait here?”

Now that impressed him. With how motherly she’d been to White, Tim had assumed she’d insist on tagging along. That she trusted him to decide what was best made him a lot more comfortable than her not giving him a choice. He motioned for her to follow him.

“I think he’ll be happy to see you.” He chuckled as he pressed the button to call the elevator. “And his pillow.”

“Probably.” She went quiet as they got on the elevator, her expression thoughtful. After a few minutes, she met his eyes. “Why did you look so surprised when I offered to wait?”

Tim shrugged, seeing no reason not to be up-front. “You’ve been babying him. I honestly thought you’d plow me down on your way up to make sure he doesn’t need a Band-Aid.”

“Ha! I did mention I have younger brothers?” She smirked at his nod. “I’d have a head full of gray hair if I panicked every time one of them got hurt. I’m sure he’s a mess, but he’s a big boy. And you’re his coach—”

“Assistant coach.” He corrected her out of habit, but he had a feeling she hadn’t said that by mistake. Some of the men considered Tim their coach and saw Paul as more of a figurehead. White was one of them.

“His coach,” Madeline repeated, clearly feeling the same. “You’d know if he’ll be comfortable with me being around.”

“I’m positive he’ll be fine with it.”

“Good.”

The elevator stopped and Tim let Madeline get off first, but stopped her partway down the hall with his hand on her arm, his tone very serious even though he struggled not to laugh. “I don’t need you making my boys soft though, so no kissing all his little bumps and bruises better.”

“Agreed. No kisses.” She took his hand and rose up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in a slow, sensual kiss that had him wanting to continue down the hall, past White’s room and straight to his own. He ran his hand over her hair, inhaling slowly as she put a breath of distance between them, speaking with quiet laughter in her voice. “I’ll save the kisses for you, but I can’t promise not to pet on him a little.”

He snorted and knocked on the door to White’s room. “Fine, but you’re not tucking him in.”

“May I sing him to sleep?”

White didn’t answer. Tim tested the doorknob. Found the door unlocked.

“Yeah. Sing to him if you want.” Tim swallowed hard as he pushed the door open. The room was dark except for the flickering of the TV. “Hey, White? You in here?”

Shit, what if the kid did have a concussion? Blood on his fucking brain and he was alone, had maybe fallen asleep and—

“Ian?” Madeline reached out and squeezed Tim’s hand as she called out. She crossed the short hall with the door that led to the bathroom. Moved into the bedroom. “Hello, darlin’. Oh, that looks like it hurts. No, don’t sit up. Tim, can you go fetch some ice?”

Moving to the end of the bed, Tim looked White over and winced. His face was a lot more swollen than before, one eye so puffy he couldn’t open it, and there was blood crusted on his chin. The doctor had given White some painkillers, but Tim had a feeling the kid hadn’t taken them. Fully-clothed and cringing at every movement, White looked utterly miserable.

“I okay. Little sore.” White tried to smile at Madeline as she smoothed his light brown hair away from his face. It turned into a grimace. “Hurts to talk.”

“Then don’t talk, honey. We’ll get some ice for your face.” Madeline frowned at Tim, which got him moving. He grabbed the ice bucket from the table and hurried down the hall to fill it. By the time he returned, Madeline had a damp facecloth that she was using to clean away the blood. And White’s head was on the pillow she’d fixed for him.

Tim couldn’t quite explain why seeing White like this bugged him so much—this wasn’t the first time White had left a game looking like he’d just crawled out of a car wreck. Tim had a feeling he had Madeline to thank for it. Not that he hadn’t looked out for White, for all his players, before because he had. But she’d made being a little more protective of this kid all right. Who else did White really have?

The thought didn’t make Tim sad though. His boy wasn’t alone. As Tim dumped some ice in a folded towel for White’s face, Madeline was busy taking off White’s shoes. She laughed when White stopped her from undoing his jeans with a grunt.

“Would you prefer your coach help you out, buddy? I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

White made a face, which looked painful. He rolled to his side. “Can take my own clothes off.”

Every word came out muffled, like White’s mouth was full of cotton balls. Tim handed Madeline the ice and held out his hand to help the boy to his feet. “You didn’t take any of the pills Doc gave you, did you, kid?”

“Don’t need ‘em.” White shoved down his jeans and kicked them off. His face went pale, which had the dark bruises standing out even more. “Hate taking meds.”

As White lay back down, Madeline pressed the ice-filled towel to his face and resumed stroking his hair. “I don’t blame you, but they’ll help with the swelling.”

“Fine. But I take ’em, you gotta go.” White met Tim’s eyes as Tim drew the blanket up over his bare legs. Regret filled the kid’s undamaged eye. “Sorry I screwed things up for you.”

“You didn’t. Just lie there and let me look good to her.” Tim lowered his voice as he bent down, even though he knew very well Madeline could hear him from the other side of the bed. He pulled the blanket up to White’s chin. “All better, buddy?”

Laughing and groaning, White pushed Tim away. “Fuck off. Let me sleep.”

Yeah, not happening. And from the regret-filled smile Madeline shot his way, she had no intention of leaving either. She went to the mini fridge and took out a bottle of water. She handed it to Tim. “Where are your pills, Ian?”

“In my jeans.” White stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. “Pass me my phone too, please?”

Madeline passed White his phone, then tapped two pills into her palm. After White finished texting someone, Madeline pressed them into his hand and watched him take them. Tim helped White lean up, snorting when the kid grunted and snatched the water.

“I ain’t invalued,” White muttered.

And the boy had gone to college? Tim took the water bottle and set it on the nightstand. “You mean you’re not an invalid.”

“That too.”

“Get some rest, White. We’ll stay until Brends comes back.”

A soft knock at the door brought a smug smile—followed by a wince—to White’s lips. He cleared his throat. “That you, Perron?”

The door opened and the muscular forward came into the room, his light blond hair rumpled as though he’d just climbed out of bed. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes hard as he stared down at White. “I’m starting to think you need a babysitter, kid. Why’d you tell me and Callahan you were fine? You look like shit.”

“I am fine. You gotta stay with me or Tim can’t take his lady out, and then I’ll feel like sh—” White glanced over at Madeline. “Max Perron is the nicest guy on the team. He’ll take good care of me.”

“You’re damn right, I will. You’re lucky Callahan’s not here, Bruiser. Are you trying to end your career already?” Perron picked up the bottle of pills that Madeline had set beside the water on the nightstand. “Did you take your meds?”

“Ya, Coach and Madeline made sure I did. And been icing my face.” White prodded his jaw lightly with a finger. “Working already. My mouth hurts a bit, that’s all. No reason to freak out.”

Perron apparently didn’t agree, but his concern had Tim satisfied that White was in good hands. He turned to Madeline, not sure if she’d agree, but hoping maybe the night could be salvaged. The way she was watching Perron wasn’t promising. She’d gone all momma bear on White, and another player wouldn’t treat her baby as gently as she would.

“Max Perron is a good man, Madeline.” Tim slid his hand around the back of her neck, speaking softly as she relaxed against his side. He stroked the side of her neck, enjoying the way she let him touch her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s good for the boys to look out for each other, and you won’t find anyone better.”

Madeline nodded slowly. “You make sure he keeps icing his jaw, Max. And call if he gets sick or anything. I’m not sure I trust that he’d have told the doctor the truth about headaches or anything else. He goes straight to the hospital if there are any symptoms of a concussion.”

“Yes, ma’am. No question about that.” Perron flashed Madeline a broad smile, bringing out his full Texan charm. “I reckon he’s just smartin’ from lettin’ Deek get off a few punches, but I don’t trust him either. I was stupid like him at his age.”

“You’re what, five years older than me?” White grumbled as Perron brought the ice pack back to his cheek. “Gimme that, I can do it.”

“Then do it so Miss Madeline won’t have to fuss over you no more.”

“Good night, boys.” Tim gently steered Madeline toward the door, sure she’d turn around and demand to stay even after they reached the elevator. They passed through the lobby and stepped out onto the street where the cool night air toyed with the tendrils framing her face and a slight, wistful smile played at her lips. He’d stopped worrying about White as soon as he’d seen the kid was well enough to continue with his matchmaking efforts, but maybe Madeline didn’t feel the same.

She noticed him watching her and let out a soft laugh. “In case you’re wondering, I’m fine leaving him to his teammate. They’re good boys; they’ll take care of each other. I’m missing my own brothers, and Ian’s getting all the coddling I can’t do for them.”

“Do you get to see them often?” Tim slid his hand down her wrist, lacing their fingers together as they crossed the street. On a Wednesday night the Crescent bar shouldn’t be crowded, but there were quite a few people milling around the terrace and the music was louder than the last time he’d been here. They might not be able to hear each other even side by side at a small table.

This date wasn’t going at all as he’d planned.

She squeezed his hand and slowed close to the open door of the bar. “A few times a year, but it’s better that way. They’re sowing their wild oats and aren’t too keen on their big sister cramping their style.”

No resentment in her words. Actually, she sounded a bit relieved.

Laughing, she led the way into the bar, raising her voice as she wove through the crowd with practiced ease. “You can only say ‘Well, bless your heart’ to your own blood so many times before you start wondering if you’re gonna catch their stupid. I love them, and I know they’ll be all right when they grow up a bit, but I have my own life to live. It took getting away from the drama before I realized how exhausting keeping up with it was!”

Tim nodded, not so much because he understood the drama—Mom didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense when their large family got together—but he’d had to take a few steps back from hopeless situations. During Dean’s dysfunctional marriage there had been times Tim’s inability to help his brother left him feeling drained and useless. When he could finally do some good, like letting his niece Jami stay with him while Dean was swamped with work, his relationship with his brother had improved.

“You obviously aren’t as big on sharing family secrets as I am, so why don’t we discuss the matter at hand.” Madeline hopped up on a barstool like an eager girl, flashing him another of her challenging smiles before addressing the bartender. “This man seems to think your beer will make me rethink my preference for foreign lager. Please start me with your best local brew.”

The bartender, a man their age with a shiny bald head and pale eyebrows, smiled at her, completely charmed. After determining whether she preferred a light beer or a dark malt, he fetched two heavy glass mugs and a bottle of Kentucky Brunch. “Lady, I think you’ll like this one.”

For the next few hours they tried all Tim’s favorite beers and several he’d never had before but sampled on recommendation from the bartender. The foreign brews Madeline asked for were rich and full-bodied, some better than anything he’d ever tried before, but the real win was Madeline admitting at the end, in a slightly slurred tone, that he had good taste.

Warmth filled him with her approval, along with the alcohol in his blood, and he laughed out loud as they strolled down the street. He wasn’t trying to be cocky or anything, he was just…so damn happy. He couldn’t remember the last time a date hadn’t felt like a job interview he was trying to pass. With Madeline, it hadn’t even felt like a date. They were simply together, enjoying one another, with nowhere else they wanted to be.

He wanted more time like this, more time with her. The sky lightening reminded him that they’d be back on the plane in a few hours. She’d leave with them, but after that…He had no idea where she lived. Or even how long she stayed in any one place.

These were things he should have asked her already. Instead, he had to start thinking about getting her to her hotel. And going back to his. They both needed to sleep. One day off before two games at home and Coach Paul would probably want to schedule a team practice.

“You’re thinking awfully hard, Tim.” Madeline drew his arm around her waist and rested her head on his chest. “You didn’t comment about our reaching the beach. Didn’t see how beautiful the moon looked on the water before the clouds covered it. You’re so far away.”

“I’m here. I’m just wondering where you’ll be tomorrow.” He followed her gaze. High above them, white clouds ghosted across the huge, pale gold moon. Waves lapped at the sand only a couple of yards from where they stood. The ocean breeze was crisp, almost cold, but the air tasted as fresh as it did back in Nova Scotia. Which had him wondering where she called home. “Do you live in Georgia or—”

“I have a condo in New York, but I’ve been renting it out since I got the job with the airport in Halifax. I just got a lease for a nice little house not far from Dartmouth.” She cocked her head and peered up at him. “So you don’t have to worry that I’ll disappear from your life after tonight.”

“Good, because I enjoyed this. I’d like to take you out once we get home.”

“We’re out now, Tim.” She slid her hand to the small of his back, under his shirt, as though she craved the contact with his bare flesh. His lips curved as she tilted her head, inviting his kiss. The rich flavor of the beer sweetened her lips, and he savored the faint traces of coffee and whiskey in the last brew as he slipped his tongue past her soft, parted lips. She teased him with her own tongue, letting out a soft moan as he held her firmly against him and deepened the kiss.

Her breasts swelled over the top of her shirt as they were pressed to his chest, and he had to pull away before he was tempted to cup them in his hands, free them right here like he had every right to. He wanted his mouth and his hands all over her, but not yet.

“I should get you back to your hotel.” He rested his forehead on hers and tried to slow his racing pulse. No woman had even set him off-balance like this. He questioned his every move, went from being completely comfortable to awkwardness in a breath. Women preferred men who led the way, who knew what they were doing, but for some reason Madeline took him out of his element.

“What if I ask you to stay?”

The answer is yes!

No. He pressed his eyes shut. If he spent the night with her, he had no idea which side of him she’d get. He’d seen how she’d responded to Dean. That was what she needed. And Tim wasn’t sure he could give it to her.

This was how he’d felt the few times he’d let his brother talk him into going to a play party. Tim had been raised to accept lifestyles different from the norm, so his brother casually mentioning he was into BDSM wasn’t shocking. Tim’s own reactions to the atmosphere in the kink clubs however…that was disconcerting. He’d always been “the nice guy” in high school, dating the shy girls, being the boy they had no problem introducing to their daddies. Meeting his first Domme had been quite the experience. Hot sex and a few hours to let go and simply do each and every thing she asked of him.

When he’d returned weeks later, he’d expected to have another night of servitude, but the Domme had hooked up with another submissive man. Tim ended up sitting at the bar nursing a beer and talking about the game with the chatty bartender. A sweet, young submissive woman with platinum blond hair had joined them and something in his head had just…clicked. He’d turned to her, and the way she’d lowered her eyes…

Topping her for the night under the supervision of one of the experienced Dommes had brought out a confidence in him that he’d never known he possessed. The Domme had explained to him, once all was said and done, that he was definitely a switch.

At the club, he could usually tell whether the night would lead to him playing a Top, or a bottom, to the right woman. But beyond that, he could never be sure. He’d dated vanilla women and easily read the kind of man they needed him to be. More often than not, they expected a gentleman in public and a beast in the bedroom.

He could give them that for a while, but then his inner balance would shift the other way and he’d crave a powerful woman who could return to him all he gave. Direction, pleasure, control.

Work and life had kept him from the clubs. Madeline had made him forget how much he needed to maintain that balance. This was less about being a gentleman now than it was a way to prevent disappointing her and ruining a good thing.

Because they had something good. Something worth taking their time with. Maybe if he found a club and a powerful Domme, spent a few hours on his knees, he’d get rid of those urges. But he couldn’t do it yet.

“Tonight has been incredible, Madeline.” He kissed her forehead, then took her hand to walk with her away from the waves gently lapping the sand in the darkness. “Will you hate me if I say I can’t stay?”

She frowned, studying his face before shaking her head. “I won’t hate you, but I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.” And he really was, but if he caved, he’d ruin everything. She needed a strong, alpha male. He’d do whatever it took to become one for her. “Does it help if I promise to make it worth the wait?”

She laughed, spinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck when they reached the sidewalk. Pressed her lips to his with a contented little hum. “Yes. Bring me to my hotel. I’ll spend the night dreaming of how you’ll fulfill that promise.”

He chuckled and they continued to a taxi stand so he could ride with her to her hotel before returning to his own. He kissed her again before saying the words that had been on his mind since they’d left the beach. “You’ll dream of me?”

With a wink and a sly smile, she patted his cheek. “It wouldn’t be ladylike to say what I’ll really be doing, all alone in my bed tonight. Sleep well, Tim.”

Long after she’d disappeared beyond the rotating doors, Tim let the cabbie run the meter and sat there, wishing he could get out of the damn car and go find her. She was incredible. Amazing. Dean would call him an idiot for letting her walk away.

And he’d be right.

But all that mattered was she’d be back. And next time the opportunity came, Tim would be ready.

Chapter Three

Sipping at her coffee, Madeline gazed out the window at the snow-covered walkway and the peaceful street beyond. Overnight a blizzard had blanketed everything in white, and she wasn’t looking forward to shoveling out her car, but she had to admit, the pristine stillness outside was beautiful.

Over the past week, Madeline had managed to unpack all her boxes and make her new house feel like home. She’d had only three flights, which had given her plenty of time to spend with Tim. His schedule was a little more hectic, but he’d taken her out to dinner twice and come over once for lunch. Seeing him here had given her ridiculous ideas of the future, but the way he’d kissed her, telling her yet again to wait, had shifted those ideas to an urge to strangle him.

Being a gentleman was one thing, but she was starting to wonder if he wanted her at all.

When he touches me, when he kisses me, there’s no question that he wants me.

Still, there was something…something holding him back. She’d been perfectly fine not looking deeper into the shallow relationships she’d had with men in the past, but she wanted so much more with Tim. He made her laugh, he was smart and caring, tender when he held her, looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Being with a man like him, a man who she could already see having a permanent place in her life, was worth the effort. She wouldn’t be stupid about this. Until she figured out what was going on with him, she’d be cautious with her heart, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

Draining her coffee, she stood and went to the kitchen to deal with the breakfast dishes. There was no game scheduled tonight. She’d be leaving Sunday for a longer flight, and he was going on a road trip with his team. She wanted to see him tonight.

So she’d damn well call and tell him so. She dried her hands and picked up her phone.

He answered on the first ring. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

An involuntary smile came to her lips at the warm tone of his voice. She rested her hip against the kitchen counter. “Good morning.” The sounds of the ice came through the phone, telling her he was at practice. He didn’t usually bring his phone out to the rink. He must have been expecting her call. “I didn’t know you’d be working today. I can call back.”

“That’s not necessary. I wasn’t sure if you’d be sleeping in, so I wasn’t going to call for another hour, but I wanted to talk to you so we could make plans for tomorrow night after the game.”

Tomorrow night? She frowned and pushed away from the counter. “You’re busy tonight?”

He went quiet. Spoke quietly. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“But I am. And…there’s something we need to discuss which might change everything. I’ll know by tomorrow. Just know I will be completely honest with you.” The sounds of the ice became muffled, as though he’d covered the phone. Then he let out a heavy sigh. “I’d take you out for lunch today, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get out of here any time soon.”

“I could always bring you lunch. There’s leftover pulled pork from the other day.” Damn it, did she sound desperate? Pathetic? But no, she couldn’t start thinking like that. There was nothing wrong with going out of her way to see a man she was interested in. She wasn’t a little girl who needed a man to chase her to show his interest.

He made a low sound of appreciation in his throat that quickened her pulse and reminded her exactly why she wasn’t ready to give up on him. “You spoil me, woman. There’s no way I could turn down an offer like that. Having you and your delicious food for lunch would be perfect.”

She laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder exactly where you intended to ‘have me,’ Tim.”

“Not here, Madeline. As much as it tempts me to have you come down now so I could ravish you right here on the bench—stop grinning like that, White! Go practice on the face-off!” Tim snorted and she could hear White in the background shouting “Hi, Madeline!” Clearing his throat, Tim continued. “I want more for you. I’ll be able to give it to you tomorrow, if you can wait that long.”

