Page 4 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Ryker

“Vodka shots for everyone! On me!” Xander Williams, the star center of the Bashers, yells. The entire bar cheers.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Spanky’s is packed. This is the dive bar that my teammates and I hang out at after games and practices. It’s rundown as fuck with dingy carpet, rickety tables and chairs, and flatscreen TVs mounted over the bar that don’t even work half the time.

But the drinks are good and the owners are cool. It’s hardly ever this crowded, though.

Most of our teammates showed up to this gathering that Xander invited everyone to. A bunch of the team staff members are here also to ring in the New Year.

Nathan, the equipment manager, and Eddie, one of the team’s physical therapists, wave at me as they head to the bar. Xander walks over to me with a tray of vodka shots.

“Georgie! Take one!” he slurs through a grin, totally shitfaced.

I roll my eyes. I hate that fucking nickname. “I’m not drinking tonight.”

He makes a mock pouty face. “You’re no fun.” A second later, he downs a shot. “More for me!”

I roll my eyes and fight a smile at how goofy as fuck he is. This guy is sunshine on steroids. Always happy and joking. Pretty much the opposite of my serious ass.

He slaps my back and slides next to me in the booth I’m sitting at, then gulps down a full glass of water.

He sets down the empty glass. “So. Why no alcohol for you?”

“I’m injured. Alcohol causes inflammation. I can’t be drinking if I want to recover properly.”

He squints at me like that’s the most profound thing he’s ever heard and nods.

“Wow. Yeah. That makes sense,” he drunkenly murmurs.

“Besides. Someone’s gotta be DD for you drunken assholes.”

I peer around the bar. Almost all the guys on the team are drinking beer or downing shots. I’m the only one sticking to water.

Xander grabs my shoulder and pulls me in for a hug. I wince. Jesus, he’s a strong hugger when he’s drunk.

“We don’t need DDs anymore, dude! We have Uber! And Lyft!” he says.

“Do you know how much a ride on either of those costs on New Year’s Eve?”

He just chuckles and waves a hand. “Come on, dude. We can afford it.”

He’s not wrong. Every player in here is a millionaire many times over.

Xander looks straight ahead, his brow hitting his hairline. “Oh shit!” He bursts out laughing and points to the bar. I look over and see our teammate Theo Thompson making out with his wife, Maya, at the bar. They’re going at it like it’s the end of the world.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“Yeah, Thompson! Kiss the fuck out of your lady!” Xander hollers and raises an empty glass at them. Theo raises a thumbs-up while continuing to make out with his wife.

“New Year’s is a special day for them,” Xander says. “That’s the night they met. They got married on New Year’s Eve too. I was the best man.”

I shake my head and look away from my linemate’s public makeout.

A second later, Sophie Porter, the team’s doctor and Xander’s fiancee, walks over and sits on his lap.

The drunken haze in his eyes clears up as gazes at her. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She beams. “Hey.”

He presses his mouth to hers, and I silently hope that they don’t start making out. I can’t take much more PDA. Thankfully their kiss is just a couple of seconds long.

Sophie brushes a chunk of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face and smiles at me. “Hey, Ryker. Having fun?”

“A blast,” I mutter.

She chuckles at my unenthusiastic tone. “How are your knee and ankle feeling?”

“Fine.” I’m actually telling the truth. Even though I almost always downplay how I’m feeling when I’m injured, I wouldn’t lie to Sophie.

She’s so kind-hearted and cares about all of us on the team.

Not to mention, she’s an actual genius. She went to medical school when she was a teenager and is the youngest team doctor in NHL history at twenty-six.

She’s smart enough to tell if I’m lying.

“As much as I hate to admit it, missing the last couple weeks’ worth of games has helped a lot,” I say.

She nods once and smiles. “Quality, uninterrupted rest will do that. Along with consistent physical therapy, enough sleep, and a good diet.”

I hold up my glass of water. “Cheers to that.” I check the time. “Speaking of sleep, I’d better take off and head to bed.”

I nod at Xander so I can slip out. He slides himself and Sophie out of the booth, and I start to walk off.

“Dude! Wait!” Xander grabs my arm. “Who are you gonna kiss at midnight?” A worried look mars his sleepy-drunk expression. Sophie smiles and rolls her eyes.

“No one. Happy New Year, you two.”

“Happy New Year, Ryker,” Sophie says.

I weave my way through the crowded space toward the entrance.

“I just can’t believe what a jerk Ryker was.”

A familiar voice stops me in my tracks. I turn around and see Maddy standing at the bar, talking to Ingrid. From where I am, they can’t see me.

“It was so obvious how little he thought of me,” Maddy says. “I’d bet anything it’s because I’m a woman. He definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who likes to be told what to do by someone with a vagina.”

There’s a slight slur in her speech, and her cheeks are pink. She’s drunk.

“That’s weird he was so rude to you,” Ingrid says. “I mean, he’s a serious and gruff guy for sure, but I’ve never thought of him as rude.”

“Thanks, Ingrid,” I say.

They both turn to look at me. Ingrid smiles like she’s flustered; Maddy glares at me.

