Page 1 of Replay (Toronto Blaze #3)

A Naked Russian Standing in Front of Me

Josh

The locker room was always crowded in the preseason. It was noisier too—players chirping over each other while skates and sticks hit the floor. Also, lots of sweat. That was kind of gross, but it was part of the game. The air buzzed with the bodies and noise and something that was just hockey.

I grinned, still standing in my skates, because this was fun. So many guys, all excited about the possibilities ahead of them. I remembered when I was one of the hopefuls in preseason games. Playing my ass off, trying to impress the coaches and the other, established players.

My first training camp had been in Nashville, with the team that drafted me, and I’d been sent down to the farm team after.

It had been a big disappointment. I was one of the shorter players, and all the pundits had questioned whether I could make it with the larger guys, so I’d had some doubts.

Then, halfway through the season a couple of injuries to players on the big team got me called up, and the time I’d spent on the farm team had upped my game.

I’d stayed up, and never looked back. A year later I was traded to Toronto.

Now I was one of the established players, not one of the wannabes.

Training camp and the preseason were way better this way.

I’d gotten to know most of these new guys and kinda wanted them all to make it, but we weren’t allowed that big of a roster.

Thank all the hockey gods I wasn’t in charge of making the decisions.

Word had come down that some of those cuts were coming through tomorrow.

We were a week into preseason games, and the coaches had to let some players go.

“Hey, we should go out tonight!” I yelled into the noise.

A couple of the new guys looked at me, eyes kind of big like they weren’t sure I was talking to them.

“Anyone who wants. Let’s go out and enjoy that we’re here.” I got a few yeahs back, mostly from the newbies.

Fitch, whose stall was down one from mine, asked, “Is that a good idea?”

I didn’t care. “We don’t have to go crazy. Like, maybe not a club. But we can go out to a bar, meet some people, do something more than watch hockey tape and worry.”

That had the new guys nodding. I wasn’t worried, at least not about whether I’d make the team.

I played right wing on the top line last year, and at the end of the season, the second highest point scorer on the team was me.

This summer I’d worked hard with the teammates who’d stayed in town to prep for this year.

I’d have to majorly screw up to miss making it, and I wasn’t doing that.

Fitch shrugged. “Okay, I’m in.”

I was surprised he wanted to come. He’d been traded in from Edmonton over the summer.

Cooper had suggested Fitch and I could be roommates and he’d moved in a couple of days ago, but I didn’t know him very well.

He was older and didn’t talk about himself much, but he gave off quiet vibes.

Nice, but not a guy who’d party much. Maybe I was wrong.

I circled my hands like a megaphone in front of my mouth. “Okay, who’s in for the Top Shelf tonight?”

About five of the new guys raised their hands. So did Royster. He was one of the regular players, part of our shut down line. With Fitch and me, that made eight, which was probably a good number. The three of us could watch out for the others.

“This is not good.”

Oh fuck. I had a naked Russian standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

Petey, or Petrov to his face, was our starting goalie and, as far as I was concerned, a cyborg.

He never lost his temper, never shirked a practice or workout, and never had fun.

He’d been part of the group training together this summer, so I’d spent a lot of time working out with him and yeah, perfect cyborg.

“We’re not going to do anything crazy. Just go have a few drinks, meet people we haven’t been sweating with all day, and clear our heads for a bit.”

Petey frowned. “Not late.”

I wanted him to move, because if I sat down, his junk would be in my face. “No, I promise.”

He jerked his head in a nod. “Okay, I come.” Then, thankfully, he stalked off.

I dropped on the bench to unlace my skates. Petey coming with us would certainly keep the rooks in line, but I wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“Is he always like that?” Fitch asked.

I looked up. “Like what? Naked? Or the cyborg thing?”

He grinned. “Both. Either.”

“He might be a Terminator, except he stops goals instead of killing people. The other thing? My guess is that his family back in Russia are nudists. Because he never bothers with a towel when he’s walking around the showers and locker room.

” I straightened up to work off my skate.

Didn’t want to give Fitch the wrong impression.

“He’s always dressed anywhere else though. ”

“Good to know. I’ve got some stuff arriving at the condo from the freight company, so I’m not staying for lunch. I’ll see you later?”

“Later!”

He headed for the shower while I pulled off my jersey.

“So, ‘meeting people’ is hooking up, right?”

I looked up at…Foster, I think his name was. One of the new guys. He’d taken off his pads but still had his underlayers on. “Yeah, I guess, but be careful.”

He nodded. “I carry protection.”

“That’s good, but I meant be careful that no one gets hurt, right?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Hurt?”