Again with tomorrow. She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Tim, you don’t need to plan anything extraordinary. Let what happens, happen.”

“I know what will happen if… Look, I have to go. But I’m looking forward to seeing you at lunch.”

There wasn’t much more she could say besides “Goodbye.” She hung up and put the phone on the charger, standing in the kitchen for a time simply giving the irritation within time to fade. She went about her morning without letting herself dwell on the conversation, watching a few of the shows she’d recorded during the week and then calling her mother to catch up on family drama. Her second youngest brother had gotten fired. Again.

News of her brother moving back in with her parents did nothing to improve her mood. Mother would do everything for the boy and he’d laze about, taking advantage of her mother’s guilt in having been away at work most of his life. Which was unfair and had Madeline wanting to go back home just to smack some sense into the ungrateful child.

By the time she’d finished shoveling out her car and was ready to head out to the Forum, she had half a mind to call Tim to cancel. She had to force herself to pull out onto the street and drive into Dartmouth. The streets were slick and most people seemed to have forgotten how to drive.

There was no available parking near the Forum. She parked two blocks away and trudged through the snow, her arms full of Tupperware with enough food in them to feed the whole team. She reached the Forum and struggled to open the door. For some reason, the automatic doors weren’t working. The handle slipped from her numb fingers.

A man in a suit stepped up to hold the door open for her. She smiled up at him, then swallowed when she realized it was Tim’s brother, Dean.

“I didn’t realize we were having lunch catered.” Dean chuckled as he took the two largest containers. “It’s pretty nasty out. You did all this just for Tim?”

The question made her feel like maybe she’d gone a little too far. Of course, as she’d been putting together lunch, she’d thought about White and wondered if anyone would make sure he had a good meal. Before she knew it, she’d prepared way too much food. And wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

“I enjoy cooking. And I had extra—”

“You were thinking about the boy again.”

Am I that transparent? She grinned. “Yes. I’m used to feeding big boys and ended up overdoing it.”

“I’m positive you won’t hear any complaints in the locker room.” He nodded toward the elevators and continued speaking as they descended. “But I can see why Tim speaks so fondly of you. Those boys mean a lot to him. I was afraid that would be an issue when I hired him, but he’s an amazing coach.”

“And an assistant coach can be a bit more of a friend to the players than the head coach.” Not that she knew for certain, but it seemed likely. Tim spent more time with the players than the Cobras head coach, Paul Stanton. Whom she’d admitted to Tim she didn’t like at all. Paul was aloof with the players, and she’d seen him shouting at White on the bench during the last game. Granted, coaches did yell at the players—Tim hadn’t looked too pleased with White after the penalty he’d drawn—but it wasn’t the same.

Dean watched her, his expression unreadable as they stepped off the elevator. “Have you only started watching hockey recently?”

“I’ve become more interested in it, but I’ve watched it before. Why?”

“No reason.” Dean led the way down the hall, stopping in front of the locker room. “Tim’s whole life is the game. Not many women can put up with that. You might want to make sure you can before you get in any deeper.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

“Good. You’ll both have enough challenges in your relationship without your careers coming between you.” He moved to pull the door open. She reached out to stop him. His lips thinned. “I could be wrong about you. You’re pushy for a sub.”

She blinked at him. Took a step back. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. I guessed. You have a way about you that reminds me of the women I play with at the club.” He gave her a slow smile as his gaze traveled over her body. “The way you go still when I use the right tone… I believe you’d kneel quite gracefully if I asked you to.”

At one point, she’d have done so without a second thought. But not anymore. She hiked her chin up and sniffed. “You are well aware that I’m seeing your brother. Speaking like this to me is inappropriate.”

“Is it?” He moved closer and his tone turned rough. “I could give you what you need and then we could both carry on with our lives with no harm done. Tim will do everything in his power to give it to you. And he’ll fail.”

“I don’t understand. Do you have a problem with me, Dean? I’ve treated your brother well. We’ve only been dating for a week and—”

“And he’s already trying to change for you. I don’t have a problem with you, Madeline.” He gave her a stiff smile. “Yet. I’ll wait and see how you handle this situation. As of right now, I believe the best thing for you both is to end things before he goes too far.”

“He goes to the club too, doesn’t he?” She took a deep breath at Dean’s sharp nod. “And he’s not a Dom.”

“He’s a switch.”

Madeline wrinkled her nose. “Oh.”

With a bitter laugh, Dean inclined his head. “Yes. Oh. Exactly the reaction I expected.”

That was quite enough. Since the man didn’t affect her as a Dom anymore, she had absolutely no issues with putting him in his place. She smiled sweetly up at him. “Duly noted. I must say, I wasn’t aware you were so opinionated about your brother’s life. It’s admirable. Really.”

“Careful, pet.”

“I would advise the same to you, Sir. One might get the mistaken impression that you’re a self-important alphahole rather than a respected Dom.” Her mother wouldn’t be pleased with her language, but Madeline’s smile held as she pictured her father cheering her on. “I respect your concern for your brother, but you’ve overstepped.”

“You think so?” Dean stroked his smooth jaw with his finger and thumb, then nodded slowly. “We shall see if you still believe that tonight. Come to the club, Madeline. I can almost guarantee you’ll reconsider.”

She agreed, careful to hide how much it bothered her that Tim had put off seeing her so he could go to a BDSM club and…and what, exactly? Play with a Domme? She remained in the hall for a few minutes after Dean went into the locker room with the large containers he’d taken from her, and tried to see Tim groveling to a statuesque woman who’d exude more power than Madeline could ever imagine possessing. Bound, crying out in ecstasy as a sleek goddess in leather toyed with him, using all the erotic tools Madeline enjoyed having used on her.

What if Dean was right? What if the needs they’d explored before they’d even known one another were the very thing that kept their relationship from going any further? She didn’t want Tim to change for her. She didn’t want him to change at all.

But she didn’t know him that well, did she? She refused to lie to herself and pretend the idea of his submitting to anyone didn’t bother her.

And that was what Dean was counting on. She schooled her features as the door opened to reveal Tim’s smiling face. “Hello, beautiful. You coming in? I couldn’t keep the savages away from the food.”

She smiled back, took his hand, and followed him into the locker room, laughing when she spotted White tearing into a sandwich packed with pulled pork, his eyes closed in pure bliss. There wasn’t much talk going on because most of the men were chowing down around him.

The players moved as she approached the table, quickly finishing their mouthfuls and thanking her before digging into the last two containers full of macaroni and potato salads. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and took out two soft buns to make herself and Tim some sandwiches before there was nothing left to make them with. Across the room, Dean watched her over a coffee mug, something in his gaze wary.

Tim’s brother seemed like a bit of a jerk, but she had a feeling he was simply looking out for Tim. Which she could understand to a point. She chatted with Tim about her last flight, about the game, never giving him a hint of where her mind was at. Until she figured things out for herself, she’d simply enjoy being near Tim. For now, that had to be enough.

Too soon, it was time for her to go. She packed up the Tupperware, pausing for a moment before White could slip away to call him over. He grinned when she gently nudged his chin to the side to study the worst of the bruises on his jaw.

“You’ve healed up nicely.” She patted his cheek lightly, laughing at the way he ducked his head. “You staying out of trouble?”

“Yes, Miss Madeline. Ain’t got in a fight all week.”

“That’s good.” She lowered her voice and leaned close. “Don’t take it too easy on the other teams though. I don’t want Tim thinking I made you soft, and you know I’ll take the blame.”

White nodded, his expression grave. “No, ma’am. You won’t see me going soft. Coach just said if I’m gonna get hurt and sit in the box, it better be for a good reason.”

“I agree.” She glanced over at Tim, who had his coat on for some reason. Had he managed to get out of practice with the team?

His lips curved as he stepped up beside White and squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “It’s been snowing pretty heavily for the past hour. Would you come help me clean off Miss Madeline’s car?”

Not only did White enthusiastically agree to help Tim, but a few of the other players got changed and joined them. Madeline was a little worried that they’d get a hard time for not being out on the ice with the rest of the team, but Tim told her not to worry. He seemed more concerned about the fact that she’d parked two blocks away than anything.

“I’m going to arrange to get you a spot in the Forum parking with us. This is ridiculous,” Tim said as he used the snow brush to clear her windshield while his players shoveled away the pile blocking the driver’s side door with gray snow from the mini-plow. “But you don’t have to worry about feeding the whole team every time you come down.”

“We’re grateful for any leftovers you bring, though!” White shouted out before growling at Kral who’d dumped snow on his head. “Hey!”

“It’s snow, White. Get it, Snow Wh—” Kral sputtered as Perron tossed a fistful of loose powder in his face.

Madeline bit back a laugh and frowned at Kral as he dried his face with his sleeve. “If you don’t behave, you won’t get any more of the food I bring. I happen to enjoy cooking, and I’ve been craving a nice pot roast with mashed potatoes. I couldn’t possibly eat it all by my lonesome.” She winked at White when he grinned. Then slipped up to Tim to kiss his cheek. “Really, it’s my pleasure. But I would love a spot to park inside. You have no idea how much I appreciate you all doing this for me. I’ve had enough of shoveling snow today.”

“I’m sure the boys will agree we’ll do anything to make sure you want to come back.” Tim set the snow brush down on the hood of her car and pulled her into his arms. His lips were cool and moist from the snowflakes still falling steadily over and around them, but heated readily against hers. Firm and sweet, his kiss erased all her doubts. He looked into her eyes as he held her, not suspecting a thing. Because she’d given him no reason to.

And she wouldn’t. She stuffed her hands into the front pocket of his jeans and rested her head against his chest. “I’ll be back, Tim. Don’t you worry.”

By the time she got home, everything Dean had told her, all her concerns, were carefully filed away in the back of her mind. Dean had told her where the club was. He probably expected her to walk in, take one look at Tim on his knees, and walk right back out, ending things for good.

She couldn’t say for sure how she’d react, but she wouldn’t set herself up for failure. She left her habitually submissive outfits in her closet and chose something a little more neutral. Because that’s how she had to approach this situation.

Without judgment, simply seeing the man she was falling for. And she was falling for him, hard and fast, which scared her more than anything she might see.

Because she had a feeling it wouldn’t change a thing.

Chapter Four

Tim stood tall, more exposed than he’d been at the club for a long time. Considering this “club” was actually a private bimonthly gathering in a warehouse typically used for boat storage, wearing nothing besides a pair of snug, black boxer briefs had him fighting hard not to shiver as the Domme in the one-piece leather bodysuit paced in front of him. And the five other male subs vying for her attention.

She was an older woman, experienced, and well-respected in the local scene. Her hair had gone completely white years ago and she didn’t bother coloring it. Which suited the sharp angles of her face and her olive skin tone. Her eyes were a startling emerald green that cut through her subs like diamond blades, leaving them with no question as to what she expected of them. Tim had spoken to her at a few gatherings last summer and found her to be intelligent and easygoing. A very nice woman.

But a very tough Domme.

There were large metal heaters set up all around the warehouse, but a draft still found its way into the large space, making the candles on the tables near the three large fridges flicker. No alcohol was served at this particular event since it wasn’t set up for socializing. There was no mistaking what everyone was here for. But Silverfalls—as the mature Domme preferred to be called—hadn’t been certain about Tim’s place in the lineup.

“Find yourself a gentle Domme, Tim. You’re not a masochist.”

Tim had smiled at her before dropping his gaze. “I could be, if it pleases you, Mistress.”

She laughed, but cut it short as she latched onto the back of his neck and hissed, “You’re not a stupid boy. You know I’ll give you exactly what you need. Get in line.”

She left him waiting for a while with the others as she strolled back and forth, observing them with detached interest. He’d seen her in action before and knew she was waiting for the weakest of them to slip up. The punishment would be swift and make the remaining men reconsider if they were absolutely certain they wanted to play that close to the edge.

From the corner of his eye, Tim could already see one man shifting his weight impatiently. The heavy scent of sweat hovered on the cool breeze from the man next to Tim. Silverfalls continued pacing.

Around them, sounds of play had begun. The buzzing of powerful vibrators. Light slaps on a bare ass. The whoosh of a flogger teasing flesh. Marylyn Manson’s “User Friendly” began playing, just loud enough to add to the ambience without drowning out the erotic noise.

“Mistress?” The man at the other end of the line, all done up in straps and sporting a yellow latex thong, cleared his throat. “May I—”

Silverfalls strode up to the man and caught him by the jaw before pressing a long red nail to his lips. “Shh.”

Tim’s pulse pounded hard. He’d figured that man would be the one who failed, but there was no way to guess what Silverfalls would consider breaking her rules. Speaking apparently wasn’t a deal breaker. The Domme looked over at him, one brow arched. He faced forward.

She resumed pacing.

Looking wasn’t allowed, but wasn’t a fail.

“Tim?” A familiar voice. His eyes widened as he spotted Madeline near the entrance, moving away from the metal racks where everyone hung their coats on the provided hangers.

He had to fight not to go to her when he saw Dean cross the room to intercept her. Dean had that look in his eyes, the one he gave to subs who didn’t respect the code of conduct at the club.

Those subs never lasted here long.

“Have you found something more interesting than me to hold your attention, boy?” Silverfalls stopped in front of him, blocking his view of Madeline. “Am I boring you?”

“No, Mistress.” Tim clenched his fist, every single muscle in his body aching to move around the Domme, to go to Madeline. He’d wanted one last night to say goodbye to this side of himself. But now, he couldn’t even remember why it had been so important. He couldn’t bear Madeline thinking he wanted to be with another woman. All his depraved urges were insignificant. He shook his head. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have come to you—I can’t do this.”

Tapping a finger on her lips, Silverfalls glanced over her shoulder. When her gaze returned to him, her smile was positively evil. “Are you saying ‘red,’ Tim?”

His jaw hardened. He’d gone into the scene with clear limits. No blood, no scat, no sex. She hadn’t gone past any of those limits. Calling red seemed…weak.

It wouldn’t be if a sub said it to you.

But he wasn’t a sub.

You’re not a Dom either.

Which was exactly why he wasn’t good enough for Madeline. Not yet.

“What are you trying to prove to her, boy?” Silverfalls ran a nail down his bare chest. Goosebumps rose on his flesh, but it felt wrong. The Domme closed the distance between them. Her lips grazed his. “Tell me.”

“Red.” The word left his mouth before his brain fully registered that he was done. He wasn’t sure what that meant for him. Would he leave the lifestyle completely? Go to Madeline and tell her he could live without dominance or submission and still make her happy?

Damn it, he couldn’t say for sure, but he did know he wasn’t taking another step without knowing she was with him.

Dismissing him, Silverfalls turned, revealing Madeline who stood a respectful distance from the scene. The Domme let out a soft laugh. “You, my dear, are a very lucky woman. He would have suffered under my hands, and I suspect he’d have taken it all for you.”

“I’m not sure I understand why, Mistress.” Madeline folded her arms over her chest, the crimson corset she wore pushing her creamy breasts high, her feet shoulder-width apart in black fuck-me heels. She was mouthwatering, her short leather skirt showing off her curvy thighs, but she didn’t come off as either a Domme or a sub. She was feminine, strong and vulnerable and absolutely perfect. And not very happy with him. But she spoke quietly to Silverfalls. “I apologize for intruding on your scene.”

“No need. I imagine you were surprised to see your man waiting on me.” Silverfalls chuckled. “Make him pay, honey. You’ll feel better.”

The Domme returned to her lineup of men. Madeline turned and headed toward the coat racks.

Tim hurried to catch up with her. And to explain.

“I thought I could do it. One night and this would be behind me. I could focus on your needs and—”

She spun around and smacked his chest. “My needs? How in the world do you know what I need? You assume I’m a sub because I responded to your brother pulling the big tough alpha male routine?”

“Aren’t you?” He’d been wrong. He wanted to be wrong. If either of them had to do without, it would be him.

“I am, but right now I’m tempted to strap you to the nearest cross and beat you! She could have hurt you, and then what? I was supposed to be grateful that you’d taken a beating so you could erase a huge part of the man I lo—” She growled when his lips curved. “Don’t you dare look all pleased. I’m very close to hating you right now.”

“Let me say it first then.” He bit back a laugh as he caught her wrist before she could smack him. “I love you. But I was stupid and I’m sorry. Feel free to beat me.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She crossed her arms behind his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I’ll do it.”

His nostrils flared as her eyes dilated. Not once during the scene with Silverfalls had he been even remotely aroused, but now? Hell, he was fully erect and wanted nothing more than to kneel for Madeline. She’d be magnificent with a whip in her hands…but no. She’d never played with a whip. Not wielding one anyway. Actually, he had no idea how experienced she really was.

He’d managed to make a real mess of things.

Only, he hadn’t expected her to show up here. How had she known to where to find him?

“You’re thinking hard and I can guess why. Your brother ratted you out, Tim. And I’m glad he did. I should thank him.” She lowered her hands, swiveling on her heels to walk away from him yet again.

The cold seeping into the warehouse slithered over him as he quickly trailed Madeline to a lounge type setup at the far end of the room. Three large leather sofas on a gray shag rug surrounded a sturdy wood coffee table. Two naked subs were entwined on the table, both collared, making out for the amusement of the handful of Doms in suits, watching them. Dean glanced up as Madeline approached.

Tim’s brother snorted as he stood. “I take it you decided not to take my advice.”

“You’re a smart man, Dean. But I’m glad you asked me to come here. Tim wanted to shut down one side of himself. I won’t allow it.” She placed her hands on her hips. “But I’ve found something I want to explore.”

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, shooting Tim a curious look before returning his focus to Madeline. “I’m listening.”

Madeline inclined her head. “Good. I won’t attempt a whip without proper training—which I’d like you to give me—but maybe a flogger? I want to hurt him, but not so much that he’s useless to the team.”

What? Tim wet his lips with his tongue. Tried to project a big “hell no” through some magical sibling bond.

Which he either didn’t have with his brother, or Dean dismissed because he was a twisted fuck. His brother stood and grabbed his large leather toy bag. “I misjudged you, sweetheart. And I’d be more than happy to teach you how to hurt him.” Dean finally met Tim’s eyes. And somewhere in there was the boy who’d melted Tim’s favorite G.I. Joe with a magnifying glass when Tim had broken his drumsticks. The same boy who’d grown into a man Tim could call on his worst days and simply listen if that was all Tim needed, or throw a few punches if all went to hell.

Sometimes his worst enemy. Always his best friend.

He trusted Madeline. And yeah, Dean too. Kinda. He could count on leaving the club alive. In one piece.

But not much else if Dean had anything to say about it.

* * * *

What in the world am I doing?

Madeline stared at the back of Dean’s head, the weight of the leash in her hand feeling so very…not wrong, but off. Tim hadn’t knelt, or groveled, when she’d taken the collar from his brother—a collar that didn’t mean much according to Dean—and placed it around his neck. If Tim had behaved overly submissively, she would have stopped, but she still saw him as the man she wanted. The man she’d fight for.

The leash tugged as they reached an area with only a chair and a big metal bucket. She swallowed hard and looked back at Tim. His lips were pressed together and he was glaring at his brother.

Dean just laughed. “This isn’t my scene, brother. No mind fucking. I’m here as a mentor, that’s all. And even that is pushing my comfort limits, so don’t start freaking out or I’ll have Silverfalls teach her the ropes.”

“You’re an asshole. You know I hate this setup.” Tim moved closer to her and she reached back to take his hand. His palm was damp. He’d done exactly the kind of scene he and Dean were discussing. And she had a feeling it hadn’t gone well.

