Page 5

It’s rare that I feel like a complete douche. Yeah, I make some dumb decisions, but I’ve never felt worse than I do right now. To know that I may have made Becca feel threatened? Fucking hell.

“You alright, Jax? You’re looking like you want to take that treadmill out back and beat the shit out of it,” Gabe Dawson, my teammate, comments. While we aren’t in training camp just yet, those of us who live in Denver all year round still meet up to work out and get some ice time a couple times a week. Our other buddies, Grant McNally and Levi Quinn look on with interest.

I sigh. “It’s nothing. Well, mostly nothing.”

“Ah shit,” Grant says as he jumps off the elliptical, coming over to rest his hands on the edge of the treadmill. “What did you do?”

I look around the cardio room at the Sports Facility Zone, where every state-of-the-art machine known to man resides for the professional athletes of Denver to use. Just to the west of downtown, all kinds of practice facilities are available for us. We share an arena downtown with the NBA for our games, but the majority of our time is spent at SFZ. The football team occasionally works out here, but they have their own private space next to the massive stadium north of here.

“Earth to Jax,” Levi says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Seriously, what did you do?”

“Nothing major,” I start, and Grant rolls his eyes.

“Famous last words.”

“No, really. I just accidentally made a girl feel threatened. Like she wasn’t safe. With me. I don’t think she exactly felt threatened by me, but she definitely didn’t feel safe with me.”

“That really doesn’t make much sense,” Gabe says.

I let out a loud exhale, looking up to the ceiling. “There’s this girl.”

“Obviously,” Grant says dryly.

“And we’ve had a couple of run-ins.”

“Is that code for you’ve fucked her a couple of times?” Levi asks.

“No, I literally mean run-ins. She actually ran into me once, and the other time I was on a run when we crossed paths.”

“Okay? So what’s the issue?” Gabe asks.

I squeeze my eyes closed and blurt out, “I recognized her, and so I asked a friend of a friend who works with her to give me her address. I showed up there this morning, because I knew what time she had to be at work, and all I wanted to do was offer to walk with her, but it freaked her out, because she’d had a stalker in the past. And now I feel like such a fucking dumbass.”

Silence.

Opening my eyes, I see all three of my friends staring at me in disbelief.

Levi’s mouth opens and closes multiple times before he shakes his head. Grant reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose, and Gabe finally lets out a loud guffaw of laughter.

“This is so fucking perfect. Oh my God, just perfect. Jax, the one who doesn’t even have to lift a finger to get a group of women falling at his feet, has made a fool out of himself in front of a woman who has no interest in him. Jesus. I can’t wait to tell Cassie,” he says, laughing. Gabe’s wife, Cassie, also happens to be Grant’s sister, and originally signed on to nanny Gabe’s daughter. Unbeknownst to everyone, Gabe and Cassie had already met. They couldn’t fight their connection for too much longer, and now they’re a happy little family of three.

I don’t respond to Gabe, because he’s not wrong. Frankly, no professional hockey player has to try to score a woman. Hell, puck bunnies are everywhere. I know some players have a rotation of women in every city that they go through while we’re playing away games. What’s even more fucked up is that the women are okay with it. I’ve overheard bunnies talking about who gets what guy from the team that night.

I’m not like that, exactly. I don’t do repeat performances at away games. Frankly, I rarely hook up out of town, because I have a pretty specific routine that I need to keep. I’m not about to screw up my game by fucking some random woman. If we have a full day off between games, I’ll download a dating app and make it clear it’s a one-time thing.

“In his defense, none of us ever have to lift a finger,” Grant points out.

“He gets more attention, and you know it. Don’t even lie,” Gabe says with a laugh. “It’s the fucking curls. Women are nuts for curly hair.”

I pull my hat down further onto my head. I hated my hair growing up. My mom never knew how to care for it, so a lot of the time I looked like I’d stuck my finger into an electrical outlet. Once I was old enough to access the internet, a whole world opened up to me about styling products, sulfates, and the ‘curly girl’ routine. Once I’d figured out the hair, my confidence grew.

“I think it’s because he rarely talks to women. You ever notice that? As outgoing as he is, he’s mute with the ladies,” Levi says.

Gabe snorts. “I’ve never heard any complaints from women who have been with Jax, so clearly he makes up for it when he gets them alone.”

“Am I even here?” I wonder aloud, waving my hand in front of Gabe’s face. “Y’all are talking about me like I’ve left the gym.”

“Do you talk when you get a woman alone?” Levi asks.

I pause to think. “Actually … no.”

Grant lets out a loud bark of laughter. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. The curls with those baby blues? All you need to do is smile, and the panties drop.”

