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CHAPTER SIX

JETT

A nother week down in training camp and I scanned the locker room for Hopkins. He seemed to be more civil for the most part this week. He wasn’t coming on to me nearly as much. Coach Henderson had us playing together a lot and had paired the two of us with Volkov and a few rookies. Was it possible Coach was seeing some chemistry between us on the ice?

Hopkins slid his blue slacks up his legs while standing at his stall, his gaze finding mine. “You watching me dress?” He threw me a smirk and shimmied a white polo over his head.

My traitorous tongue flicked at my lower lip while my gaze dropped to the grooves of his stomach, my dick waking. Goddammit, I had to stop looking at him. “No, why would I want to do that?” I pushed my arms into my suit jacket and grabbed my duffel.

“Jett, hey.”

My heart stopped. Fuck, what was Dad doing here? I snapped my gaze to him, standing in the entry to the locker room in a gray button-down and black slacks, the lights glinting off his thick Rolex. Judging by the darkness of his short hair, he must have dyed it recently. “Um…” I flicked a glance at Hopkins, then Volkov, a few guys down.

The whole team stopped what they were doing to watch me.

How the fuck did he get in here? Schmoozing people, that was how. “I didn’t know you were here.” With a stumble, I stepped toward him.

Hopkins grabbed my elbow, righting me. Leaning in, he whispered, “Who is that?”

I clenched my jaw and said, “My father.” I strode to my dad and grabbed his arm, turning him around. “Come on.” Leading him down the hallway, I swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

“Working out some endorsements. I was talking on the phone to the head of marketing this morning and decided it would be easier to just fly out here and see the arena firsthand.” He strolled beside me, like he was picking me up from a high school hockey practice. Which he’d never done.

“You just hopped on a plane and flew out from LA?” I shook my head. My fucking father. Of course he did.

“Yeah, you can do that, you know.” He chuckled. “Haven’t seen you since last summer, so I thought it would be nice to have dinner with you too.” He curled the corner of his mouth and arched a brow. “That is unless you’ve got a hot dinner date tonight.”

“No, I don’t have a hot dinner date. I’m focusing on camp and securing my spot.” As footsteps echoed in the hallway, I glanced behind us.

Hopkins jogged to us. “Hey, Mr. Jarvis, nice to meet you. I’m Mason Hopkins, the new center for the Coyotes.” He held out his hand.

Dad stopped and turned around. “Oh? Nice to meet you, son.” He shook Hopkin’s hand. “Want to join us for dinner?”

My mouth dropped open. Fucking great. “No, I’m sure he has?— ”

“Sure. Where do you want to go? I went to college out here, so I know where the good eats are.”

I rolled my eyes. Good God, it was like my worst nightmare had just come true. “Do you…?”

“All right, where do you think we should go?” Dad planted his hands on his hips and gave Hopkins a warm smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“What sort of food do you like?” Sneaking a peek at me, Hopkins tongued the corner of his mouth.

Fuck. “Dad prefers seafood or steak places.” And the more expensive, the better. I eyed Hopkins. I had to admit, he’d probably know some good places.

“How about Ocean Club? I think they have the best seafood around, and they’re not very far from here.” His gaze slid to mine. “I’m sure they’ll fit us in, seeing as how we’re bringing Jett Jarvis, the new star forward for the Coyotes, to their restaurant.” He slipped his phone out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll call them now.”

“That would be perfect.” Dad patted my shoulder. “You’ve made a new friend?”

“Yeah, we’ve been playing together a lot.” I watched Hopkins strut down the hallway, talking on his phone. “He was ASU’s best center and helped the team win the NCAA championship last year. The Coyotes drafted him out of high school.” I wasn’t going to say a word about him being queer. I had no idea how Dad would take it.

“Oh really.” Dad flicked his gaze to Hopkins and focused on me. “By the way, your stepmother’s birthday is coming up, and I’d like to see if you can come home for it.”

I cringed, my chest pinching. I had to find a way out of this. “The season’s starting up?—”

“I checked your schedule, and you play in LA the day before, but don’t have a game the next. You’ll be there already. Come on, it’s only a forty-five-minute flight home. I’ll have you picked up and dropped off by our service and pay for the extra night in the hotel.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Could this get any worse? “Yeah, sure.” I’d have a few weeks yet to figure out how to get out of it. “Is Iris coming?”