I may have to kill your brother, love. She gave Dean a hard look, sure her thoughts were projected when his smirk disappeared. “You won’t push his limits in this scene. Unless I’m wrong, I’m in control now.”

Tim straightened at her side. She could sense his support and something more. He was proud of her. Which gave her the strength she needed to face a Dom she’d usually surrender to.

“I’m not the bastard you both seem to think I am. Tim is comfortable with you, and this is the farthest we can get from the main attractions.” Dean nodded toward the center of the room where a beautiful, long-limbed woman was somehow binding herself with graceful twists and flips, rising higher and higher on a rope slung over the rafters. “Most of those in attendance have been doing this for years. You’re both trying something new. Tim is a shitty sub, and I can’t see you even playing at being a Top. Do either of you get off on humiliation?”

Tim squared his shoulders and scowled at his brother. “Fuck you, Dean.”

“That kind of talk wouldn’t be allowed if you weren’t my brother, Tim. Since you are, it’s even worse. So just shut up.” Dean held his hand out toward the chair. “Have him sit—I can tell you don’t want him kneeling for you yet, but you need him lower than you to help your dynamics. Make sure he understands what he’s getting into. Even though he’s a man, I would be a little more hands-on if we weren’t related. Since that is a hard limit for me, you’ll just have to follow your instincts and listen to my instructions.”

She nodded and stiffened her spine as she looked at Tim. She noticed how his throat worked like he was swallowing hard. His lips parted like he couldn’t get enough air. His fists were clenched at his sides.

He certainly didn’t come off as a sub. But his eyes held the same tenderness they always did when they met hers. Which made it easier to give the leash a firm tug and lead him to the chair. He wanted this.

And maybe she did too. She wouldn’t know until she tried. “There were so many ways we could have started this, Tim. I get not being into vanilla sex, only fucking those in the lifestyle because you can’t stand the idea of plain old missionary after years of kinky fun.”

Tim shook his head. “That’s not why—”

“Quiet!” She pressed her lips together when his jaw clenched. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she had no damn clue what she was doing. All she knew is that she’d lose her nerve if she stopped. “You came here to submit, Tim. So do so. I’m disappointed that you couldn’t talk to me first. If you had, I might have come with you and we could have negotiated how this was going to work. Because I want to make it work. Don’t you?”

He lowered his gaze. Nodded once. “More than anything.”

“Good. Then this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to let your brother show me how to use a flogger. I’m pissed enough to use one to punish you, but that doesn’t feel right. So you’re going to sit there, holding on to the seat by your hips.” She drew in a sharp inhale and spun to face Dean. “And watch while your brother uses the flogger on me. Not for pleasure, I’ve done that before. Show me how it can be used for discipline.”

“What? No!” Tim moved to stand, but she slapped her hand into his chest without shifting her attention from Dean. Tim’s chest vibrated under her hand as he let out an angry sound. “Dean, don’t you dare.”

“Silence, sub.” Dean’s lips quirked. His eyes darkened as he folded his arms over his chest. “You’re supposed to be negotiating with him, pet. If you want to play with me, I’d suggest you ask nicely.”

“I’m not giving you control of this scene, Dean. I am temporarily handing over control of myself so you can teach me. And I can punish him.” She smiled when Dean’s brow furrowed. This was actually fun. She enjoyed being flogged, hated being punished, but for some reason even knowing this would hurt didn’t diminish the sense of power she held. The punishment would be effective because Tim would hate her taking this for him. Which was the point. And Dean? Well, she was serious about learning from him. And maybe teaching him a thing or two while she was at it. After all, Dom or not, he was still a man. “He has a choice. He can end the scene at any time, which is more than he gave me when he agreed to submit to that Domme.”

“A very good point.” Now Dean looked over at Tim. “So decide, brother. Are you going to end this?”

Tim gaped at him. “You can’t be seriously considering—”

“She has potential. I think she’ll make an excellent student. I’m willing to do things her way.”

Madeline had to fight not to bounce and cheer at what she considered a huge win. She had Dean on her side. Finally.

Now if only Tim would give it a chance. He’d been willing to go to an extreme to be with her. She was offering him a far lesser evil.

Shaking his head, Tim held out his hand. Sighed with relief when she took it in hers. “I can’t share you with him, Madeline.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Then…then you only want him to train you? You want to be my Domme?”

This time, she shook her head. “No. Not all the time anyway. But I might learn to like it—is that what you’re afraid of?”

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.”

A lump rose in her throat as she envisioned him standing in a line with other men, ready to serve that woman. She wanted the bitterness and the anger from that image to go away and not come back. And there was only one way she knew how to do that. “Nothing he does will hurt as much as what you almost did. This is your punishment, Tim. Then it will be forgotten. We can start fresh.”

He went still and she could tell by the way his eyes widened, by the way his grip on her hand tightened, that he understood. There were Doms who didn’t understand how liberating a punishment that gave a clean slate could be.

But he wasn’t a Dom. He’d stood on both sides of the leash, and he really, truly could appreciate what she needed for them both.

“I agree.” Tim brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Then he lowered his hands to his sides and held on to the chair exactly as she’d instructed. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She bit her bottom lip, nodding back at Dean before putting her hands on Tim’s knees to brace herself. Dean placed his hand on the small of her back, a solid, supportive gesture before he folded her skirt up to bare her ass and thighs. She pressed her eyes shut, prepared for the heavy thud.

Tim cursed under his breath.

The flogger cut through the air with barely a sound. Hit the fleshy part of her thigh with a Whack! A vicious sting, slicing like a white-hot razor. Another on the other side. She hissed through her teeth, her legs shaking as she fought not to drop to her knees to escape the pain. By the fifth, the pain had shifted faster than it ever did, with the dull pain of a leather flogger coming down with harder and harder thuds. There was a sweet edge to the heat, tantalizing her nerves until she was rising up to meet each strike of the falls.

Dean laughed and dropped the flogger by her feet. A rubber flogger.

You son of a—

No, Madeline wouldn’t insult his mother. She was Tim’s mother, too.

Asshole!

Tapping her butt lightly, then taking hold of her wrist to pull her up straight, Dean spoke softly. “I could have drawn that out a little longer, but I wanted to end it on a pleasant note. And he’s suffered enough.”

Her behind throbbed, but she dismissed it as she followed Dean’s gaze to where Tim was sitting at the edge of the seat, his white-knuckled grip seeming to be the only thing that kept him there. He looked like he wanted to kill his older brother.

“I’m all right.” She pressed her hand to Tim’s cheek and kissed him, long and slow, relieved with how quickly he responded to her. “I have been punished before.”

Helpful as ever, Dean came up to her side with a smirk on his lips. “She liked it.”

Rolling her eyes, Madeline held her hand out. “Could you pass me a flogger, Dean? And not the rubber one?”

“I wouldn’t have you start on him with a rubber one.” Dean reached into his bag and took out a midsized flogger with long black and red suede falls about the length of her forearm. He smiled as he handed it to her. “You can keep this one. It’s new, a gift from a Domme I trained. She made it herself, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her the strands are too short for the impact play I do.”

Considering the rubber flogger he’d used on her, Madeline wasn’t surprised. But she was feeling a little airy and quite happy. A nice rush of endorphins.

Maybe he’s not really an asshole. He can be…decent.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, stand facing Tim, feet shoulder-width apart.” Dean shook his head as she did as he asked. “No, not like you’re waiting for a bus. Like you’re a queen, tall and proud. Yes, that’s better. Find the hand you feel most comfortable with.”

Her whole body quivered with excitement. She looked at Tim and laughed when he grinned at her. If she hadn’t felt magnificent with the stance, his appreciative gaze, so full of heat and something close to worship, would have done it.

“We’re going to keep this light. Trail the flogger over his flesh and…” Dean stopped and cleared his throat. When she turned to him, he was staring at the wall. “I apologize. This is awkward. You can try a few light thuds by running the falls through your hand. Aim at the same spot every time. When you practice, use a pillow to see if you can go harder with accuracy. I’ll show you further techniques when my brother isn’t sitting in front of us almost naked with a fucking hard-on.”

Struggling not to laugh again, this time at Dean’s discomfort, Madeline gently teased Tim with the soft suede, running the falls up his thigh, avoiding his swelling dick and letting them drift over his chest. She made them sway with a playful flick of her wrist. Wrapped one arm around Tim’s neck and kissed him as she flicked the flogger against the side of his leg.

A little harder than intended. She winced as half the falls hit her own leg.

Dean groaned and took the flogger away from her. “The lesson is over. My pupils don’t accidentally flog themselves. No toys for you two tonight.”

Tim dropped his head back as she slid her hands between them and cupped his balls through his boxers. “We don’t need them.”

She knew Dean had walked away, but she realized Tim was right. She’d taken over all on her own, and right now, no tools or toys or instructions were needed. She knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it.

Every scene she’d ever participated in had tapped into the passive side of her that was so eager to please. This, this was different and exciting. Instead of giving, she could take. Tim wasn’t as big as his brother, but he was still strong. She couldn’t physically overpower him, could do nothing if he decided he wanted the control back. But that was part of the thrill.

At this moment, he would do anything she asked. In a breath he could flip her on her back and demand she give in to his every desire. She couldn’t decide which she wanted more.

The wonderful thing was, she didn’t have to. She could simply go with whatever felt right.

Thigh muscles hardening as she straddled his lap, Tim tipped his head back as she kissed and bit along his throat, giving her better access. She tasted his pulse under her tongue and undulated her hips to feel it race. A little past the thick vein his neck muscles were tight and hard. She kissed him there, opening her mouth to lightly suck, then bit down hard.

His whole body jerked. He groaned and the sound traveled through her like an intimate touch slipping from low in her belly to the moist heat between her thighs. She leaned back a little, smiling at him as she slid her hand into her panties to touch herself and ease the needy ache building more and more with every second she drew this out.

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to her hand. “Madeline, you’re killing me.”

“You.” She arched her body, riding her fingers, her tone breathless as she brought herself to the very edge of climax. “Do not have permission to speak.”

He let out a hungry growl and she had to withdraw her fingers before she came. Years of playing had taught her to read her own body well, and the right touch, the right sound, would set her off. But she wasn’t ready to let go just yet. She flicked her tongue over his moist lips and rose, stepping back so she could remove her panties. Bending over, she hooked her fingers to the elastic of his boxer briefs. He didn’t wait to be told to lift his hips.

She had him completely naked, available for however she wanted to use him. She took a moment to enjoy the sight of him, his skin a light golden shade, as though he spent some of his time in the Southern states in the sun, but not much. His body was toned, but he didn’t have a cut six-pack, just nice definition under a light brown sprinkling of curly hair. And his dick…she lowered herself slowly to her knees, running her hands up his thighs, admiring the length of him, slightly darker than the rest of his skin with the blood pulsing into the thick head of his cock.

“Yes.” Tim whispered as she kissed him, just the slightest brush of her lips at the top of his feverishly hot dick. He was behaving so well, keeping his hands where they belonged, so she wouldn’t chastise him for that one word.

No, she would reward him for his surrender. He wasn’t demanding more. She could feel him trembling with desire, but as she took him in her mouth, he didn’t attempt to thrust in. To take more.

A slightly salty slickness filled the slit under her tongue. She lapped it up, then opened her mouth wide to take him in, using only her lips on him. Her gaze on his face, her own body responded to the lust in his eyes, in his every breath, in how hard he fought to remain perfectly still. She slid up, then down, changing the pressure of her tongue on the underside of his cock with each pass.

Her knees were a little sore, but she liked that. The ache kept her grounded, kept her from going too fast as she savored the texture of his flesh, the heat. The way her lips stretched around him as she took him deeper and deeper had her pussy tightening, craving the fullness he could give her. She swallowed around him as he hit the back of her throat, and brought her hand up to squeeze his balls when he shuddered and his thighs clenched against her shoulders.

She released him with a long, slow suck as she lifted her head. Stared up at him. Loving the unrestrained passion in his eyes. Desperate to feel it. “Let go of the chair, Tim. Touch me.”

He lifted her even as he lunged out of the chair, his knees hitting the floor hard while he carefully lowered her to the floor. He kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth as he freed her breasts from the top of her corset. He cupped her breasts in his hands and bent over her to bury his face between them. The shift in control had her shifting restlessly beneath him, the ache between her thighs almost painful as he pressed against her, not trying to thrust in, but pleasuring her with the slick glide of his dick between her wet folds.

“I want you so fucking bad, Madeline. It killed me not to touch you before, but the way you looked, like a Goddess.” He caught a hard nipple with his teeth and tugged, shooting a sweet pain into her breast. “You’re not a sub. You wield control so naturally, so beautifully.”

His suction on her nipple made her whimper with need. She clawed at his back as he stretched her flesh in his mouth. “But this is perfect. Not always me, right?”

She wasn’t sure if that made any sense, her brain had ceased functioning, but he made a muffled sound of agreement as he moved to her other breast.

“Not always you. Whatever feels good.” He reached out blindly, slapping the floor before pushing off her. “He left his bag.”

Tim not touching her was not working for her. She pushed up on her elbows to see what he was doing. “Dean? You’re worried about your brother forgetting his things? Now?”

“No, I need the bag for… There we go.” He plucked out a condom and lunged at her. “Fuck my brother. I have what I need.”

She laughed as he tried to kiss her and open the condom at the same time. “No thank you. And give me that.”

He grinned at her, then bent down to kiss her throat. “I have done this before.”

“You’re a mess.” She snatched the condom and shoved him off her. For some reason, their play being lighthearted and fun aroused her even more. She’d never laughed or smiled or talked to a man so much before sex. Anything that didn’t go perfectly had always killed the mood, but she was pretty sure the warehouse collapsing on their heads wouldn’t slow them down at all. She climbed over him as he lay on his back and took a firm grip of his dick before covering him. “And you’re beautiful.”

“Men aren’t beautiful, love.” He gathered her in his arms, her hair in his hands, his lips pressed to hers as she held him between her thighs. “I love you.”

She shook her head, trying to bite back the smile that wanted to spread across her face. “Only teenagers start saying that so fast. We shouldn’t—”

“Tell me you don’t love me.” He tugged at her hair when she tried to distract him by easing herself down on him. “Say it.”

“No.” She bent down and bit his bottom lip, letting her smile loose. Then she took him into her body with a swift dip of her hips. “I won’t lie to you, Tim.”

There was a coolness in the room, breaking through the patchy warmth from the heaters, but her skin, and his, was slick with sweat. The rise and fall of her hips dragged her closer and closer to the edge until the pleasure boiled out of control like a pot of broth on a burner set on high. Everything inside her locked down on the sensation, torn between wanting more and resisting the overwhelming ecstasy. She couldn’t force herself over.

Winding her hair around his hand and pulling her head back, Tim kissed her throat and slammed up into her, over and over until she cried out. Wave after wave, billowing through her mercilessly, stealing all her strength.

In a swift motion, Tim brought her onto her back, still kissing her, still moving. His thrusts became erratic, but he couldn’t seem to find his release. He slipped his hand between them and stroked her clit, sparking the flames within yet again. His need to satisfy her reached beyond her aroused body and gave them a connection that was so much more fulfilling than just getting off.

She latched her hands behind his neck, pressing her sweat-slicked lips to his, her every inhale and exhale mingling with his. “Come with me, Tim. I want to feel you let go.”

He nipped her bottom lip, then moaned as she clenched all the muscles within. His fingers found the perfect rhythm to set her off. She dug her nails into his ass with the final thrust and he shouted as he came.

They lay on the floor next to each other for what seemed like a very long time. He got up first, but didn’t go far. He covered her breasts, then found some baby wipes in his brother’s toy bag to clean them both.

For some reason, even dressed and sated, she couldn’t stop touching him. A brush of her fingers on the back of his hand, a nudge with her elbow as they walked and his hand slipped from the small of her back to her butt, her head against his chest when they stopped to watch Silverfalls whip one of the two subs she’d chosen to play with for the night.

They brought Dean’s bag to him and went to fetch their coats. Outside, Madeline hesitated and looked around for Tim’s car in the parking lot. When it occurred to her that he might have gotten a ride from his brother, and the reason he wouldn’t have wanted to drive his own car home, she jerked her hand from Tim’s. It made her afraid and sick and angry to think he’d been prepared to be in no condition to drive by the end of the night.

“Madeline?” Tim put his hand on her shoulder and made her face him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Being mad at him now wasn’t fair. The punishment scene meant she had to let it go.

She forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He frowned and looked across the parking lot. Sighed and nodded. “My car isn’t here. And you know why. I understand your still being upset about what I almost did.”

“No. I won’t let this ruin the night. We shouldn’t even be discussing it anymore.”

“Why not? Because you punished me and we have a clean slate?” He shook his head and pulled her into his arms. “I give you permission to keep being mad at me. Would it make you feel better to yell at me?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You can bring me home and spank me.”

She slapped his chest and laughed. That felt much better. “I won’t reward bad behavior. And I can’t stay mad at you when you make me laugh.”

“Then there’s only one thing I can do.”

“And what’s that?”

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. His lips hovered over hers as he spoke. “Make sure you smile and laugh every single day.”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, wrapping her arms around him to bring him closer. Tiny snowflakes landed on her cheeks, clung to her hair, but she hardly noticed them. His presence made her forget everything beyond the moment. She could easily see him doing exactly as he’d promised.

And there was nothing to stop either of them from finding out.

Chapter Five

Mid-April

Bracing his hands on White’s and Kral’s shoulders, Tim glared at the ref standing on the ice, only a few feet away from the bench. This was the last game of the regular season and the Cobras hadn’t made the playoffs, but he wasn’t going to see his boys beaten to a bloody pulp against the boards because the refs were fucking blind.

“The puck was at the other side of the damn rink! In case you’ve forgotten, that’s called interference!” He shoved away from his players and paced behind the bench, tugging at his tie to loosen it. For some reason everything was pissing him off today. He threw his arms up in the air as Callahan passed the puck rink-wide about five steps ahead of Perron, leading to an easy interception by the Senator forward. “What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hand them the fucking game?”

The men in front of him leaned away, keeping their heads down as he continued to pace. Even Paul was steering clear of him today. They could all tell he was at the end of his rope, and no one wanted to be the one to set him off.

Over the past few months, life had been pretty damn amazing. Between his schedule and Madeline’s, they were apart more than they’d like, but they made the most of the time they had. They went to the club, or sometimes to Dean’s house when his daughter Jami was visiting with family. The team wouldn’t be chartering another flight until September, which meant Madeline had to take more regular flights.

He refused to complain about how often she was gone; he’d been away for weeks at a time during the season, but he couldn’t help missing her. The days without her were empty. There was no one else he could talk to about his frustration with Jami’s mother, who’d come down to spend the day with Jami and take her shopping, on Dean’s dime. Then disappeared for a month without a word. Or with Dean himself, who worked so hard, who did his best as a father, but resented asking anyone for help. He didn’t seem to understand that Jami spent more time talking to Tim, to some of the players, simply because she knew her mother had hurt Dean too, and tried to pretend everything was okay for him.

Madeline would know the right thing to say, to do.

But she had enough of her own problems to deal with. Two of her brothers had moved back home, and her mother was in and out of the hospital after a mild heart attack. He needed to be there on the nights she was frustrated to the point of tears because her brothers were selfish bastards. The days she wanted to go home, but her father asked her not to because he wanted to avoid confrontation. Which meant nothing changed and Madeline would pace and rage until she calmed down. Then she’d let Tim hold her.

