Page 7

CHAPTER 7

REPUTATION

KAYDEN

I swear every Boston woman under the age of seventy is in this bar tonight. It's almost wall-to-wall, and every one of them is trying to get close enough to see us—and be seen by us—in the dim lighting. Normally, this is exactly what I'd want after the kind of game I played tonight.

"Best part of hockey, right?" Sammy shouts to be heard over the pulsing music. When I look up, he points at a group of women staring at us. They're blonde, skinny, and beautiful. Perfect. Any other night, I'd flash a smile and wave them over. Tonight, the melting ice in my drink is more interesting.

I notice that Sammy doesn't make a move toward the women either. For a brief moment, his smile fades into a quiet sigh before he turns back toward the table with his trademark grin.

"You two want me to be wingman for you?" Poppy asks in his thick accent. "I am great with ladies, if you know what I mean." He winks so dramatically I swear I can hear his eyelid close. Sitting beside Poppy, on the other side of the table from me and Sammy, Brant just shakes his head.

"I'll take your word for it, Poppy." Nikita Poporov is one of the best defenders in the league, but he's also gay. And devoted to his amazing husband.

I let my eyes drift over the crowd. The group of women is still staring at us, and now they're working their way closer. The bar has just enough security to make sure no one can ever make it to our table, but these women are determined to get as close as they can.

They're undeniably sexy. And we're here to celebrate our huge opening day win. But not one of them sparks a single thing inside me. It's a problem that started last season and has apparently stretched into this one. The idea of a hookup just seems hollow. I'm not attracted to anyone anymore.

Except Emory.

The thought freezes me just as I'm about to take a drink. The only woman I've been attracted to in the last nine months is the one who can't stand me.

But that's for the best. She's the one woman who might tempt me to try for something more. I know what would happen if I did, though. I saw it firsthand, and I could never do that to someone.

"Hey, Boston to Bouche!" Sammy waves a hand in front of my face. "Your phone's about to vibrate right off the table."

I look down to find my phone dangerously close to the edge. The screen lit with an incoming call. Mattias Baumiller, my agent. Why would he be calling now? He knows we won, so he must know we're out celebrating. I push the phone away from the edge and do my best to ignore it, but as soon as the screen goes dark, he calls again.

This time, I slide my chair away from the table and answer as I make my way through the crowd. "Give me a minute, Mattias. Let me get some place where I can hear you."

I hold the phone to my ear as I make my way through the bar until I get outside. I give a quick nod to the bouncer as I walk past to let him know I'll be right back. I hope he'll stop anyone who might try to follow me, but I walk around the corner, just to be safe.

"Hey Mattias, got good news already? Let me guess, the GM saw my game and sent a contract offer right away? Double what we were asking for. No, triple in honor of my hat trick."

"Where are you right now, Kayden?"

I lean against a cold brick wall and look up. The buildings in this part of town are old, and the only light on the street comes from old gas lamps that have been converted to electric lights. There are still a few people walking down the street, but it's Sunday evening and getting late. "Just some bar. Why? Are you in Boston? We could meet up."

"Please tell me you don't have some woman sitting on your lap or on your arm or however it is you pick them up?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The GM might have seen your game. He probably did. But the new owners of the Sting definitely saw your press conference after the game."

I replay it in my head, trying to think of anything I might have said, good or bad. "And?"

"And the old ownership group didn't give a shit, but this is a family running things now. They want the team to reflect their family values."

"Oh, good. But if they're thinking of doing something about that reporter who asked the sexist question, ask them to wait, please. He's new, so he deserves a chance to do better."

He sighs and falls silent for several seconds. "He's not the one they're worried about. You are."

"Me?"

"They're not sure a player with your reputation is a good fit for the image they want to project. Even if you are the best damn center in the league."

"You don't mean…" The narrow street is spinning, and I have to turn and put a hand on the wall to hold everything still. "They still want to re-sign me, right? We're just negotiating numbers…" My voice is so shaky, I'm not sure how he can understand me.

"I'll do my best to handle it, kid, but they aren't happy about this. At all. So, whatever plans you had for the rest of the night, cancel them. Go back to your hotel room right now. Alone. Read that book you talked about. Binge a show. I don't give a shit, but whatever you do, you cannot give the media or these new owners more ammunition. If you do, I may not be able to control what happens. Got it?"

I don't think my heart has beat in over a minute, and it's all I can do to not drop to the sidewalk. "Yeah. Got it." I hang up and let my forehead fall forward against the bricks.

Mattias has been my agent since I turned pro, and in all of those years, he's never once seemed overly dramatic to me. That's what makes this so frightening. Salt Lake City is my home. The boys on that team are my family. The only real family I've ever had. I will not lose them. No matter what it takes, I will not lose my family.