“Of course.” He cocked his head. “You really need to get over whatever problem you have with your stepmother.”

As I opened my mouth, Hopkins approached us. “All set. I’ll meet you over there?” He smirked at me.

“Yeah, sure.” I pressed my lips together. “Did you get a ride here, Dad?” I knew he hadn’t rented a car, but I thought I’d ask at least.

“Yeah, but you’ll drop me at the airport tonight, right?” With a soft chuckle, his gaze met mine.

“Of course.” I waved at him. “Come on.” I’d figure out where this place was when we got into my car.

After handing my car over to the valet, I met Dad on the sidewalk. It had only been a five-minute drive, so we didn’t have much time to talk about anything of substance. I glanced over the building, a squarish, modern-looking place with Frank Lloyd Wright architectural vibes.

Hopkins jogged to us with a wry grin on his lips. “So, reservation is under my name.” He hiked up his slacks, strolled to a large front door in iron and blue glass and opened it. “After you.”

“Thanks.” Dad stepped inside.

As I followed Dad in, I peered at Hopkins. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just making sure I know everything there is to know about my new right winger.” He lifted his chin, widening his smile.

This was dangerous. I could feel it. “Sure.” Pressing my lips together, I strode to the hostess stand, all in black. “Reservation for Hopkins.”

A woman with long dark hair in a curve-hugging black dress fluttered her eyelashes at me. “Of course, Mr. Jarvis. It’ll be a pleasure serving you tonight.” Her gaze swept over me and she bit her lower lip.

Fuck. She was looking for a hookup. That much was obvious. Dipping my head, I brushed my palm over the back of my hair and snuck a peek at Dad.

Dad gave me a knowing grin and, under his breath, said, “She’s pretty.”

“Right this way.” I followed her, along with Dad and Hopkins, to a secluded booth in a darker corner. As we passed people eating at other tables, they watched us. Shit, some of the guys recognized me. How many autographs would I be signing tonight?

I slid into the booth with Dad gliding in on the other side and scanned the restaurant, all done up like a modern supper club with thick wooden beams running across the ceiling and massive round rustic chandeliers. The place said old Scottsdale money all over it, and I’d only been living here for a few months.

Hopkins glided in next to me. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” He planted his elbows on the table and clapped his hands together, then flicked his gaze from Dad to me. “This place has the best seafood tower. It’s huge, and you can get anything from lobster tails to oysters to?—”

“Yeah, I get it, Hopkins.” I picked up my menu.

“You can call me Mason now, Jett. We’re not at work.” He snickered.

Dad flashed a grin. “I like this guy, Jett.” He perused his menu. “And the place looks fantastic. I’m so glad you suggested it, Mason.”

A waiter came by the table and Dad ordered a dry martini while I ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and Mason ordered a beer .

Picking up his menu, Dad said, “So, Hopkins…you wouldn’t be related to Scott Hopkins from the Philadelphia Flyers fame, would you?”

“Yep. He’s my dad. He’s in management now with the Hartford Wolf Pack.” Mason picked up his water glass and took a sip.

“Your dad married well, from what I remember.” With a soft grin, Dad shook his head. “Beautiful woman.”

Mason’s grin fell. “Yeah, she’s a great mother too. She sacrificed a lot with three men playing hockey.”

“Oh? You have a brother who plays, I take it?” Dad leaned back as the waiter dropped off our drinks.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.

“Not yet, still looking.” Dad scanned over his menu and smiled at the waiter.

“Sure. I’ll come back.” The waiter left.

“Yes, my little brother is playing juniors as a D-man.” Mason took a drink of his beer and sighed. “Nothing like an ice-cold beer after a day of practice.”

I eyed Mason. There was something there with the mention of his mother. I itched to look up photos of her on my phone, but it would have to wait.

“Anyway, sorry to hear about Jett’s mom. That must have been hard.” Mason fingered his beer glass.

“Yes, well, I remarried a wonderful woman who adores Jett.” Dad gave me a forced smile.

“You did?” Facing me, Mason hooked a brow. “You didn’t mention that at our dinner the other night.”

My heart jolted. Did he have to say that? “Oh, uh, I guess it never came up.” Wincing, I unwrapped my linen napkin and set it on my lap.

