The Whalers fans are some of the loudest and most passionate in the NHL, and as the Vegas center powers toward me, the puck at his blade, I take strength from them. We’re one goal down against the Gamblers, and I can’t let this goal in with four minutes left on the clock. I fill the doorstep of my goal, my long arms outstretched, sliding side to side all whilst keeping the lurking winger in my peripheral vision. Nate is hot on the player’s tail and just as he’s about to wind up to hit a slapper at me, Nate picks his pocket and flies round the back of the net, passing it to Bugs who skates away back up the ice.
While the battle to equalize rages at the other end of the rink, I take a moment to lift my helmet and squirt water into my mouth and over my face. I’m already a big guy, weighing in at almost two hundred and forty pounds, but when you add another fifty pounds of gear on top of that, it’s a Herculean feat to even skate onto the ice, let alone play sixty minutes of high-adrenaline hockey.
As I toss my bottle back onto the top of my net, I lower my helmet just as Knox scores at the other end, tying the game.
“Fuck yeah, rookie!” I yell, thrusting my oversized goalie stick into the air while Knox skates backward with his fists pumping in his signature celebration.
However, there’s no time to rest on our laurels as we go to a TV break and Coach Casey calls us over for a briefing of the next play, calling the first line to power through and play the remaining two minutes to get the win. I can see all the guys are dog tired, but they’re just as pumped to get the win against the Gamblers.
“Are you ready to win this?” Coach yells over the deafening noise of the home fans.
“YES COACH!” we yell back, skating into our positions as the TV break ends and Bugs goes to the center for the puck drop.
“You ready to eat rubber, Bergman?” I hear the familiar, hard Slavic voice of Orlov, the Vegas winger. He’s one of the best players in the NHL, but he’s also an enormous asshat, and we’ve come to blows more times than I’d care to count.
“As long as you’re ready to feel my blade up your ass,” I growl, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the puck drop that’s just about to happen. He does this all the time, trying to get inside my head and making me lose focus. But I’m older and wiser now. I’m not the green kid who used to throw my gloves down for the slightest thing.
“Oh wow, I had no idea you were gay.” He chuckles. “Congratulations on coming out. I guess all those bunnies you fuck around with are just a smoke screen, huh?”
I can feel my blood boiling. It’s just like Orlov to throw around homophobic slurs in hopes it’ll wound my masculinity enough that I’ll take my eyes off the puck.
“If I was gay, you’d be the last man I’d tell and certainly the last man I’d fuck.” I see the puck drop and the Vegas captain wins it, skating like lightning toward me. I hear Orlov as he continues to throw insults my way, but he’s now just an annoying gnat and of no consequence. I have a job to do, and as the players begin to battle it out on the blue paint, I fall into a wide split to block the sliding shot, flicking it back out onto the ice with my skate. It thankfully hits the end of Matt’s stick, and he flies off toward our goal, the Vegas defensemen, who seem to have fallen asleep on the job, chasing him down. But they’re too late. I hear the horn and the red bulb behind our goal lights up to indicate that Matt has scored a goal that should give us the win, seeing as there’s mere seconds left on the clock.
By the time the celebrations are finished, and the puck is dropped again, we manage to just run the clock down, and when the buzzer sounds, the place erupts into an explosion of cheers. “Jump Around,” the Whalers fight song, blasts over the PA and the players flood the ice, coming over to offer their thanks, hugs, and slaps to my helmet for a great game. I didn’t get a shutout and haven’t had one since before the new year, but this was a good win for the team, and it gets us one step closer to a conference win and a spot in the cup run.
“O’Connell’s tonight?” Bugs yells over the noise of the locker room. It’s Saturday and we have a free day tomorrow, so we’d already made tentative plans to go out after the game, depending on the outcome.
“Fuck yeah!” Knox hollers, ripping his jersey over his head and whirling it round his head like a lasso, launching it toward the laundry bin with pinpoint accuracy.
“Calm your tits, kid.” I laugh. “You know Coach Casey is watching you like a hawk to make sure you’re behaving.”
