Page 41
Story: Man Advantage
TREV
I’d kept my word last night and made sure Cam’s world was thoroughly rocked. Keeping him quiet hadn’t been easy, but I was always game for a challenge, and getting him to unravel like that without crying out was… incredibly rewarding.
The only downside was that my neck and hips were a little bitchy when I stepped out on the ice for our morning skate. Eh, some stretching would help. I’d be fine.
My jaw was sore, too, but I didn’t really need that for hockey. Well, aside from chirping at other players and chewing the hell out of my mouthguard, anyway, but whatever.
All in all? Zero complaints. Ten out of ten, would make him shake like that again.
And soon, we’d have the house to ourselves again so I could make him scream.
As much as I hated when my boys went to Bryan’s, this new arrangement was a hell of a lot better than spending my non-custodial weeks being miserable and lonely.
Goose bumps sprang up under my gear and base layer, and I bit back a grin as I leaned down to pull on my socks. Even Chats couldn’t get under my skin today, and boy, did he try. He was determined to get me to admit that I was jealous of him and Bryan.
Not today, Satan.
“You’re lucky, Trev,” Chats said with that shit-eating grin as he taped his stick.
I had to bite back a laugh because I suspected I knew where this was going. “Oh yeah?” I eyed him, hoping he took my expression as one of boredom. “Why’s that?”
Smirking, he tore off the tape and put the roll aside. “Almost sent a picture to the family group chat this morning instead of just to Bryan.” He barked an obnoxious laugh. “Good thing I caught myself, isn’t it?”
I just rolled my eyes. I hated that he had any business at all on our family group chat. I hated… Well, I hated him, but that wasn’t news. Keeping that boredom on full display, I leaned down to lace up my skates. “I mean, you do you, I guess? I wouldn’t have seen it.”
“Dude, you’re on the family group chat,” he snarked.
I laughed and shot him a grin. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t know? I muted you ages ago.”
The stunned expression made me chuckle. He had that look of a grade school bully who’d just had his cleverest insult turned back on him—completely confused, offended, and embarrassed.
Perfect.
“Wait, we can mute teammates?” Bells asked. “Well, shit. I wish someone had told me that.”
“Of course we can.” Hoes glanced up from taping his sock. “I’ve muted Tremblay and Arnolds for?—”
“Oh, fuck you, Hoes,” Tremblay said from across the room. “I blocked you two seasons ago because you wouldn’t stop sending me pictures of your?—”
“Wait, what?” Spaulding chimed in. “What the fuck, Hoes? I’ve been asking for pictures of your dog for ages, and you’re spamming Tremblay with them? You dick.”
As the banter went on and got increasingly ridiculous, I just laughed. Good thing there weren’t any cameras or hot mics in the room right now. Though I kind of wished a camera could catch Chats looking like someone had flipped his birthday cake on the floor.
Sorry, dude. I’m not taking your bait, and nobody else is playing your games either.
I really shouldn’t have been feeding the animosity between us, but it was just so satisfying when I could turn some of his obnoxious bullshit back on him. He’d made it clear that he desperately wanted me to be jealous and pissed about him and Bryan. My apathy was his kryptonite.
What could I say? His crap didn’t bother me nearly as much now that I was spending every available minute driving Cam wild.
If we weren’t having sex, we were bantering as effortlessly as we had when we were kids, or curled up in front of a movie, or talking about whatever until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.
Chats just wasn’t going to get to me now that I was this happily distracted by the hot, funny, amazing man waiting for me at home. He could try, and I knew he would, but it wasn’t happening. Not anymore.
I picked up my stick and gloves and headed to the ice to join my teammates for our morning skate. We’d practice this morning and then play tonight. And later on, I’d be in bed with the hottest man I’d ever touched.
Time to focus on that instead of the jackass my ex-husband was with for some reason.
This game was wild , and the hometown crowd was loving it.
Minneapolis pulled their starting goalie in the first period after he let in five goals on seven shots. The backup was a brick wall, but we still had a 5-1 lead. All we had to do was hold on to it.
On the bench, Hoes clapped my shoulder. “You think you’ve got another one in you?”
I glanced up at the timer and shrugged. “Still thirty-five minutes left to play. I think I can get another in.” I grinned at him. “You gonna set me up?”
“Are you kidding? When was the last time you were actually on hatty watch?”
I laughed, admittedly a little giddy. I hadn’t had a hat trick in three seasons, and I’d only been on hatty watch twice in the last two.
