Page 1

CHAPTER

ONE

REECE

“ B ishop!” Coach shouted, running his hand over his bald scalp, apparently so irritated that he knocked the Copperheads cap right off his head. “Why the fuck is your wife here again? You two joined at the hip?”

“It’s for morale. The men love her treats. They love talking to her and I figured today they could use a dose of good.”

“She doesn’t need to constantly feed them treats. They’ll lose their edge.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jones said around a mouthful of lemon square. I had to admit, the woman made a damn good lemon square.

“Have I lost my edge?” Bishop argued at the same time. “They’re high in protein, low in carbs, and taste great. The macros are excellent for a workout. And honestly, telling Jayce not to bake is like telling the sun not to shine.”

“Whatever,” Coach mumbled. “Take a seat.”

I got he was pissed, but taking it out on Bishop’s wife made him look like an ass. She was one of the good ones, and yeah, we all enjoyed her baked goods. Way too much. She’d trained in France I thought, but not my monkey, not my circus .

Bonner dropped into the seat to the left of Bishop. Those two were tight. I dropped down in the seat to his right with Antonov next to me.

The four men down the line from Bishop, Antonov, Winstead, Bonner, and Dallas all looked torn up with Bonner being the worst of them.

The smell of bad decisions wafted off our starting wing.

He’d been making a lot of bad decisions in recent months, but he hadn’t started it this time.

Still, it served them right for not walking away.

“Shut it,” Coach shouted. “I don’t have time to listen to your excuses.

This is a team. You live by the team and die by the team—that means, one of you fucks up, then you all face the consequences.

” There were some groans from the others in the room, but not as many as I bet Coach wanted.

The man got off on being a major asshole on a good day, so having to bring us in here today, I figured he was about to go Hulk smash on the lot of us.

“The other dude started it,” Bonner called out.

“Does my face say I give a shit? You’re on thin ice enough as it is, Bonner.

Yesterday was the last time I get a call about a goddamn bar brawl.

TMZ has paps stalking every move you make.

Your extracurriculars play out like a spectator sport for the masses.

It’s making the team look bad. You know who cares if the team looks bad?

Logue.” Logue, the team owner. “The man who pays your salaries. You know who he’s taking it out on?

” Coach jutted his thumb at his chest. “Me. I will not take the blame for the shit you do outside the rink.”

A few of our teammates shot daggers at me, Bishop, and Jones. We were just sitting here. Bishop and Jones were family men and me, I never fought. Not anymore. I liked to lose myself in a sweet, tight pussy. Bonus points if she let me take her ass.

Coach went on. “You get paid to play hockey, not to fuck and fight. You want to fight, turn to boxing. You want to fuck, make porn—but you won’t be doing it while employed as a Copperhead.”

What the fuck did he mean by that? Fight or fuck ? We were allowed to let off steam. It was essential to keep focused.

“A new rule is going into effect today. No more picking up women in bars. The one-night stands are done for the time being, and no more drunken episodes. Clubbing is out. You violate these rules and you’re looking at suspension.”

Wait a goddamn second—this just became my monkey and my circus. “You can’t threaten our jobs because of consensual sex,” I shouted.

“One-night stands talk. They give interviews. I’m not saying don’t fuck, but get yourself a steady piece of ass. That’s it. Get to the ice.”

After taking a moment to calm down and not break Bonner’s neck, I ran my hand down my face, taking in a few slow breaths and then when I felt in control, I joined my teammates in the locker room.

A few stragglers stayed behind, including me so I could finish dressing, when there was a knock on the door and Bree, the chick who cleaned the locker room, stuck her head in.

“Everyone decent?” she called into the room.

“Well, we’re dressed,” Dallas, our backup goalie, said, laughing as Bree pushed her cleaning cart inside. “But I’m willing to rectify that if you are,” he finished.

“Did your mother name you Wi-Fi?” she quipped.

“What?” He laughed. “No.”

“Must be why there’s no connection.”

I coughed out a, “ Loser .”

Good for him having the balls to try. Even in an ugly uniform, she was still one of the hottest pieces to grace this city.

If I had to guess, I’d say she might have been early twenties—maybe eight or nine years younger than me.

That long, curly hair I longed to run my fingers through at least once, not to mention her curves.

Those curves got her dancing at a local strip club called “Slits.” This always seemed like a pretty good job, so who knew why she chose to dance there.

We’d found out when some of the guys brought Winstead there the night he’d signed his contract. They’d given the rest of us the lowdown. Fucking wish I’d gone with. Apparently, her tits were fashioned by the gods, and she manicured but didn’t shave her pussy. Exactly as I liked it.

You’d think that looks like that would make her a bitch to deal with, but not Bree.

Every man in the club liked her as much as they wanted in her pants.

Even just then, turning down Dallas, she could’ve gone after his manhood, but she’d gone with ‘no connection’ instead.

To tell the truth, as far as I knew, she didn’t have a man or a woman and that shocked the hell out of me.

Straight men and lesbians alike, whatever floated her boat, would know you locked that shit down for the long haul.

When she looked at me and smirked, damn, the things I wanted to do to that mouth. “You guys going to practice or did you hire stunt doubles?” she asked. “Either way, I’ve got a locker room to clean, so I need you to scoot.”

“One of these days, beautiful Bree,” Antonov said, “I’ll make your dreams come true.” He winked, laughing like an ass, walking to the door.

“When you find out what they actually are, I’ll let you.” She moved her cart out of the way to give us room to leave.

“I know what they are,” Dallas said in passing.

“But alas”—she sighed—“you’re leaving us.”

Dallas knew her dreams?

Whatever. No time to dissect that. I was the last on the ice, taking my place in front of the goalie box, and for the next several hours, I zoned, stopping puck after puck.