His woman had a big heart, and it was one of the things he loved most about her. But he hated not being there to keep that tenderness and caring from leaving her battered and bruised.

A line change brought Tim’s attention back to the action on the ice. He groaned as a skate-on-skate slew foot sent Kral face-first into the boards and caused White to lose his damn mind. The refs missed the dirty play, and White took it on himself to grab the Senator defenseman by the back of his sweater. White shook his glove off and nailed the defenseman with a quick uppercut.

The Senators rushed to the aid of their teammate. The Cobras moved in to make sure White wasn’t outnumbered.

By the end of the scrum, half the damn bench ended up either in the box or ejected from the game. Tim glanced up at the clock, grateful to see less than a minute remained to the game.

To the season.

After the buzzer sounded, he headed straight out, not bothering to stop to talk to any of the players. Not just yet anyway. He waited outside the locker room for White to finally trudge down the hall at the end of the line.

“What the fuck were you thinking, boy?” Tim scowled when White shrugged and moved to step past him. He latched on to the boy’s shoulder. “You were told to cool it out there. Your one-year contract ends this summer, and it won’t take much for you to get traded.”

White dropped his gaze to his skates and bowed his shoulders. “Sorry, Coach.”

Fuck, Tim felt like he’d just kicked a puppy. And he had no right to come down on White, no matter how worried he was about the kid. Yet another thing to improve his wonderful mood. White’s name had been going around the boardroom a lot.

Madeline would kill Dean if she found out. Not that his potential death would change his brother’s mind if he’d decided he could shop White around for a good deal, but life was a lot more pleasant when the two of them got along. Especially since it was usually Tim’s flesh bared when they had pain-inducing toys in their hands.

“Shit, White, don’t be sorry. It’s good that you were looking out for Kral even though he’s a dick to you.” Tim squeezed White’s shoulder, then gave him a little shake when he didn’t look up. “Season’s over and you know I’ve got your back. Go have a beer with the guys. On me.”

Lifting his head, White nodded. Then his eyes widened and his lips parted in a broad smile that showed off the spaces where he was missing a couple of teeth. “Madeline!”

Tim snorted even as he turned. He couldn’t have gotten that reaction from White by telling him he’d be offered a ten-year contract. Of course, his own smile wouldn’t be bigger if the Cobras had made it to the Cup.

“You’re very lucky you two made up.” Madeline winked at Tim as she hugged White. “You have to be nice to my boy.” She tipped her head back to look up at White. “How’s your grandma doing, sweetie?”

“Better, but the blood thinners got her feeling cold all the time. I cut a whole lot of wood last time I went to visit her, and paid some kid to make sure the fireplace is always going.” White ducked his head. “I got a red-eye to go take care of her myself.”

“Good man.” Madeline held up a package wrapped in brown paper. “I made her a shawl with nice thick wool. In the Cobra colors. It should help.”

“Thank you, Miss Madeline. She’ll love it.” White hugged Madeline again, blinking fast. “I gotta go change, but…you’re an awesome lady.”

Tim couldn’t stop smiling. He agreed.

But it was time for the boy to go. If he shed a single tear, Madeline would be petting on him all night. And Tim was feeling a little greedy with her time. He’d figured she’d already be at the airport, ready to hop on the plane that would bring her to her connecting flight in Montreal. Then nonstop to London.

Madeline patted White’s cheek, saying goodbye before the boy disappeared into the locker room. Then she turned to Tim, who didn’t hesitate before pulling her into his arms.

“I hope you’re not usually as grumpy as I saw you out there, because I might regret the decision that brought me here.” Madeline’s lips quirked, telling him she was teasing. “What are your plans for the summer?”

Plans? He inhaled deeply, letting it out slow so he could choose his words carefully. Summer would be busy for her. He shrugged. “I’ll probably go see my parents. My mother’s looking forward to meeting you when you have the time.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, since this is my last flight.” She grinned at him when he stared at her. “Are you really that surprised? I’ve been doing this for twelve years, Tim. For the first time I have a beautiful house, a home I love. And a different kind of family. One that’s a little easier to deal with than my own right now.”

“You can’t be talking about the team? I’ll admit, some of those boys need a mother in the worst way, but—”

“Yes, I mean the team. And you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key on a Dartmouth Cobras keychain. “I’ll be gone for about a week. I’m hoping you’ll be waiting for me when I come back.”

He wet his lips as he took the key. “Waiting for you?”

“You hate your apartment, Tim.”

“Yes.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Was this a mistake? Maybe it’s too soon—I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” He laughed, swallowing hard as he gazed into her hopeful eyes. Suddenly, all the frustration from his crazy life, the emptiness within from missing her so damn much, faded away. She would still leave him, but only for a little while. Then she’d be his, in every part of his life. “I’ll be there, Madeline. Even if you decide you want to keep flying, keep seeing the world, I will be there when you come home.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that spilled down her cheeks when she closed her eyes as he kissed her. “So you’ll wait for me?”

There was so much he could say, but at that moment, only one word felt right. So he whispered it against her lips. “Always.”

# # #

Visit the Dartmouth Cobras

www.TheDartmouthCobras.com

Also by Bianca Sommerland

The Dartmouth Cobras

Game Misconduct (The Dartmouth Cobras #1)

Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

Breakaway (The Dartmouth Cobras #3)

Offside (The Dartmouth Cobras #4)

Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

Iron Cross (The Dartmouth Cobras #6) – Expected 2014

Also

Deadly Captive

Collateral Damage (Deadly Captive 2)

The End – Coming Mid 2014

Rosemary Entwined

Rosemary & Mistletoe

The Trip

About the Author

Tell you about me? Hmm, well, there’s not much to say. I love hockey and cars and my kids…not in that order of course! LOL! When I’m not writing—which isn’t often—I’m usually watching a game or a car show while networking. Going out with my kids is my only downtime. I get to clear my head and forget everything.

As for when and why I first started writing, I guess I thought I’d get extra cookies if I was quiet for a while—that’s how young I was. I used to bring my grandmother barely legible pages filled with tales of evil unicorns. She told me then that I would be a famous author.

I hope one day to prove her right.

For more of my work, please visit: Im-No-Angel.com

Captain, My Captain

© Nikki Worrell

Also by Nikki Worrell

- Stories For Amanda October 2013

- The Enforcer (San Diego Scorpions Book #1) May 2013

- Goalie Interference (San Diego Scorpions Book #2) November 2013

- What Mother Doesn’t Know (Forbidden Love, Volume II) April 2014

Glossary of Hockey Terms

Five-hole: The area right between the goalie’s legs.

Backchecking: Checking in the defensive zone when the opposing team is attacking.

Boarding: Checking a defenseless player against the boards, usually causing their face/head to hit the boards first.

Checking: Using the hip or body to knock an opponent against the boards or to the ice.

Deke: When a player handles the puck in a way that makes the opponent move out of position, allowing that player to get past.

Face-off: The method used to begin play. One player from each team fights for the puck as the official drops it to the ice between them.

Forechecking: Checking in the offensive zone in order to get the puck.

Gordie Howe Hat-Trick: Getting a goal, an assist, and having a fight all in one game.

Hat-Trick: Three goals in one game. Fans traditionally throw their hats on the ice.

Major Penalty: Five-minute penalty.

Minor Penalty: Two-minute penalty.

Offside: When a player crosses the blue line in the offensive zone before the puck.

Poke Check: Poking the puck away with the stick.

Power Play: Results in the one team losing a player for two minutes or more, giving the other team an advantage to score.

Slew Foot: Sweeping or kicking out a player’s skate causing them to fall backwards. Usually results in a match penalty (removed from the game and assessed a five-minute penalty for statistical purposes).

Trapezoid (Trap): Area behind the goalie’s net (behind goal line) where the goalie can play the puck. This is the only area behind the goal line that the goalie can play the puck without receiving a penalty.

War Room: Office in Toronto where video is sent to review a questionable goal.

Prologue

The noise from the crowd was deafening. Keith Lambert, the twenty-two-year-old captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, loved it. Every decibel. However, he could tell by the way Sammy Read was fidgeting with his helmet that the constant chants of “Saaaaaamy, Saaaaaamy” were seriously screwing with the goalie’s focus. The louder the crowd grew, the more agitated Sammy got, which could only be good for Philadelphia—Sammy was Vancouver’s goalie.

They were playing their final game of the season—the most important game they’d play. The Flyers and Canucks were competing for the hardest trophy to win in any sport—the Cup.

There are eighty-two games in the regular season alone. If you place high enough to even make the playoffs, you then face four seven-game series. If you win each series, and go all the way to the end, you’ve won sixteen playoff games.

Hockey also has a grueling schedule, sometimes traveling coast-to-coast from one day to the next. Aside from the intense travel, the daily physical strains put on hockey players are far more than any one person would choose to endure. Their adrenaline spikes up to maximum levels for sixty minutes of play. They’re in full sprint each time their skates hit the ice. No other sport demands quite so much of its players.

They were down to the last fourteen minutes of the seventh game in the last series. Winner takes all. “Come on, guys. Keep up the energy! We’ve got this.” Keith spared a second to scan the crowd. The splashes of blue on the fans wearing the visiting team’s jerseys stuck out in the sea of orange Philly’s fans wore. We can’t blow this. “Let’s do it! G, take the face-off.”

Jake Gourneau’s head snapped up at Keith’s words. “Huh? You want me to take it?” Keith always took the face-offs.

“Yeah, man. You’re better against Drake. I don’t have anything to prove. I just want that Cup.” Keith slapped him on the butt with his stick and took the winger’s position as G bent low to take the face-off.

Gourneau won the draw, but it wasn’t enough. It took a bad bounce off Keith’s stick and went directly to Vancouver’s winger who immediately tried to slap it high into the net, but Ward saw it all the way and snagged it out of the air with his glove hand—mere inches before it crossed the goal line.

“Fuck, that was close, G. Take it again.” Being so close to their own goalie for the face-off was intimidating so late in the game with a tie score. It could be game changing if they lost the faceoff. We need to clear the zone!

Beads of sweat glistened on G’s forehead as he got into position again. One drop, then two hit the ice. The crowd was loud as the referee held the puck two feet up, between Drake and Gourneau, waiting until he was good and ready to drop it. And still they waited. Drake got antsy and stepped back to get a better grip on his stick and the ref straightened up. “Get in position Drake or I’ll let someone else take this faceoff.”

With the threat of losing his spot on the circle, Drake skated back up to the ref and got into position. Seconds ticked by and still the ref didn’t drop the puck.

“Drop the puck!” The crowd started yelling. “Ref, drop the puck!”

The puck hit the ice and bounced back up. G got a piece of it and it flew back to Keith, but was high in the air. Keith hit it straight down with his hand to land on the ice in front of him. He got his stick on it and weaved his way through two Canucks.

Seeing Callahan in front of him, almost at the blue line, he made a fast pass and rushed to join him, hoping G would catch up to them and they could have a three-on-two rush at the net.

The Canucks defensemen were ready to shut them down, but Callahan executed a beautiful deke and went through them to take a shot that rebounded off Sammy’s goalie pad. Keith was right there to gather the puck for another shot, but Sammy covered it and the play was called dead. Dammit!

After a couple of more plays, which bore no fruit for either team, the clock was down to three minutes. Vancouver called a time-out to give their best players a chance to catch their breath.

At the Flyers’ bench, tensions ran high. Ward ripped off his goalie mask and squirted water over his head to cool down. Gourneau was re-taping his stick—that didn’t need re-taping—and nodding his head as the coach spoke. Keith was banging his foot against the boards while trying to convince himself that it was just another game. Their coach made one request before they went back onto the ice.

“Go out there and get me a goal!” One finger waved in the air and he shook it for emphasis. “Just one goal.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Hell yeah.”

“You got it, Coach.”

“Let’s do it!”

The boys skated out to the face-off circle in Vancouver’s zone and prepared to get that elusive goal. The puck hit the ice, and Vancouver won it. Drake shot it in front of him to a waiting winger. Between the two of them, with some help from their other winger, they made it all the way to Philly’s zone where Ward was waiting, hunched over, his glove hand up and at the ready.

Drake took the puck and skated around the back of the net. Fighting through Callahan and Lambert, he faked a pass to the front. Using that precious millisecond of inattention from the Flyers around him, he wrapped the puck around the net from behind. The Canucks on the bench went wild.

It was as if time stopped. Keith looked at his teammates on the ice around him, brows raised and mouth open in abject disbelief. It couldn’t be! Keith never saw it, G never saw it, and Ward sure as hell never saw it, but damn if that puck wasn’t sitting in the fucking net. The Canucks had just won the coveted Cup—in Philly’s arena.

Chapter 1

A couple of weeks after losing the Cup found Keith on the golf course with his father, getting back to normal off-season life. Most of his teammates had gone home to visit their families, scattered through Europe and Canada. Born and raised in southern New Jersey, Keith was the lone American of the team. Philly was the only pro team he’d ever played for, so he never had to venture far from home.

“You feeling any better yet, son?” Mr. Lambert knew Keith still had the sour taste of loss on his tongue.

A gusty sigh escaped him as he ran a hand distractedly through his windblown hair and looked at his father, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess a little. God, we were so close! I just keep thinking—if we could just have one more shot...”

“I know. I swear my heart stopped beating when I saw that puck go in the net, but you boys had a great year. Your performance in the playoffs, all the way up to the finals…” He broke off, his voice husky with emotion. “You gave it everything you had. I’m so damn proud of you, son.”

“Thanks, Pop. It still sucks though.”

Mr. Lambert winced sympathetically as he lined up his next shot. “Yeah, it does.”

The bell coming from Keith’s watch reminded him that he was meeting his girlfriend in an hour. “Let’s finish up, Pop. I’m meeting Phoebe for dinner soon.”

“When are you going to cut that girl loose? She’s not the one for you.” Mr. Lambert put his hand up to stop Keith from talking. “I know. It’s none of my business. Your mother and I, we don’t hate her, she’s just not the one for you. I think you feel more for her than she does for you.”

“While I appreciate your concern, Pop, I think you’re wrong. But you are right about it not being your business.” Keith meant no disrespect to his father, but he wasn’t a kid who needed his parents to make his decisions for him anymore.

“Okay, son. Enough said. We’ll butt out.” He pulled his club back, took his shot and watched his ball sail over the fairway, sweetly landing right on the edge of it, putting the last nail in the coffin. Keith had never beaten his father at golf.

* * * *

“Hey, babe. Get us another round, will you?” Phoebe’s girlfriends looked at her knowingly, waiting to see how long it took Keith to make yet another bar run. There wasn’t much of anything she couldn’t get him to do for her. Truth be told, since they’d been together, she’d gotten kind of lazy. Why do things for yourself when you had a hot boyfriend to do them for you?

They were supposed to be there alone, but Phoebe’s girlfriends conveniently appeared as they were ordering drinks and sat down with them. Keith knew they saw him as an ATM, and to his embarrassment, he went along with it. The guys he hung out with constantly told him to dump Phoebe—and her friends—but when they were alone, she was great. Really, she was the perfect girlfriend.

“Jesus he’s got a great ass, Not to mention the waves in his hair. I mean really, those thick locks? How about the one that droops right over his forehead? So friggin cute,” Tori said as she watched Keith walk over to the bar.

“Hey, girl. Eyes forward. He’s still mine.” The one thing Phoebe didn’t appreciate was his height. He was only three inches taller than her five foot seven. And he was lean. Muscled, but lean. She typically liked men with big, in your face, muscles.

“Still yours? What does that mean? Is something wrong with you two?”

“No, I guess I’m just getting a little bored. I mean, Keith is great and all, but there are so many other great guys around, you know?”

Tori pulled her glasses down to the edge of her nose as she tilted her head down to look at Phoebe in incredulity. “Are you insane?” With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the other girls sitting with them. “Any one of us would kill for a chance to have Keith Lambert worship us, wouldn’t we, Vicki? Deb? Damn, Pheebs, he’s got you on a pedestal so high, if you fell off, you’d never even hit the ground.”

“Well, we’re not there yet so, whatever.” Phoebe gave the girls a weak smile. She was saved from having to say anything further by Keith returning with their drinks.

“Why do you all look so serious?” Keith set down a tray with four beers and a glass of white wine on it. As he passed the drinks out, he waited for an answer.

“Oh, nothing, sweetie. Just girl talk.” With her hand on his thigh, she leaned over and kissed him sweetly, bringing an immediate smile to his lips.

“So, would you ladies like to stay and join us for dinner?” To his eternal delight, they declined. Tori answered for them.

“No thanks, Keith. We were on our way to Chinatown when we saw your car out front, so we just stopped in to say hi.” The clock on the wall over the bar showed them that they’d been sitting there for a half an hour already. “We’ll just finish this round and go. Thank you, by the way.”

“Sure, no problem.” They made polite, inane conversation for a bit and the girls left.

“What do you want to eat, Keith?”

He reached over and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “You. I want you.”

Phoebe grabbed his hand and stood up. Aside from enjoying Keith’s deep pockets, he was fantastic in bed. Sex with him was something she’d never say no to. “Let’s go. We can eat later.”

A burst of laughter left his lips as she hauled him out of his chair. “Yes, ma’am.”

They barely made it back to Jersey alive. Phoebe’s hands were all over him as he drove. When they were in the middle of the Ben Franklin Bridge, she had his pants unzipped and was stroking him, almost to the point of no return.

“Jesus, babe. You have to stop or it’s going to be over before we even get home.”

“Sorry, but I really want you.”

“Almost there. Just a little bit farther.”

“Nope. Can’t wait.” She threw off her seatbelt and leaned over, taking him into her mouth as he drove.

“Oh God, that’s good, Pheebs, but you might want to slow down.”

She didn’t slow down. At all. She continued to lick and suck him.

“Phoebe …”

“Do it, baby.” She said, her mouth full.

“Ah, Jesus. We’re gonna die and I don’t even care.” He tried to concentrate on not hitting the barrier as he exploded into her mouth.

When she’d licked him clean, she sat back in her seat and re-buckled her seatbelt. “You owe me one hell of an orgasm,” she said with a cat ate the canary grin on her face.

“Just give me about thirty minutes, Pheebs, and it’s all yours.”

Several hours later, he’d repaid her three times—and enjoyed every minute of it.

Chapter 2

June 23rd. Keith Lambert would never forget that day. Ever. Not if he lived to be as old as the Egyptian pyramids. Never.

“What the fuck is going on with my phone?” Keith and Phoebe were sitting in his living room watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory. “How the hell can I have ten texts all of the sudden?” Right as he was swiping his phone to open his texts, the ringer went off. Abandoning the texts, he answered it instead.

“Hey Sean, what’s up?” Even though he was friendly enough with Callahan, he was surprised to see his name on the caller ID.

“Hey, man. I just saw. That’s really fucked up! You okay?”

“With what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Before he could explain, there was a knock on the door. “Hold on a sec, Sean.”

Keith’s agent, Ted Malone, was standing on the other side. “Have you been on the Internet, Keith?”

“No, but my phone’s going crazy. What’s going on?”

“Maybe you can call them back.” Ted motioned toward the phone still in Keith’s hand.

“Hey, Callahan. I’m going to call you back, okay?”

“Sure, man. I want you to know, we’re all sick over this.”

