Page 12 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

C asey Watson.

I spent the night with Casey fucking Watson.

No wonder she wanted to keep her identity a secret.

Over the past week, I’ve come up with every conceivable reason as to why my mystery woman refused to reveal her identity to me.

But it never even crossed my mind that it was because she was Coach’s daughter.

“Fuck,” I breathe, lifting both of my hands to my head as the water rains down on me.

Everyone else has left. I’m finally alone and able to freak the fuck out.

Coach is…Coach is like a father to me.

To all of us.

It fucking kills me that I’ve unknowingly disrespected him.

And not just once, either.

Sure, I may have only spent one night with her, but I’ve thought about my mysterious masked woman constantly over the past week.

Hell, I’ve jerked off daily to my memories of that night.

And now I discover she’s the most forbidden woman in my life.

Pressing my palms to the cold tiles before me, I hang my head as shame, regret, and disbelief rush through my veins.

I should have known.

How the fuck didn’t I know?

A frustrated groan rumbles deep in my throat as I tip my face to the ceiling, letting the water rush over my skin. Unable to contain it, my lips part and a loud roar erupts as my fist slams against the tiles.

But it doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything will.

Turning off the water, I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and head back to my stall to get dressed.

My heart jumps into my throat when I find one of our third-line defensemen with his pants halfway up his legs and a guilty expression on his face.

He’s a rookie fresh out of college. Green as fuck but cocky as hell.

I remember it well.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I-I wasn’t listening or anything.”

I glare at him, and he dresses even faster than before.

“I wanted to put in an extra hour at the gym and?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I bark.

He slams his lips together and swallows nervously.

Ripping my eyes from him, I continue toward my stall.

He doesn’t say another word.

I’m not surprised.

I’ve got quite a reputation around here. One that I’m more than happy about.

The second he’s dressed, he shoves his stuff into his bag and disappears, muttering a quiet goodbye and see you tomorrow as he flees.

“Fuck’s sake,” I groan once I’m alone again.

Pulling my cell from my bag, I open up a browser and search my name for recent news.

Just like she promised, there is nothing about a wild night of debauchery after the masquerade ball.

I didn’t think it was possible. Why else would a woman want to spend the night with me ?

I’m a miserable motherfucker with a job that has me away from home half the time and a daughter that takes up the rest.

I’m more than aware that I’m nothing more than a paycheck and a boost up the social ladder for women.

It’s why I don’t do what I did that night.

But now I understand why our tryst hasn’t hit the headlines.

Selling her story would put her at risk.

Sure, she could do it anonymously, but these things have a way of being uncovered.

Clearly, that’s too much of a risk for her.

So why do it in the first place?

Why risk turning up to an event where numerous people could recognize her?

She could have any man she wants. A man not on our roster.

I take the long way home in the hope that the drive will give me some clarity.

It doesn’t.

As I pull up my driveway, my head is still a mess, but the sight of the front door opening and Sutton running out with a smile on her face just about drags me from my thoughts.

Killing the engine, I push the door open and climb out just as she launches herself at me.

“Hey, Peanut,” I say, lifting her into my body.

Her little arms wrap around my neck, and I blow out a long breath as I hold her.

When my world is in chaos, she is the only one who can bring me back to Earth.

“Have you had a good day?”

“We baked cookies,” she says excitedly. “Come and try one. They’re still warm.”

“Try and stop me,” I say as I lower her to her feet. “How was school?”

“Meh,” she says, waving off the question as if it isn’t important.

I smirk. She reminds me so much of me when I was a kid.

If it wasn’t hockey, I didn’t want to know.

“How did you get on with your spelling test?” I press.

She spent an hour going over and over her list of words last night.

Just like me, she struggles academically. I wish I could make it all easier for her. But unfortunately, there is no easy fix.

I just hope that she keeps trying to overcome it. I’d hate to see her give up because it’s too hard.

"Yeah, it was okay,” she says before running back to the house.

“Sutton,” I warn as I follow her.

Swinging the front door closed behind me, my nose leads me toward the scent of freshly baked cookies in the kitchen.

“Eight out of ten,” Sutton says as she studies the cookies to select the one she wants me to have.

I beam, so fucking proud of her. “Peanut, that’s amazing.”

She shrugs. “Still got two wrong,” she mutters under her breath.

“And I missed two attempts at scoring during practice today. I still sunk eight into the net, though,” I say, hoping she sees it differently if I bring a puck into it.

Her eyes lift, a smile lighting up her face.

“You should do that in a game. Everyone would lose their minds if you scored eight.”

“Exactly. Just like I’m losing my mind over the fact you worked really hard for that spelling test and got eight right. It’s amazing.”

