Library

7. Lawson

CHAPTER 7

LAWSON

“As you all know, we have our first preseason game in less than a month,” Coach Hardin says from where he stands near his makeshift office in the locker room, our team in the various stages of shedding gear.

“So that means our preemptive preseason camp is ending and preseason practice is officially going to start.” He smiles at the few groans that echo throughout the locker room, his hands casually in his pockets as he nods at us. “Now I know that might be confusing to some of you, so here's what's going to be different. During this camp we've been focusing on different strategic categories to take your skills to the next level. And I've been incredibly proud of each and every one of you for stepping up, even though some of you still think your skate coach shouldn't be taken seriously.”

Coach narrows his gaze at a few of the rookies huddled in a corner across the room, and they have the decency to drop their eyes. Hardin doesn't seem too upset about it, and that's probably because he's a really smart coach and knows that sometimes it takes people longer to come around than others. Especially when you have a figure skater trying to teach a hockey player skills.

And I have to be honest, if it’d been anyone other than Blakely, I might’ve been just as hesitant in the beginning. But after one lesson with her it was clear she had loads to offer us in the talent department, and that's not me being biased, that's just facts.

Anyone who is still giving her shit about being their coach is an idiot. They won’t last long on this team if they can’t set their egos aside and allow themselves to be better. And that's coming from somebody with a known ego. Earned, but known.

“Official practice starts next Monday, and it’ll be different than the camp because we'll be focusing mainly on drills, scenarios, and practice play. For three weeks now you guys were given the opportunity to really hone and enhance your skills. Now I want to see what you can do with them as a team.”

There are a few murmurs that echo throughout the locker room as we all glance around at the people surrounding us.

There are so many new faces, and despite the camp allowing us time to get to know each other, it's not like we're all sharing the bonds of brotherhood over here. I mean, maybe the four veterans are, but Stokehill, Torrington, Ritchford, and Kiplin have played together for three years. They have a bond we’ll have to earn as a team.

I just hope to hell we’ll have the opportunity to do that. If we win, our team stays together longer. If we lose? Players will be getting dropped and traded like baseball cards.

“I expect each of you to show up to practice on Monday ready to perform as a team. I know we have a huge number of newcomers, but this camp should’ve gotten us over the stranger danger jitters. I'm ready to see what our new team is made of, and I know it's going to be a winning one.”

There are a few whoops and hollers as Coach nods and heads out of the locker room, leaving us to shower and get dressed.

“Speaking of the skate coach, how are those private lessons going?” Ritchford asks as he gets undressed in front of his locker.

“I'm faster,” I say. “Her exercises have really built up my explosive power. Now the other guys are really fucked,” I add for good measure.

Ritchford nods, wrapping a towel around his hips. “Anything else happening there?” he asks, a giant suggestion of intention behind his eyes as he looks me up and down.

I study him. “Why, did your best friend say something?”

It’s no secret that Pax and our resident massage slash physical therapist, Monroe, are best friends. She also happens to be best friends with Blakely, so it’s likely that some of our more intimate moments got passed through the grapevine to him.

I’m not about to offer the information freely because I'm not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy, but it’ll be hard to deny it if he already knows.

“Why? Would there be something for her to tell me?” he fires back, nothing but mild curiosity on his face.

As far as the vets go, he’s certainly the easiest to get along with. He has this chill vibe about him that only dissipates when he steps onto the ice. Then all calm evaporates and he goes into pure beast mode.

I shrug, rummaging through my things for my shower stuff.

Stokehill whistles conspicuously to my left, and I glance at him curiously. He shakes his head. “Did you not hear Coach the first day? You're supposed to be treating that one like your grandmother.”

“That’s an impossible ask,” I respond. “And who's to say I'm treating her like anything? She's helping me with my skating techniques, same as anyone else would during camp or private lessons.”

Pax flashes me a knowing look, and I cringe internally. Apparently, he knows more than he's letting on. I give another shrug, trying to appear as chill as possible. “We're friends,” I say.

“She's funny. And smart. And we're keeping it casual?—”

“Oh, damn,” Stokehill says. “You mean there's something to keep casual?” He sucks his teeth. “You're so fucked dude.”