“Yeah. Uh, okay. Later.” Keith put his phone on vibrate to prevent anyone else from interrupting until he figured out what the hell was going on.

With his teammates calling and his agent at the door, he had a sinking feeling he knew what might be coming. “So?”

“Look, Keith. You know you’re one of the best players in the league. One of the most respected, but the league is, first and foremost, a business. You know we weren’t able to get you a no-trade clause when you signed with the Flyers.” Ted was obviously stalling, which wasn’t like him.

“Just spit it out, Ted.”

“Okay, kid, here it is. You’re going to California. You were traded this morning to the San Diego Scorpions. Their captain, Alex Shvrenik, is coming here, along with a third-round draft pick—it’s a good trade for both teams, but apparently someone leaked it and it’s all over social media websites. I came over here as soon as I knew it was finalized.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? They don’t even have the decency to tell me about it first? What a joke!” Sweat was already forming on Keith’s brow. He knew his face was flushed. Saying he was pissed off was an understatement. “Why? Why would they do it? I’ve given everything to this team. Everything!”

“I know you have. They know you have. Keith, it’s not personal. It doesn’t reflect badly on you. This is a trade San Diego’s been pushing for all year. I never mentioned it because I didn’t believe Philly would let you go.”

“So I worked my ass off to become captain of this team and I go to their team as what? The new kid on the block? Fuck, that sucks, Ted.”

“No. No. That’s where it gets a little better. Remember, Stan Upstead is an assistant coach there. Since he was the one who scouted you when he worked here, and you’ve become such a superstar, he convinced them that you need to keep the C on your jersey. And really, he said it didn’t take much convincing.”

“Oh, that’ll do me a world of good. The team’s not going to want me to be their captain. I’m sure they have someone else in line who wants to take on that role. Fuck!” He stood there, rooted to the spot with his hands tangled in his hair. Not knowing what to say, he turned around and walked back into the living room, noting the TV was now turned off and Phoebe was staring at them.

Was she actually looking relieved? He couldn’t process that at the moment and shut those thoughts down as he took a seat on the couch. “Well, shit. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Not really, no. Try to look on the bright side. The Scorpions are an up-and-coming contender for the Cup. They’re good, Keith. You can make them better. Your leadership skills are unmatched. Your teammates here have gladly done anything that you asked of them. Not all captains have that kind of blind loyalty. You’ll be the treated the same way in San Diego when they see your leadership capabilities. I know you will. And I know it doesn’t really factor since you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but it’s really nice out there. I mean San Diego’s lowest temperature hangs in at about fifty degrees, and it doesn’t get sweltering hot either.”

Keith didn’t give two shits about the weather in San Diego. After he got the rest of the details about when he was expected out there, the areas he should look at to live in, etcetera, Ted left.

“Keith?”

He’d forgotten Phoebe was still there. He reached for her and gathered her onto his lap, burrowing his head into her chest, seeking comfort. “Yeah?”

“Um, I think we need to talk.”

Oh, no way. His head hung lower at her tone. He knew what was coming. “No. Not now, Pheebs. Please.”

“But Keith...”

“Fuck! Don’t.”

“Keith—I can’t move to California. My family’s here. My friends are here. I have a good job that I like. Don’t you see that?”

“I do, Pheebs, but you could get a new job out there. I’ll help you. I’ll do anything I can to make it easier for you. I love you.”

“Oh, Keith. I’m sorry. I really am, but I don’t feel quite the same way about you. I mean, I care about you, but I’m not ready to pack up and move across the country with you. To be perfectly honest, I was already thinking about breaking it off. I’m really sorry.” She tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Please, Pheebs. Don’t do this. Let’s talk about it later. We’ll figure something out. We don’t need to break up. I’ll be back here for games and we can talk every day. You know how these things go. I could be traded again to another team on this side of the country at any time.” He knew how pathetic he sounded, but he desperately wanted to keep Phoebe with him. Maybe she wasn’t perfect. Maybe she didn’t love him like he loved her, but he didn’t want to be alone.

She gently pushed him away until she was free to stand. “I’m sorry, Keith. I really am, but it’s not going to work for me.” Giving him a final kiss, she walked out his door and never looked back. Just like that, after two years together, she simply left.

* * * *

Two hours later, Keith was still sitting in the same spot when his cell rang again. He’d already sent a short text to his teammates and spoken to a few of them. Everyone was sorry to see him go. His closest friends were as pissed as he’d been, but life goes on, doesn’t it?

Who the hell is calling now? There was no name attached to the number, so it wasn’t anyone he knew. Probably another fucking reporter. He knew he eventually had to return those calls as well, but he hated talking to reporters—it made him feel dirty. They always twisted anything they could to make a more dramatic story.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Keith Lambert?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

There was a chuckle at the other end of the line. “Guess you had a pretty big shock today. This is Craig DeLeon. I’m your new head coach. I wanted to call and introduce myself. Welcome you to the team. Maybe see if you needed any questions answered.”

“Oh hey, Coach. Yeah, I’m still pretty stunned. I didn’t see it coming. I guess I can’t help feeling a little betrayed, but I’ll do my best for the team.” Just because he wasn’t happy with the move didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his new team one hundred percent of his effort.

“I’m not worried about that. I know you will. Listen, one of the things I called for was to put your mind at ease. I want to tell you that the team is okay with you being their new captain. I’m sure you can imagine that I got quite a few phone calls when this went public. Most of the guys were actually relieved that you’d be taking on that role. I won’t say there weren’t one or two who were disappointed, but all in all, they’re behind you. They pay attention to the league. We all know you’re a good leader.”

Keith wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was humbled by the coach’s words. Hopefully the team truly felt that way. “That’s good to hear. I admit it’s a concern for me. I don’t want to cause any tension in the locker room, you know?”

“I don’t think you will. I think the transition will be smooth for both sides. When are you thinking of coming out here?”

“I’m thinking sooner is better than later.” His apartment was only a rental, and his lease was up in a couple of months. It would be easy to wrap that up and get out to California. You know, since he had no crying girlfriend to deal with. Great. Absolutely fucking perfect.

“I’ll send you some ads for apartments here if you want. You can check them out online and see if you like any of the places some of the other guys live.”

“That would be great, Coach. Thanks. I’ll let you know when I get out there.”

Keith hung up feeling slightly better than he had before speaking with the coach. It still sucked, but dwelling on it wasn’t going to change the fact that he was going to California to play for the Scorpions. Now he had to tell his parents. They obviously hadn’t heard yet. If they had, they would have already been at his front door.

Chapter 3

Keith arrived in San Diego near the end of September. He had to admit, California was beautiful. The day he flew in, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. As the plane descended, he took in the sight of the city itself with the mountains off in the distance acting as a backdrop for the landscape. But what really caught his eye was the copious amount of blue water. It was everywhere—surrounding the city itself, around housing developments, or simply surrounding expanses of grassy land. He felt his lips lift in the first real smile he could recall in weeks.

The cab ride to Keith’s new apartment seemed to take forever. Since he’d come to terms with being traded and losing his girl, it was getting easier to be more positive about the move. He actually felt excitement at the prospect of having a new place and meeting his new teammates. Some of them were familiar to him, as he’d played against them in the past, but he didn’t know any of them personally.

The cab stopped at the address he was given and waited for Keith to pay and collect his bags from the trunk. “Thanks. Keep the change.”

Walking up the short flight of stairs, Keith introduced himself to the doorman of his new building and continued inside, walking over to the concierge’s desk. Huge chandeliers hung from tall, vaulted ceilings. They sparkled, throwing tiny lights over the ceiling and walls. Everywhere he looked there was some kind of beach theme, but it was done in style. Crystal shells held business cards, ocean blue upholstery covered wingback chairs in the lounge, and perfectly polished coffee tables were made out of driftwood, giving them a unique but classy look. On the whole, the place looked more like a fancy hotel than an apartment building.

There was a bell sitting on the unmanned desk, and it rang loudly as Keith slapped his hand down on it. A minute passed and he rang it again.

“Coming!” A short, stocky blond man ambled toward him at a clipped pace, a smile on his extraordinarily round face. “Sorry about that. I was in the back. What can I do for you?”

Keith stuck out his hand in greeting. “I’m Keith Lambert. I’m moving in today and was told to stop here for my keys.”

The man snapped his fingers in recognition. “That’s why you look familiar. You’re the new captain for our Scorpions! I’m Robert. Welcome to San Diego. I think you’re going to like it here.”

His upbeat attitude was refreshing, and Keith wondered if he was always so jovial. “Thank you, Robert. I’m sure I will.” He happily took the keys from him and followed the directions Robert gave him to the elevator. He hit the button for the fourth floor, and stared at his smiling reflection in the closed doors. When the elevator reached his floor, he stepped out into the empty hallway and made his way down to apartment number 4444.

Boxes littered the floor, along with his furniture, which had been delivered two days before by the moving company he’d hired. He had a lot of work to do, but his grumbling stomach made food the first priority. Storing his bags in the bedroom, he made his way back out again, stopping back at the concierge desk.

“Back so soon, Mr. Lambert?”

“Call me Keith. Yeah, I was wondering if you could tell me where I can grab something to eat. Something quick so I can start unpacking.”

“Sure, sure.” Robert reached under the counter and came up with a welcome packet. Riffling through it, he grabbed some menus. “I should have given you this packet when I gave you the keys. Sorry about that. I’m a little flustered today. We got a big shipment of supplies in and my assistant’s out sick and, well, you know how it goes. Anyway, you can order takeout from any of these places. They’ll stop here at the desk. I’ll give you a ring and you can come down and get it. Or you could walk a couple of blocks and find a Chinese place, a pizza joint, or there’s a pub a bit farther down.”

“Takeout sounds perfect. Thanks.”

* * * *

Less than an hour later, Keith was once again standing in front of the concierge’s desk, picking up his food. He couldn’t help but notice how cute the delivery girl was.

“Hi. That’s twenty-two dollars.”

“Hi yourself.” Keith handed her thirty. “Keep the change.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” She was turning away when Keith lightly grabbed her arm. She turned back to him and asked, “Did I forget something?”

“No. I was just wondering what your name was.”

“It’s Kelly. But save your breath. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t date hockey players.”

Ah, she knows who I am. “But you’re a fan? You must be, otherwise you wouldn’t know I was a hockey player.”

“I’m a huge hockey fan. Best sport on Earth. Well, good luck, Lambert. Welcome to San Diego.”

Keith laughed out loud. “Yup, you’re a hockey fan. I swear, as soon as someone puts a jersey on, they lose their first name.”

The sound she made was melodic. Her soft laughter was reminiscent of wind chimes, and he wanted to hear it again. “I guess that was rude. Sorry, Keith. I just get tired of being hit on. I shouldn’t have assumed you were doing that. Forgive me?”

“Of course. But there’s nothing to forgive. I was absolutely going to hit on you, but you blew it. See you around.” He winked at her before turning around and walking away.

He could still hear her tinkling laughter as he pushed the button on the elevator. Take out might have to become a weekly event. Maybe even biweekly.

Chapter 4

“Hello?” When the phone rang, Keith was sitting on his balcony drinking an iced tea and thinking about how lucky he was to be able to afford such a place. His ocean view was spectacular; however, he couldn’t help but wish he had someone to share it with. He was lonely. Flirting with Kelly, the delivery girl, was fun, but he still missed Phoebe. Or at least he missed the idea of Phoebe. He was beginning to think that maybe he didn’t love her quite as much as he had thought he did. Memories were creeping into his mind more and more of how she had constantly needed him to buy her things and the way she coerced him into using his name time and time again to get the best tables at restaurants and tickets to events. It bothered him then but it was easier to go along with her, so he never said anything.

“Hey, Keith. It’s Vlad Bejsiuk, your goalie. Hope you don’t mind, Coach gave me your number.”

“Hey, Impaler. I don’t mind at all. I’m looking forward to meeting you guys.” Vlad’s nickname, The Impaler, came from sharing a name with Vlad Dracula. Lucky him.

“We are, too. I have to say, it’ll be nice not having to face that wicked wrist shot of yours anymore, although I don’t think you’ve ever scored on me, have you?” Vlad’s gentle ribbing gave Keith a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. I was taking it easy on you. Maybe I’ll show you what I’ve really got in practice.”

“Bring it on, Captain.”

Silence hung in the air for a couple of seconds. “Yeah, about that. You really think the guys are okay with me being brought in as the captain?”

“Yeah. I do. Marcoux wanted it for all of about twenty seconds, but when we discussed you, we all knew it was the right thing to do. You’re a natural leader. We’re going to miss Scott, but that’s the nature of the business. It’s done and we’re ready to move on.”

In the time Keith had to think about the trade, and analyze it, he came to the conclusion that it might really work. He’d researched the Scorpions in the previous weeks, and he did believe they needed a strong leader—he knew he could be that person. “I’m glad to hear that. I have some ideas, but I’ll ease into them. I’ll have to see if they fit the personalities and playing styles anyway.”

“If you don’t mind a bit of advice, I’d come in with that attitude right there. Don’t come in apologizing for being picked to lead the team. Those boys, especially the young ones, will respond much better to confidence than they will apologies.”

“So what makes you so insightful, Vlad?”

Vlad laughed. “At thirty-six years old, I’m the old man on the team. I’ve been around a while. And while you kids are out partying, I’m just watching and learning.” Vlad actually had a crush on the Scorpion’s sports psychologist, Zoe Millis, but that wouldn’t ever come to fruition. There was a strict no-fraternization rule between the team’s doctors and the players. Even though he knew he couldn’t have the one he wanted, he wasn’t interested in dating a different girl every week.

“Well, I might just be hanging back with you. I’m not interested in the partying lifestyle right now either.” Twenty-two years old was still in the partying age bracket, but he already felt he was over that. He wanted a relationship with loyalty and honesty. Just one girl.

“Girl problems, huh? Yeah, a lot of us have them. Anyway, a bunch of us are meeting up at the Irish Pub on the beach. You interested?”

“Hell yeah. I’m going out of my mind here. I don’t think I was meant to be alone so much.” Keith couldn’t pull of the casual laugh he was going for. Even to him, it sounded forced. He sincerely didn’t like being alone.

“I get it, man. It’s hard leaving everything and moving so far away from home. Shit, I’m from the Ukraine. I understand all about being away from home.”

“You know, I guess I should have figured that with a last name like Bejsiuk, but you kind of sound British.”

“My mother’s English, my father’s Ukrainian. Interesting combination, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. Okay, so what time are you meeting at the pub? And where the hell is it?” Keith didn’t have the lay of the land yet. That would come with time.

“Why don’t I swing down there and get you in an hour? I actually live in the same building. I’m on the top floor.” Vlad lived in one of the spacious penthouses with an entire wall made of glass, giving him an outstanding view of the ocean. At night, the view was even more spectacular with the reflection of the moon hitting the water.

“Oh, cool. All right, that sounds good. See you in a while.” He ended the call feeling good. Finishing his iced tea, he went back inside to shower and throw on some clean clothes.

* * * *

The entire beach area where the pub was located was packed. There were other restaurants on the strip, along with ice cream shops, pizza joints, caramel corn stands, and an array of beach-type shops where you could buy clothes, surfboards, or even a Jet Ski. Vlad drove, since Keith’s car wasn’t due to be delivered until the following day, but as he kept searching for a parking spot, anywhere in the vicinity of the pub, he wished they had walked the mile or so from their building.

“Holy shit. Is it always like this?” Philly could get crowded at night when it was nice out, especially on South Street, but it was nothing like this.

“Pretty much. Not in the winter so much, but this isn’t even as crowded as it gets. We’re getting toward the end of our heavy tourist season, but the water’s still warm and the temperatures during the day are damn near perfect. I love it out here. Crowds and all.”

They finally found a spot to park in after circling the block a few times. Keith got out of Vlad’s car and stretched. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you drive this thing?”

Vlad groaned. “Aw, man. Not you too. Come on, this girl’s a classic.” He ran his arm lovingly along the rusted roof of his ‘69 Camaro. “I’m still working on her. I want to restore her myself, but I’m starting to see the value of letting an auto shop do some of the engine work. I probably could have gotten her pretty much done this summer, but I spent a lot of time on the beach after I came back from visiting my family. Just lazy this year, I guess, but when I’m done with her, she’s gonna purr like a kitten and roar like a lion. You’ll all be apologizing to her then.”

Keith held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I meant no offense. Sorry, man. She’s, ah, great.” He shook his head as a laugh escaped him. What a rust bucket! He thought the thing was going to stall out every time they stopped for a red light.

Vlad flipped him off. “You’ll see.”

Inside, the pub was as packed as the parking situation suggested. There wasn’t a stool to be had at the bar, and the high tables scattered throughout the area were surrounded by loud, boisterous people having a good time. The energy flowed all around them, making Keith even more pleased that he was out of his apartment for a while and in the presence of other people.

Fighting their way through the crowd, heads down, Vlad led him to a door in the back, next to the bar. “Come on. We have a private room back here.”

The first thing Keith noticed when he stepped through the door after Vlad was a banner on the wall. It was homemade and simply said, “Welcome to the team.”

“Our captain’s here, guys!” That said, Vlad walked over to the much smaller bar in their room and grabbed a couple of beers, handing one to Keith.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet you.” Brandon Marcoux shook Keith’s hand and moved aside so that the rest of the guys could welcome him.

Landry “Ace” Hawthorn sauntered over to him, and Keith could tell right away that he was a player. Ace shook his hand and pounded him on the back. “Did the old man tell you about the beach party yet?”

“Old man.” Nice. “No, what about it?”

“We’re having a big bash on the beach the Saturday before the first preseason game. Everyone will be there. The players, the office staff, wives, their brats—everybody. The chicks bring lots of food, and the men grill burgers and stuff. We have horseshoes and volleyball—man, there are tits and ass everywhere. Easy pickings after drinking all day too. I usually go home with a blonde and a brunette. Getting laid doesn’t get any easier. You don’t want to miss it.” He gave him another slap on the back before he made his way out the door, back into the main part of the pub.

“What the fuck was that?”

“That, my friend, is my backup goalie. He’s annoying as hell, but great in the net. He just needs a little fine-tuning—and a lobotomy. Kid’s got no filter. It’s landed him in trouble once or twice too. He even spent a night in jail after a barroom brawl a year back. Seems to be a theme here. Every backup goalie I get is a young shit with a ton of attitude. And they don’t last long.”

“Damn. He’s like a tornado. A womanizing tornado.” Keith was laughing as he looked over toward the door, seeing Ace coming back in with a girl on each arm. “Works fast, doesn’t he?”

“You have no idea.”

The rest of the night passed quickly, and by midnight Keith was more than a little buzzed. At his suggestion, they made their way out to the main bar since the crowd had thinned out considerably. He liked to make himself and his teammates just a little bit available to the public when he was comfortable doing so. It did a lot to promote goodwill with the fans, and only cost the players an hour or so of their time.

“Great idea, man. You’ll be a fan favorite in no time.”

Still feeling good, Keith swung his arm around Vlad. “Vlad, my man, I have a few good ideas here and there. Of course I have some bad ones too. For example, it would a bad idea to take that little filly home with me tonight, right?” It was the red boots that caught his eye. She was a redhead, wearing a denim skirt, a frilly white tank top, and red cowgirl boots. From the way she was undressing him with her eyes, he knew she’d be willing. “Fuck, I’m horny. Twenty-two-year-old guys aren’t meant to go for so long without sex.”