Knox fixes me with an irritated stare. “For fuck’s sake, I get into one little fight with a pap outside a club, and suddenly I’m on social probation.”
“Correction: you smashed a photographer’s very expensive equipment and broke his nose because he took a picture of you fingering a bunny in an alley behind a club.” I fix him with my own irritated icy stare. “You need to smarten up, kid. You keep getting yourself into scrapes like this, Coach will bench your ass for the rest of the season.”
Knox snorts out his disinterest and continues to remove his sweaty gear. “Fine, I’ll come to O’Connell’s and behave myself. It’s like a fucking old man bar in there anyway. None of the chicks are hot, and the beer is always warm.”
Jesus, this kid! He may be as close to a natural hockey talent as I’ve ever seen, but his head is so far up his ass that if he doesn’t remove it soon, he’s going to blow his ride.
Once we’ve changed and showered, we head out of the locker room for a few rounds with the sports journalists, while Bugs heads up to the press suites for the TV interviews. I stand with Matt while we’re both interviewed for the official Whalers hockey blog, and when we’re not needed anymore, we make our way to the player’s parking lot. As we approach the double doors leading out into the lot, I see a tiny brunette standing with her back to us. Her small body is swamped in a Landon jersey and her shapely legs seem impossibly long despite her short stature. She’s talking animatedly into her cell phone, and as she turns around, I can see it’s Lana, her face splitting into a huge grin as whoever she’s talking to says something she likes.
“Barry, that’s fantastic news,” she cries in her light, lyrical voice. “Can we come and see it tomorrow? Perfect. Is ten am too early?”
“It is for me,” Matt grumbles beside me as we approach his sister. “For fuck’s sake, Squirt. Can’t we make it midday? I’m exhausted.”
Lana glares at her brother. “Barry, I’m sorry, but my lazy ass brother can’t make it until midday. Is that still okay? Promise you won’t let anyone else see it before me?” The eager, expectant look on her face is fucking adorable, and I feel my dick take interest, despite Matt being within punching distance of it.
Lana pokes her tongue out and continues her conversation as we all walk through the doors into the lot. “Fantastic. We’ll see you then. Bye.” She ends the call and barges her tiny body into Matt’s side, barely making him lose his stride. “We’re checking out the trailer at noon as requested by his Majesty. If he sells it before we can get there, it’ll be on you.”
“It’ll be fine. He promised us first look, right?” Matt answers.
“Yes, but he could…”
“What are you guys looking at?” I interrupt, feeling the full force of Lana’s annoyed stare as I talk over her.
“God, interrupt much?” She snorts, rolling her eyes, but quickly adds, “If you must know, we’re going to look at a food truck, so I can start my own business.”
“Wow, that’s quite a step down from cooking in Paris,” I reply, immediately regretting my words because they sound like an insult. From the hurt and pissed off look that clouds Lana’s face, I can tell that’s exactly how she’s taken it, too.
“Well, I’m so happy you’ve pointed that out to me, Alex,” she says through gritted teeth. “I had no idea you were such an expert in the culinary arts.” She props her fists on her curvy hips, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger there.
“Hey, I’m sure that’s not what Thor meant.” Matt tries to come to my defense, but the firecracker is lit, and she’s about ready to go off.
“Why doesn’t he tell me exactly what he does mean, then?” she replies, flashing her angry eyes at Matt and then returning them to me. As she continues to stare daggers at me, I can’t help but think she’s sexy as hell when she’s mad. Angry sex comes to mind, and I’m now also wondering what she looks like when she comes. However, having dirty thoughts about her right now is not going to help me remove my foot from my mouth.
“I just mean it’s different being your own boss and cooking what you want, the way you want, rather than other people’s recipes,” I splutter, hoping I’ve done enough to ease the situation.
My words seem to be the water that extinguishes the firecracker’s fuse, and I visibly see her relax. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it,” she replies, her face suddenly glowing with excitement.
