Page 7 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

SVEN

A va’s complexion fades to such a chalky white that I’m afraid she might pass out again. I raise my hands in surrender feeling like a jerk.

“Joking,” I say, chuckling to make my point even though the longer this goes on the less funny it gets. “Seriously. I just wanted to break any tension between us. But maybe that was thoughtless of me.”

Yeah, it was definitely thoughtless of me. So much for alleviating the tension. I think I just made it worse.

“It-it’s… okay,” she stammers, making me feel like even more of a heel.

“It’s not. I apologize. Really.” I sit up and reach out, fingers brushing her forearm, and—fuck—she’s just as soft as I remember. Her skin is like crushed velvet, a tease against my palm, and for a split second, the thought of ripping her scrubs off right here, right now, flashes through my mind.

Down boy. I mentally shove my cock and the urge down. This is not the time or the place .

Some of the color returns to her face. “Apology accepted.”

Several heartbeats pass in silence, and though I can stare down an opponent like nobody’s business, awkward silence grates on my nerves.

“You settling into life here in Denver all right?”

“It’s… different. I’ve never gone through such a long distance move before.”

“Moving sucks,” I agree. “When I was first drafted into the NHL, the Florida Panthers signed me on. But two years later I was traded to Detroit. When they traded me to the Avs, I thought I was jinxed, like I’d never have a home that last longer than a year or two.”

“How long have you been here?”

“This’ll be my eleventh year.” I grin at her, then drop my head a little and drag my palm along the nape of my neck. “I’m what is known as a veteran.”

“Must be nice to know that you fit in now. ”

There’s something about the tenor of her question that tells me she’s asking not only for my benefit.

“It is nice. I’ve been captain for ten of those years, and for me, the team is half undisciplined gang of troublemakers and half band of brothers.

Except for Levi and Eric. They’re like my real brothers. ”

“Speaking of Levi and Eric,” she begins, and I know what’s coming. “Are you aware that they skipped out on their massage sessions?”

This is the part of my captaincy that sucks.

While Levi and Eric are team players when it comes to being on the ice, some of the interpersonal stuff that occurs off the ice is more difficult for them, especially Levi.

And where Levi goes, Eric often follows, even though Levi is the younger of the two.

Still, all I say is, “Yep. Afraid so.”

“Do you know why?”

God, I hate speaking for other people. “I do.”

Ava looks exasperated. “Care to enlighten me?”

If I must.

“They’re not…” Shit. How do I articulate this in a manner that won’t offend her? “They’re uncomfortable having you massage them. ”

That’s about as simple and cut-and-dried as I can put it.

“Because we had sex?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit.

She folds her arms over her perfect tits—not that it does anything to hide them. Even with that pink scrub top doing its best to camouflage the view, I know exactly what’s underneath. I’ve seen them, touched them, sucked them, and no amount of fabric is going to make me forget.

Hell, I remember everything about that night with a clarity that could drop me to my knees if I let it.

The way I laid her out on that king-sized bed, her highlighted brown waves fanning out around her like a damn halo—except nothing about what we did was angelic.

The way I spread her legs, lined myself up behind her, and slid my cock into her slick, greedy pussy as it squeezed me like a fitted sheath.

And when I spanked her clit with just enough force for her to cry out, I felt her fall apart right there on me.

Those hot, pulsing spasms milking my cock, drowning me in her pleasure.

I need to shake this memory, bury it somewhere deep, but damn if she isn’t standing right in front of me, looking like sin in scrubs, making it impossible to think about anything else .

I suck in a sharp breath, leaning over the table to cover my cock that’s plumping like the dough of a rising baguette. And while her work on me didn’t do this, remembering how she felt to fuck in bed certainly has.

Thankfully, she starts walking toward the sink to wash her hands. “You say that like it’s my fault,” she argues, and I have to force myself to remember what I just said.

Oh yeah, the ‘they won’t let you massage them because we all had sex’ thing.

“If they’re the kind of guys who think it’s fine for them to screw around all they want, but the instant a woman gives in, she’s a slut, then you might as well tell me now if that’s what they think of me.”

Well, I didn’t see that coming. But before I can even open my mouth, she barrels on.

“Because that’s a double standard. And frankly, I’m tired of it. I’m not going through that again.”

Something in her voice, sharp and edged with something deeper, clangs in my ears like a broken bell. This isn’t just frustration. It’s experience. A wound that hasn’t fully healed. Has she worked with assholes before? Or is this about something worse? Someone worse ?

“They’re not like that, Ava. We’re not like that,” I say firmly. “Did anything about that night make you feel like you weren’t wanted? Like you weren’t respected?”

She glares at me over her shoulder, her expression unreadable but undeniably heated.

I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. “Well… disrespected in the wrong way, I mean.” Fuck, that didn’t sound any better. Three guys, one girl—some would consider that bad in every sense of the word.

“Levi and Eric aren’t bad guys,” I continue, trying to smooth this over. “They just need some time to figure out how to handle you being here when they weren’t prepared for it.” I pause, trying to find the right way to ask the next question.

“H-Have you… been around some bad guys, Ava?”

She clams right up, which tells me a lot more than she probably wants me to know. I see it—the way her soft, doe-like eyes darken, shadows creeping in, swallowing the warmth I saw just moments ago. And damn, it stirs something deep inside me, something primal and protective.