I loved the game. I loved the rush. When it came down to it, games were won and lost with the goalie. You put the biscuit in the basket, you scored. My job was to keep that from happening. If I didn’t, we lost. I showed up to win, not lose.

After practice, my stomach grumbled loudly, ready to consume itself, and I remembered Jaycee had brought those treats, but I’d forgotten to grab a couple before practice, what with the bomb Coach had dropped on us. Time to make Mr. Tummy happy.

Bishop, Jaycee, Jones, and Bonner stood in front of the craft service table when I entered the conference room and walked up to grab a plate. “What do you have for us today?” I asked.

She smiled. The woman truly had a gorgeous smile. It lit up her whole face. “Aside from the lemon bars, I brought a new recipe. Chocolate peanut butter protein Danish.”

“How the fuck do you make a protein Danish?”

“Talent,” she replied. Yeah, I liked her. While taking my fill, I noticed a book sitting on the table and picked it up.

“‘Fake boyfriend’?” I asked. “What the hell is a fake boyfriend? Like a blowup doll? Who’s reading shit about blowup dolls?”

“It’s mine,” Jaycee said, snatching it from my hand.

“And no—it’s not about a blowup doll. It’s a pretty popular romance trope.

For whatever reason, a woman needs a boyfriend but doesn’t have one or even want one, so a man will agree to play her boyfriend in return for something.

It’s a business deal. No feelings involved.

But since it’s a romance, feelings develop. ”

“And you read this? An intelligent woman like you?”

“Yes. And I love it.”

“But that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Don’t knock romance,” Bishop put in. “Most of those authors are women and they have some dirty minds. Jayce and I do this thing?—”

“I have him help me try out the love scenes in real life.”

“You need help with that already?” I shot back .

He laughed. “Nope. But when your wife enjoys sex, she wants a hell of a lot more of it.”

“Can confirm,” Jones said.

“Never had a woman complain,” I said, keeping the volley going.

“Maybe not, but I’m not talking about just any woman, I’m talking about a wife.

The person closest to you in the world. Your best friend.

” Bishop dropped his arm around Jaycee’s shoulders, pulling her in closer to his body while pinning her with those gaggy, lovestruck eyes.

I had nothing against happy couples, but come on.

The more you tried to convince me of your happiness, the more I suspected you probably weren’t.

“I’d be lost without Lexi,” Jones said. “So I spend my life trying to make her happy—and that doesn’t mean always buying her shit, which I do sometimes, but being present. Taking care of her needs. If some of those needs happen to be in the bedroom, it’s all the better for the both of us.”

“Right, well, I’m not married and don’t ever plan to be, so I’ll leave you both to your books. I’m good.”

The pussy-whipped assholes had the nerve to laugh at me. I rolled my eyes at the both of them and got the hell out of there.

On my way home, a call came in from my mom. I never ignored a call from her. We were tight. The call connected to my truck.

“Hey, Ma, what’s up?”

“Oh, I was missing my boy today.”

“Everything okay? You sound off.”

“It’s been one of those weeks. You know how it goes.”

“I can fly up on Sunday, but we’ve got games Friday and Saturday.”

“Well, we get Friday and Monday off for mid-semester break. I was hoping to see you play Saturday night, but I don’t want to cramp your style. ”

“What the fuck kind of nonsense is that? ‘Cramp my style’? You want Friday, Saturday, or both? I’ll have the tickets waiting. Thursday night good? Come after work.”

“Thank you, Baker. That sounds wonderful.”

We talked a little more about how she’d been doing.

I wanted her to know I always had her back since she’d started going through her health things a few years ago.

We thought she’d kicked the cancer, but it’d since come back twice .

I hated her getting sick. I hated that she didn’t get decades more to enjoy her life.

Our time together was limited and whether we talked about it or not, we both knew it.

Growing up, she’d been all I had, but I’d never wanted for anything.

That woman made it possible for me to follow my dreams. I owed her everything.

With the way she sounded, I no longer felt like going home. Once we hung up, I clicked my blinker to turn around, and headed for a hole-in-the-wall dump that I knew well.

The paps never hung out around there.

“Reece,” the bartender, Mike, tonight wearing a Copperheads T-shirt, called out to me as he pulled a draft for a customer, tipping his chin up. “Been a minute.”

I swore the man only owned two shirts. One for the Copperheads and one from this bar called The Road Rash from somewhere up in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“Some of the team were hounding me about hanging out. They preferred to go clubbing.”

The man scrunched his face in that he’d eaten a handful of Sour Patch Kids way.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was as bad as you imagine, especially when some of them started acting like real assholes. We got chewed out by Coach today. The only media coverage we’re allowed has to be game-related.”

He shrugged his head. “Then you’ll be safe here. What can I get you?”

“Whiskey. ”

“A whiskey kind of night? Must have been one hell of an ass chewing.”

“We’re not allowed to pick up women because one-nighters talk.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” I replied as he slid the whiskey in front of me and I shot it back, coughing out, “ Another .”

He poured me another. “Got any friends? Women in your life you trust?”

“No, why? To find me low-key hookups?”

“I was thinking more friends with benefits. Me and my old lady started out that way. Best sex of my life led to the best decision of my life.”

“Not looking for an old lady.”

“But you still need to fuck. Way I see it, that’s your best bet. I couldn’t keep us just friends. You know what you want, or in this case, don’t want, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Huh… Something to think about at the very least. But did I know any women I’d want to take to my bed who wouldn’t want more from me?

The only women I talked to anymore belonged to men on my team and people could say a lot of shit about me with most of it being true, but I’d never, never go after a friend or teammate’s woman.

I stayed around for one more round before calling it a night. Mike’s point held merit. If I could find a woman who wanted a no-strings-attached kind of arrangement like me, I’d be set.

Now where the hell did I find a woman like that?