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CHAPTER 2

RUSS

C oach North’s sister. Fuck. Me.

I’m not easily distracted during a game, but she reminded me of the girls I chased in college—dark brown hair tied up in some kind of haphazard bun, plastic-framed glasses, and didn’t appear to give a fuck about the game. At one point, I swear she was reading a book on her phone or ereader. My best guess is that she's a librarian or a coffee shop owner. My fucking kryptonite. I spotted her early in the first period, and couldn’t take my eyes off her. When the man who was clearly not with her tried to make a move, I snapped.

And now I have a name. Except... she’s off-limits.

Once I’m in my car, I can’t help myself, and pull up the internet browser on my phone for a quick search. She’s listed as a physical therapist for the Québec City Titans—a soccer team I know literally nothing about. Hell, I didn’t even know Québec City had a soccer team. I click on the site and scroll the staff directory until I find her. Fuck, this was a mistake. She’s stunning and smart?

But luck is on my side tonight; the siren doesn’t live here, and I’ll likely never see her again.

I plug my phone in and start the car, when there’s an incoming text from Berkeley, one of our D-men, though we all call him Beaver, Beav for short.

Beav

Are you up for going out tonight?

I’m fucking sore, but I’m starving.

Too sore for bunnies?

Honestly? Yeah.

More for me!

I shake my head, chuckling to myself, and he sends me a link to a bar a few miles away, with several beer options and burgers the size of your face. It’s close to the stadium, so we’ll likely be recognized, but I’d give just about anything to sink my teeth into a perfectly cooked burger right now.

Once I arrive, I spot him seated at the bar with a few open stools on either side of him. With a clap on his shoulder, I take a seat to his right. “Hey, Beav.”

“Hey! What took you so long?”

The bartender slides a menu in front of me, and I thank him with a nod before replying to Beav, “There wasn’t anywhere to park.”

“That’s why I took a rideshare.”

I take a minute to peruse the menu; my stomach is already growling. After settling on a burger with mushrooms, caramelized onions, and blue cheese, I flag down the bartender. The combination should ward off anyone attempting to flirt with me.

“What’ll it be?”

“I'll do a blue cheese burger and a stout. What do you have?”

He rattles off a few options, and I order one with a lower ABV. While I joked in the post-game interviews about skipping cardio, I won’t be, and being slightly hungover while running six miles isn’t my idea of fun.

As the bartender sets my beer in front of me and replaces Beav’s IPA, two women sit to my right, both wearing Caribou jerseys. If I keep to myself, there’s a good chance they won’t recognize me. The blonde directly next to me raises her hand to get the attention of the bartender, giggling, “Two shots of your finest tequila, fine sir. It’s my birthday!”

“I’m not drinking tequila,” her friend grumbles.

“Yes, you are.” She then asks me, “Can you tell my boring friend she should have a birthday shot with me?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask. I’m too old for shots,” I chuckle, and as I glance over at her friend, I do a double take, all of the air leaving my lungs.

Of all the bars…

Beav leans over to reply, “I’m not too old, I’ll drink hers.” Scarlett hasn’t looked up from her phone, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Beav finally notices why I’m tongue-tied like a damn schoolboy and laughs, “Hey! It’s kiss cam girl.”

Scarlett finally looks over at us, her cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of dark pink. “Oh, um, yes. That’s me.”

“You had this one all worked up today.” He nudges my shoulder, and I’m officially in hell.

The blonde gasps. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you both!” She smacks Scarlett’s arm and whispers to her, but I can still make out her saying, “Your boyfriend is here.”

Boyfriend?

Scarlett having a boyfriend is the best possible solution, but my mind conjures up an image of her having an intimate dinner or cuddling on the couch with some asshole. I don’t even know this girl, but an irrational pang of jealousy settles in my gut.

I blow out a long breath and rake a hand through my hair. She’s just a beautiful woman, I see beautiful women every day. Why the fuck am I acting like this?

“Make that four shots of tequila!” Beav yells to the bartender.

He sets four tall shot glasses on the bar and pours what’s closer to three shots into each one. Bile rises in my throat with each glass he fills. Once he slides them over, the birthday girl toasts, “To me! Thirty is the new twenty!” I huff a small laugh; she’s certainly acting twenty.

Beaver and Blondie take their shots, downing them in one go, while Scarlett and I don’t so much as look at ours. Beav elbows me, but I shake my head. With a smirk, he snatches my shot glass and finishes mine. The birthday girl does the same to Scarlett’s, and my eyes catch on our numbers on their jerseys. Did they follow us here? Scarlett seemed uninterested at the game, but maybe I got this all wrong. Her brother is on the coaching staff, why wouldn’t she love hockey? None of this makes sense.

“You had an amazing game tonight.” Blondie offers her hand. “Rachel.”

I take it, and this is the part of every introduction I hate—they know me and my name, but I feel obligated to tell them all the same. “Russ.”

“I know.” She winks, and my food can’t arrive fast enough. “So, what are your plans for the night?”

I’m in no mood for small talk, and I sure as fuck don’t want to flirt with her. I should order my burger to go and get the hell out of here. I’m about to flag down the bartender when Beav replies, “Having dinner with you two.”

Fuck. Me.

“She’s Coach North’s sister, and the birthday girl could be literally anyone,” I whisper to him. “We should get out of here.”

“That’s a great idea,” he announces, and I pin him with a glare.

“What’s a great idea?” Scarlett asks, nervously biting her lip. The way I want to take it between my own teeth… No. She has a boyfriend.

The bartender sets my burger down, and I’ve never been so grateful for an interruption. The blue cheese is pungent, and I’m hoping it does its job. I take a long drink of my beer but nearly spit it out when Beaver suggests, “Taking our dinner to go and celebrating a birthday at my place.”

Motherfucker…

“That would be so much fun,” Rachel squeals. “That burger looks amazing, but maybe I should order it with no onions or blue cheese.” She then raises her arm to get the bartender’s attention. “Hi, sorry, could we do a to-go order.”

A horny D-man, a bubbly birthday girl, a grumpy goalie, and an off-limits woman… What could go wrong? If Beav wants to go home with them, that’s his business, but I’m not about to spend the night flirting with a taken woman. “I’m staying here,” I announce, gripping my burger with both hands and taking an obnoxiously large bite of it.

“Same.” Scarlett orders the same burger as me, and asks, “Could I have extra onions?”

I try to hide my smirk, but fail. Fuck, she’s cute. Why does she have to be Coach’s sister? And where the fuck is her boyfriend? I could’ve sworn Rachel said he was here.

As Beav and Rachel place their to-go orders, I keep my attention on the game highlights. We played well today, but I have a nagging feeling if I don’t step things up, I’ll be forced into retirement. Once their food arrives, Beav hops off his stool and offers his arm to Rachel. “Shall we?” he asks with a dimpled grin. None of it should surprise me; he said himself he was coming here to bring someone home. She links her arm with his, and he guides her away from the bar, calling over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, kiss cam girl,” leaving me with the last person I should befriend right now.