2. Theo

2

THEO

I can't take my eyes off the dark-haired beauty at the next table.

Where'd she come from? If she'd ever been around here before, I'd definitely remember.

Alexie bumps my shoulder. "You takin' a shot?" He slides a shot glass in front of me.

Alexie Kozlov known as Winter Wolf on the Frostwolves team has been my friend, my confidant, and my drinking buddy since I arrived here. He plays right-wing defense for the team, and I play left-wing defense. So, when you talk about a dude being your wingman, Alexie is mine— both on and off the ice. Even though we give each other a lot of grief and tease the shit out of each other, Alexie is my partner in crime, the hook to my loop. We go together like cereal and milk, and biscuits and gravy. Everything is better with Alexie and Theo.

I can't take my eyes off her. I hold up my shot glass to her, nod, and gulp down the tequila. It burns my throat like gasoline.

Tom, my other teammate, follows my gaze. He gives an appreciative low whistle. "Wow."

The other barbarians —my teammates— are too engrossed in their shots and their bullshit to notice what Tom and I are appreciating.

"Too bad she's off-limits to you , buddy," Tom teases.

"Yeah."

Of course, his comment gets the attention of Jack, another player. "Oh nice," Jack says as he practically drools at our discovery. "Why's she off-limits for lover boy here?"

Great, thanks for selling me out, Tom.

Tom's chin dips to his chest. "Not my story to tell, right Moose?"

Now that I seem to have everyone's attention. "After my fight?—"

"Which one?" Alexie says, which gets a laugh from the group.

"The last one." I take a long pull from my beer bottle. "Anyway, the Wolfman informed Iceberg I better clean up my act."

Robert Anderson, also known as Wolfman is the general manager for the Frostwolves and not someone to mess around with. A former hockey player himself, Ole Bob, as I call him will rip off your balls with one hand and not even bat an eye.

Jack leans across the table. "What exactly did Iceberg say to you?"

Ryan Sullivan, known as Iceberg, a calm and composed coach has been more than patient with my dumb ass. Known for my trouble both on and off the ice, Iceberg Sullivan had no choice about me joining the team. The decision came down from management. Coach Sullivan just tries to keep the peace— both among the players, the management, and the owners.

I shrug. "To straighten my shit out, basically."

Tom lets out a howl. "Coach told him he better stop fighting and —get this— keep it in his pants."

I stroke my throat and grimace. "Thanks, Tom."

"Coach actually said that?" Jack picks at the label on his empty bottle. "He told you to keep it in your pants? You're serious."

"More or less." This isn't something I wanted to share with my teammates.

Have I had trouble in the past? Yes. Trouble with the other teams I've been on? Yes. Have fights broken out and has my love life gotten me in trouble? Yes and yes.

"I think there's a word for that," Jack laughs. "Celibacy."

That brings another round of laughs from the guys. "Better put that thing in the freezer for safe keeping for now," Jack chides.

"Yeah, he's not using that for a while."

I chuckle and try to be a good sport with the jabs from my friends. I reach over to Tom and give him a firm punch in the shoulder. He feigns pain. "What'd I do?"

I swear at him under my breath, and he chuckles.

Although I'd like to get shit-faced and sleep my day away tomorrow, it's not an option. We have an early morning in the weight room, two to three hours of drills on the ice, and another two hours scheduled for a team meeting. Tomorrow —like most Saturdays during the season— is not my own.

A fast-paced song comes on and my beauty and her friend pass our table on their way to the dance floor. As she sways past me, the sweet aroma of vanilla catches my attention.

My dick twitches in my pants.

When was the last time I got laid?

I keep my eyes on my dark-haired beauty. That black dress she's wearing shows off all her curves. And her hair, silky and dark, the kind I'd love to run my fingers through.

She sways her hips in time to the music. I groan.

Tom looks my way and follows my line of sight. He smirks. "You gotta keep your meat in the freezer, remember?"

"Mind your business, ass," I growl.

She shimmies with her friend on the dance floor. Every eyeball at my table is fixated on her as the two of them belt out the song's lyrics. From where I sit, I get a perfect view down the front of that dress when she leans forward during her performance. A black bra that she has no problem filling out.

I'm a goner.

I sit up a little straighter in my chair.

The hell? Who's that dude?

Some kid with blond flop hair and jeans, that he obviously borrowed from his sister, moves closer to my beauty. Along with me, my teammates watch the scene unfold.

Flop haired boy moves his hands to her shoulders. My pulse pounds in my ears and my hands automatically bunch into fists. I push my chair back.

"Come on." Tom puts a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down. Looks like she's got a boyfriend, and you can't afford any more trouble for yourself."

Tom's right. The stitches on my forehead are a reminder of the last time there was trouble in a bar. One more fight or one more night of trouble and I may not get to start with the team.

She pushes him away, moves to the other side of her friend, her hands on her hips.

Doesn't look like a boyfriend to me.

"Dat's no boyfriend," Alexie grumbles.

Flop haired boy nudges her friend aside and moves closer to my beauty. Too close.