“I am not,” I say. Then nod at Pax. “This one is BFFs with our physical therapist. You don't see anybody barking up his ass about it.”

“I've known her forever,” Pax fires back at the same time that Stokehill says, “He's not trying to fuck her.”

Pax clears his throat, digging through his locker while ignoring Stokehill. Wonder what that's about.

“Wait a minute,” I say furrowing my brow. “Who says I'm trying to fuck the skate coach?”

“You better fucking not be,” Kiplin's voice snaps behind us. “Because I promise you that way leads to a world of trouble.” He steps to the other side of the small bench separating us, looking at me with that fuck the world attitude he always wears on his face. “Are you?”

I square off with him, not showing an inch of the truth on my face.

Did I want to feel Blakely’s legs wrapped around my hips as I pound into her relentlessly? Hell fucking yes.

Have I acted on it? Hell fucking no.

Blakely and I are walking a thin line between friendship, colleagues, and lust-starved tension on a daily basis, but she ’ s in control. Did that make me weak? Probably. But I wasn't pushing anything on her she didn't want.

“No,” I finally answer him.

Kiplin's brows draw together, his eyes scanning me like he's searching for deception. He's not going to find any, because I'm not actively trying to seduce her. We have a mutual agreement, one that proved pretty damn effective two weeks ago when I attended the figure skating event with her.

Her douchebag ex seemed to get the hint after I'd put him in his place. She hadn't brought up anything during our private lessons regarding texts from him or any other issues, so hopefully that was that.

Something like disappointment sinks in my gut, heavy and sticky. I don’t want that to be that.

I don’t want her to stop needing me, but at the same time, I want her to be free from the borderline abuse of the asshole.

“Good,” Kiplin finally says. “Now are you three going to keep standing here talking about girls you shouldn't be talking about, or are you going to hit the fucking showers?”

“Eager to compare lengths, Captain?” I fire at him.

He rolls his eyes. “Like a fucking hole in the head,” he grunts before heading to the showers.

I give his back a fake salute and shake my head. “I think he's going to win the award for biggest asshole captain in the NHL.”

“Easy,” Stokehill warns. “You haven't been here long enough to earn the right to call him an asshole.”

“You're saying he's not?”

Stokehill cocks an eyebrow at me. “I'm saying you haven't been here long enough. So far, you've been nothing but talk. We're all eagerly awaiting to see if you fold on the ice during your first game.”

Stokehill delivers the words with a smile, then winks at me before he heads off to the showers.

I flip the guy off, but it's all in good fun.

I get it. I'm the new kid. Not only the new kid, but the number one draft pick who's going to lead them all to victory. It's got to be a tough pill to swallow after they’ve been on a losing team for three years, and by some miracle, I don't voice that fact out loud.

Maybe I’m getting wiser the longer I'm on a professional team.

Maybe I'm just exhausted.

With the special camps and Blakely’s lessons, not to mention fighting myself and every instinct in my body not to text her in the middle of the night when I can't stop thinking about her, I'm beyond wiped out.

By the time I make it out of the shower and get dressed, I can't resist the urge to check in with her. Had I seen her this morning for our private lesson? Yes. Was I dying to see her again under any capacity? Also yes.

Me: You know it's been two weeks since the last mission. You don't have any bodyguard duties for me to carry out?

I press send on the text before I can second-guess myself, and when I don’t see three little dots after a few moments, I pocket my phone, grab my gear bag and head toward the parking lot. I've just gotten behind the wheel when my phone buzzes, and I swear to God my heart does a little flip in my chest at seeing Blakely’s name on my screen.

Jesus, I’m hooked on this girl and she’s not even mine.

Blakely: Nothing new so far hero.

Disappointment curls inside of me.

Me: Are you sure? We wouldn't want my bodyguard skills to get rusty, would we?

Blakely: If you're really desperate to hold up your duties, the girls and I are going to a party at Kiplin's estate tonight.

Shit.

The captain hadn't invited me, and after the little lecture him and the other vets had just given me, I highly doubted they’d want to see me showing up on an invitation from Blakely. But seriously, he was having a party and didn't invite me? Did he hate me that much?

