Page 14 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter Eight

T yler

I can tell as soon as I hit the ice that Elliott has an attitude. I'm not going to ask him what's wrong because I already know, and the fact of the matter is, he's lucky that I haven't approached him to tell him just how shitty he is.

"Hey, Kane, you want to go to the far end?

" Lucas calls out to me, and I nod. I grab my stick and skate down the ice.

Even though hockey's not my first love, there's a feeling of power I get as I make my way down the rink—the way my blades scratch across the ice, the way my muscles clench and support me.

I love it. I love it more than I've even allowed myself to think.

"What up, dickhead?" Elliott skates past me and glares.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, dickhead."

I have two options here. I can skate up to him, give him my best right hook, send him flying across the ice, or I can ignore him. I know which one I want to do, and I know which one he wants me to do, but I’m not going to give either one of us the satisfaction.

“Why don’t you save it for the next game?” I shout after him.

“So, what, you fuck?" he calls out.

I press my lips together. I don't appreciate how he's talking about Erica, but I don't want him to realize that it means that much to me.

I tune him out. He seems to catch on pretty quickly that he's not getting to me because he doesn't say anything else until we finish practice and get off the ice.

We head toward the locker room, and I feel a hand on my shoulder, squeezing.

"So were you just pretending to be my big brother so you could fuck my girl?"

I stop dead, turn around, grab him by the wrist, and hold it up. "Don't touch me," I say, a smile on my face. I'm not going to get angry with this punk.

He stands there, seething.

"I'm going to say this to you one time, Elliott, because we're teammates and I feel like I owe you respect because of that.

Number one, I'm not your big brother. Number two, you treat women like shit.

Number three, if I ever hear Erica's name coming out of your mouth again—or any mention or any inference regarding her—I will knock your fucking front teeth out of your mouth and make you swallow them.

"I don't know where the hell you think you're going or who you think you are, but you're a fucking rookie on this team, and I can take you out and have you blackballed from joining any other team in the league.

So you know what? I want to ensure that every woman in New York City is safe from the likes of you.

I've got eyes all over. So you better play your cards right. "

"You're telling me you never said a lie to a woman, too?—"

I hold my hand up. "This isn't about me. This is about you. Now, Elliott, when you joined the team, you made a comment to me. You said you were really excited to learn from me. Was that the truth or was that a lie?"

"I mean, it was the truth," he mumbles. "I thought you were a cool dude."

"I'm the coolest dude you're ever going to fucking meet. So if you really want to learn from me, then you will listen and pay attention."

"Fine. Whatever. If you were into her, you should—" He pauses. "My bad. I was just joshing you. I mean, I don't really care. I can get any girl I want. She's not the only woman in the world. She's not even really my type. Oh, wait, are you going to get upset at that, too?"

I smile at him. "I'm not upset. I'm just telling you that I don't like the way that you speak about or treat women. I have sisters, and let me just tell you, women have enough shit going on in their lives without dealing with jackass men."

"Oh, whoa. What are you, like a feminist or something?"

"And what if I am?"

"I never heard of a feminist playing hockey."

"I have a feeling you haven't heard of many things, Elliott.

" I take a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shower, and then I'm going to get something to eat, because if you didn't realize, we have a game tomorrow that's pretty fucking important.

So why don't you worry about that, and get your shit together on the ice, not worry about me and my personal life. "

"Whatevs," he says, but he nods.

I give him one more death glare, then make my way into the locker room.

He doesn't follow immediately behind me, but I don't care.

Hopefully, I scared the shit out of him.

I don't want to deal with him. I open my locker, pull out a towel, and dry the sweat off my face.

I grab my duffel bag and head toward the showers.

My mind goes to Erica. I wonder how her dates are going.

I wonder if she's met anyone. I wonder if she's going to win the bet.

I doubt it because her list is quite ridiculous.

I don't know one man in my life who would fit even half the things she's looking for.

But she's special. And she's beautiful. And if anyone is going to meet an amazing guy, it would be someone like Erica.

I want to call her, but I don't have her number. I'm mad at myself for not getting it that evening, even though I’m not sure she would have given it to me.

I grab my phone from my duffel bag and call Wes. He answers on the second ring.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi. How's it going? How's Sabrina?"

"Good, good. I'm taking her to Vermont next weekend, so I'm just checking out little bed-and-breakfasts.

I guess she watched some show on TV where they went to Vermont, and now I've got to make it all sweet and romantic.

" He laughs. "God forbid I take her to an Airbnb.

Anyway, I'm not complaining. I'm sure you didn't call to hear about my little planned excursion. How are you doing?"

"I'm good. I just wanted to let you know that everything is okay with Elliott, and he’s not going to be bothering Erica again.”

“Who?” Wes says. “What are you talking about?”

“Elliott. The guy she went to meet on the date the other night—my teammate.”

“Oh, yeah," he says, "the dude you said was a dickhead, so you went to make sure she was okay."

"Yeah, him. Well, I just wanted to let you know that he won't be bothering your sister again."

"Has he been bothering her?" His tone changes. "Do I need to sort him out?"

