9. Back on Top

CHAPTER 9

BACK ON TOP

BIG D

I usually hate modern technology, but my phone becomes my best friend all week, practically attached to me when I'm not on the ice. I wait, holding my breath for each text Kallie sends, each part of herself she shares, and counting the number of laugh emojis she gives when I send her funny memes in the mornings.

In our chats, I find out more about her barrel racing days. She likes that I go hunting every year with my family, and that we hunt with bows and arrows, not guns. We figure out that there could have been so many times our paths might have crossed in Montana when she was going to college up there. And I realize she has a healthy obsession with bathtubs.

The smile has returned to my face, zapping me with extra zip as I race around the ice during practice today. This cowgirl has me whipped and doesn't even know it. The guys notice, though.

"Okay, fucking twinkle toes. Dial it down a notch or two," Saint grumbles at me, his dark hair flying back off his face reveals a scowl. "I had a little too much to drink last night, and your smile is blinding my tired eyes."

I figure he must not have gotten enough female attention recently. He gets moody when he's not being worshipped by some new chick-of-the-week he's met. I worry about him and his playboy lifestyle. Hell, I wouldn't even know what a settled down Saint would be like. He's a lot of fun to party with, though, often hosting get togethers at his house after the games with puck bunnies galore in attendance.

Yeah, he's a man-whore, and very popular with the bunnies. And by association, I have been as well, a lifestyle I'd give up willingly for my good cowgirl if things progress between us.

I rent a room above his garage, with a view of his huge house outside my window. I asked him once why the big house and why he doesn't take dating more seriously. He calls the house simply an investment and blames his parents and their nasty divorce for everything wrong in his life.

He has a sister, too, he mentioned one night when he was drunker than me. Despite the fact they all live in L.A., I know he spends holidays alone. I don't know the full story there, but they aren't close at all.

Makes me sad, because he's a really good guy and has become one of my best friends. I can count on him to have my back, just like Storm, Duke, Beau, and Tucker. We're all close friends and teammates, thanks to the Puckers team bringing us together.

"You're going to have to get used to my sunshine, Saint. Kallie and I are texting."

"I thought you said you had a wrong number for this chick?" Storm pipes up, skating with us.

"It works after all. We've been chatting every night. I'm back on top of the world. Soon I'll top Kallie once again, too." I pass by, wiggling my brows, attempting a fancy spin on my blades, but I wind up on my ass.

Storm busts out a laugh, pointing at me. Then he attempts a bunny hop, leaping from one skate, reversing backwards, and transitioning onto the other, teetering on his edges. As a big guy, all geared up in his goalie pads, he looks more like Humpty Dumpty about to take a great fall.

Duke skates up, growly as usual. "Quit fooling around, guys. We have work to do today. Or would you like extra drills?"

We fall in line and power through the rest of the the morning practice. After lunch, we watch videos on the Vancouver Ice since they visit to play us in a three-game streak starting tonight, but texts coming in from Kallie distract me.

She's opening up to me more, complaining about a headache at work and having to do her boss's job for him.

Cody: Sounds like a total douche canoe.

Kallie: (laughing emoji)

Cody: You should give him enough rope to hang himself. Maybe he'll get fired.

Kallie: Actually, good advice, cowboy.

Cody: Where do you work? What do you do?

It's a casual enough ask for two people getting to know each other. We've been flirting enough; I want to get to know her better. But she doesn't text back.

The team finishes studying the videos and I hit the showers, but still no response from her after. On the way to Saint's house, I decide to call her. I miss her voice. The way it turned husky during sex plays in my ear nonstop, and I'm ready to move things along between us. What's the harm in a little chat while I'm stuck in Southern California traffic?

I dial her up, only it goes to voicemail.

"You've reached Kallie's phone. She's not here right now. Why am I talking in third person? Leave me a message." Her chuckle and sultry voice like sirens, only heighten my desire.

"Hey cowgirl, it's Cody. Just wanted to tell you a joke and put a smile on your face, darlin', so call me back."