Me: Do you think the douchebag might show up at a party hosted by my team captain?

Blakely: No

Hope flares in my chest, making me completely forget that my captain seemingly wanted nothing to do with me outside of the rink.

Me: So you just want to see me. You know you didn't need to wait for me to reach out to admit that.

Blakely: I saw you this morning.

Me: And you're already eager to see me again.

Blakely: Keep telling yourself that, hero.

I'm grinning down at my phone like an idiot, trying my best to come up with something that'll give me the last word, but she's really good at beating me to it. I'm searching deep in my records for another innuendo that will make her blush when somebody pounds on my window so hard I jolt in my seat.

I drop my phone and return the glare my captain is giving me before I roll down the window.

“Are you trying to break my fucking window?” I ask. “I know you don't like me, Kiplin, but damn .”

Kiplin's usual scowl is plastered on his face, and he's just as intimidating in his black shirt and leather jacket as he is in all his hockey gear on the ice. I won't ever tell him, but I'm pretty fucking happy he's on my team. I’d hate to skate against him.

“What the fuck were you grinning at like a little schoolboy?”

I balk at him, then shrug. “Pictures of your mom from last night.”

I swear the tiniest, most microscopic of smiles flashes on his face, but that could be my ego seeing things I want to see.

“I'm having people over tonight,” he says, his voice so gruff he almost sounds angry about it.

“I heard,” I say. “I didn't think I merited an invitation.”

“Honestly, I didn't even know if you wanted to hang with us. You're always giving us so much shit. But a bunch of the other rookies are coming so, you in?”

I smile, not bothering to tell him I’d planned to crash his private little party anyway. “You like me.”

“No I don't.”

“Come on,” I say, egging him on. “Admit it, you're warming up to me.”

“I don't warm up to anybody.”

“Then why are you hosting a party for the team?”

He grunts. “Because I'm the team captain, you little shit. And that's what you do. Maybe you should take notes in case you ever get to wear the title someday.”

I raise my brows, shock punching me in the chest. “Are you saying I'm captain material?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re hard to talk to.” Kiplin shakes his head and stomps off without another word.

“I'll see you tonight, bestie!” I call out the window.

He doesn't bother turning around, just flips me off and keeps walking to his car.

Kiplin's estate is right on the edge of the Penobscot River, the massive house complimented by the impeccable water view. I park my car in a line of dozens of others down his incredibly long driveway, making the slow walk up as I nod to players and strangers lingering outside with drinks in their hands.

Music blares across the property, and as I make my way up to his house, I'm relieved to know that his doors are already open. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d been forced to knock that Kiplin would open the door only to slam it in my face, revoking my invite.

He wasn't joking about the party. I'm pretty sure the whole team is here plus who knows how many others, with an array of women laughing and dancing and chatting both inside and outside the house.

I make my way inside, taking note of just how fucking big this place is.

And he lives here alone?

He must’ve dropped at least two mil on this place, and probably another million to have someone decorate it. It definitely screams home , with art on the walls that lean toward his initial vibe of dark and moody, and the furniture scattered throughout the rooms is lush and inviting. I can see why he's the one throwing the morale boosting party—he clearly has the space.

I head down the long entry hallway, passing by an open study, the walls lined with bookshelves and ancient-looking books, but my eyes snag on Nash situated between two very attentive blondes. He has an arm around each of them, laughing at something one of them says.

“Wolfe! You scored an invite?” Nash calls as he sees me walking by, so I pause.

“Of course I did,” I answer. “Me and the captain are best friends, can’t you tell?”

Nash laughs. “I'm glad he invited you, man. Don't get in any trouble tonight,” he says, cocking a brow at me as if he knows that's exactly what I'm here to do.

“Looks like you should tell yourself that,” I say eyeing him.

The two women on either side of Nash giggle, each of them running their hands up his chest, and he smiles at me. “That's my secret,” he says. “I'm always in trouble.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “And I thought my lines were cheesy.”

“Lawson,” Blakely’s voice calls from down the hallway, but she's already making her way toward me, a drink in one hand, and what I'm assuming are her two best friends on either side of her.