"No, no. I think he was just upset because I ended the date the other night, and he got a bit of attitude with me on the ice.

" I pause. I didn’t call to talk about this, but I don't just want to segue into asking for his sister's number without some sort of reason.

"Well, cool, man. I appreciate you looking out for her.

I know you've got sisters, as well, so it means something.

Even though she's been a pain in the ass about that whole drink situation. "

"Yeah, it's okay. I get it. And I think she and I have finally cleared that up. Actually, that's why I was calling."

"Oh?"

"Can I get her number? I promised I would pay for the dry cleaning of the outfit she was wearing that night." I lie. I don’t know if he’s going to fall for it, seeing as he and his family are richer than Hades, but I’m hoping he doesn’t question me too closely.

"Oh my gosh. She's not making you pay for the dry cleaning." He bursts out laughing. "Of course, she is, though, because that's my sister. Yeah, hold on."

He reads off a number, and I write it down quickly.

"Cool, thanks."

"No worries, man. You got any plans this weekend?

I was thinking Miles and I might grab a drink at the Bottle Club.

They've got some new gins, and I think he's been missing getting some man time.

I know that Sabrina's going to be hanging out with Erica and some of her friends from college, so if you want to hang out?—"

"Oh, that sounds cool. Yeah, why not?"

"We'll be pre-gaming at my place, so you might see Erica and Sabrina and the friends, but you can ignore them. Hopefully, she won't be mean to you again."

"Hey, it's cool. Like I said, I think Erica and I have sorted it out."

"Well, that’s good. Yo, man, do you mind if I give you a call back? I have a call to Tokyo in about five minutes, and I need to bring up the files."

"No worries. I'll see you later. Just text me the details."

"Sounds good. And good luck with the game tomorrow. I know it's a big one."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

I hang up, stare at the phone, and smile. I punch in Erica's number before I can change my mind.

"Hello?" She sounds slightly confused as she answers. "Who is this?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, no. Not my worst nightmare," she says, and I burst out laughing.

"Hey, this isn’t Elliott."

"I know it’s you, Tyler Kane. Don’t think I didn’t recognize your voice. How did you get my number?"

"Hey, I thought we were friends. What’s with the hostility?"

She giggles, and my heart warms at the sound.

"I mean, I thought you’d be happy to hear from me," I say.

"I can’t say that I’m overly happy, but I guess I’m not unhappy. What’s up? How did you get my number?"

"I got your number from Wes. Don’t worry, I wasn’t stalking you. I didn’t use the FBI or CIA to track you down."

"Very funny. So what’s up?"

"I was calling to see how your dating was going. Do I need to start thinking about what I want to win?"

She lets out a low groan. "Tyler Kane, are you trying to be—" She pauses. "Nothing."

"What was that about? Am I trying to be what?"

"Nothing," she says. "Let’s just say the dating is not going great right now, but I do have a date tonight, and I am hopeful that it’s going to be really, really good."

"Okay. I am hopeful for you. So, who are you going on a date with?"

"Why would I give you that information?"

"Why wouldn’t you?"

"I don’t know. If you were anything like my brother, you might show up at the restaurant and gatecrash the date and ruin it for me."

"No. Would I do that?"

"I think you would, Tyler. You seem to be a sadist. You seem to be someone who would totally get off on ruining my date."

"I don’t know if I would get off on ruining your date, but I mean, if I went to your date and met a hottie who wanted to come back to my place and perhaps blow me, maybe I would get off then."

"Ew. Really? Oh my gosh, Tyler, that’s so inappropriate."

"You’re the one who brought up getting off."

"I didn’t mean getting off like that."

"How many types of getting off are there?" I say, laughing.

"Is this why you called me? So you could irritate me?"

"No. Maybe I called to hear your pretty voice," I say, teasing her.

She lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, right. Okay. But if you’re calling because of the dates, nothing has happened yet.

You are currently winning. Please do start thinking about what you want.

But I’m also thinking about what I want, because it only takes one date for me to know he’s the one—and perhaps the one I meet tonight will be it. "

"Call me after the date."

"What?" she says.

"I said, call me after the date. I want to hear how it goes."

"Why?"

"Because maybe I am as invested in you meeting the one as you are."

"No, you’re not."

"You don’t know that."

"Fine. I will call you. Unless the date lasts until tomorrow."

"Sorry. You are confusing me. What do you mean lasts until tomorrow? What do you think it means?"

I feel a twirl of jealousy run through me as I realize what she’s saying.

"Oh, so you’re the sort of woman that would hit it on the first night."

"I’m not saying that," she says innocently. "I’m just saying that if it turns out to be the one, maybe the date never ends. Maybe we spend the rest of our lives together and never take one moment apart."

It’s my turn to start laughing.

"And this is why we have the bet, Erica. Because you are so high up in the clouds that I don’t know if you are crazy, on drugs, or the most deluded woman I’ve ever met in my life."

"Maybe I’m just the most romantic. Maybe I’m just a true believer in love. And maybe I’ll have you converted one day, as well."

"Yeah," I say. "That’s a very big maybe."