“Well, there you go.” I sigh. Jeez. She really is something else. I see Matt chuckling into this fist at our heated exchange as Mila approaches.
“C’mon, let’s get to O’Connell’s before all the good seats are taken.” Matt laughs, pulling Mila in for a kiss, and we walk over to our cars. Lana goes with Matt and Mila, but as she walks away, I can see her looking over her shoulder at me, her eyes still holding some of that fire she just aimed my way. I like it. A lot. And I wouldn’t mind getting burned.
She’s definitely the most interesting woman I’ve met in a really long time. Why the fuck does she have to be my teammate’s little sister? Fate can be so cruel sometimes.
O’Connell’s is a cool place, a beer-sticky sports bar full of memorabilia and big screen TVs showing constant sports news and footage. It’s hard to compare it to the chic Parisian cafes and European nightclubs I’ve become used to, but it looks like fun.
I’m still on a high from the phone call I took just before I met Matt and the Swedish goalie. I’d just had the news that the amazing, ready-to-go food truck I’d found on Craigslist was still available, and we have an appointment to see it tomorrow.
Once Mila suggested the food truck idea, I felt so inspired that I stayed up all night writing out all my best grilled cheese recipes. Then I scoured the internet looking for similar food trucks based in Seattle and Washington state. I found one in Olympia but that’s it. There are several sandwich trucks that serve grilled cheese, but none of them offer it exclusively.
Over the next few days, I spoke to Zac and ran my ideas past him. His enthusiastic yelling and whooping meant the world to me. It’s great to have his support, and he remembered a few recipes that I’d forgotten. I took Mila out on her day off, and we ate at as many food trucks as we could, asking questions of the owners to get some tips and contacts. I expected it to be a difficult task because I may end up being their competition. What I was happy to discover is that the food truck community in Seattle is like a big family and they’re more than happy to help. In fact, toward the end of the day, I had so many phone numbers and invites to visit trucks all over the city, my head was spinning. It’s one of these contacts that suggested I look on Craigslist for used trucks to get me started.
Of course, Matt offered to buy me a brand new, state of the art truck, but I refused. I like the idea of owning a preexisting truck that’s got some history and turning it into my own enterprise. I did, however, accept him as an investor, and we’re going to buy and outfit a food truck with his money and my savings. It’ll hopefully be ready by the spring, so I can try to get established at some of the outdoor events that happen in the summer.
I’m so excited about this venture that I can almost forgive the douchebag who spills half a pint of beer down my back as we push through the crowds to reach the stairs to the VIP seating.
“Is it usually this crowded?” I yell at Mila as we’re let through the velvet rope onto the stairs.
“When the Whalers win at home? Absolutely!” She laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling me up onto the mezzanine level that overlooks the crowds below.
“There you are!” a tiny blonde with red lips and sky-high heels yells as we approach the bar. “I’ve got us tequila to start!”
“Thanks, Bee,” Mila replies, pulling the woman into a warm hug and accepting the shooter, handing me the other one. “You remember Lana?”
“Sure, Matt’s sister, right?” She pushes away the hand I offer her and hugs me. “I’m Beth, Mila’s bestie and fabulous girlfriend of the hottest Whaler, Nate Halstead.” Beth smirks and downs her shot, grimacing and shoving a lemon wedge into her mouth.
“Don’t start with that shit again.” Mila laughs before taking her own shot.
I look around as the friends bicker about the hotness of their respective boyfriends and see Matt and some of the other players still signing jerseys and autographs at the main entrance. I even see the young winger called Knox signing a woman’s ample cleavage! I snort out a laugh as I take my shot, imagining women going crazy over my brother like that. Ugh, gross! I’m so glad he’s settled down with Mila, especially after all that shit with Delia. I’m convinced that if Matt can survive a woman trying to pass off someone else’s kid as his to get a payout, then I can get over Etienne and find my own happy ending.