“So literally, no talking? At all?” Gabe asks. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “What? I’m intrigued by this. You never shut up with us. Not even a little dirty talk?”

“No need for that. My mouth is usually busy.”

“Damn. Cassie loves when I start talking. Last night she did this backbend on the bed, and then I told her all the things I was gonna do in return, and she —” Grant’s hand slams over Gabe’s mouth.

“Sister, Gabe. For fuck’s sake. That’s my fucking sister,” Grant growls. “Talk like that again, and I guarantee you won’t be doing any talking whatsoever for the foreseeable future.”

Gabe looks over at me and winks. He loves antagonizing Grant.

“Asshole, did you just lick me? Fucking disgusting,” Grant says as he whips his hand away from Gabe’s mouth.

“Serves you right. Learn your lesson, dipshit. Besides, you’ve told all of us all kinds of stories about your ex. What’s her name again?” Gabe asks.

Grant points a finger at Gabe menacingly. “Don’t you say another word.” Turning quickly, Grant stomps out of the gym.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” I murmur.

“He’s a ticking time bomb. Whatever happened with his ex really fucked him up. I’m determined to break him so he’ll talk to me,” Gabe says quietly. “He’s got a different puck bunny every night, and I think he’s drinking again. I’ve gotta get through to him.”

Grant had a long-term girlfriend that seemed to be his endgame. Suddenly, she disappeared, and Grant’s personality shifted. He’d been sober for years, after feeling like he was developing a problem in his early years in the NHL. For Gabe to suggest Grant may be drinking again is a huge concern.

“I’m glad you said something,” Levi pipes up. “I thought I saw him with a bourbon a few weeks ago. We met for dinner, and he was there when I arrived. As soon as he saw me, he pushed the glass away. I didn’t bring it up, because I figured it was all in my head.”

“Now we know, so we can keep an eye on him, right?” I say, watching as my two friends nod. “Camp starts soon, and then the season. We’ll be around him a ton, and we can make sure he steers clear of alcohol.”

I just hope we’re enough to keep him away from his demons.

“Thanks for doing this, man,” Levi says as he slaps me on the shoulder. I agreed to some kind of group date, and I’m only going because Levi is the one who needs help. He’s a complete bruiser on the ice, but in person, he’s quiet and introverted. I may choose to stay silent, mostly because I don’t want to play all the stupid dating games, but Levi has a general fear of communication.

“Who are we meeting again?” I ask as we walk toward the bar at a large restaurant in central Denver.

“My friend Danica and one of her friends,” he answers.

“And you like this Danica person?”

Levi sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. She’s pretty, and she seems like she has a nice personality, but something is … off. And I can’t put my finger on it.”

“So am I here to watch her, pump you up, flirt with her, or what?”

His eyes widen. “Shit, no. Don’t flirt with her. Maybe just tell me later what your first impression is. She told me she has a friend who would be perfect for you.”

“How the fuck would she know that? I would remember a name like Danica. Pretty sure I’ve never met her.”

“Maybe just from social media? Anyway, just tell me what you think of her.”

“Alright. I can do that.”

The server comes to tell us our table is ready, and I take the seat with my back to the entrance. I want to watch his face when she arrives. I see the moment the ladies arrive, because his eyes dim slightly. I study Levi, and notice no positive reactions to this woman. That can’t be good.

“Hey, Levi,” a woman gushes as we both stand up. “Oh, and hi to you . I’m Danica.”

I’m fucked, because I see Danica’s eyes looking at me. Not Levi.

Three reasons why this is the worst case scenario of monumental proportions.

First, I realize Danica possibly set Levi up so she could actually meet me.

Secondly, she very clearly has crazy eyes.

But most importantly, her friend is someone I’d much rather get to know.

Her friend is Becca.

“You can’t be serious,” Becca says with a glare. The lowlight in the bar makes her chestnut locks appear darker, but I can still see the animosity deep in her eyes. I put up my hands in surrender.

“I swear, this was not me. I didn’t know anything. I’m just here to support my buddy.” I look over to Levi, hoping he’ll back me up, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he nods emphatically.

“It’s true. I asked him to come because Danica said she had a friend who would be perfect for him. I never knew your name,” Levi says hastily.

“That’s not — well, that isn’t exactly what I said,” Danica says, irritation evident in her tone. I already don’t like this twit. She’s fucking with my friend, for one. Plus, her hair is so bleached it’s white as snow. I don’t trust anyone who does that to their hair by choice. Then you add in the crazy eyes, and Danica is a hard pass.