“Hey, man. I’m not your father. You do whatever you want. You’re feeling good, but to the best of my knowledge, you’re not shitfaced. I’ll drive you both home if that’s what you decide to do. Why don’t you go chat her up?” Vlad disentangled himself and pushed Keith toward the girl in question.

“Hey, Lambert.”

Hearing himself addressed like that by another lovely woman had him laughing. “And again, the athlete loses his first name. What’s your name, baby?” Did I really just call her baby? This is so not me. Aw, fuck it, live on the edge, man!

“You can call me Pip. My real name’s Penelope, but I go by Pip. So listen. I’m just going to put this out there. I think you’re hot, and I’m looking for some earth-shattering sex. Tonight. With you. Are you interested?”

“Wow. You are direct, aren’t you? I know I should immediately say yes, but to be honest, it’s not my style.” Wait, isn’t this exactly why I walked over here?

“I know. Or at least I know you’ve never been in the tabloids. It’s kind of why I picked you. I’ll be gone for a while and I’m a good girl. I want one night. I want to be the bad girl. But it is only one night I’m offering.”

Something was holding him back. She really did seem like a good girl. It felt wrong. “Gone? What do you mean? Are you going to jail or something?”

She laughed at that. “No, nothing bad like that. It doesn’t matter where I’m going. So, are you interested or not?”

“You sure this is what you want?”

“More than anything right at this very moment. Don’t make me rethink this. I’m tired of always doing everything the right way. And when I leave, I’ll be back to being the good girl again. Don’t get me wrong, I like being a good person, but it’s not all I am, you know? I want to exercise my wild side. So, you in or out?”

He thought about it for about one point two more seconds. “Baby, I’ll be in and out. All night long, if you’re sure.” He gifted her with a smile that brought his dimples out in force, and she was a goner.

She walked back with him, over to Vlad. “Vlad, this is Pip. She’s going to be riding home with us if that’s okay.”

“Oh, wait. I’m not into three…”

“No! No.” Keith laughed. “We just came together. We live in the same building.”

Pip smiled at her assumption. “Oh, sorry. I have my car. I can drive.”

Before they turned to leave, Vlad gently held her arm. “At the risk of sounding like a concerned father, how much have you had to drink?”

“That’s sweet, actually. I’ve had one dirty martini. And we ate some appetizers with it. I’m fine.”

“Okay then. You kids have fun.” Vlad gave them a thumbs-up and walked over to talk to Brandon.

* * * *

The drive home was uncomfortable, to say the least. Keith tried learning about Pip, but she wasn’t very forthcoming with details about herself.

“So why the mysterious ‘leaving soon’ approach? Are you really going somewhere?”

She looked at him sideways, mostly keeping her eyes on the road. “Yes, I’m really going somewhere, but that’s not what tonight’s about. Tonight’s about me doing something for myself. It’s not about my family, people in need, the organizations I volunteer for; it’s just for me. It’s not even about you.” She had the grace to cringe at her brutally honest answer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…“

Keith quickly interrupted her. She could hear the smile in his voice. “No, it’s okay. Believe it or not, this is my very first one-night stand.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Look. You want a wild night and I’m a little lonely. And I’ve been told I don’t suck in bed.” Giving her a quick wink, he continued to encourage her. “I’ll make it good for you—for both of us. All you have to do is tell me what you like.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each one of her knuckles.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, okay.” She was clenching and unclenching her hand as he kissed it. If he wasn’t mistaken, her breathing was a bit shallower than it had been a minute earlier. “Um, are we almost there?”

Keith’s shoulder shook once as he chuckled. He pointed to the building coming up on their right. “That’s the one.”

“Good.”

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Keith took her in his arms and gave her a hot, deep, openmouthed kiss that had them both panting by the time they reached his floor.

“Jesus.” Had she thought she’d been kissed properly before? Well, he just proved her wrong. The way she shivered when he pulled away proved that she felt that kiss all the way to her toes.

“Liked that, did you? Oh, baby. If you liked that, you’re in for a real treat. My tongue? Well, I like to use it.”

“Huh, okay. Yeah.” What did one say to that?

When they walked into his apartment, Keith immediately shut the door and hauled her up against it, kissing her deeply again. When he had to stop to get adequate oxygen into his lungs, Pip asked if he had anything to drink.

“Sure. Are you nervous?” He looked down at his obvious arousal. “I think it’s obvious that I want you here, Pip, but if you’re having a change of heart, I’m okay with that too.” He would never, not in a million years, force a girl to do anything she didn’t want to.

“I am a little nervous, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I do.” She licked her lips as her eyes slowly roamed over his body from head to toe. “God, I really, really do.” She was a sucker for a leanly muscled man. Those long limbs and taut muscles did it for her. Not too big or overbearing—just beautiful definition of the male body.

Another one of Keith’s dimpled smiles lit up his face. “I’m glad. And I’ll only say this once more, I promise. If at any time, and I mean any time, you don’t want to stay, just say so. No hard feelings.” Maybe “hard” wasn’t the right word to use.

“Um, are you trying to get out of this? Oh my God. You are! Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

Keith grabbed her and pulled her up against him, placing her hand on his cock. “Uh, no. I am not trying to get out of this, Pip. I just want to you to be sure.”

When she caressed him, he lowered his head and gave her another smoldering kiss as his hands moved over her body. He broke away again and walked into the kitchen. “What would you like? I don’t have any olives, but I have vodka and tonic water. Is that okay? I also have scotch and beer.”

“Actually, I’d love a scotch.” There was a slight chill in the air as it had cooled down a bit after the sun went down.

Keith saw Pip run her hands over her arms, and walked over to flip the gas fireplace on low. “Sit here and I’ll get us some scotch.”

Pip sat in the chair he pointed to, grateful it was so close to the fireplace. “You know, Keith, you really are a nice guy.”

“Thanks. You’re a nice girl. And we’re going to have fun tonight.” He felt better and better about what he was doing as they spoke. She really was a nice girl just looking for a little excitement. In his book, there was nothing wrong with that. They were single adults. No harm, no foul.

When he handed her the quarter-filled glass of scotch, she patted the spot next to her. She was sitting in one of those oversized chairs, but he still had to wrap his arm around her to sit down. She put her hand on his thigh and took a sip of her scotch.

“Oh, this is good.” She couldn’t tell what kind it was, but she came from a Scottish family and knew good scotch when she tasted it.

“I’m glad you like it. I really don’t drink more than a beer or two that often, but when I do, I like the good stuff.” They chatted about this and that as they finished their drinks.

“Keith?”

“Um, hm?”

“Would you mind if I took a quick shower?”

He didn’t even bother answering her. He just picked her up, putting her glass down on the table in the process, and carried her into his bathroom, where he stripped all of their clothes off. She experienced orgasm number one in that shower.

“Fuck!” Pip was grabbing the windowsill as Keith continued his intense assault on her clit. “Oh my God! Oh, please.” No sooner had those words come out of her mouth than she felt him insert one finger and then another into her.

He felt her tightening around his fingers almost immediately. His cock throbbed with wanting, but his fucking condoms were in his fucking bedroom. He’d have to wait for his own release.

“Yes!” She moaned loudly, thrashing her head from side to side as she came. He continued to lick her more and more softly until she gently pushed him away.

“Wow. That was really great, Keith. I mean really great. But you didn’t… I mean you…”

“Oh, don’t worry, Pip. We’re nowhere near done.”

She smiled down at him and reached for his hands, pulling him up. Kissing him was thrilling and a bit erotic to her as she could taste herself on his lips. They washed each other again, enjoying every caress.

When Keith turned the water off, Pip’s body language told him she was nervous again. She wasn’t even aware that she was rubbing her arms or biting her lip. “Pip. Spill it. Why are you so nervous? I mean, you did enjoy that, didn’t you?” He didn’t think she could have faked that reaction.

“Oh, yes! For sure. You know I did.”

“Then what is it? Hey, if you don’t want me inside you, that’s okay. I told you. You can say no anytime.” Please, please don’t say no.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go to your bed.”

He actually laughed—again. He laughed a lot around her, and he enjoyed it. “No, it’s something. Tell me. I promise not to judge you or laugh.”

“Well, you promise not to throw me out?”

“Of course. What is it? You have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? What?”

“That was the first orgasm I’ve ever had that I didn’t give myself, and—I’m a virgin.” Those last three words were out so quickly, he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. She jumped out of the shower, and walked quickly toward the bedroom, Keith right on her heels.

“Pip.” He wrapped his fingers around her arm and turned her around to face him, a bit surprised at her admission. “I don’t know if I’m the right guy for this. But if you’re sure, I’d be honored to be your first. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it good for you.”

“Really? You’re not going to freak out and make me leave?”

“No. You’re an adult. You know what you want. We’ve both made it very clear that we’re not looking for a relationship, and we’re not going to hurt each other. I’d like to make love to you, Pip, if you still want me to.”

“I do. I guess I’m just a little scared.”

“That’s okay. If you can trust me, I can promise to make it good for you.” He kissed her gently, trying to put her at ease as he pushed her back against the bed until her legs hit.

Pip responded by wrapping her arms around him and rubbing her tongue against his in a way that made him moan in appreciation. His sounds encouraged her further. Leaning back, she fell to the bed, taking him with her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his hard cock pushing against the core of her body.

“Pip. I need to get a condom.”

“You’re going to do it already?”

“No, baby. Not just yet.” He knew she was a little scared of the unknown, and he didn’t want to have to stop when he was ready to enter her in order to put the condom on. “I just want to be ready for you.”

“Oh, okay.” She watched as he tore the package open, but stopped him before he placed it on his rigid cock. “Can I do it? Show me how.”

He guided her hands as she rolled the condom down over him. “Jesus. Your hands feel great.” His body shuddered, showing the truth of his words. His reaction made her bolder and she stroked him again. “Ah, yeah. That’s good, Pip.”

“Can I, um lick it?”

“Oh God, no.” At her forlorn look, he explained. “It’s not that I don’t want you to—God, I do—it’ll just be over too soon. But later…” He let that sentence go as he grabbed her hands and placed them behind his neck again as his hands methodically explored her body. He took her lips with his and kissed her gently, slowly adding pressure, and then slipping his tongue inside until she was arching against him.

When more foreplay caused her breath to come out in short, urgent puffs, his fingers wandered down to stroke her until she was wriggling impatiently beneath him. She was slick and swollen with need. He gently eased himself inside of her, but stopped when she stiffened up. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes. Please, just do it.”

He lowered his lips to hers once more and kissed her until she was clawing at his back. When she started moaning, he entered her with one quick thrust. She again stiffened against him, but it didn’t take more than a minute of his caressing and kissing to have her hips arching against him in need.

“That wasn’t so bad. And now it’s—good. Oh God. It’s really good.”

Using the last of his condoms, he was able to please her—and himself—twice more before the dawn broke. After making her breakfast and kissing her one last time, they parted ways. It was a great night and neither one of them had any regrets. He never did find out why she was leaving, but in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t really need to know.

* * * *

Later that day, Keith made himself go food shopping, a chore he hated. Strolling down the cereal aisle, he came across a most pleasant surprise. The delivery girl was there.

“Kelly, right?”

The sight that met him when she turned to fully face him, made his knees weak. Her short, blonde hair was curled charmingly around her face, with long bangs that swept across her forehead before being tucked behind her ear. Full, lightly glossed lips immediately sent erotic thoughts to his brain as he pictured them on him. She looked like she was all sugar and spice, but he already knew she wasn’t to be trifled with.

“Yeah. Hey, Lambert. You do your own shopping? I figured you rich guys had people to do that for you.” He could tell she was yanking his chain by the slight upward curve of her lips.

“Thought I’d see how the other half lives, you know?” He leaned over and looked in her basket. “Frozen dinners, eggs, cereal, and fat free yogurt? That’s it? Where’s the steak and potatoes?”

“I’m trying out for the ice girls this year. Have you seen the outfits they make them wear? No steak and potatoes for me. Not until I make the team, anyway. I’m plump enough.” She slapped herself on the butt, as if to prove her point.

“Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous. Don’t change into one of those girls who don’t eat.” He teasingly snuck a peek at her bottom, but his voice was thick when he said again, “Gorgeous.”

Kelly’s blush covered just about her entire face. Keith couldn’t help himself as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. When he realized he was about two seconds away from mauling her in a grocery store, he backed up with an unsteady step. “Sorry. I forgot about the no hitting on you thing.”

“No, you didn’t. But I have to say, you’re pretty good at it. Well, it was good seeing you again. I have to get going.” She patted his chest as she walked past him down the aisle. He turned around just in time to see her checking out his ass, and he let her know he caught her.

“I knew it. You want me.” He was gifted with her lovely laughter again as she turned the corner and slipped away from his sight.

Chapter 5

Training camp was crazy as usual. Keith was slowly getting to know the guys and how they played. To his frustration, he still couldn’t score on Vlad.

“Come on, Bejsiuk. Give me a fucking inch somewhere!”

Vlad ignored him, looking totally in the zone. Keith sent another hard wrist shot his way, going for the five-hole. It bounced away neatly as it hit Vlad’s pads, and sailed safely off to the right.

“Ha! Denied again O’Capitan!” Ace’s mouth never stopped. Never.

Vlad came out of the net and gave Ace his spot. Before he went off to the side, he skated over to Keith. “Skate around the net, fast, and then come back to about six feet in front of him. Shoot the puck over his right shoulder. He’ll miss it. Guaranteed. And the kid won’t listen to me.”

Keith did as Vlad said and scored on Ace easily.

“See?”

“Sure do.”

“You got lucky. Try it again.” Ace settled into his net and hunched down a bit, ready for Keith’s onslaught.

A carbon copy of the first goal, the second went in just as easily. “You’re turning too much when the puck’s behind you, and you can’t get back into position fast enough. You don’t need to turn your whole body like that.”

“Save your breath. I tell him that all the time. So does the coach.”

“Bite me, Impaler. I’ll get it.”

Keith took two more shots the same way at Ace. One went in, one he caught in his glove. It was definitely something he needed to work on.

After the team was done with practice for the day, the girls took to the ice to battle for a spot on the ice girls team. Talk about something hot enough to melt the ice. Scantily clad, beautiful girls doing drills that included a limbo—yes, please lean back so your shirt rides up—and bending over their shovels to scoop up the snow—cleavage galore!

Keith was on the balcony of the second floor looking down onto the rink. He was chatting with the general manager of the Scorpions while the candidates ran through the various drills. One of the first girls fell when her toe pick dug into the ice upon leaving the box, but she picked herself right back up with a smile.

“So, what do you think of the guys?” Henry, the GM, asked him.

“I’m still getting to know them, but they’re obviously a talented bunch. I think we’ll all work well together.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear. Let me know if you come across any problems.” Henry took his leave and left Keith on the balcony, essentially alone. Two other coaches were up there, but they were having a heated discussion about goalie training exercises.

Keith’s eyes drifted down to land on a particularly cute potential ice girl. Man, he had it bad. He even felt guilty about having sex with Pip. How stupid was that? He wasn’t dating Kelly—yet. He was still looking at her when Ace walked out.

“Ah, my favorite day of training camp. Hot girls in skimpy clothes.” He pointed to a busty girl with long flowing chestnut locks. “Jesus, would you look at that one? Yeah, that’s it, honey. Bend down low. A little lower—BAM! Christ, would you look at that ass. Man, I’d like to plow myself into that. Damn!”

Keith looked at him, shaking his head in disgust. “Are you for real? What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Huh? What are you gay or something?” Ace didn’t even spare him a glance. He was too busy making hand gestures, pretending he was grabbing the girl’s ass.

“No, I’m not gay, but I’m also not fifteen.”

“Oh, come on. Pick one out. Not my girl though. I’ll be banging her in a couple of hours.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself, Hawthorn.” Keith almost wished he had Ace’s confidence. Not his arrogance though. He could keep that.

“No reason not to be. I have a mirror. I know how hot I am. All I have to do is crook my finger and they’re half-naked before they reach me. It’s almost too easy. So which one do you want?”

“None of them. I was just talking to Henry out here.” And then looking at Kelly.

Ace followed Keith’s gaze. “The fat chick with no hair?”

“Fat? There’s not a fat girl down there. And if you’re referring to the curvy girl with the short, blonde hair, I think she’s cute. No, actually, I think she’s smoking hot.” Keith was beginning to like Ace less and less. Vlad warned him that would happen if he spent too much time with him.

“I think her name’s Kelly. I’ve seen her around at practices and skating in the rink. She hangs out with some of the girls I’ve dated. I wouldn’t waste my time though, she doesn’t put out.”

“Okay. I get it. All you think about is sex. Next subject.”

“Just trying to help you out, man. Blue balls ain’t fun for anybody.” With that parting remark, Ace left him alone on the balcony once more where he continued to watch Kelly skate a bit longer before leaving himself.

* * * *

It was the Saturday before their first preseason game, which meant that Keith was off to the beach party. He picked up Brandon Marcoux on the way, along with a cooler full of Molson.

“Hey, Keith. Where’s Vlad? I figured he’d be with you.”

“Nah. He’s picking up Manny.” Manny Parsons was the Scorpions’ enforcer. At six foot two and two hundred-ten pounds, he was a good protector to have on your team.

When they pulled into the small parking lot, Keith wished he was driving something smaller than his crew cab pickup, but with some finagling, he managed to squeeze into a corner spot. “Looks pretty packed already.”

“It’s San Diego. We’re at the beach. It’s always packed.”

Keith caught a flash of a hot pink top and curly, blonde hair out of the corner of his eye as he was pulling the cooler off of the tailgate. Taking a better look, he confirmed that it was Kelly. He came very close to dropping the cooler on his foot. Be cool! “Hey, Kelly. How are you?”

“Hey, Keith. I’m great. How are you?” Kelly stopped next to him and gave him a sunny smile. He thought he actually heard some brain cells pop. She looked incredible.

I’m great too. We had sex last night. Yeah, yeah it was all in my head, but… “Fine. I’m fine. How are you? Oops, already asked and answered. I guess people are just used to saying that when someone asks them how they are, you know? I mean I know I asked you first, but I guess I forgot, you know? It’s good to see you again, though. I mean I’ve seen you since the last time, but you know, I mean to talk to you again, you know?” Seen you since the last time? What the fuck is wrong with me? And could I fucking say “you know?” about ten more times.

Kelly looked at him, cocking her head at his strange attitude. “Uh-huh. Um, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I just meant… Forget it. How were skating tryouts? You looked good out there.”

“You were watching me? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or creeped out.”

“Honey, we all watch the ice girls.” Brandon decided Keith had floundered enough and chimed in to throw the poor guy a lifeline. “Brandon Marcoux. Nice to meet you.”

She shook his proffered hand, and the three of them started walking toward the beach.

“So you all watch us. Really? Well, I guess that’s to be expected. I mean we are wearing those skimpy outfits and all. It’s not like we don’t watch you guys getting all sweaty and hot on the ice.” She gave an exaggerated flip of her nonexistent hair, gaining a hearty chuckle from both of them, and Keith started to relax.

“Good to know. Maybe next practice, I’ll practice without a shirt on—give you girls something to really look at.” Brandon was an easy flirt.

“Can’t say I’d say no to that. Oh, there’s Zoe. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Keith found his tongue just in time to say, “Bye.”

“Man, you’re smooth, Keith, you know? Real smooth, you know? Like her, do you? I think you do, you know?”

“Fuck off, Marcoux.”