“Don’t promise shit if you don’t mean it. Don’t say you’ll call when you won’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Like that, was it? “No means no.”

He shrugged. Fine. I’d tell Petey to watch out for him, and I couldn’t imagine a better cockblocker.

* * *

The nine of us had snagged the usual tables at the back, under the second floor of the Top Shelf. The bar was close to the arena downtown, so we usually met up here after games.

The place was popular with the local athletes since there was a sign out front: No selfies, no autographs, or no service. Management kicked out patrons who bothered us. Not that we didn’t do some pics and stuff, but people were discouraged from crowding us.

That didn’t include the puck bunnies though. There were now fourteen people squeezed around our tables. One brave woman had tried flirting with Petey, but that didn’t last long. Royster was cozied up with another. And two of the newbies, not Foster, were flirting with a couple of cute blondes.

Fitch was talking hockey to the other wannabes who’d come out with us, and some of the girls were listening in.

Fitch wasn’t wearing a wedding ring because he was almost divorced, but he somehow deflected the women without saying anything.

Awesome superpower. I had a woman sitting tight beside me, leaning over so her boobs were right there.

A sure thing, a nice way to end the day.

But my dick just wasn’t interested.

I hadn’t hooked up much over the summer.

I’d been training hard, but it wasn’t just that.

Maybe it was the end of last season. Losing in overtime in the Stanley Cup finals had kicked us all in the balls, and something, I dunno what, had just taken away my urge to hook up as frequently as I used to.

Maybe I was getting old. I was twenty-four now.

In any case, this woman wasn’t doing it for me.

“Uh, I’m going to—” No, I couldn’t say go to the head, or she’d offer to blow me back there. “The bar. Can I get you something?”

She looked over. It was crowded and it didn’t look fun. Normally I’d wave for a server, but the puck bunny didn’t know that. Fortunately, she didn’t offer to follow me.

“A cosmo?”

“Sure.” I’d bought a few of those over the years. I wouldn’t have trouble remembering her choice.

I slid out of my seat, a little faster than was probably polite, but I needed some space. From her. It wasn’t like I would get space at the bar, but I wouldn’t be pressed up against someone hoping to bag a hockey player for the night. Hopefully.

There was a reason I normally flagged down someone to take my order: I wasn’t tall.

Officially I was the shortest guy on the team, but I think Barnes fudged his height.

It took a few minutes before I got close enough to ask for a cosmo and a Keith’s ale.

The bartender recognized me and promised to add it to my tab.

“I didn’t take you for a cosmo drinker.” The voice beside me was husky, feminine and amused.

I turned to see a redhead sitting at the bar. She was hot, but older, watching me with a little smile. “It’s not for me. It’s for?—”

“Your date?”

I shook my head. “Someone I’m trying to get rid of, honestly.”

The woman laughed. “Not sure buying her a drink is going to do that.”

I sighed. “It got me away from the table though.”

She leaned forward so we didn’t have to speak so loudly. “What’s your plan?”

I looked over my shoulder. Cosmo Girl was moving in on Foster now. “If I wait long enough, she’ll go for someone else.”

“Waste of a cosmo.”

“Worth it. Um, do you want it?”

“Not my drink, but thanks.”

The bartender was still working on the pink concoction. I tilted my head. “You don’t look like someone who hangs out in a sports bar.” She was wearing a suit, an actual skirt and jacket that looked expensive as shit.

“I’m not.”

“Got lost?” I grinned at her.

“No. I was meeting someone and he picked the place. It didn’t work out.”

Now my dick perked up. She was something different. Maybe I was just bored with the usual choices. “His loss.” The cosmo was set on the bar in front of me with my beer. “Sure you don’t want this?”

“You’re welcome to it. I’m Madeline, by the way.” The redhead held out her hand. It was smooth, not like my callused palm.

“I’m Josh.”

She dropped my hand after we shook. “Here’s what I’m looking for. It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I just want someone to fuck me. Then I’ll kick him out. I won’t call and I don’t do repeats. Are you good with that?”

My dick now lost interest. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. One night was all I wanted.

A sudden crash when a server dropped a tray of drinks attracted my attention. I caught a glimpse of light brown hair on a short woman and something inside me leapt. Katie?

She turned around, and no, it wasn’t Katie.

Was that my problem? I’d heard from friends of friends that Katie was going to school in Toronto this year. Was I hoping to see her again? Ugh .

Losing the Cup. Losing Katie. I had to get myself together and out of this funk.

I turned back to the redhead. She was attractive and knew what she wanted. I could get my dick onboard, and better her than the bunny back at the table.

“That sounds great. Just let me tell my group that I’m leaving.”