Page 49

CHAPTER 49

DALLAS

T he atmosphere in the locker room is electric for our first game back after the holiday break. We’re playing Robbie’s old team, the St. Paul Lions, for the first time this season, and we’re determined to take the W for Robbie’s sake.

There’s some serious beef between Robbie and his old teammate, Ben Harris, after Robbie broke the guy’s jaw during their pre-season opener, which resulted in him being released immediately and forced to face a Player Safety investigation. The guy almost lost hockey altogether, but thankfully he was allowed to play, and our GM Chris Garret quickly snapped him up.

Harris has been chirping all over social media for the last few days, ready to stick it to Mason once and for all on the ice. And I know tonight’s game is going to get messy. But I’m here for it. And, by the looks of Robbie next to me, jumping up and down and stretching out his neck like a heavyweight boxer about to step into the ring for a title fight, it looks like he’s ready to bring out his inner enforcer tonight.

“You ready to go spend some time in the box, son?” I joke, clapping my hands together to psych him up .

“Fuck yeah,” Robbie yells. “Keller’s going to be so horny by the time the final siren sounds,” he murmurs for my ears only.

I shake my head, chuckling under my break. “Dude.”

He shrugs, winking at me.

“Alright, girls, gather ‘round.” Coach Draper walks into the room, followed by his entourage, and we all quiet down.

I continue the arduous task of securing my guards while Coach starts to run over a couple of last-minute changes to our game plan. St. Paul is the reigning Stanley Cup champs. But getting rid of Robbie was the start of their downfall; now, at almost the half-way mark of the regular season, they’ll be lucky to even make the playoffs as a wildcard. But they’re tough. There’s no disputing that. Tough—and dirty. And they’ve got some sharp shooters too. Benson, their right wing, has one of the fastest slapshots in the league. His accuracy is shit, but his wrist is lethal. And Ben Harris was the highest goal scorer in the league last season. Being that tonight is his first game back, I can’t be sure if he’s still a force to be reckoned with or not, but I know I’m going to have my work cut out for me.

My phone vibrates on the bench, and I pick it up as stealthily as I can while Coach goes over a few key plays, smiling to myself when I see her name on the screen.

Goldie: Good luck, baby.

Fuck, I love it when she calls me baby. Sure, a lot of men might find it emasculating or whatever, but God, it makes my dick hard.

Emily and I flew back into New York yesterday on separate flights which sucked, but it was what she wanted when she agreed to come to Texas with me for Christmas. But we agreed last night, while she was lying naked in my arms after some of the best sex of my life, that we would tell Andy. Together. So, I organized a breakfast meeting with him for tomorrow morning. What he doesn’t know is that Emily will be with me. And we’re going to finally come clean. We know the possible consequences; Emily could lose her job, and I could lose one of my closest friends, but we can’t keep sneaking around. More than that, we don’t want to. So even though she’s here tonight up in the box with Fran, this is the last night we need to keep our relationship a secret. And I cannot fucking wait to show off my girl tomorrow.

Me: Having you in the stands is all the luck I need, baby.

Goldie: Please be careful out there. Fran said there’s some guy on the other team who is apparently gunning for y’all.

I re-read her last message a few times. Two days in Texas and she’s dropping y’alls like a local. I can’t help but smirk like a smug asshole.

Me: Y’all?? Baby, my dick just got hard.

Goldie: Dallas! I’m serious. Please be careful.

Me: You ain’t got nothing to worry that pretty little head about, Goldie.

“Dallas Shaw, you wanna put that goddamn phone away before I shove it up your ass?”

I snap my head up to find Coach glowering at me over the top of his specs before yanking them off his crooked nose and giving me his trademark face of fury.

“You of all people should be paying attention,” he roars, clearly on one tonight. “Benson and Harris will not be going on easy on you.”

I tuck my phone into my cubby and offer him a nod. “Sorry, Coach.”

Coach turns back to the screen, and I catch Happy smirking at me from across the room, clearly stoked not to be on the receiving end of Draper’s wrath. I flip him off but quickly hide my hand when Coach turns back around, spearing Happy as he does.

“Slater, wipe that goddamn face off your head.” He points at Happy. “You ain’t got no right in grinning like a smug bastard. You’re lucky you aren’t benched, son.”

Happy squares his shoulders, looking down at the floor, and when Coach turns back to the screen and Happy glances up at me with that same smirk, I flip him off again, making him bite back his laughter, his shoulders trembling with every chuckle.

When Coach Draper is finally done, I turn back to my cubby, grabbing my phone to see another text message from my girl, and I feel my heart swell.

Goldie: Fran told me to tell you that if you get a shutout, I’ll let you put it anywhere…

I swear to all that is fucking holy, I almost drop my damn phone.

Me: You kiddin’ me, Goldie.

Goldie: I love you

Groaning, I bow my head, resting it against the shelf and closing my eyes to take a moment. The last thing I need is to go out to warm-ups and have the guys shooting pucks at me while sporting wood. This woman is going to be the death of me, and I fucking love it.