For a second, I’m thrown off by how beautiful she looks. Her long hair is styled in soft waves, and she’s wearing this bold red lip color. It’s the same color as the low-cut top she’s wearing. I let my gaze run along the length of her body. That tight pair of dark jeans makes her ass look amazing.

I stare at her high-heeled boots, which make her as tall as Ingrid. Still nowhere near as tall as me.

Heat flickers across my skin at how sexy she is.

If tonight had been my first time seeing Maddy, I’d check her out from across the bar while taking a shot to work up the nerve to talk to her. She’s exactly my physical type: tall and fit with cute boobs and a nice, plump ass. And that red hair. I’ve always had a thing for redheads.

I wonder what she’d think if she knew how attractive I found her in this moment. I bet she’d slap me.

My skin burns even hotter. Why do I like the idea of her slapping me so much?

Because it’s been a year since you’ve had sex. And she’s hot. And you have a thing for women who are feisty.

I shove away the thought.

“Ryker’s not rude to you because you’re not in charge of training him,” Maddy says to Ingrid while keeping her eyes on me.

“Ingrid seems qualified for the job she has. I can’t really say the same about you,” I say, irritated that she believes this is the reason I refuse to work with her.

Maddy death-scowls at me. “Just admit you don’t like the idea of a woman training you.”

“I won’t. Because that’s not true. I don’t care if a man or a woman trains me, as long as they’re good at their job. You’re not.”

Maddy steps forward and presses her finger into my chest. “You don’t know that. You haven’t even worked with me yet.”

Ingrid lets out a flustered chuckle and steps between us. Gently, she pulls Maddy back.

“Okay, you two. Clearly you got off on the wrong foot.” Ingrid looks between us before focusing on Maddy. “Ryker can be a little rough around the edges. He probably came off a little harsh.” She turns to me. “Right?”

“Only a little,” I say.

Maddy aims an annoyed look at me.

Ingrid sighs as she looks at me. “Maddy is an Olympic athlete. A freaking bronze medalist. Maybe she’s never trained anyone before, but I guarantee you could learn a thing or two from her,” Ingrid says sweetly.

Just then, Maya runs up to her and grabs her arm. “It’s sex on the beach time!”

Ingrid gets pulled away to the other side of the bar, where she and Maya down two glasses of the brightly colored cocktail.

“She’s right. I could teach you a lot,” Maddy says, arms crossed over her chest. So damn defiant.

This was supposed to be a fun evening out, and now I have to listen to this know-it-all rich girl tell me off.

“I’m not entrusting my recovery to someone who’s never done this kind of work before. I don’t have that kind of time.”

“Because you’re old?” She quirks an eyebrow.

That irritation amps up. “Everyone is old compared to you. You’re what, twenty-two?”

She leans back like she’s offended. “I’m twenty-seven.”

I almost laugh at how defensive her tone is.

“You could have fooled me.” I nod at her half-finished vodka cranberry juice sitting next to her on the bartop. “You drink like an infant.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” she repeats, her tone petulant.

“You sure? You look young for your age,” I taunt. “I bet your favorite food is a Happy Meal.”

She stares daggers at me. She’s so fucking pissed. I almost laugh.

“My favorite food is baked potato soup, which isn’t even—” She presses her eyes shut and shakes her head. “You know what? Never mind.” When she opens her eyes, she’s glowering at me. “You look really old. What are you, fifty?”

I smirk at her. “I’d be the best-looking fifty-year-old on this planet.”

She scoffs, but her eyes fall to my chest. She runs her gaze down my torso, then back up to my shoulders.

The blue Henley I’m wearing is a little tight, but it was the only halfway decent shirt in my closet that was clean…

and it does a decent job of showing off all the muscle I’ve put on this season in my chest and arms.

She swallows hard before looking back up at my face. Her eyes are shy, on the edge of flustered, like a little kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

It gives me a strange boost to my ego. Maddy doesn’t like me, but she seems to like looking at my body.

An amused feeling flickers in my chest.

“I don’t look like any fifty-year-olds you’ve ever seen before, do I, princess?”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It suits you pretty well, I think. You’re the daughter of a billionaire. You think you’re entitled to this skating coach job even though you have no actual work experience. That’s textbook princess behavior,” I taunt.

A storm brews in her eyes as she glowers at me.

“You’re right about one thing though,” I say, my tone turning serious. “In the hockey world, I’m old. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to work with you. I need someone who’s experienced and knows what the hell they’re doing so that I recover properly and don’t get injured again.”

I start to walk off until I hear her voice.

“One training session,” Maddy says. “All I want is one training session with you to show you what I can do. If you don’t see the results you want, then I’ll quit. You can find a different skating coach, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

I exhale sharply, annoyed at how much she’s pushing this, but also impressed at how tenacious she is. This rich girl doesn’t give up, I’ll give her that.

“Fine,” I say. “But I’m not waiting a month to do this with you. It needs to be sooner.”

“Next Monday at 8 a.m.,” she says without missing a beat. “Meet me at the rink.”

I walk off without saying a word, eager for that training session so I can be rid of this spoiled princess once and for all.