Page 7 of The Poster Boy (Love The Game #3)

Jay

P ractice kicked my ass, but I took comfort in the fact that it also kicked the new guy’s ass.

I hated to admit that he held his own in net, though.

With Church in his current slump, it might do the team some good to have a decent back-up goalie.

I loved that for the team but disliked it on a personal level.

Part of me was insulted on Church’s behalf even though there was nothing to be insulted about.

Teams brought on new players all the time.

They moved players up from the farm team, traded men, reworked entire lineups—all in the name of increasing the franchise’s chance at a cup.

I couldn’t fault Myers for that. He was a cog in the machine like the rest of us.

I could, however, fault him for the extra press at our practice and the way he skated over after they called his name.

He was like a golden retriever on skates.

The media loved him. The way he’d been outed was spectacularly shitty, but he’d managed to land on his feet.

The press laughed at something he said. He had them eating out of the palm of his hand.

I stared at the scene across the ice until Boone skated in front of me, blocking my view.

“I’m sure he’d let you have a little camera time if you wanted.” Boone grinned at me, knowing I was annoyed but not caring. Typical Boone.

Fucker.

Rather than answering, I skated off the ice and headed for the locker room.

“You’re in a mood today,” Boone said, stomping up beside me.

“I’m always in a mood.” It wasn’t a lie. Some people were golden retrievers. I was a black cat. Silent. Stoic. Moody and fickle without a shit to give about it. It served me well for the past twenty-eight years, and I didn’t see the sense in trying to change.

“Yeah, but your mood is extra spicy today. Someone shit in your cereal?” He bumped his shoulder against mine, wanting me to talk.

To open up to him. Part of it was because Boone had been my friend since we met in training camp.

The other part was because Boone was the team captain, and it was his job to make sure everyone had their head screwed on right.

He could be a bit of a mother hen that way.

One of the things that made him good at what he did was his ability to suss out when one of us needed to get something off our chest or our head out of our ass.

“No one shit in my cereal, but thank you for that visual.”

“On the record, I don’t believe you for a second, but I have to get out of here and don’t have time to be pushy and pry it out of you.”

“Lucky me.”

“I will, though. Mark my words.” Boone smacked me on the shoulder and entered the locker room, stripping out of his clothes as he approached the bench.

Boone never met an environment he couldn’t survive in.

He was a bit like an unruly weed in that regard, able to thrive no matter what his surroundings were.

Never once did I want to be like him, but I could appreciate why everyone liked him.

Why he did so well as captain. He knew everyone on the team almost as well as he knew himself.

When someone had an off day, Boone sensed it right away, and he was usually quick to ferret out the reason.

Even on a day like this when he was in a hurry for some reason, Boone made time to check on me and my sour-ass mood, but also on a few of the other guys.

He stopped next to Church and slung an arm around him.

Whatever he said to him was meant for Church’s ears only, and I turned my attention to stripping out of my gear.

I took my sweet time, not wanting to get cornered by Boone again.

By the time I made it to the shower, he was already rinsing off and reaching for his towel.

“Someone has a hot date,” Andrew said. “I’ve never seen Boone shower so fast.”

“I have to see a man about a dog.” Boone winked at Andrew and headed out of the showers. “You kids behave.”

“Yes, Dad,” Church said.

Boone poked his head back in the showers. “That’s Daddy to you.”

Laughter echoed off the walls and a smile tugged at my mouth. Boone had a way of lifting my mood even when I didn’t want it to be lifted.

Some guys liked short showers, but I swore I was half water the way I could stay under the spray.

It was worse if you let me near a bathtub.

I’d lay in there until I turned into a prune all over.

Soon it was just me. The rest of the team had headed back into the locker room to change, but I’d lingered in the shower.

Something I should have taken into consideration was the new goalie and his little press scrum after practice.

Myers was the last one off the ice and the last one into the shower. I hadn’t even heard him come in, but I turned and he was there, across the room with his back turned to me.

Growing up gay, playing hockey and any other sport I could join, had helped me control my dick in locker rooms. The first rule was that you didn’t ogle other dudes.

But holy shit , Myers was built like a god.

Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Long legs.

Blond hair just long enough to tickle the back of his neck.

I watched the way his muscles moved and flexed as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair.

Suds dripped down his back, following the curve of his spine to his perfect ass.

I tore my eyes away and shut my water off before I got myself into too much trouble.

Myers had no business being that fucking pretty.

Through sheer willpower, I managed to keep my erection at bay, but I’d had to use every trick in the book.

Old naked people. Math problems. The smell of hockey gear, closer to a carcass than anything I’d ever smelled before.

That had my dick in reverse, and I wrapped my towel around my waist and hightailed it out of the shower.

The locker room was a ghost town. I made a mental note to be faster next time. I could always rinse off here and then go home and languish in a bath if I wanted to. Anything to avoid more solo naked encounters with Myers.

“I thought for sure everyone would be gone.”

I bit back a curse and tried to dry faster without looking like I was in a rush. Boone would have my ass if he found out how petty and stupid I was being. But what Boone didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

“I thought you’d be talking to your little fan club.” Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned my head out of instinct.

Myers sat on the bench, his towel thankfully wrapped around his middle, though it did nothing to hide his thick, powerful thighs, or the water that dripped off his hair and ran down his neck.

“Fan club? Oh, the press. They just had a few questions.”

“You don’t have to talk to them, you know.”

“I don’t mind.”

Myers’s tone was bright, like he meant it. And he probably did. He clearly loved the attention. His face had been all over social media and TV interviews ever since he was outed. Though that did have a bit to do with the movie star he was outed with.

Regardless of the reasons, Myers had become the media’s golden boy. The shining example of integrity and kindness. He did charity work. He volunteered. He donated. All those were things plenty of other players did, and yet Myers had managed to capitalize on it.

“If the press bothers you or the other guys, I might be able to ask that they limit the amount of time they spend at practice. I don’t know that it will work, but I don’t want them to be a distraction.”

Goddammit, Myers was laying the do-gooder bit on thick.

“Do whatever you want.” I yanked a clean set of sweats on, my dick stirring despite my brain telling it that it couldn’t possibly be attracted to Myers. My dick, however, had a mind of its own.

Myers was quiet after that, and I made a point not to look at him. Shoving my feet into my shoes, I drummed up the common courtesy to at least say goodbye to him, but when I turned, Myers was ready to go and waiting for me.

“Thought I could walk out with you.” He looked sheepish as he shoved his hands into his pockets and I almost softened toward him.

“What, you’re worried you’ll get lost?”

Despite my shitty tone of voice, Myers smiled. “Something like that.”

He fell into step beside me. The spring in his step when he walked reminded me even more of a golden retriever.

“You have a hell of a wrist shot, by the way.”

“Can’t be that good if you stopped every one of them.”

Myers might be the media darling and a pain in my ass, but I had to give credit where it was due. He had a good glove hand, and he was as quick and agile as a cat.

“I didn’t say you weren’t good. I’m just better, that’s all. Don’t take it personally.”

I looked over at Myers in time to see him wink at me. When my scowl deepened and I didn’t respond, his sunny disposition faded a little, proving that he was human after all and not some programmable robot with his factory default stuck on perpetually happy.

Boone would kick my ass if he could see me now. But, thankfully, Boone had bolted out with a quickness.