Tom's chair slides across the wooden floor. "Whoa, now he's in her space."

Flop haired points towards the door and my beauty shakes her head. She turns her back to him as the two friends ignore his advances and try to resume their dance.

The hair raises on the back of my neck when Flop Hair grips my girl by the arm, and she tries to pull away. She can't. He's a lot stronger than she is.

I rise from my chair. "A little business to take care of, gentlemen."

"Go easy," Tom calls.

I make my way over to the scene and give flop hair a tap on the shoulder. He turns and looks up at me. Yeah, I've got at least six inches on the punk.

He flips his hair to the side to get a better look at me. "What'd you want?"

A slow smile spreads across the face of my beautiful girl. She quickly falls into the embrace of her friend.

"I'm pretty sure you're bothering my friends here."

"Fuck off, muscle head."

I take a deep breath and then Tom and Alexie are at my side.

No punches tonight. No fights.

I turn to the girls. "Is he bothering you?"

She doesn't answer, instead she scurries to me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.

Her lips are warm and soft as the aroma of vanilla practically makes my head spin. She tastes like a fruity drink. Her lush front pushes into my chest. I tilt my head to deepen the kiss. It's like no one else exists and we're the only two in the bar. I can't get enough of her hot mouth on mine.

We break the kiss. Her eyes are ablaze as my heart nearly pounds out of my chest.

I grin. "Glad to see you too, Sweetheart."

"Why didn't you tell me you have a boyfriend ?" Flop Hair makes his way to the door.

"Oh my gosh." She holds a hand over her chest. "I'm so sorry for doing that. He wouldn't leave me alone."

Tom and Alexie chuckle. Tom pats me on the back as they walk back to our table.

I run a hand over my scruff. "No problem." I cock my head and give her one of my mega-watt smiles— the same smile that has gotten me into some of the best trouble of my life.

"Hi." She licks her lips, and I can't stop thinking how I'd like to get another taste. "I'm Francesca."

"Theo."

"Thanks again." She stands on her toes and gives me a kiss on the chin. "You're the best."

Francesca's friend gives her a hug and the friend makes some excuse to leave. I don't care. I'm not paying a bit of attention because I can't keep my eyes off this beauty in front of me. The beauty that put her mouth on mine.

I join Francesca at her table. My teammates at the next table hold up their glasses and bottles in celebration of my victory. I give a nod and take a pull from my beer.

They're probably relieved that little showdown didn't end in a fight.

I set my bottle down on the table. "You caught my eye the minute you sat down, and I couldn't stop watching you out there." I point to the dance floor. "I've never seen you here before."

Francesca doesn't look like your average puck bunny. The women who are usually after me and my teammates are here in the bar. A lot. Plus, they wait outside the arena to get a glimpse of us coming and going. It's great having fans —people who care about us and care about the game, but these women only care about one thing— being able to brag that they bagged a hockey player.

"My first time here." She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink.

I waggle my eyebrows. "Kind of like a virgin, huh?"

Her face lights up and she giggles.

Freaking adorable.

I scoot my chair closer to her and lean in. "You don't kiss like a virgin— that's for sure. That was one hot kiss and I'd like a lot more of that."

She raises a brow. "Would you now?"

"I would." I run my fingers through her long hair, and she pushes her knee against my thigh. "As a matter of fact, I'd love to take you home with me tonight."

My teammates pass the table and break the spell.

"See you," Tom says and punches me in the shoulder. Thankfully, on my good shoulder.

"No trouble," Alexie warns.

I nod to them as their table clears out and I'm left alone with Francesca.

"What was that all about?" she asks. "No trouble?"

I lean in until my lips are on her ear. "I'm kind of a troublemaker."

Her eyebrows raise and she smiles. "Why does that not surprise me?"

I study her face. Honestly, I don't think she has any idea who I am. I've put her out of the puck bunny column. Claims she's new in town. Maybe she doesn't like hockey and doesn't know who I am.

I kiss her lightly on the ear, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I said, I'd love to take you home with me tonight and keep you awake. All. Night . I can't though. Early check-in tomorrow."

Her brows draw together, and she grins. "Early check-in? With your parole officer or what?" She deadpans.

I chuckle. "Funny."

She peers under the table. "I don't see an ankle monitor."

I lift my pant leg to show her. "Nope. No ankle monitor."

"I actually have an early morning myself, but I'd love to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual."

We leave together and when we get outside, I push her against the building. Her desperate kiss meets mine and I melt as she opens for me. I grab her beautiful ass in that sexy black dress she's wearing and pull her into me. She breaks the kiss and lets out a breath.

"Next time," she whispers. "Can't wait."

I watch Francesca get into her Uber.

As I walk home from the bar, I'm feeling better than I've felt in a long time. I'm playing for the Colorado Fucking Frostwolves, my bad reputation is improving every day, and I just met a woman —who I believe— has no clue who I am. She's the first woman I've met in a long time who isn't falling all over me, sticking her cell phone in my face for pictures, or inviting me to the bathroom for a quick romp.

Thinking about the possibilities with this beauty? Life is good.