Tonight, I’d been so damn close to a natural hat trick; two goals in the first ten minutes of the game, and I’d almost picked up a third in the dying minute of the first period.
That ping of the puck hitting the crossbar would haunt my dreams.
So no natural hatty tonight, but still plenty of time for a hat trick.
“What do you say, rookie?” Hoes leaned past me and looked at Bells. “Think we can get Trev his hat trick?”
“Fuck yeah.” The rookie fist-bumped both of us. “Let’s do this!”
Of course my linemates would still absolutely take a shot if they saw one, but especially when we had a comfortable lead, it wasn’t unusual to try to set someone up to complete a hat trick.
I was getting another puck in tonight, damn it. I was practically salivating at the thought of hats raining down on the ice. It had been too damn long, and I was too damn close with a ton of hockey left to play.
The comfortable lead didn’t stay that way for long, though.
Minneapolis got a breakaway that tilted the ice hard in their direction, and suddenly all the action was in our defensive zone.
Our third line and the D-pair completely fell apart at the worst possible time, and in seconds, the score was 5-2. A minute and a half later, 5-3.
“Get out there,” Coach barked to the top line, his irritation coming through loud and clear.
I got it—sometimes a strong lead like that was dangerous because while the other team got motivated, we got lazy and took our foot off the gas.
Now we were only up by two instead of four, and a two-goal lead could vanish fast .
The top line finally got things moving in our favor. The zone entry took a few tries because Minneapolis’s defense were on their toes. Then we were offside, and our guys tried again, but it was still a struggle.
Finally, though, a beautiful stretch pass from Spaulding to Tremblay got us onside in the offensive zone.
Tremblay fired on net, and the goalie froze the puck. A whistle let our exhausted top line and D pair come off the ice while my guys and I went over the boards with the second pair. Showtime.
I narrowly lost the faceoff. Their center sent the puck screaming toward one of his wingers, who was already on his way to the neutral zone.
The winger caught it, but Hoes flattened him with an open ice hit and whipped the puck along the boards. It flew around the end of the ice behind the goal, right onto Bells’s stick.
“Trev!” he called out.
I was ready when he passed to me, and the puck landed right on my tape.
I’d planned to go for a one-timer, but there was suddenly a dense screen between me and the goal.
Instead, I whipped the puck to Hoes, and before anyone in that screen could shift left to get in his way, he one-timed it right into the back of the net.
As we crushed him in celebratory hugs, he shouted above the cheering crowd, “Next shift, Trev! Next shift!”
“We’ve got a bigger lead now.” I smacked his helmet. “That’s the important thing!”
“Okay, then.” He shrugged as we headed toward the bench for fist bumps, calling over his shoulder, “No hat trick for you!”
“Damn it, Hoes!”
He laughed as we skated down the line for fist bumps.
Coach kept my line out since our shift had been fairly short, though he did swap out the D pair.
We set up at center ice, and this time I won the faceoff.
I passed to Spaulding, who got us into the offensive zone, and then we started cycling the puck, passing around and around as we steadily closed in on the goal.
Hoes got the puck, but instead of sending it to Bells like he’d been doing in the cycle, he passed it back to Spaulding. That threw Minneapolis off for a half a second, which was when Spaulding passed it to me.
I wound back for a one-timer and?—
The ping off the iron almost drew a curse out of me… until the puck bounced off the goalie’s shoulder and right into the net.
The fans went wild, and I’d barely pumped my fist before the first hats started landing on the ice. My linemates and defensemen celebrated with me, and then we were off to the bench again, the ice littered with hats as more came down and the scoreboard showed 7-3.
This was hockey. Things could turn around in a hurry and we could still lose, especially since we still had a whole other period to play. But this was a damn good place to be.
And I had my hat trick. My first in too long.
My first with Cam in the building.
The thought made me shiver as I took a seat between Bells and Hoes on the bench. While the ice crew started collecting the hundreds of hats, I grinned to myself. I was sure everyone thought it was because I’d scored my fifth career hat trick. And to some extent, it was.
But it was also because there was a gorgeous man up in the owners’ box who’d no doubt help me celebrate later tonight.
I stole a glance at Chats, who was staring out at the ice, chewing aggressively on his mouthguard. To anyone watching, he was just focusing. Concentrating. Readying himself for his next shift.
But I knew.
He was fuming. He was still pissed he hadn’t made it under my skin earlier, and I had no doubt he was mad that my hat trick would overshadow his game-winning goal.
Sucks to suck, asshole.
I grinned to myself for the rest of the period.
Table of Contents
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