Page 7 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

I lifted my beer up in another toast. “Amen to that, brother. My agent keeps trying to get me deals for a team back East, says there’s more money there, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to stay in the West. Even though Portland isn’t on the water, it’s close enough.”

“You in a contract year?”

My head bobbed. “Yeah.” I sipped more of my delicious beer. “This injury couldn’t have come at a better time,” I said sarcastically. “Out for the rest of the season …”

“That’s what they’re saying?”

“That’s what they’re recommending. But I’m hoping to get back for the playoffs, or at least mid-way through. I can’t miss half the season, then expect to get a decent contract when they have no idea how I’ll play after my injury.”

Maybe it was a big mistake to be telling all of this to a total stranger, but something about Logan told me I could trust him. I really hoped my instincts weren’t wrong.

“What actually happened on the ice?” he asked. “I didn’t watch the game, but I caught the highlights.”

“Barbier checked me hard from behind. Sent me crashing into Hoff, and I landed in a fucked-up way. Got a concussion and crushed my L3 and L4.”

“Shit,” he said in surprise. “Barbier is a bulldozer. I’ve watched a few games where that guy just goes into a tight cluster of players like a fucking bowling ball. Doesn’t give a shit if it’s his teammates or the other team. He just knocks ’em all down like they’re pins.”

“Yep. We’ve had a bit of a rivalry with the Riptides this season. Barbier hooked Franks—one of our best scorers—last time we played them, and he was out with a sprained wrist for four games. So while there wasn’t exactly a bounty on Barbier’s head, we knew to keep our eyes on him.”

“And you turned your back—”

“And I turned my back. I was so focused on getting the puck away from Hoff, I totally forgot that Barbier is more brawn than brains and doesn’t hesitate to play dirty.”

And extra dirty, he absolutely did.

“Fuck, man. That seriously sucks. I’m really sorry.”

I took a long, satisfying pull from my beer. “Ah.” I wiped my hand over my mouth. “Thanks. Definitely not how I saw this season going. I was shaping up to be the team’s top scorer, top five in the league.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, but anyway … I’m not even sure what I could do if there was anything to do on the island, since I’m supposed to be resting and shit.”

“Jagger—one of my cousins—and Raina, one of Gabrielle’s cousins, are part of a book club. You could join that?”

I snorted.

A mischievous twinkle sparked to life in his eyes, and he snapped his finger like he’d just solved an impossible math equation.

“I’ve got it. There’s a Sewing Circle that meets here every day.

Sometimes they don’t even sew; they crochet, knit, embroider.

In the summer they move to the flower garden at Let it Rise, the bakery.

But during the shittier months, they have a standing reservation at that very table over there.

” He pointed to a big booth in the corner that was currently occupied by two men in their late sixties or so.

“They’ve got the thing all day if they want.

It’s all ladies that I know of, but I’m sure they’d be welcome to a strapping young athlete. ”

I snorted again.

“It would mean you could see me all the time.” He laced his fingers together, then spread his arms wide and tucked his hands under his chin before tilting his head and batting his lashes.

I fixed him with an amused look, one eyebrow raised and everything.

“Still no?” He smiled wide. “Honestly, besides the summer months that can be filled with hiking, the beach, kayaking, and boating, I’m not sure what to do.

I’m as bored as you’re about to be. If it wasn’t for this job and my new girlfriend …

” He made a face. “Ah, who am I kidding? I’d still be happy to be here.

I’d probably just take up whittling or something. ”

Whittling … hmm. That didn’t actually sound like the worst hobby in the world.

The front door swung open and two more people entered the pub.

Logan gave them a friendly wave and smile. “Anywhere you like, folks. Last call for the kitchen is in about fifteen minutes though.”

The couple, who were probably in their mid-fifties, headed to one of the far tables near the windows.

I’m sure on a sunny day, the view of the water was beautiful.

For now, with a few more weeks of winter and before we turned the clocks ahead for daylight savings time, it was an endless void of nothingness.

“Well, if you want to … I dunno, play video games or stare at the edge of the water like Moana, give me a call. I work a lot, but not all the time. And we’re going to be neighbors, so if you don’t want to give me your number, we can always hook up one of those tin can phone systems from your window to mine. ”

I rolled my eyes. “Give me your number, dork.”

Chuckling, Logan rattled off his phone number and I added it to my contacts, then finished my beer and shot him a text so he’d have my number too.

He placed his hand on his chest when his phone buzzed in his pocket. “I swear, with the beer gods as my witnesses, that I will not share this number with TMZ or any of those other terrible gossip rags.”

I liked Logan. “Appreciate it.”

“Hey, man, you’re not the only celebrity we have on the island. You know Brooke Barker, the bombshell actor?”

I nodded. Who didn’t know who Brooke Barker was? Hermits in the woods living in their one-bedroom cabins made of logs and moss, maybe?

He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I live with her. She’s with my cousin, Clint, the brewmaster. And I haven’t shared her number with a soul.”