Disappointing, but I figure she probably got busy. Later, Storm meets up with us at Saint's and we three hang out, watching a movie, until it's time to head back to the arena for the game. He brought with him a plate of cookies his grandmotherly neighbor, Edith, had baked for him. We gobble the homemade treats up. They hit the spot.

"Do you guys believe in love at first sight?" He asks out of the blue.

Saint chortles, and shifts his body away from us, facing the back of his couch. As usual, he skirts away from any talk about love or commitment.

I think about my rodeo queen and the first moment I laid eyes on her. Yep. I'd say I've been Kallie-fied ever since. But love at first sight? Lust, definitely. There's something going on between us because all I want is to dip my stick in her sweetness again. If only she'd call me back or text.

Since Duke married Phoebe, and they have cute kids, and Tucker is with Whitney and their son, you could say love is in the air down at the Pucker's arena. I've been at this game long enough, rattling around the semi-pros. I think I finally want more.

I want my own ranch in Montana, a stable full of horses, and a woman who can ride at dawn with me to see the sunrise over the indigo mountain peaks. Someone like my rodeo queen could be perfect to complete the picture.

Those dreams don't come cheap. It's time to cowboy up and push my career further. I need to claim what I want, and I have a good feeling it could be Kallie being my ride or die for life.

That sounds a helluva of lot like commitment only it doesn't scare me like it does Saint. I shrug my shoulders, getting back to Storm's question about love at first sight.

"Why are you asking? Do you think your neighbor's granddaughter saw your naked ass in the hallway of your apartment building and fell instantly in love?" I crack myself up laughing. There's a snort from Saint, too, only Storm scowls.

"I knew I never should have told you guys about the single most embarrassing moment in my life. Every time I see Edith's granddaughter, she looks at me like I'm a total pervert, like I have nothing better to do but roam the halls without my clothes on."

"Gotta turn on the charm, buddy. Make her see past your fine ass," I suggest, chuckling at his situation.

My phone wakes up, finally notifying me of a text incoming. I jump up and head out to the driveway and up to my room for some privacy, reading it along the way.

Kallie: I got your message. I liked hearing your voice. But this isn't fair to either of us to be anything more than friends.

What the fu—? I play it off, casually.

Cody: Got a thing against two friends talking on the phone?

Kallie: No. But…

Kallie: …

I stare at those three dots a long time, waiting and wondering at what she could be typing, pacing in my room. Are Saint's instincts right, and she isn't that into me?

Kallie: Friendship is all I can give you right now, cowboy. I'm dealing with some stuff here and I just think talking by phone isn't something I'm ready for.

Okay. Reading through the lines, she's not putting me off, but saying she needs time. I've told her from the start, and I'll tell her again.

Cody: I'll be here when you're ready. But girl, it'd sure be great to see you again when I'm in Texas.

One more time together, six more orgasms, and I think I could have this cowgirl addicted to me. It occurs to me I could ask my agent to see if he can work a trade that sends me to San Antonio. I'd be closer to Austin, although I would hate to leave my buddies and the Puckers. Shoot. I know Kallie has an affect on me if I'm willing to go that far.

Kallie: I'm sorry. Just dealing with too much here.

Cody: Tell me what's going on.

Kallie: It's my ex. My dad. Things I have to figure out.

The dreaded ex. I hate knowing that she has one of those in her life.

Cody: Can't your ex take the hint you two are done?

Kallie: It's complicated.

I'd like to find this guy and let my fist make it a little less complicated for her, for us.

Kallie: It's too soon, cowboy. I'm sorry. We should stop this if we can't just be friends.

Cody: Kallie, don't go. Please. Friends. Fine. Just keep texting me.

There's a minute hesitation where I think she's gone, blocked me, done. Then she's back.

Kallie: That's all I can manage for now. Thank you. Promise we'll always be friends.

Cody: The best. If you need me, I'm here for you.

Something throughout our time together and all of our texts tells me she needs someone, like no one is there for her as she's going through whatever it is with her ex and father. They sound like complete assholes.