I’m pulled from my train of thought by loud booming laughter as Matt, Nate, and the annoying goalie come up the stairs and head our way. Why does Thor get under my skin so much? We’ve met twice, and each time he’s riled me to the point of explosion with his stupid, infuriating comments and charming accent. I hate that I can’t look away when he fixes me with his piercing blue eyes and ruffles his shaggy blonde hair.
He is the complete opposite of my type as well. I’ve never gone for athletic guys because they were always linked to my brother in some way, either his teammates or his rivals. I quickly learned that these were not the guys to go for when I became interested in boys. Not only were they mostly assholes, but as soon as I showed any interest in them, or vice versa, Matt would strong-arm them into backing off with threats of violence.
I tended to drift toward the creative, artsy guys who were sometimes confused about their own sexuality, and most times we’d end up as friends. At least I managed to go on some dates without them constantly looking over their shoulder to check my brother wasn’t there with a hockey stick aimed at their nuts.
I definitely am not attracted to men that are so tall and muscular that if we were to go out on a date, it would look like they’re kidnapping me!
“I see you girls have started on the shooters already.” Nate chuckles and he puts his arm around Beth’s waist, lifting her up to plant a sexy kiss on her red lips. “Is this your influence, Princess?”
“Absolutely,” she giggles as Nate deposits her on a high stool, and they begin to make out like horny teenagers.
“Anyway.” Matt laughs as we all turn away to give them some privacy. “Who wants another drink?”
While Matt and Mila go to the bar to get a few pitchers of beer, I’m left alone with Alex. I just can’t bring myself to call him Thor. I’m a huge Marvel fan and Chris Hemsworth is delicious. Not that Alex isn’t attractive because he definitely is, but I’m just not looking for any more romantic complications right now.
I notice he’s shuffling uncomfortably in my presence, and I study him carefully—what’s his deal?
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask, waving my hand in his face to get his attention. “You had plenty to say to me earlier. Why so quiet now?”
“I’m trying to avoid pissing you off, I guess,” he grumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I can’t seem to say the right thing, so it seems easier to say nothing at all.”
Shit, have I been a complete bitch to him?
The guy has said some boneheaded things to me, but he doesn’t seem mean spirited or vindictive. Perhaps I’m so used to Etienne’s poorly disguised barbs and digs that I’m over sensitive.
I suddenly feel bad for the guy, so I decide to try and make peace with him. He is one of my brother’s best friends, and if I’m going to be living in Seattle for the foreseeable future, I should at least attempt to get along with his friends. It’s not like I’m falling over friends of my own.
“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so snippy with you,” I offer, stepping closer so I come into his line of vision, which is downcast toward the floor. “I’ve just had a big upheaval in my life, and I guess you happen to have been there when I’ve not been at my best.”
His cool blue eyes lift up, and when they crinkle at the edges in a smile, I get the strangest feeling of butterflies in my belly. He has the most beautiful straight, white teeth, which for a hockey goalie is like finding a unicorn that poops rainbows!
“Is that an apology, kid?” he asks in a gruff, raspy voice, his eyebrows rising up his forehead in surprise.
I huff out a breath. “It is if you don’t call me kid. It’s patronizing. I’m a grown ass woman.” I cross my arms and wait for his reaction.
To my surprise, he laughs loudly and puts his arm around my shoulders. I flinch slightly at the weight of his arm on me, but after the initial shock of contact, it actually feels comforting. Warm, supportive, kind. I honestly started thinking I’d never be able to enjoy the feel of a man again. During the last few weeks, I came to hate feeling Etienne’s hands on my body. It was like I was his property, not his girlfriend or his lover.
“You definitely are that… How about this…” Alex’s deep voice brings me back to the moment. “You let me call you kid, and I promise not to insult you or your career of choice for at least a week.” He laughs. “Or at least I’ll try not to.”
I can’t help but giggle, turning away so his heavy arm falls from my shoulders. I need to keep him safely in the “friend zone,” and I’m enjoying being close to him a bit too much. I’m not ready for this. “Deal.” I stick my hand out, and as it disappears into his enormous, rough mitt, I feel like I may have made a new friend in Seattle.