“Ah, so you can definitely be trusted,” I said sarcastically.

“Damn straight.” He took my empty beer glass from in front of me. “Another?”

“Surprise me this time.”

“You got it!”

I honestly could not remember the last time I closed down a bar, pub, or even a restaurant.

I’d been so focused on my hockey career since I was a child, and had it hammered into my brain by my dad and older brothers that those who kept their bodies and reputations clean did better and made more money.

So I always went home way before the rest of my teammates from after-parties.

I never drank too much, and I definitely didn’t drink so much that I couldn’t remember what happened the night before.

Unlike some of my teammates who had blackouts and woke up with girls they had no memory of meeting, I was up at the crack of dawn and in the gym or on the ice. I did it all while remembering exactly what happened the night before and who I went to bed with—which was usually just myself.

Tonight was a bit different though.

I didn’t have practice in the morning, and I wasn’t even allowed to go to the gym. So I sampled all the beer on tap at the pub, and let Renée mix me one of her “concoctions” which was mostly just tequila with melon liqueur and lime juice.

Luckily, Renée and Logan were cool, and let me hang out with them after they locked the doors behind the last customer while they tidied up the pub for the night.

Then Renée cranked the tunes, and the kitchen staff slowly trickled out, getting their after-shift drinks.

They sat around at one of the tables, shooting the shit until their beverages were finished.

Almost all of the kitchen staff knew who I was.

I had to sign some autographs, while others said they’d be back with a jersey or something for me to sign tomorrow. So I had to promise to return.

It was eleven forty-five by the time I staggered my way back to my cabin, not being nearly careful enough to watch where I put my feet, but I clearly had some horseshoes up my ass—finally—because I didn’t trip or eat gravel. I made it to my front door unscathed, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

I was used to being alone. Alone in my condo, alone in my hotel room, alone with my thoughts.

But for whatever reason, tonight I was not just alone, I was lonely.

Being back with Gabrielle and the kids, then tonight at the pub with new friends, filled me with so much …

joy. These people had zero expectations of me.

They just wanted to be around me, for me.

That was it. Not because I was some famous professional athlete, or their teammate who they were forced to be with.

They could have told me to pound sand and fuck off, but they didn’t.

They invited me in, they invited me to stay; and even more, they invited me back.

I left a trail of clothes through the small, clean cabin until I was naked in the bathroom. I turned on the water and waited until it got nice and hot—maybe a little too hot—then I stepped inside the shower.

Since I didn’t usually drink, I was a bit of a lightweight. Even at six-foot-four, and two-hundred-ten-pounds, the booze hit me harder than I expected it to. It all just tasted so good. I couldn’t say no.

The water pressure in the shower was surprisingly good, and felt incredible against my back as I faced the taps and hung my head, my chin to my chest. Thoughts of Gabrielle flickered into my mind, slightly out of focus, but they were clear enough to make my cock swell.

I took it in my palm and stroked myself root to tip and back, knowing full well it was wrong to imagine her this way, but unable to stop myself.

Nobody had to know how I felt about her. It could remain my little secret.

Platonic friendship during the day, and unbridled pining and lust at night.

Until I left the island and went on with my career.

Which would be when, by the way?

I told the sensible part of my brain to shut up and just let me have this.

Gabrielle’s face came back into focus—sort of.

Every heart-shaped inch of it. Those alert, hawk-like amber eyes—always seeing, always watching, always knowing.

And the subtle way she would smile, like she didn’t want the world to see her enjoying anything but she couldn’t contain her delight, so she allowed a sliver of a smirk to break through.

Even her hair was gorgeous. Dark and thick chunky curls just past her shoulders.

When she hugged me—which surprised the shit out of me because she wasn’t normally a hugger—I inhaled deep when my nose briefly brushed her hair.

Cherry and almonds, just like I remembered.

Damon invited me back over tomorrow after school, and I already said yes, but I was beginning to think maybe being around Gabrielle so much wasn’t a good idea.

But I couldn’t disappoint the kid.

And avoiding them wasn’t an option.

My lower belly tingled with warmth with the need to come, and my balls cinched up tight against my taint.

I continued to work my palm over my cock, my strokes growing more erratic as my orgasm grew more imminent.

Gabrielle’s face became clearer, and when she smiled, that half-smirk—in this case, it was just for me—and I exploded.

Hot, thick spurts painted the shower wall in front of me, sliding down the tile and circling the drain. I exhaled heavy and loud, continuing to stroke myself, finishing off my release.

When my cock stopped twitching, I grabbed the removable shower nozzle and sprayed the remaining bits of my cum from the tile. I’d sleep well tonight now.

Seeing Gabrielle tomorrow and being normal was a problem for future Maverick. Right now, I was content, tipsy, and relaxed.

No matter what, San Camanez was going to be a place of rejuvenation for me. I could just feel it.

Now all I had to do was figure out how to keep my feelings for Gabrielle to myself. Otherwise, my time on the island would be shorter than I hoped.