“Dinner? You two have been having dinner together?” The edges of Dad’s lips quirked, and he sipped his martini.

“Yeah, we made a bet on a race, and he lost. So, he had to make me dinner.” A broad smile broke out over Mason’s face. Patting my forearm resting on the table, he said, “Your son is a great cook. I thought I was going to stump him by asking him to make me chicken cordon bleu, but he pulled it off.”

Dad peered at Mason’s hand, now wrapped around my forearm. “Guess his stepmother taught him something.”

I slipped my arm free from Mason’s grasp and dropped it under the table. Fucking Eleanor didn’t teach me shit, but I wouldn’t say a word about it now. “Yeah, guess so.” I drank some wine. “Anyway, we should figure out what we want to eat.”

“I like this seafood tower idea. Then maybe get a few sides?” Dad picked up his menu and set it down. “I’m buying.” He ticked his brows at us.

“Yeah, sure.” I knew there was no arguing with him, especially since he was buying. He was calling the shots, as usual. Blowing out a breath, I placed my menu on top of Mason’s.

“Hey, thanks a lot, Mr. Jarvis.” Mason gave him a charming grin.

“You’re welcome. It’s good to know Jett is getting close to his new teammates.” He held up his drink. “To the Coyotes.”

“The Coyotes,” Mason and I said in unison, and then tapped our glasses against Dad’s.

The waiter stopped by, and we ordered our food.

Dad wove his fingers together on the table in front of him. “How’s the team looking this year?” His gaze flicked from me to Mason.

“Good, the new rookies they brought in are standing their ground on the ice, and I seem to be meshing well with Volkov and Mason here.” I drank some water. It was no secret Coach was testing us out. He must have a lot of faith in Mason.

Dad’s brows lowered and he shifted in his seat. “I also hear a guy on your team has a live-in boyfriend? What’s his name, uh?—”

“Archer Carlson.” Mason straightened his shoulders. “He’s a buddy of mine from ASU. We’ve been friends since juniors.” He peered at Dad .

“Oh, I see. How do you feel about having queer players on your team?” Lifting his chin, Dad narrowed his eyes, studying Mason.

Fuck why was Dad asking this? I bumped my knee against Mason’s, giving him a pointed look.

Mason stared at me for a beat and tilted his head and focused on Dad. “Uh, I’m fine with it. Who cares who someone loves? It’s nobody’s business but his own.”

“Yes, I suppose so. But doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Dad pinched his lips. “And don’t you think it will add, I don’t know, some problems for you all in games? I mean, hockey can be so brutal, both in terms of the physicality and the, uh, verbal abuse. Don’t you feel like you’re going to have to defend him in games?”

Mason’s gaze grew hard. “No, Archer can defend himself.” Mason stabbed his index finger on the table. “He’s been dealing with that crap for years. It’s time people got over themselves and gave it up.”

I dropped my mouth open. He wasn’t outing himself to Dad. With his personality, I hadn’t expected that. Was he doing this for me?

Dad slowly nodded and sipped his drink. “I see. Well, times are certainly changing, aren’t they.” His gaze drew to mine. “I saw a lot of queer players come out in the Olympics over the summer too.”

“And?” With my pulse thrumming, I locked my gaze on Dad’s. I had to get control of this conversation. I didn’t know how much of Eleanor’s fundamental Christian garbage had gotten into Dad’s head. “It’s good to see players coming out in all sports, right?”

Dad snapped his brows together and said, “Yeah, guess so.” Dad’s phone buzzed on the table, and he picked it up. “Shoot, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take this call.” He slid out of the booth and answered the phone. “Hey, Jim.” He walked off .

“What was that about, Jett?” Mason glared at me. “Is your dad homophobic?”

“I…I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to my wine and tensed my mouth. “See, my stepmother he spoke about is a fundamental Christian and part of the conservative group, the Heritage Foundation?” I skimmed my finger up and down the stem of my glass. “My mom was, like, the opposite of that, very hippy, free-thinking, and creative.”

“Jesus Christ.” Mason slapped his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He chuckled. “I’m guessing you don’t get along with her much?”

“No, absolutely not.” I shook my head, my gut knotting. She was probably the biggest reason I was living a lie. “Look, thank you for not telling my dad about your sexuality. I honestly don’t know how he’d take it.”