I shift toward her, my heart almost stopping at the sight. She wears a loose lavender skirt that stops just at her mid thighs, and a cream blouse that shows off her curves and just enough of her cleavage to make my mouth water. Her hair is down tonight, falling in effortless waves over her shoulders, and it's such a change from the messy buns she wears at practice that it stuns me.

I've gotten so used to her in skating gear, even after seeing her in a ballgown for the event, but this looks like a whole new side to Blakely I've never seen before. And I'm quickly discovering I like every single one.

Plus, she wears this almost mischievous smile on her red-painted lips, her friends laughing at something she says as they finally make their way to me.

“Hey, Monroe,” I say, nodding to Blakely’s friend and our physical therapist, respectfully. “Where’s Ritchford?” I ask, glancing around. Normally, if it's not an official capacity, they're glued to each other's sides. And not that I blame him, Monroe is gorgeous and brilliant in her field, not that Pax will ever admit to seeing any of that.

“He just went to set up Cards Against Humanity for us,” Monroe answers, nodding to Blakely. “This one wanted to see if you were in.”

“Is that so?” I smile at Blakely, but quickly notice her other best friend, her eyes peering past me and into the room where Nash is still chatting up the two blondes. Her dark eyes flare wide, a blush dancing over her cheeks before she brings her attention back to our conversation.

“You must be Reese,” I quickly say and reach out my hand. “Blakely has told me a ton about you, but I haven't run into you at all. What, you don't want to get any shots of me on the ice?” I ask, knowing that she's our social media manager.

Reese shakes my hand, smiling at me kindly. “It's not officially preseason yet,” she says. “Don't worry, number one draft pick, I'll get plenty of shots of you when you actually take the ice.”

“And plenty of shots of my teammates?” I ask, unable to help myself as I glance toward Nash.

Blakely gapes at me, but I ignore the look. “So, we're playing Cards Against Humanity?”

“Only if you're in?” Blakely says, the first word she’s spoken to me, and I swear I can breathe easier.

What the fuck is happening to me? Is it because we haven't officially crossed that line yet? Because we have insane chemistry, and I still don't know what it feels like between her thighs? Or is it something more?

“Oh, I'm in,” I say, then glance over my shoulder at Nash. “Nash, do you want to play Cards Against Humanity with us?” I ask, and I swear Reese does a little yelp next to me and somehow finds her way behind Blakely. Not at all casual, but definitely interesting.

“Nashi, we want to go to the pool,” one of the girls says, and the other enthusiastically agrees.

Nash hits them with a celebrity-worthy grin and says, “You two go ahead and swim. I'll catch up with you later. I can never turn down cards.” He hops off the couch, heading toward our group, and Blakely quickly loops her arm through Reese’s and heads back down the long hallway, us following behind them.

And I'm going to fucking lose it because that lavender skirt falls perfectly over the glorious globes of her ass, and swishes back and forth as she walks. Jesus, I want to slide my hands under that skirt and feel her silky skin beneath my fingertips.

But I can't.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

Not only for all the reasons that are logical, like her being my skate coach and her just getting out of an abusive relationship, or all the not-so-subtle warnings that my captain has given me about mixing business and pleasure. No, I can't because Blakely has given me no indication that she wants that.

She definitely isn't a one-night stand kind of girl, I’ve learned that much about her. And that's fine. But she sure as hell kisses like she’s desperate for more, but I won’t cross that line unless she asks me to.

And fuck me, what if she does? All the logical reasons be damned, I’ll give her anything she wants.

The girls weave through Kiplin's house like they're familiar with it, saying hi to several of the players along the way until we make our way into a somewhat formal dining room, with a giant mahogany table resting in the center. The walls are decorated with more art pieces, and I'm starting to notice that they all look like they're by the same artist. Some are oils and some are watercolors, but they all have that same almost dark academia vibe to them that totally fits Kiplin’s personality.

The Cards of Humanity box is already on the table, Pax having already dealt five hands face down. The community stacks are set up in the middle of the table.