I don’t just want to comfort her; I want to obliterate whatever put those shadows there. Chase them away, burn them to ash, make sure they never touch her again—no matter what it takes .

Which is a strong overreaction, considering we barely know each other beyond our one night together. Yet, here I am, gripping onto this unfamiliar need to protect her like it’s my own damn heartbeat.

Maybe it’s because I was always really close with my parents.

When they were alive, they were my biggest fans, and when I got drafted, they traveled for some of my games.

I was their golden boy, their ticket to greatness, as they liked to say.

We didn’t have much growing up, but with them, I never felt without.

My older sister, two years ahead of me, and I were tight, too.

We still are. She’s a doctor living in Mexico with her husband, whom she met at the clinic there.

We talk every couple of weeks, joking about who’s going to be the first one to become an aunt or uncle, but with both of us buried in our jobs, who knows if it’ll ever happen.

I was always the protector in the family—of my sister, my parents, anyone I cared about.

But wait... do I care about Ava?

“Will you please let them know that I’ll conduct myself with pure professionalism?” she requests. “Like I did with you?”

“Of course, I will. But I should warn you. They can be hard-headed. Especially Levi.”

“I’d like you to try. ”

“I will. I’ll tell them they have nothing to worry about from you.”

We part on that positive note, but when I link up with the boys, things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Neither of them are willing to listen to me, which is unusual in itself.

Worse, as we get into practice, some of the weaknesses that come from not being as relaxed as possible start to rear their ugly heads.

“Why are you stiff as a board, Schwartz?” Coach demands, his tone sharp. And with Levi, he’s even harsher. “Not been stretching much, Corolla? Did you forget that you’re a goddamn goalie over the summer?”

Those who don’t know Levi well wouldn’t have caught the slightest flinch he gives, but I do. I bet dollars to donuts Eric notices it, too. Our goalie might be stubborn as a mule, but hockey is his life. Someone, especially coach, questioning his dedication will rattle him.

So, Levi’s got a choice to make. He can keep avoiding Ava and hope no one else catches on to what’s going on, or he can suck it up and go visit her.

I know it’s only a matter of time before the pressure builds enough for Levi to cave. He values winning above all else, even if he sometimes gets away with skirting his regimen. But if he keeps pushing his luck, all his dominoes are going to fall. It’s only inevitable.

Even worse, as long as Levi keeps dodging Ava, Eric’s likely to follow suit.

As close as Eric and I are, he and Levi share a bond that’s even tighter.

Sometimes, I don’t think Eric even realizes he’s acting in solidarity with Levi, but it’s clear as day to me.

It’s frustrating enough that I’m seriously tempted to brain them both, but physical violence, especially off the ice, won’t fix anything.

Looks like they’re going to have to learn this lesson the hard way.

And, apparently, they realize this a couple days later at our first game of the season.

The passes click between the other players, and I’m able to rack up a goal and then an assist in the first period.

But no matter how hard Eric tries, his passes are just off enough that they miss.

It happens again and again, until one of our opponents finally steals the puck from him with a simple poke check.

Then, later on, when one of the defensemen has a clear shot on goal, Eric makes a last-minute swipe that deflects it just enough to send the puck wide of the net.

Based on the beet red color of coach’s complexion and the vein throbbing in his neck, he is not happy .

And then there’s our goalie. Levi’s normally a brick wall, the kind of guy who can shut out any team on a good night, but tonight, he lets three goals slip past him.

It’s one of the worst performances I’ve seen from him in ages.

Fortunately for the team, we still manage to scrape out a win with four points, two of which I’m proud to say are mine. But the margin is too slim.

As pros, we all have our bad or off days, even when we follow our trainers’ and coaches’ instructions to the letter.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of the team not clicking, or the other squad being that much better.

But when the mistakes are preventable, when there’s an obvious fix that’s being ignored?

So, it doesn’t surprise me when coach calls Levi in first, then Eric.

The walls of his office are thick enough that I don’t catch all the words, but when Levi finally exits, his face is a mask of frustration.

His jaw is so clenched it looks like it might snap, and the scowl on his face could send someone running for cover.

It’s clear he’s not pleased, but I doubt anyone could get a word in edgewise.

The tension in the air is palpable, and it’s safe to say this is far from over.

Coach stands in the doorway, his fists on his lips. “What the hell’s wrong with your shoulder?”

Levi halts, closing his eyes. I thought I caught him favoring his right arm as he left the ice .

“Possible muscle pull,” the goalie mumbles.

“You go visit the trainers right now. And if you want to keep playing this season, you’ll follow whatever advice they give you to the letter.”

“Yes, coach.”

Levi storms off, but he doesn’t say another word. Coach pins me with his gaze next. “Send Schwartz’s ass in here next.”

I nod, spotting him just a few feet away in the parallel corridor. I’m about to mention that coach is waiting for him, but before I can get a word out, he beats me to it.

“Yeah, I can read the writing on the wall. I’ll go to Ava as soon as coach releases me.

” My brows wing up at his turn of phrase.

He’s never openly admitted it, but everyone knows he has dyslexia and prefers to learn and absorb information by every method except the written word.

Catching my expression, he flips me the bird. “You know what I mean.”