The alarm on my phone sounds and I swear under my breath. It's time to head back to the arena for pre-game warm-ups.

Cody: Hey, wish me luck for tonight.

I pack up my gear and wait for her to text back and ask what for so that I can tell her that I play hockey and would love to have her watch me play someday, only to hear the horn blaring in the garage downstairs from two impatient jerks. I run to the car, and it's a quiet ride with them as Saint drives us over in his Hummer. I don't hear from Kallie again by the time my blades hit the ice.

The team plays sloppy at first, like we each have preoccupations tonight that make us edgy during the game, I can feel it. Thank fuck Vancouver has been on a losing streak so far this season so we still have a chance at winning. I especially don't care for a certain rookie on their team, Scott Sanderson, who thinks he's some kind of hotshot.

Unfortunately, I used to be like him long ago on the first team I played for out of college, the Minnesota Mammoths. Me and another new teammate, Kris Kringer, were so wet behind the ears, it wasn't even funny how we'd carry our big egos onto the ice. Yeah, we both got knocked on our asses good that first year. We had a lot to learn.

Tonight, with the way Sanderson chirps and irritates Storm in the net, he's looking for trouble. I have a rule as the enforcer on the team. No one messes with our goalie.

Storm's worked hard, and is staring at a perfect game, a shutout. But with seconds left, Sanderson gets the puck and breaks away at high speed right toward him. I hold my breath until Storm makes a beautiful save and the buzzer sounds. We win four to zero.

Sanderson's pissed, though, judging by the way he plows into Storm after the buzzer. The newbie has no idea he's just opened season on himself. My blood boils, conjuring the images that always get me mad enough to fight—thinking of the night my father was killed by an idiot driver, maybe topped with a little frustration about Kallie pushing me deeper into the friend zone. Probably also irked about whatever is going on between her, the ex, and her father.

That does it. Suddenly, I'm there in a flash, pounding on Sanderson's face.

"Welcome to the league, mother fucker," I shout, as the refs pull me off of him. My knuckles hurt but otherwise the kid didn't get a punch on me. His face will need some tending to by Vancouver's docs though. I've never actually hit a man off the ice, like the rink is my only boxing ring, the only place I allow myself to get pissed enough to fight.

"Fuck yeah, D. If you hadn't gotten to him first, I would have pummeled him," Saint says. He and I have been around the league enough years, sometimes rookies with egos are the worst to tolerate.

In the locker room, the team gets riled up from the hard fought win tonight. Music plays loud, we're talking smack and laughing. Then Duke's voice cuts through it all, calling Storm into his office.

Saint and I share worried glances. He's either getting chewed out or called up. We are still here waiting for him when he finally emerges. He's all smiles.

"Well, what's the news?" I stand and ask.

"The Vipers are looking for a new goalie. I could be going up to the pros, my friends." Nothing could strip a grin that big from his face.

"Yeah, buddy." I pick him straight up, a feat considering we're about the same size.

"We need to celebrate. I have some honeys coming over, and I stocked up the fridge with cold brews at home—" Saint starts.

"Rain check. I just want to go to my place and chill." He must notice the disappointment across Saint's face. "This could be it, the big time, the chance to prove I belong on a pro team. Going out, getting drunk, finding trouble—I can't risk anything that might prevent me from moving up."

We let him go call a car ride service to pick him up, and a huge part of me envies him. It's time to get my shit together as well, to strive for the dream of playing in the national league again. It's a dream that sort of died my first year as a rookie because of some unfortunate circumstances.

I got too involved in a certain situation, and it ended up costing me. Minnesota traded me away, I landed in the semi-professional league along with a bad reputation that I've been trying to fight my entire career. I've almost given up on hockey a time or two.

I won't make that mistake again. When we get back to Storm's place, I ignore the women and the alcohol and lock myself in my room above the garage. I think about my future in this sport, and this time I'll be smarter about things as I try to put my career back on track.