Brandon playfully slugged him in the arm and took the cooler from him, setting it down beneath the big white tent, out of the sun. He opened the lid and fished out a couple of beers. “Want one?”

“Nah. Not yet, thanks. I’m going to walk around, maybe stick my feet in the water.”

“That loosely translates into you’re going to go stalk Kelly?”

Keith couldn’t deny it. “Something like that.”

* * * *

Kelly walked over to join the group of girls who’d made the cut to become ice girls, but veered off before she reached them to greet Zoe first. “Hi, Zoe.”

“Hi. Kelly, right?”

“You got it.” Kelly had only met Zoe briefly when she had bumped into her while she was in the office handing in her paperwork to the human resources manager.

“Are you excited for tomorrow? First game as an ice girl.”

“Actually, I’m a bucket of nerves! It’s silly to feel that way, I guess. I’m a great skater, and we’ve all been practicing with the shovels and making sure we’re in the right formation to clear the ice quickly. It’s just that we haven’t done it in front of twenty-thousand people before.”

After taking a swallow of bottled water, Zoe said, “You girls will be fine. Try to block the crowd out. See the ice and only the ice. Concentrate on your goal and forget all the rest. I’ll bet after the first period is over, you’ll all feel like pros.”

“I hope so. I…” Her thoughts shut down as she watched Keith take his shirt off and dive into the ocean. He really was a joy to look at.

“Ah, so it’s Keith, is it?”

“Huh? Is what Keith?” Kelly tore her eyes away from him and returned her attention to Zoe, but she could feel herself blushing.

“Um hmm. You have the hots for him, don’t you? You can’t fool me. I study people for a living. I saw your eye wander to him before at the rink. He’s a good pick. From what I know of him, he’s a genuinely nice guy. He doesn’t sleep around either. At least he’s never been talked about. He was in a steady relationship before he came out here.”

“What happened to the girl?” Kelly hadn’t seen Keith with anyone, and he only ordered for one when he’d ordered his takeout.

“That’s Keith’s story to tell. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“I think I’ll just go talk to the girls for a while. It was nice talking to you, Zoe. See you later.”

Kelly walked toward the group of girls gathered around the volleyball net, but she stopped just short of reaching them to pay attention to Keith in the water again.

The sun was reflecting off the ocean so brightly, it was hard to see him clearly, so she walked a little closer. He had his back to her, and each time he came up out of a wave, she watched, mesmerized, as the water cascaded down over his muscular back. Walking closer still, she could see a tattoo on his left shoulder of an intricate Celtic knot. Out of nowhere, a picture formed in her head of her licking it. Down, girl.

Before her mind could run away with any more wayward thoughts, she turned around and finally made her way over to the other ice girls.

“Girl, you’ve got a fan.” Tansy pointed behind her, and Kelly turned around to see Keith looking her way.

“You put out for him already, Kel?” All the girls knew that Holly was the nasty one. Every group had one. Someone who wasn’t happy unless they were putting someone else down.

To Kelly’s credit, she ignored the barb and spoke to Tansy. “Nah, I don’t think so. We’ve just spoken a couple of times. He does have a killer ass though.”

“Well, looks like you’re going to speak again. He’s coming right for you.” Tansy turned and shooed the girls away, leaving Kelly there alone.

“You want to go play some volleyball with me?” Keith pointed to the net, thankful he’d finally gotten his wits back. “It looks like they’re getting a game together. Let’s go see if we can get in on it.”

“Sure. Why not?” Kelly let him lead her over by the hand. Half-naked bodies were already lining up on both sides of the court. It was a girl’s dream.

“You have room for two more?” Keith directed his question to Ace, who seemed to have taken charge of setting up the teams.

“Sure. You two play over here, and we’ll put another chick on the other side to even things up.”

Kelly squeezed Keith’s arm. “He is such an asshole. And this is only the second time I’ve been around him. Want to know about the first time?”

“I can only imagine. What did he do?”

“A group of us girls went to the pub after tryouts for dinner. The guys hang out there a lot. Anyway, he comes over to our table and says to me, ‘You know, if I were you, I’d have sex with me.’ And then he held out his hand, like I was going to leave with him. And when I didn’t get up, he simply turned to Holly and lifted his eyebrow. Guess what happened then?”

“I’m gonna say she got up and went with him.”

“Yup. The funny thing is that Holly sees everything as a contest. She brags about sleeping with him to me every chance she gets. Doesn’t she see how counterproductive that is? I didn’t want him in the first place.”

The volleyball came flying through the air, landing on Kelly’s toe, causing her to jump. “What the hell?” She bent down and picked it up, looking for the culprit. Of course it was Ace.

“Sorry, doll. You ready to play now? You can serve first. We’ll let you girls have two tries.” Ace walked over and slapped her ass before taking his spot on the other side of the net.

“You’re going down, Hawthorn.”

Ace was all too happy with her comment—she should have known better. “It’ll be my pleasure, sweetheart. Anytime. You just say the word.”

“You pig! That’s not what I meant. Oh, forget it.” His laughter only pissed her off more, and the ball hit the net on her first serve. Shit. Her second serve was much better, flying over in a nice arc, and the volleying began.

The end of the game was getting close. Ace’s team only needed one more point to win. When the ball came over to their side, Keith and Kelly both called for it and wound up colliding, falling to the ground. Keith crashed down on top of her, and they were lying nose to nose.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” But he didn’t get up.

“Um, are you going to let me up?”

“Do I have to? I kind of like it here.” Yes! That was kind of smooth.

“Yes, you do. If I don’t get this sand off of me, I’m going to freak out. Here’s a little secret about me. I hate being dirty. And I can’t stand getting sand on me. I’m not a very good beach person.” She pushed on his chest and he let her up. Grabbing her hands, he hauled them both to their feet.

“Come on then, princess. Let’s go wash off.”

The water was more refreshing than she could recall it ever being. The feeling of the cool waves washing over her hot body was pure bliss, with the added benefit of getting clean again.

Keith stood back and watched her, enjoying the view. Her pink bottoms rode up when she bent low to splash water on her arms. He wasn’t sure which view he’d rather have, the front or the back. She had a fan-fucking-tastic ass.

Hunger drove them out of the ocean and over to the buffet table that was set up under the tent. Keith put together a plate of food, piled high with ribs, corn, and salads. He took her hand again and led her over to the jetty to eat. They talked about where they grew up, their childhoods, parents, anything, and everything. Before they knew it, the sun was setting.

Kelly let out a gasp as she realized how late it was. “Oh my God. I need to go.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to let my dog out. I was going to bring her, but she doesn’t like being around a lot of people. She’s a rescue dog and came from an abusive home.”

“Good thing you left her home then.”

“Do you like animals?” Kelly didn’t trust people who didn’t like animals.

“I love them. I’ve actually been thinking about getting a dog. I miss having an animal around. I just wonder if it’s fair to get one when I travel so much.”

He could tell he’d said the right thing. Not that he didn’t mean it, he did. “There are plenty of us to take care of the team’s pets. I volunteer at the animal orphanage on Saturday mornings. You should stop down. I’ll help you pick out a companion. But now I have to go. Thanks for spending the day with me.”

Keith walked her out to her car. “It was my pleasure, Kelly.” He threw caution to the wind and gave her just a quick kiss on the cheek before she got in her car.

“What was that for?”

“I just wanted to.”

Her smile made his insides warm. “Oh, um, okay. Night, Keith.” She got into her car but quickly jumped back out of the seat. “That kiss was pathetic.”

She pushed up on her tiptoes and fused her mouth to his. He quickly took control and pushed her back against the car as his hands reached out to squeeze her sweet hips. They went from zero to sixty in no time at all.

“Jesus, you can kiss,” Keith mumbled against her lips. He broke away to nibble a path to that sensitive spot girls had right beneath her ear. Her low moan was all the further encouragement he needed. Letting his hands roam up her ribs, he softly brushed the underside of her breasts as his thigh nestled between her legs, applying gentle pressure, drawing a surprised gasp from her.

Kelly put her hands on Keith’s chest and pushed against him slightly, but when he started to pull away, she moved her hands to wrap them around his neck. When his hands wandered downward to cup her bottom, she hoisted herself up against him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Oh my God,” Kelly said as she tilted her head back, her heart beating erratically. Keith took advantage of her position and trailed kisses along the column of her throat.

“Fuck yeah! Somebody’s getting laid right in the parking lot! Do it to her, Lambert. Guess I was wrong about her being cold, eh?”

Keith pulled back from Kelly and turned to find Ace standing entirely too close to them. “Ace, get lost. Seriously, man, not now.” Keith was the captain of the team. He couldn’t make a scene. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.

“Know what I would do? I’d put her on her hands and knees. See that ass bounce as I was fucking her.” Ace provided visual effects which had Keith seeing red.

“Too far, Ace. Too far.” As he reached out to grab Ace’s shirt, he felt a tug on his arm.

Kelly had seen enough. “Stop, Keith. Please. He’s drunk. Don’t listen to him.”

Brandon and Vlad caught sight of Ace’s drunken behavior and hastened over to get him. Keith gladly gave him into their keeping. “Never talk about her again. In fact, don’t even look at her. You won’t like the consequences if I ever find out you’ve disrespected her again, do you understand?”

“We’ll take care of him, Keith.” As they dragged him away, he was still making crude motions with his hips.

“What an asshole.” It was all Keith could do to keep himself from going after them and planting his fist in Ace’s face.

The mood was most definitely broken, but maybe that was for the best. Keith had been getting carried away. He probably would have had sex with her right there in the public parking lot at that point. “You better get going. Your pup is waiting for you.” He tried to give her a smile, but he knew it fell short.

“Thanks for defending my honor, Keith. And for one hell of a kiss, but...”

“No. No ‘buts.’”

“I have to say this, Keith. I like you, and I know I’m the one who jumped on you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Look, I have to go. See you tomorrow?”

“You don’t want a relationship, but you’re asking to see me tomorrow? What’s that mean, Kel? Are you asking me out or what?”

“Um, no. We have a game, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He closed her door for her and stepped back. “See you then.” Awkwardddddd.

Chapter 6

Preseason passed by in a blur, with the Scorpions splitting their wins and losses right down the middle. Keith didn’t see much of Kelly in that week and a half, and he wondered if she was avoiding him altogether. What he did see of her though, he liked very much. She was by far the hottest ice girl they had.

To blow off some steam before the intensity began in earnest, the team got together the day before their home opener to play games, swim, eat, and drink—nonalcoholic beverages. Henry hosted the event at his monstrous house in the hills. It was a tradition he started over ten years ago when he’d bought the place, shortly after being named the Scorpions’ general manager.

With the privacy the house afforded came a long, steep, winding driveway. Keith could only imagine what the view would be like at the top of the hill, and he wasn’t disappointed.

The two-story, yellow stucco house sat majestically at the end of the driveway, surrounded by mature trees. A large infinity pool, complete with a waterfall and two hot tubs took up a portion of the backyard, but left plenty of room for the barbeque and sitting area. He even spied a horseshoe pit and volleyball net set up on the side of the house as he walked around to join the others already there.

He showed up by himself and immediately looked for Kelly. It didn’t take him long to find her. She was already in the pool in a different swimsuit than the one she wore to the beach.

She looked fantastic. The suit was electric blue with a thick, white trim that made it slightly retro looking. It was a two-piece, but wasn’t any more revealing than her ice girl outfit. The bottoms were boy shorts that showcased her rounded hips to perfection. The halter-style top dipped low, but wasn’t so skimpy that she was in danger of falling out of it, so it left a bit to the imagination. Keith approved wholeheartedly, and was having a hard time not staring at her. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why do you waste your time on Big Belly Kelly? You could have one of the hot girls, you know.”

Will this guy ever learn? Again, Keith had to fight the urge to haul off and plant his fist smack-dab in the middle of Ace’s face. “Big Belly Kelly? We can’t be looking at the same girl. And did you forget what I said about talking disrespectfully about her?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean at the beach. I don’t really remember a lot of that.”

Keith decided to let that go. Since Ace was a teammate, he didn’t have a lot of choice. “Is this all because she turned you down, Landry?” Keith purposefully used Landry’s real name for two reasons. Number one, Landry hated it, and number two, Landry hated it.

“Come on, man. You can’t seriously believe that I couldn’t tap that if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I absolutely believe it. From what I heard, you were only able to land Holly. Of course everyone lands Holly.” Landry had nothing to say to that and Keith walked away, leaving him to stand there alone.

Kelly swam up to the edge of the pool as Keith was slipping off his shoes. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Okay. Haven’t seen you in a while.” He was surprised to feel the jolt of anger that rose up in him at her casual greeting. By the look on her face, she could hear the coldness in his voice.

“Yeah. Look, I think we need to talk. Are you coming in here or do you want to go take a walk on the beach?”

“I’m coming in there.” He pulled off his shirt and slipped into the water. “Let’s go over to the waterfall.” There were a couple of people in the area, but the noise from the water splashing down from the rock wall would give them some privacy. “What’s up?”

Kelly looked shy all of a sudden. Or nervous, he wasn’t sure which, but she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. To his own disgust, he found it quite endearing. He had decided just last night that if she didn’t want him, that was fine. But it wasn’t fine. He still wanted her.

“So?”

“Geez, give me a second, will you? I’m trying to apologize and explain here, Keith.” She was holding something important back, he just knew it. “Let me just say all of this without you interrupting, okay? No pity looks, nothing.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t have time for you right now. That’s the bottom line. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Here’s the very short version of my story.” She stopped to take a cleansing breath, and, unconsciously lifted her chin before she continued.

“There are a few things I danced around when we talked about our childhoods. Here it is. I don’t know who my father is. I grew up in Vegas, because my mother was an exotic dancer. She did the best she could, but it wasn’t very good. When I was thirteen, she was killed by her third—no, fourth husband. Apparently, she had burned dinner one too many times.”

All Keith wanted to do was gather her in his arms and comfort her. What strength she had! To live through that and be the person she was today. “My God, Kelly.” He tried to hold her hand, but she withdrew it. “Where did you go after that?”

“I was in three different foster homes before I turned eighteen. And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I was rebelling and got into all sorts of trouble. Nope. I was the good kid. See, I didn’t want to end up like my mother. I excelled in school, but it just wasn’t ever good enough. The checks that came from the state were the only things that kept foster parents from dumping me out on the curb. But when the foster fathers became entirely too interested in me, I ran away. Again and again. No one was going to rule my body. They may have been in control of my food and shelter, but I was not going to be violated.”

He had no idea what to do, what to say. All Keith knew was that he wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. Never let anyone or anything hurt her ever again.

Kelly shook her head to clear it. “Wow. Sorry. Sometimes I forget that those times are still lodged in here.” She lightly rapped her knuckles on her head for emphasis. “Anyway, when I turned eighteen, I got a job as a waitress. I had enough money hidden from odd jobs here and there to rent a disgusting trailer for a while. It was okay, because I knew I’d be able to save more money if I lived in a cheap place. As I began getting on my feet, I gave love a shot. It worked for a while. Or I thought it would.”

Keith had a very bad feeling about where this story was going. “One night, I gave in and let him have sex with me. He liked it rough. After the second or third time of him bruising me so badly that I couldn’t go to work, I left.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Here’s the good part. He kicked me out of my own trailer, and there really wasn’t anything I could do about it. So I moved to San Diego to start fresh.”

Keith couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed on to her and pulled her over to the ledge, still holding on.

She allowed it and smiled at him before she continued. “There’s more crap after that, but the bottom line is that I’m good now. I’m independent; I have a couple of decent jobs. My apartment isn’t too scary to walk to at night, and I’ll be finished my bachelor’s degree in accounting in six months. Six months! I made it, Keith. I made it. I don’t want to screw that up.”

To his horror, she had tears in her eyes when he looked at her. “I just don’t have room in my life for you right now. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Just tell her what you feel. “Wow, Kelly. That’s amazing.”

She actually snorted at his statement. “Amazing? It’s pathetic. Poor little orphan girl. How cliché am I?”

“Are you crazy? You beat all the odds. Look at you! Look at all you accomplished. I had no idea you were in school. Where do you find the time? You have two jobs that I know of, volunteer at the animal shelter on weekends, and go to college? Shit, Kel, all I do is pass a six-ounce piece of rubber around the ice. I’m barely good enough to sit next to you.”

“Oh, you’re good enough, Keith, but you scare the hell out of me. I’ve known you for how long, a couple of weeks? And I feel things for you I’ve never felt before. It scares me to death. There’s never been a man in my life who hasn’t disappointed me in some way—not one. I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on men in general, but that’s the way it is. I’m just not ready for a relationship, and you need to know that.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you to be ready, but I’m not going anywhere. You might want to resign yourself to my wanting to be around you, not to mention hitting on you. Speaking of which, that suit is a total turn-on.”

“I purposely wore this because it covers me up so much!” Kelly splashed him and swam away.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Keith swam furiously after her, awed that she was able to put such a large distance between them in a few short seconds. When he reached her, he picked her up in his arms, spun her around, and threw her back into the water. She came up sputtering her indignation.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Laughing all the way, she swam back to him and put her arms around his neck. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

“So am I.” In front of everyone at that party, he kissed her. Right there in the water. Not caring if the whole world saw them. Since she didn’t push him away, he took advantage of being in the water where no one could clearly see his hands and ran them over her hips and bottom, squeezing those plump globes in his hands. He truly couldn’t get enough of her. He knew he was falling for her. She was a ruining him for all other women.

Chapter 7

Sunday morning rolled around and with it, some free time for Keith. The Scorpions had an evening home game, so he had a few hours to kill. He was really missing having a critter in the house and decided to go see Kelly at the animal orphanage.

“What are you doing here?” Kelly’s smile lit up the dank hallway as she came out from the back near the kennels.

“I want a critter. I’m not even sure what kind.”

Her smile grew brighter as she continued her walk toward him. “Yeah? We have a critter here that isn’t as popular as the puppies. Care to take a look?”

“Hmm. It’s not some mutant cat or something, is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. Follow me.”

“Gladly.” He could watch her hips swing all day long. No hardship there. Jesus, that ass!

They got to the end of the hallway, and she opened a door to her left. Keith saw that the room was full of a menagerie of animals. There were snakes, turtles, and even frogs. “You have these kind of guys in the shelter? What the hell is wrong with people?”

“Who knows? At least they don’t kill them or put them out in the wild where they wouldn’t be able to care for themselves anymore. I really try not to think about it too much. It makes the job too hard. I want to take them all home.”

“So, which one is my new buddy?”

Kelly walked over to a cage in the corner of the room and came back with a huge ball of black and white fluff. It had really long ears and big feet. “This little girl is Daisy. She was hit by a car and had a broken leg. She’ll make a great pet, but her leg will never heal well enough to make it back in the wild, so after the vet set her leg, they brought her here to be adopted.” She handed Daisy to Keith and studied his reaction. She was not disappointed by it.

“It’s a bunny. Jesus, Kel. I just lost my man card. I’m in love.” He proceeded to give Daisy little bunny kisses as Kelly’s face softened toward him.

“Wow. Yeah, you did, but it works for you. You’ll take her?”

“Try and stop me. But you’re going to have to teach me how to take care of her. I’ve never had a bunny before.”

“Why don’t you take her cage and water bottle for now? There’s food in there, and I’ll stop over on the way home with her medications and instructions for her. Is that okay?”

Keith was so busy murmuring sweet nothings to his new pet that he didn’t hear what Kelly had said. “Huh?”