Color rises on her cheeks.

“Going to get ten next week,” she states.

“Me too,” I tell her, lifting my hand for a high five. “Thank you,” I say, taking the oatmeal and raisin cookie she offers me. “Oh my god,” I mumble around a mouthful. “These are amazing.”

Her smile grows, proud of herself.

“So, what are we doing for dinner tonight?” I ask, turning to look at our weekly planner.

“Tacos,” Sutton cries excitedly.

“Ah, yes. It’s Friday.”

Sutton does a little celly dance before dragging her stool to the refrigerator so she can get the ingredients out.

Cooking with Sutton is one of my favorite things to do. Hell, anything with her is my favorite. But after a long day of training, it’s the perfect time to catch up.

She tells me about her day at school, giving me all the gossip before she turns it on me and asks all about my practice and training session.

She eats up all the details like she always does as she chops peppers like a pro.

Obviously, I don’t say anything about my big revelation of the day, but thoughts of that moment on the ice when I looked into her eyes and my entire world crashed around my feet are right at the forefront of my mind.

I fucked Casey Watson.

Coach is going to kill me.

I shake my head, lost in my own thoughts.

No. He won’t, because he’s never going to find out.

“Go and get cleaned up,” I say as I put the cooked ground beef into a bowl and slide it across the island.

Movement across the yard catches my eye, and I watch as Mom lets herself out of the pool house.

Noticing me, she lifts her hand in a little wave, but she doesn’t come over.

She’s a fucking angel.

Honestly, I don’t know what Sutton and I would do without her.

From the moment Sutton’s mom left without a backward glance, my mom stepped up.

She already had Dad to look after, but that didn’t stop her.

She allowed me to continue playing the game I love, all the while knowing that my daughter was being cared for.

The thought of employing a nanny and trusting them with my baby girl is terrifying.

And there was very little chance I would meet anyone and leave the job to them.

Mom is our guardian angel.

Tonight, she’s going out with the group of friends she’s made here.

She was reluctant at first, but I refused to let her follow us here and then just hide away in the pool house.

She deserves to get out and enjoy herself. She deserves friends. Hell, if it happens, I’d love for her to find someone again. Of course, it’ll be weird as fuck to see her with someone who isn’t Dad, but she deserves to have that kind of love in her life again.

“I’m ready,” Sutton squeals, sliding across the kitchen tiles in her socks.

Hopping up onto the stool beside me, she immediately dives into dinner.

She makes up two tacos before diving in as if she’s the one who’s been training for our first exhibition game all day.

We spend the evening hanging out watching ESPN. I can imagine it’s not what most dads and daughters do together on a Friday night. But to us, it’s perfect.

“You’re coming to my game Sunday, right?” she asks, hope in her eyes.

“Of course.” She asks me that before every game she knows I’m home for. As if I’d miss a single one.

I live for Sutton’s games even more than I do my own.

Her smile grows.

“Good. I’m better when you’re watching.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

W ith Sutton tucked in bed, I take another shower in the hope of washing the day off me before dropping my ass to the couch again.

Unease continues to drip through my veins. Questions over what I should do next race through my head.

The sensible side of my brain tells me to just ignore it all.

She told me very confidently that it was one night and one night only.

So what, I now know who she is?

That doesn’t really change anything.

Does it?

She was happy to have one night with me and then continue with her life like nothing happened.

If she hadn’t turned up at the rink earlier—if I hadn’t turned around and looked her in the eyes—I never would have figured it out.

I’d be sitting here now, blissfully unaware that the woman I can’t get out of my head is the daughter of my coach.

The daughter we’ve all been very firmly told to stay away from.

If I’d known…

A bitter laugh spills from my lips as I consider what would have happened if I had found out.

At what point would I have stopped it?

What would I have done if she’d removed her mask when I’d asked her to?

Freak out. That’s what I would have done.

My stomach knots tighter as I think about how I’ve betrayed Coach.

If he finds out…my life here could be over.

He could trade me in a heartbeat.

I may have only had one season here in LA, but it feels...right.

Sutton is happy here. She loves her team, and school—mostly. And Mom has friends who are helping to bring her back to life. I can’t rip that away from her.

And anyway, if I don’t ignore it—ignore her—like it never happened, what’s the other option?

Talk to her?

I shake my head. I can’t do that.

I can’t be anywhere fucking near her.

My memories are enough.

The thought of having her scent in my nose again is just too much .

The only thing I can do is remember what she so confidently said.

She wanted a one-night thing.

It was enough for her, so it has to be enough for me.

I’m putting Casey Watson and our night together firmly behind me.

I have a season to focus on.