“Nash, are you in?” Pax asks as we all take seats around the table, Monroe sitting on Pax’s right, me on the other side of her, Blakely on my right, Reese on hers, and Nash on the other side of her.

“You know I never miss a chance to play this game,” he says as Pax deals him in.

“I thought you'd already be indisposed at this point,” Pax says, scooping up his cards to look at them. We all take that as our cue to do the same.

“It's way too early in the night for that,” Nash says.

“Since when has it ever been too early for you?” Pax teases him.

Nash looks at his cards, then tilts his head from side to side. “Fair,” he says.

“But still, are we going to play or keep talking about me? I'm good with either.”

“Isn't that usually your line, Lawson?” Blakely asks, flashing me a mischievous grin.

“Oh, so tonight's going to be like that, is it?” I fire right back.

“It's always like that,” she says, arranging her cards in some kind of order that makes sense to her, since this isn't a game that needs order. It's cute as hell. And she isn't exactly being truthful, because while we may always have banter, there's something different about her tonight.

I don't know if it's because this party is a non-official setting for us and we have nothing riding on this interaction together, or if it's because she's among her best friends, but she's more relaxed than I've ever seen her before.

And I suppose that could also have a lot to do with the fact that there's no way the douchebag is going to have the balls to come on to Clay Kiplin’s property and try to start some shit. Especially when he knows that she's with me, even if he's the only one who believes that.

Pax reads out the first community card, and we all start making our selections, but I'm feeling anything but humorous at the moment as I realize how awful it must’ve been for her that she never let her guard down unless she was somewhere she felt safe, like at a party with the entire Badger team in attendance.

I knew her ex was an asshole, but the more I get to know her, the more I realize how much he took from her in the process.

I hate him.

Pax reads all of our shuffled answers aloud, and our table erupts into laughter at the ridiculous responses we all came up with.

“Okay,” Pax says, holding up a response. “This is one hundred percent the winner. It’s hilarious.”

Monroe smiles and snatches the card out of his hand. “Of course it is,” she says. “I know you too well, Pax. I know exactly how to make you laugh.”

Pax’s smile shifts when he sets his eyes on his best friend, and I glance around to see if anybody else can tell how he's looking at her. My companions seem oblivious, but I catch that hint of longing, something I most likely would’ve missed if I hadn't been looking at Blakely the exact same way. Jury is out if he’s just curious on what it would be like to sleep with her, or if there's something more. Kind of like me.

Even though I'm leaning toward the latter. Not because I'm ready to run down Relationship Road, but because I genuinely like being around the girl. I've never had a friend that was a girl before, and I find it absolutely fascinating. There's something so inherently different about being friends with a woman, as opposed to a man, and I think that common friendship has only made me want her more.

Shit. I'm so fucking lost.

Maybe I should ask Pax for advice later.

But since he's one of the ones who keeps warning me away from Blakely, maybe that isn’t in my best interests either.

“Lawson?” Blakely asks like she’s said it a couple times.

I blink out of my thoughts, realizing I haven't put a response to the community card that Nash read. I quickly read the card, then throw out a random answer.

“You good?” Blakely asks, placing her hand gently on my forearm, true concern filling her eyes.

“Never been better,” I say, and I'm pretty sure I fucking mean that. All I'm doing is playing a card game with her, but I’ll sit here all fucking night if it means I can be next to her.

“Hey, baby,” Nash reads the community card out loud, preparing to read all of our answers. “Come back to my place and I will show you...” He pauses, reaching for the first random answer that we handed him. “A PowerPoint presentation.”

There are mild giggles at that, but even I know the random card I threw toward him wasn't stellar.

“Crippling debt,” he continues and there’s no laughter for that one. “Meatloaf the man,” he says shaking his head but chuckling slightly. “My Pokémon collection,” he continues and laughs a little, glancing at Blakely and her complete inability to have a poker face showing that was her card. “And finally,” he continues, his eyebrows raising as he reads the answer silently to himself before saying, “consensual sex.” He laughs and nods, wiggling that card between his fingers as he glances around the table.

His eyes land on Pax as he cocks a brow. “Is this your card, buddy? How many times have I told you, I'm no stranger to group scenes, all you have to do is say the word.”