She had to laugh at his bonding with Daisy. “I’m going to stop over at your house with stuff for Daisy and show you how to care for her, okay?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. When? I have to leave for the rink around four.” It was only noon so he had time.

“I’m almost done here. I’ll be over in about an hour? I want to stop home and shower first.” No way was she going over to his house smelling like wet dog. Even though she wasn’t going to date him or anything, of course.

“Sure. We’ll see you then. Wait—don’t I have to fill out all kinds of paperwork?”

“I think I can vouch for you.”

“Thanks.” He spoke quietly to Daisy as he gently placed her back in her cage. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home. You’re going to like it there. And I’m going to buy you lots of carrots.”

* * * *

Keith had just gotten Daisy situated after moving his furniture around so that he had a good spot for Daisy in the living room. He wanted her cage up high enough and close enough to the window that she would have something to look at. He’d also stopped at the pet store and bought a huge, round, indoor pen so that he could let her run around a bit in the house while he was home and not have to worry about her chewing on electrical cords. That was where Kelly found them when she knocked on Keith’s door.

“Come in!”

“Oh my God. Aren’t you two cute?” Kelly looked at the sight that greeted her and felt her heart constrict a bit. Keith was actually sitting in the pen, feeding carrots to Daisy.

“Well, hell. I already lost my man card, right? Besides, she likes me in here with her.” He stood up carefully and climbed out of the pen. “Do you think she likes that or is it stupid?”

“Not stupid at all. I’m sure she loves to have some room to run around.” Kelly walked over and gave him the remaining antibiotics for Daisy. “She’s only on them to prevent any infection from the surgery to fix her leg. Other than that, she’s fine. And I brought some food and some chews for her. Here are instructions about getting her teeth filed and recommended vet visits.”

“Thanks, Kelly.” He took the stuff from her and placed it all on the table. He closed his eyes as her scent enveloped him. She smelled so fresh. It was a spring day kind of scent, mixed with her own uniqueness. “You smell great.”

“Thanks. It’s just my soap, I guess. I just got out of the shower a little while ago.”

They stood there staring at each other, heat in their eyes. The only sound came from Daisy, who was munching on a carrot. Keith took one step as Kelly did the same.

“What are we doing, Keith?”

“I don’t know, Kel, I just know it’s beyond my control.” He took the remaining step and drew her body up against his.

“What is this? This chemistry between us? I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“I think it’s just that. Chemistry.” Keith put one hand on the side of her face. “If you don’t leave now, sweetheart, I’m going to make love to you.”

She tried, she really tried to leave. What came out of her mouth totally contradicted what her brain was saying. “God help me, I’m not going anywhere.” Kelly’s hands slid through his hair, tugging him down to her parted lips. It was like an explosion of lust. There was no gentle kissing. Not this time. It was fire and brimstone.

His hands were everywhere. Lips and teeth were rough against her mouth, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Jesus, Keith.”

None too gently, as he was too far gone, he fisted his hand in her hair, baring her neck for the onslaught of his kisses. He licked and nipped her neck until she cried uncle.

“Oh God. No more. Please, Keith I need to feel you inside me.” She clawed at his shirt as he lifted her in his arms. Sparing one glance for Daisy to make sure she was safe in her pen, he strode down the hallway to his bedroom.

Even as she was tearing at his clothes, she said, “This doesn’t change anything. I still don’t want a relationship.”

“Uh-huh.” He was too busy fighting with the button on her jeans to pay much attention to her words. “Fuck, I can’t get these undone.”

Abruptly, Kelly laughed and Keith joined her. “Let’s slow down a little.” Kelly led by example, stepping back and calmly unbuttoning her jeans. When she looked back up, Keith was standing there wearing only his boxer briefs, which were most impressively bulging. “Or not.”

“Come here. Let me finish that for you.” Keith pulled her over to him by her belt loop and finished what she started. When he had her stripped down to her matching pink lace bra and panties, he had trouble catching his breath. “You’re beautiful, Kelly.”

“No, I’m not, but thank you.”

“You’re wrong. You are beautiful.” He caressed her arms, moving around to her back, and down past her bottom to the tops of her thighs. With each touch on her skin, his cock twitched. Slowly, he slanted his lips over hers. She willingly opened for him and his tongue swept inside, absorbing the exquisite taste that was uniquely her.

He led her over to the bed, never breaking contact. “I’m going to take the rest of these barriers off of you now. First this…” He slowly removed her bra, kissing each nipple, pleased as they hardened under his lips. “Then these.”

He took more time removing her panties. Using his teeth, he gently scraped her skin on the way down and kissed his way up, pausing at her thighs. “Open for me, Kel.”

She spread her legs just a fraction of an inch.

“Don’t tease me. Open for me. I want to taste you.” He looked up and saw the heat in her eyes. She scooted up on the bed and opened herself up to him as he’d asked. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Incredible.”

Kelly’s legs closed just a bit as Keith continued to stare at her, but he opened her back up again, using his shoulders as he lay down on the bed between her legs.

He tortured her for what seemed like an eternity with kisses, licks, and love bites. When he finally covered her with his mouth, she arched off the bed, calling his name. Hands fisted in the bedspread, she endured his attentions for almost another full minute before she flew apart in a spectacular orgasm. “Oh God. Fuck! Yes. Ah, that’s good.”

When he’d rung the last of her spasms out of her, he climbed up her body and sat on his heels. “Condom?”

The stricken look on her face would have been comical if not for the fact that he thought he might have to kill himself if he was denied entrance to her body. “I don’t have any. You don’t have one?”

“No. Fuck!”

“I’m on the pill.”

“I’m clean.”

They spoke at the same time.

“Thank God,” Keith said a millisecond before he entered her in one quick thrust that had them both clinging to each other. He wanted to be gentle, but she wrapped her legs around him and pumped her hips up against him. It drove him wild. He was in a near frenzy, fucking her and she was begging for more.

“Oh, Jesus. That’s it. Ahh, right there.” He gave her everything he had. Everything she asked for.

“Christ, Kel. I’m can’t—I’m going to…” He slammed into her faster and harder until he could feel her tightening around his cock. “Oh yeah, baby. That’s good.” He couldn’t hold back any longer and came inside of her with such force, he got dizzy from it. He kept pumping his hips until he knew she had come too.

They were both a sweaty mess as they lay there panting for air. “Holy shit, Keith. That was intense.”

“Yeah. Well, we know we have chemistry.”

Chapter 8

Keith was beginning to think he finally had Kelly in a place where they could talk about dating, when the shit hit the fan.

He was taking shots at Vlad during warm-ups when he saw her. Phoebe was in the stands, waving at him. What the fuck is she doing here? He was shocked—and not in a good way. Tansy was with her as well as Vicki. Pretending not to notice her, he turned back to the guys on the ice.

Late in the third period, the Ducks tied the game. The Scorpions still had plenty of time left, with seven minutes on the clock, to tie it up, but Keith was having a hard time keeping his head in the game.

Phoebe was laughing with her friends, having a grand old time waving every time she thought Keith looked her way. He still hadn’t acknowledged her, and honestly didn’t want to.

He’d never mentioned her to Kelly, and he could see that was a potential problem. Things were starting to go well with Kelly; he even thought he was gaining her trust. He certainly didn’t want Phoebe ruining that.

“Hey, Captain, you coming?”

The commercial break was over and he was due out on the ice. “Yeah, right behind you.” He swung his legs over the boards and took his spot at center ice. He won the face-off and shot the puck forward to Marcoux. Marcoux swung his stick around and passed it to Matty Johnson just before he crossed the blue line. Johnson took it in for a shot as Keith went to the net. Not his usual position, but Marcoux and Johnson were passing the puck around so Keith went in. Marcoux slapped it and it rose off the ice about a foot. Keith put his stick out to deflect it, and it sailed into the goal, pulling them ahead with just two minutes to go.

At the end of those two minutes, they were still up a goal and the crowd went wild. They were on a winning streak with five consecutive wins. It was a good start to the season.

* * * *

Kelly had Keith’s keys and told him she’d wait for him by his truck, instead of making him try to find her. As usual there were a bunch of puck bunnies waiting for the guys to come out. It was the one downfall of their arena. The only thing separating the puck bunnies from the players was a barricade that wasn’t much more than a bike rack.

When Keith saw her waiting for him, a smile broke across his face meant only for her. But it quickly died when he heard that familiar voice calling his name. “Keith! Honey, over here.” She pushed her way past the security guard who grabbed her at the last second before she reached Keith. “Let me go. He’s my boyfriend!”

Kelly looked at Keith, stricken.

“Kelly, I can explain. It’s not what you think.”

“Wow. Those words have never been uttered by a man before. Thanks a lot, Keith. I really thought you were different.” Before she embarrassed herself by bursting into tears, she turned and fled, taking his truck.

“Kelly, wait!” Realizing he had an audience, he turned around and started walking back to the arena, but Phoebe stopped him.

“Keith! Please. Please, can we talk? I flew all the way across the country to see you.”

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was a colossally bad idea, but he turned back around. “I thought you made it pretty clear that you were done with me, Pheebs.”

“I was wrong. I love you and I miss you. Nothing’s the same without you.” Tori snorted in the background, but Phoebe ignored her. “You were right. We can make this work.”

“No, we can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Look. Honey, I know I hurt you. I’m so sorry. Can we at least go back to your place and talk?” She batted her lashes at him. He used to think that was so cute. Now he found it annoying.

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I understand. You can’t say I didn’t try. Let me give you a ride home at least. It’s my fault that girl walked off.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed her acceptance, but he sighed and gave in anyway. He just wanted to get home so he could call Kelly. “Fine.”

* * * *

Upon Keith’s standing orders, the doorman knew to let Kelly up whenever she came by. She had cooled down on her drive home and admitted to herself that it really may not have been what it looked like. She could have been an old friend or even an old girlfriend. What right did she have to judge him before he had a chance to explain himself? It was just so hard for her to trust men.

* * * *

“Bathroom’s over there. Be quick.” Keith hated having Phoebe in his home. She had dropped her friends off at their hotel before taking him back to his place. She had also talked him into letting her come up to use his bathroom.

While she was in there, he greeted Daisy, giving her fresh water, food, and a carrot. She snuffled over to him and rubbed her head against his hand in gratitude. He had just latched the gate on her cage when he heard a knock at the door.

Relief lit his face as he saw who was on the other side of the door. He quickly swung it wide open. “Kelly. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you came over. Come in.” Too late, he remembered his unwanted guest.

“Baby?” Keith turned around to see Phoebe standing there in one of his button-down shirts. And nothing else.

“What the fuck are you doing? Phoebe, go get dressed and leave. I told you I don’t want you here. We’re through.” Keith turned back around to do damage control, but Kelly was long gone. He wanted to follow her, but he realized he didn’t know exactly where she lived. Goddammit! What kind of a guy didn’t know where his girl lived? True, she hadn’t allowed him to take her on a real date yet, but still.

He picked up his phone and sent her a text.

Keith: Kelly, come back. She’s gone, I swear.

Kelly: Well, call her back. She can have you.

Keith: I don’t want her. I want you.

Kelly: Who is she?

Keith: She’s the girl I was dating back in Philly. She didn’t want to move out here, and she walked out on me two months before I came out here.

He stared at his phone waiting for her response and got nothing.

Keith: Kelly, where are you?

Keith: I didn’t know she was coming here!

Keith: Kelly!

Keith: Please believe me. Come back. I miss you.

A half an hour must have gone by while he stood there waiting for his phone to beep before he finally gave up. He grabbed the bottle of scotch out of the cabinet, and parked his ass on the couch. After he’d drank a third of it, he didn’t care about anything.

When another knock sounded at the door, he assumed it was Phoebe. “Go away, Phoebe. For the last time, I don’t want you here!” His voice was slurred from the scotch, but he knew she heard him, even though the knocking got louder and more insistent.

He finally got up and walked unsteadily to the door, ready to go to battle with his ex. But to his delight, for the second time that night, it was Kelly who stood on the other side, and all he could do was smile drunkenly at her. “Aww, you came back to me.”

“She came back, Daisy,” he said over his shoulder.

“You’re drunk. Why?”

“Oh, seemed like a good idea at the time. Best thing that ever happened to me left, and I had no idea where she went. The girl I didn’t want here doesn’t want to leave me alone. You know, that kinda shit.” Keith held the bottle out to her. “Want some?”

“Sure. Can I come in?”

“Uh-huh.” Keith took the bottle back and took another healthy swig. “Stuff’s good, huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not letting you explain. I’m sorry for taking your truck. I’m sorry for leaving like I did.” Kelly believed everything Keith told her. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew he was telling her the truth. His texts were almost frantic. She just knew it in her gut. She decided right then and there that she wouldn’t allow the assholes in her past to ruin her future.

“Yeah? Really? Thanks, Kel.” He moved toward her with purpose. It was like predator and prey, and she had no doubt that she was the prey.

“What…what are you doing?”

“You. In about sixty seconds, I’m going to be doing you.” He pointed to the door behind her. “Right up against that door.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk. Take your clothes off. I could have a bit of a problem with buttons and such, but everything else is working just fine.”

Kelly kind of liked this side of him. Testing him, she asked, “What if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t want to what? Have a couple of mind-blowing orgasms? Take your clothes off, Kelly.” He was already half undressed himself and continued stripping as she watched. “You’re not moving, sweetheart.” He stumbled slightly stepping out of his pants, but regained his balance and stalked over to Kelly.

“I believe I told you twice to take these off, didn’t I? Maybe you don’t like to be told what to do, huh? Okay. How about this?” He leaned in and touched her lips with the barest brush of his.

He tasted like scotch and man—his own special flavor, and she couldn’t get enough. As quickly as she could, she threw her clothes off. She was already wet for him when he ran his hand down over her stomach and into the slick folds, running his thumb over her clit, making her jump.

“That’s what I like. You’re already wet for me.” He took her lips in a demanding kiss and she yielded to him instantly, opening her mouth to him. “I’ll make this up to you later, Kel. I need to fuck you now. Right now.” He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him. In two steps he had her up against his door and had thrust inside of her, making her call out his name.

“You like that, don’t you sweetheart?” He pulled out slowly and stayed there until she begged for more. As he moved in and out of her, she made the most erotic noises. “I’m going to fuck you hard now, Kel. Hard and fast.”

“Fuck, yes! Do it.”

He put one hand under her ass and one hand on the door for leverage and pounded into her over and over until he could barely see, he wanted to come so bad. She raked her nails down his back in the throes of her orgasm, and he jerked as he came deep inside of her.

Hours later, lying in his bed that they had finally made it to, it dawned on her. She loved him. She loved him with all of her being. He had stolen her heart in a few short weeks, and while it was a good feeling, it was also scary as hell. But she was content to see what the future brought to them.

“I love you, too,” she heard his deep voice whisper sleepily next to her. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud.

Epilogue

Almost a year had gone by and Keith and Kelly were still together and as hot as ever. Kelly, for the first time in her life, had a beautiful place to live and never took it for granted.

“Honey, what are you doing over there?” Keith wished she would stop perfecting every little thing in their home. Their little beach house was perfect for them. It wasn’t huge, but was big enough for the two of them, which was all they needed.

“I’m just cleaning up the kitchen, and then I’m going to touch up that paint in the laundry room.”

Keith got up and gathered her in his arms. “No. Come sit with me and watch the sunset.”

“But there are a couple of spots that I didn’t cover. You know…”

“No. Honey, relax. You don’t have to make everything perfect. I promise, you’ll never have to live like you did growing up. Take your time and enjoy fixing things the way you want, okay?” He understood her need to make things perfect, but she needed to trust that it wasn’t going to disappear overnight.

Kelly smiled. It was still hard for her to believe in her good fortune. “Okay. I love you, Keith. You have no idea how much I love our life together.”

“I do, Kel. I feel the same way.”

Keith’s phone rang as they were on their way out to the deck to watch the sun come down.

“Hey, Vlad, what’s up?”

“I didn’t know if you’d heard. Manny’s gone. They’re bringing in my buddy, Jody LaGrange. He’s a hell of a teammate. And a hell of an enforcer. I think you’ll like him. He’ll even be a help to you in the locker room. The boys look up to him.”

“Really? I’m familiar with him. I agree. It’s a good fit.”

Vlad was almost giddy. “I have even better news. Ace is gone. My new backup is a new kid. Cage Booker. Looks like he might be another smart ass, but he can’t be as bad as Ace, can he?”

Keith laughed at Vlad’s enthusiasm. “Well, I guess time will tell.”

# # #

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I have to thank Beth MacMullin. She is the best beta reader who ever existed. Any errors in this novella are mine alone.

Special thanks to Julie Mancini and Alison Blatman, who brought my attention to this awesome anthology. Not to mention the rest of Nikki’s Puck Bunnies, who simply rock!

Thanks to the other authors involved in this most excellent anthology. Raising money for charity is not only needed, it selfishly makes me feel good.

Last, but not least, to the NHL, who gave us the idea of donating our time and efforts. The NHL, time and time again, proves how much they are dedicated to those who are dealing with this awful disease. Cancer has affected almost everyone on the planet. I can almost guarantee that all of us know someone who has it, has had it, or has lost someone to it.

This novella is for all of you.

Connect with Nikki

facebook.com/nikkiworrellauthor

goodreads.com/author/show/6950511.Nikki_Worrell

nikkiworrell.com

twitter.com/FlyGirl_45

amazon.com/-/e/B00DDXRQCG

Epilogue

Thank you again for taking the time to read Seduced by The Game. We hope you enjoyed the stories and our appreciation of hockey.

Please consider leaving a review to help make Seduced by The Game more visible and as such assisting us in raising more funds for the fight against cancer.

If you are interested in current and future efforts we are putting together, please take a moment to visit us at www.SeducedbyTheGame.com

About Coming Together

Coming Together is about giving and about sex—a tantalizing combination in any context. Conceived online in the Literotica®com Authors' Hangout, a forum for erotica writers, Coming Together is the passionate product of many talented individuals.

We were all amateurs when the first erotic cocktail was served in the spring of 2005. In the years since the inaugural volume hit the cyber shelves of Café Press, many of the original contributors have become successful professionals: authors, poets, editors, and artists. To date, Coming Together has compiled over a dozen collections, launched individual full-length and novella lines, and has many more anthologies in the works. I am thrilled with and humbled by both the quantity and quality of the submissions received.

In each volume, we strive for an inclusive mix, embracing the diversity of desire. The causes we champion cross all demographic groups and so, appropriately, does Coming Together. Note, however, that these pages may contain fantastic stories in which the characters do not practice safe sex. Everyone involved with the publication of Coming Together encourages its readers to act responsibly and to take appropriate precautions against both unwanted pregnancy and the transmission of disease.

All proceeds from the sale of this edition of Coming Together will be donated to Hockey Fights Cancer charities.

Bottoms up!

peace & passion,

Alessia Brio

eroticanthology.com

Table of Contents

Introduction

Tangled in the Laces © Toni Aleo

Hooking Hannah © Cassandra Carr & Cindy Carr

Crashing the Boards Seattle Sockeyes--1.5 © Jami Davenport

Taking a Shot Book 2.5 in the Portland Storm series © Catherine Gayle

A Valuable Trade © Jaymee Jacobs

Heir Apparent © V.L. Locey

Blind Pass © Bianca Sommerland

Captain, My Captain © Nikki Worrell

Epilogue

About Coming Together