I’m trying to come up with a valid excuse for why I need to leave. Something that won’t make Levi pissed, but also a believable lie. Could I — could I get Becca out of this too? She crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up ever so slightly, and my tongue almost falls out of my mouth. I can’t tear my eyes away from her chest. I can already tell they’d be a perfect teardrop in my palm. Much to my surprise, stiff peaks erupt beneath the royal blue dress she’s wearing, and my eyes pop up to hers. Becca’s eyes are dilated. She might hate me, but she still wants to fuck me.

I can work with that.

Now I’m not leaving. It’s time to figure out a way to get Becca to give me a chance. A second chance. Jesus, it might be a third chance by now.

As I move to pull out a chair for her, disaster strikes. A fire erupts at the edge of the kitchen, and a big ball of flames pushes up into the seating area. I fucking hate these open concepts that new restaurants have adopted lately, with the kitchen being much more visible to guests. The fire kicks off the automatic sprinkler system inside, and everyone panics.

Instinctively, I grab Becca. I don’t miss how Danica attempts to get to me, and I’m even more pissed at her than I was before. Not only for what I view as an unforgivable offense of fucking with one of my best friends, but also for pulling Becca into the lie.

I quickly slide my suit jacket off and put it over Becca’s head, then wrap my arm around her upper back. I’d love to have a hand on her waist. Better yet, her ass. But I think she’d jam a stiletto heel into my shoe, and my feet are pretty important for my career. Unfortunately, the thought of her heels makes me envision fucking her in just those beautiful black stilettos, and now I’m hard as a rock.

When was the last time I got laid?

Jesus. It’s been a few months. No wonder I’m salivating over this woman.

Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe I just need to get laid. Then I won’t think about this bombshell all the time.

Once outside in the warm air, Becca carefully removes my jacket from her head. “Um. Thanks.”

I nod slightly. “You’re welcome.”

“That was actually pretty decent of you. I guess you aren’t a complete miscreant,” she says wryly.

I let out a chuckle. “I’ll take it. What’s the next step up from miscreant?”

“Asshat.”

“Ah. How many steps until I get to being just a nice guy?”

“You have a long way to go,” she says with a breathy laugh.

“Becca!” I hear wailed from behind us, only to find Levi carrying Danica. Mascara drips down her face, and her white hair sticks up in every direction. “I slipped, and I think I broke my ankle!”

“Oh no!” Becca cries.

“I’m going to take her to the hospital,” Levi says, resolution evident in his tone. He looks at me and rolls his eyes. I’m taking that as a sign that he’s not too torn up about Danica’s obvious interest in me.

“Do you guys want to come?” Danica asks hopefully, her eyes solely on me.

“No,” I retort. I’m shutting this bitch down.

Danica noticeably pales. “I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, but —”

“I think you know exactly what you’ve done, which is try to use my friend to get to me. Me and you? Never gonna happen. Levi, text me later. You wanted my opinion, and I definitely have one.”

“Pretty sure I know what you’re going to say, but sure. I’ll text you. Our Uber is here,” Levi says as he walks past us.

Turning, I look at Becca. “You want a slice of pizza? My favorite joint is around the corner, and I’m starving.”

She begins to shake her head, but pauses. “Actually, pizza sounds really good. I don’t remember the last time I had a slice of pizza. I’d like to talk about what just happened in there, though.”

I point in the direction we’re going, and we set off. “She didn’t look at Levi once after you both got here. He’s an amazing guy, and she wasn’t going to give him a chance. I’ve seen it happen with more than one friend, where they’re trying to get around someone to get to who they really want. So tell me why don’t you eat pizza?”

“I watch what I eat. I get a lot of nasty emails and messages about my body. I didn’t notice her looking at you. How did you see that? You were watching me.”

“Damn. That’s ridiculous. Your body is phenomenal,” I blurt out, then wince. “I mean you look nice. What do people say? I have really great peripheral vision. That’s how I saw her watching me.”

Becca sighs. “I’m not surprised about Danica. She’s nice, but I could totally see her stair-stepping her way up in all areas. Viewers critique my clothing. If my heels are too high or too low. Too much makeup, and not enough makeup. The hem of my dress is too high. Color is wrong. They don’t like a stitching pattern, or they think I should wear sleeveless dresses all the time. On the off chance I retain a little water, I get tons of emails asking if I’m pregnant, or telling me to lay off the sweets.”

“Seriously?” I ask incredulously.

“Seriously.”

“So you watch what you eat because of these assholes?”

“Somewhat, but I’ve always been pretty conscious about what I put in my body. I try not to eat anything over-processed, or filled with artificial colors. Eating whole foods is my goal. I know pizza will probably make me puff out a little bit, but I’m finding it hard to care right now. I’m ready for cheese,” she says bashfully, and I look over to find a hesitant smile on her face. I can’t help but smile in return.

“Well, let’s get you some cheese, Spitfire.”