I nearly spit out my drink I laugh so hard, and Blakely and Monroe join me.

Pax winks at Nash, but shakes his head. “Sorry to ruin all your fantasies about me, but that's not my card.”

“Who's is it then?” Nash asks, glancing around our table.

“Mine,” Reese answers, her voice so low I'm shocked I heard it at all. She timidly raises her hand, and Nash hands her the card. She tries to take it, but he holds on to it, keeping them connected as he looks into her eyes.

“Is that an invitation, Reese’s Pieces?”

Her lips part, her blush flaring bright red and traveling down her neck as she tries to tug the card out of his hand, but he won't let her. “Does calling me that mean you want to eat me?” she volleys right back, and both me and Blakely gasp.

“I do have a sweet tooth,” he says.

She gapes at him. “It was a card, not an invitation,” she says.

“That's a shame,” Nash says, finally releasing the card. “You don't know what you're missing.”

Reese puts the card in her winning pile. “Sure, I do. Girls talk. A lot . Especially about you,” she says, her eyes widening as if she surprised even herself by saying that.

“Oh, feisty, are we?” Nash says, taking it all in good fun. “There's only one way to find out if things get lost in translation, Reese’s Pieces. And that's experiencing the real thing.”

“Don't you have two women waiting for you in the pool somewhere?” Reese fires back.

“Should I go get popcorn?” I lean over to Blakely, whispering in her ear so only she can hear me. “I feel like we need popcorn.”

Blakely's unrestrained laugh cuts over the more-than-entertaining banter, and Nash and Reese blink out of their stare down.

Reese reaches for the community deck, plucking a card off the top. “My turn,” she says as if the exchange never happened.

Which looks to be the wrong move, because from the way Nash is still looking her over, she's just piqued his interest in a way that says their little back-and-forth isn't over.

After an hour and a half of playing, my sides hurt from laughing so hard, and our table has descended into a sort of camaraderie that can only happen when exchanging the most obscene answers and scenarios during the game.

I definitely feel like I've finally won over Pax and Nash, showing them that I'm not just an egotistical prick, but a guy you can count on for some fun. And when Reese ends up picking my latest answer, it signifies that I've won the game.

“What can I say, I'm a winner?” I say as we start cleaning up the game.

“I was one behind you,” Monroe says.

“Yeah, because Pax picks your answer every single time. Are you guys cheating?” I throw back at her playfully.

“No,” they both say at the same time, which only makes the rest of us laugh.

“Are we in for another round or should I keep cleaning this up?” Pax asks.

“I think I'm needed at the pool,” Nash says as he backs away from the table. He glances down at Reese, hesitating as if he’s hoping she'll say something that will keep him at this table.

When she doesn't, he just smiles and winks at her before heading out of the room.

I immediately shift my focus to Blakely, knowing that whatever she says she wants to do, if it includes me, I'm doing it.

“I think I'm all tapped out,” Blakely says, glancing at her friends and then me. “Dancing?”

“Pax and me are going to go hit up the beer pong table,” Monroe says, backing away from the table with him in tow. “Two of the rookies challenged us earlier and it's time we put them in their place, right, Pax?”

“We make a great team,” he answers, his hand slipping into hers as he guides her out of the room.

“Have those two ever?—”

“Don't,” both Reese and Blakely say at the same time, and I laugh.

“It's kind of like a sacred, off-limits topic,” Blakely explains. “But no,” she says. “They've only ever been friends.”

I kind of love how she told me it's an off-limits topic but then folds me into the loop. “But they're so...”

“We know,” Reese finishes for me as she backs away from the table. “I'm going to go hunt down some snacks, you two have fun dancing,” she says, flashing Blakely a look I don't quite understand, but it's not foreboding, so I don't let it get to me.

It's my turn to back away from the table and offer Blakely my hand. She takes it, hesitating when I don't immediately lead her somewhere.

“I've never been here before,” I say. “Remember? I have no idea where dancing takes place in my captain's house, but if you want to start moving right here, I will.” I start dancing to emphasize my point.

Blakely’s eyes shine with amusement. She tugs on my hand. “This way, hero.”

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.