Page 2 of Penalty Zone (Enforcers Hockey #2)

Leo

Caleb’s different from what I expected. It’s been years since I’ve seen him without hockey pads, so although he’s broad and muscular, he’s not as wide as I thought. He’s almost as tall as I am, a full-grown man, no longer a wide-eyed, eager kid.

Undeniably beautiful, his body’s honed for competition and able to withstand punishment, igniting an interest beyond professional that isn’t appropriate toward my son’s best friend. But my pants grow tight in the crotch, and I shift to hide my bulge.

I make the mistake of staring into his big green eyes. So intent on pleasing me earlier that he seemed ready to sit on the floor. The way he almost gave in to my command stirred something buried deep inside.

“Mr. Benz, let me introduce you to our new goalie consultant, Mr. Griffin.” Ari flourishes his arm as if I’m a prize the organization has acquired.

His reaction catches me off guard. His round eyes narrow and his jaw clenches, turning him from a boyish cherub into a worthy opponent.

This is the Caleb Benz the Enforcers need on the ice.

“Why don’t you dress for practice, and Coach Griffin will meet you on the ice,” Ari says to him.

Caleb’s body twitches as his head jerks in agreement, exiting the office swiftly yet clumsily.

Ari sighs, staring at the empty space left behind by an intriguing and confusing man.

“Now do you have a better idea of why I’m worried?

His stats are incredible, the team loves him, but sometimes”—he waves his hand—“that guy shows up, and I get nervous. My gut tells me he’s the future of the Enforcers, but I could use a second opinion.

Benz’s off-ice wackiness doesn’t matter, but on the ice, I need his focus. ”

Watching game tape, I didn’t understand Ari’s concern, but seeing two very different aspects of Benz’s personality makes it clearer. But it’s not everything.

“Why now? The season has started, and Liska’s healthy.” I sit with my knees wide and rest my elbows on them. Patrik Liska, the team’s starting goalie, is playing incredible hockey and has been named an All-Star more times than I can remember.

“Benz proved himself last year, and we plan to give him more ice time. He needs to play consistently all season,” he says, and I stay quiet, waiting for the real reason.

Ari stares out the window, tapping his fingers. “This stays in this room. Liska’s as good as ever…but…we were discussing investments and he said, and I quote, ‘After I retire.’ I’m unsure what he said after that because everything went hazy.” His grave gaze meets mine.

My elbows slip, and I grip my knees. “He said that?” Hockey players don’t speak the word retirement. It’s a superstition. Talking about retirement means you’re retiring.

“He did. Realistically, he has a few great years left. Is Benz mentally tough enough to carry this team, or is a trade a better option? That’s why you’re here. And to spend time with your son. Everyone wins.”

“I rented an apartment to make the commute easier.” I spent my entire career in Montreal and am loyal to their organization. The team brokered a deal for me to be the televised play-by-play announcer for their games.

But if I can help my son’s team win, I will. Mason’s extremely busy, and all my efforts to connect with him have fallen through. Now, we’ll be in the same place. Problem solved.

Caleb’s using the RapidShot and easily saves the pucks it flings at him. Since everything echoes in the empty arena, I approach quietly so I don’t disturb him.

He has immense potential, and I’ll take him to the next level. He hasn’t seen me, so it’s the perfect opportunity to watch his natural instincts, not the moves he thinks a coach wants to see.

I’m impressed with his concentration and the laser focus of his green eyes.

The pucks shoot out faster and closer together. There’s a fury in his movements that holds him back. I open the gate and walk onto the ice with my shoes.

Today, nothing has gone as planned, but that’s life in the NHL.

As soon as Caleb notices me, he misses a puck, becoming out of sync and letting in a few more.

I glide over, turning off the machine, and Caleb skates out of the goal to meet me.

“What did Mason say when you asked him about working here?” His question surprises me.

“I don’t normally ask my son’s permission when I take a job.” The arena is cold, and I fight off a shiver since I’m not dressed for the temperature.

Caleb snorts, but then his eyes widen as if he can’t believe he’s being disrespectful. There’s an undercurrent of unease and possibly anger. The man cannot hide his emotions.

“He’s fine with it. But I’m not here to talk about Mason. Let’s work on your timing, eh?” I ask.

“Fine.”

We work through a few drills, and he responds well to positive reinforcement. I make mental notes of things to improve his game to discuss another day. Today’s goals are gaining his trust and building rapport.

Mason mentions Caleb every time we talk, but I know nothing of the man. It’s an odd predicament, knowing so many personal details when we’re practically strangers.

Caleb loves to dance and takes my son to clubs, which he usually avoids.

Mason keeps to himself, and Caleb drags him out.

In college, Mason spent hours in the library, and Caleb studied with him.

Caleb rarely drank back in college but has a beer once in a while now.

I have extraneous facts but not a full picture of the pro goalie.

My job is to determine whether all the pieces of Caleb Benz fit together to form a man capable of leading an NHL team to win The Cup.

It’s not all on him, but he will be a cornerstone.

Winning The Cup requires more than hockey skills. I know because I never won, and it’s my biggest regret in life.

“Tell me about your pregame ritual,” I say, hoping he’ll confide in me.

“It starts with the team and getting everyone amped up to play. Either Lucky or I get the dance party going. It’s our ritual, and we can’t play without it.” He crosses his arms, and I have to give him part of myself for him to open up more.

“Excellent. I would listen to rock music to pump myself up and then shadow box.”

Caleb fights a smile. “I can picture that, but I’m the opposite. Once the guys are psyched up, I need some alone time to meditate and center my energy.”

I tilt my head and must look confused.

“It probably seems like new-age woo-woo to you, but it’s my process.”

“Tell me more.” I’m enthralled by his passion for meditation and how it enhances his game.

It’s hazardous to be interested in the way his mind works. Everything about him is fascinating.

Caleb slowly circles me, his eyes traveling the length of my body before he drifts back to the goal.

There’s something dangerous in the way his eyes roam over me.

A chill races across the nape of my neck as my fight-or-flight response activates.

It’s illogical that a boy I’ve known for years can cause my system to go haywire.

But it does. My pulse races, the sound rushing in my ears, drowning out reason.

I don’t run, and I can’t fight him. Caleb’s combination of willingness to please and cunning competitive edge unearths a wild and unhinged part of me.

“Stop,” I bark because my mind needs something to do besides battle my body. He obeys, and desire races to the surface. I shove it back, along with the memory of Mason telling me Caleb’s bisexual. That doesn’t matter.

I’m losing myself to the primal part of me that wants more of something I can’t name. Caleb has no idea he’s provoking a reaction I can’t control.

It breaks free, and I stalk up to him and grab his jersey, twisting and pulling him so our noses are almost touching. The green in his huge, round eyes disappears, replaced with black, and his breath hitches.

Fiery sparks course through me, hating and loving his reaction all at the same time. We’re breathing the same air—out of his mouth into mine and out of my mouth into his. I can’t shake my emotions, so I jerk him side to side.

“Drop and give me twenty.” To my utter shock, Caleb’s on the ice in a pushup position before I can blink.

“Yes, sir,” he says from under long inky lashes and begins counting.

I’ve been dropped from an airplane without a parachute, hurtling through space with no way to recover before I crash. My mind replays all of our interactions. My responses.

Holy shit.

Caleb Benz is submissive and responds to my commands.

He responds as if made for me.

The one man I can’t have seems perfectly tailored to my desires.

My world crashes around me.