Page 9 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)

CHAPTER NINE

SYDNEY

Did I really think Ryder would follow through?

I wasn’t sure.

Becoming a fool for the public eye wasn’t easy, even if that public would eventually love him for it.

Ryder had hardly looked at me in the twenty-four hours since our excursion to the beach, but I could still feel his lips on mine. God, I wanted him. His lips, his powerful arms, that serious face of his. Which was why I was here, drinking alone at a bar near the arena.

I normally didn’t drink much, despite the kinds of people my job put into my orbit. But tonight felt like an exception.

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it, knowing who it would be.

Jameson had been trying to call me all day, and I wasn’t sure why.

We hadn’t spoken since I left him in that studio.

Maybe it was a good thing. I’d been trying so hard to forget everything that happened between us—maybe even using Ryder to do it.

Damn, I wanted to use him. To let him use me.

My gin and tonic sat on the bar in front of me, not my first but still inviting.

With each sip, I could forget. Forget that I hadn’t spoken to Mom or Dad since coming back here.

Forget that I was a screw-up with a tendency to sleep with bosses or say the wrong thing—or nothing at all.

It was why I hadn’t checked my email or looked at the job offers still coming in.

“This seat taken?”

I turned to see Shai. Behind her stood one of Teddy’s coaches—Frankie, if I remembered right.

“I’m not great company right now,” I said, hoping they’d take the hint.

“Good thing golden retrievers excel at cheering people up.” Shai grinned, sliding onto the stool next to me. Frankie took the seat beside her, offering a softer smile.

I couldn’t help but laugh at Shai’s reference to her job as the team mascot. “It’s, um, an interesting mascot choice.”

“Don’t diss the doggy,” she said, crossing her arms, though her tone was playful.

Frankie laughed, the sound unexpectedly gentle for someone who probably yelled at giant men for a living. She held out a hand. “Frankie Holloway. You’re Teddy’s sister, right? ”

I shook her hand, nodding. “Not that I like to admit it.”

Frankie smiled. “Your brother is?—”

“Infuriating?”

“That. Definitely that.”

“Try growing up with him.”

Though, I hadn’t really. Teddy left town when I was ten, returning only for holidays. But he was still my person, the only one in our family who cared about me.

They ordered drinks, and I watched them, waiting for them to go back to whatever table they’d come from. I wasn’t great at talking to people, never had been. It had left me with a lot of lonely years and very few real friends.

Shai exchanged a look with Frankie before turning to me. “I was just telling Frankie I don’t know how she works around all those fine-ass men and doesn’t?—”

“I’m their coach,” Frankie cut in.

I shrugged. “And?”

Frankie sighed. “Do you know how many female coaches there are in the AHL or NHL?”

“No.”

“Three. I’m a rare breed. I can’t mess this up. I can’t prove to the boys’ club that they were right to keep us out.”

Shai nudged me. “What about you? You’re living with two of the finest—Ryder and Rowan.”

My insides clenched at the mention of Ryder. I pictured him waist-deep in the ocean, trusting me enough to let go. And then, he’d kissed me, ruining my peace.

“They’re my brother’s friends,” I said, scrunching my nose. “Totally off-limits. Plus, I’ve known Ryder and Sullivan Cassidy since I could walk.”

Frankie sighed. “The Cassidy boys. How can twin brothers hate each other so much? It’s baffling. They’re both genuinely nice people—except to each other.”

My phone buzzed again, and I flipped it over. Dad. What was he doing calling me? I hit ignore and debated how much I should share. The drink was going to my head, the bar swimming before me, and I found myself telling them the tragic story of two brothers in love with one woman.

“Do you know Sullivan’s fiancée?” I asked.

They both nodded.

“She’s lovely,” Shai said, though she sounded confused.

“Yes, I’ve heard.” I sighed. “But she was with Ryder for ten years.”

Their heads snapped toward me.

“College sweethearts,” I continued, remembering what Teddy had told me over the years. “She followed him to his teams after college. He proposed three times. Each time, she said she didn’t plan to get married. Then, suddenly, she’s with Sullivan. Engaged.”

Shai whistled. “Now, I kind of hate Sullivan too.”

“Don’t. Ryder wouldn’t want anyone to have issues because of him.”

Frankie sipped her drink thoughtfully. “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?”

“Why Ryder’s so serious now. He only lets the facade drop with fans. It makes him a great captain, but it’s holding back his play. He was so creative once. Now, he’s all structure, no freedom.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to me before. Was Ryder’s past holding him back on the ice?

I threw a twenty on the counter and slid off the stool. “I have to go.”

Half an hour later, I stepped into the dark, quiet house in Alameda. Alcohol fueled my steps as I kicked off my shoes and crept into the living room.

Ryder was asleep on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin. He looked so at peace—something I knew he wasn’t.

His hair was tousled, his features relaxed. There was a beauty in sleep, a rare moment where the weight of the world lifted. My eyes traced the curve of his lips to his jaw, sharp enough to cut me.

Before I could think better of it, I climbed onto the couch, straddling his hips. I leaned down, brushing a kiss across his lips.

His eyes shot open, but he didn’t push me off. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, and he kissed me back.

Then, he stopped, all sleep fading from his face. “You taste like a bar, Syd.”

“That’s because I just came from one.” I tried to kiss him again, but he turned his head.

“Go to sleep.”

“No.”

“Sydney Valentine, I want to kiss you. I want to lay you down on this couch and worship you despite my better judgment. But you’re drunk. So, don’t push this.”

Huffing, I climbed off him. “You need to loosen up, Ryder. It’s just sex. I’m not asking you to marry me.”

This was why I didn’t drink. It took all control away, letting the bitch out.

I stormed up the stairs and collapsed face-first onto the bed—Ryder’s bed—and promptly passed out.