“Or if he’d start questioning if you were queer, knowing you made me a fucking awesome dinner last week?” His brows snapped up.

“Yeah, or that.” I rubbed my forehead. This was fucked up. Why did it matter so much? Dropping my hand to my thigh, I faced him. “Mason, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to lie to anyone.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t offer up my own sexuality.” Sitting back in his seat, he drank a gulp of beer. “If you were gay, you’d be hiding it because of your dad.” His gaze cut to mine. “Right?”

“I’m not gay, Mason. We’ve been over this.” With a scoff, a knot formed in my gut. How much longer would I be able to keep the lie going? Especially with Mason constantly challenging me?

“Sure.” He leaned in close. “I haven’t seen you with any puck bunnies since you moved here.” His gaze fell to my lips, and he flicked his tongue over his own.

My cock stirred. “Quit looking at my social media photos. Not every date is on my feed.” I swallowed hard. Would he buy it? Maybe I’d have to set up a date with a beard before we left for our pre-season games. Would he leave me alone then?

“But I miss you when you’re not around.” He snickered and threw himself back in his seat with a sharp cackle.

“Fuck.” I dipped my head, freeing a soft snort. He was back to his old tricks and fucking with my head.

The hostess stopped by the table. “Mr. Jarvis? I thought I’d check in to see how your dinner was going.” She glanced at Mason and gave me a coy smile.

“It’s going well, thank you.” I smiled back at her. I knew what was coming next. I could feel it.

“Oh, well…” She wrung her hands over her chest and looked around her. “I hear you’re the most eligible bachelor in hockey.” She giggled. “Is that still true?”

My jaw dropped open. Shit, when had that started? “I, uh, I suppose.” I flicked a glance at Mason, giving me a devious grin. When was Dad coming back? I peeked behind her. No Dad. Scratching my brow, I said, “Yeah, guess so.”

“Oh, he’s totally available, honey.” Mason huffed a laugh. “And you’re just his type.”

She pulled out a business card from under her bra strap beneath the sleeve of her dress and set it in front of me. “Call me, okay? I love hockey. In fact, I love all sports.” Biting her index finger, she ticked her brow.

“Uh, sure, but the pre-season games are about to start, so I’ll be traveling for a while.” I grabbed the restaurant business card with a handwritten phone number scrawled over it and slid it into the breast pocket of my shirt.

“But I’m sure he’ll have time for video calls from the road.” Mason smirked at me.

A wide smile grew on her lips and her eyes twinkled. “Yeah? Okay.”

Dad stepped to the table. “What’s this?” He gave her a warm smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you all to your meal.” Fluttering her lashes at me, she said, “I hope to hear from you soon.” She sauntered off.

“Jett? You’ve found a beautiful young woman to date?” Dad glided across the bench seat of his booth. “You’ve still got it.” Leaning over the table, he slapped my shoulder.

“Yep, he sure does.” Mason drank more of his beer, peering at me. “Question is, will he call her?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I flashed a glare at him. How was it he had me so figured out?

The waiter dropped off our food, including a multi-level tower of shellfish on ice.

“Holy shit.” I stared at it. Mason was right. It looked amazing.

“It’s about time you settled down with someone, don’t you think, Jett?” Dad leaned over to gaze at me from around the tower. “And she seemed like a lovely girl.”

None of us knew anything about her. “Yeah, I’ll call her, Dad.” I snuck a peek at Mason, who was pulling half a lobster tail out of the ice on the lower level. “Maybe I’ll see if she’s free this weekend.”

Mason’s hardened gaze slipped to mine, and he pursed his lips. “Yeah? Let me know how that goes.” He pulled a raw oyster off the tower. “Maybe I’ll find someone, and we can double date.” He freed a soft snort.

“That’s a fine idea.” Dad pulled a few crab legs off the tower.

Heat flickered through my chest. No, it would be horrible. Fuck, I didn’t want to see Mason out on a date. “Sure.” I stared at my empty plate. Why though? I didn’t like Mason, I didn’t. I fisted my hand next to my plate.

Mason did a double-take of me, squeezed my thigh under the table, leaned in close, and whispered, “I was kidding. You should get to know her first by yourself.”

I glanced at him. I was so fucked. I wouldn’t be calling this girl, ever. I knew that.