Prologue 2

Jordan

April 13, 2024

The sports bar in Okotoks buzzed with energy. Teams from all over Alberta and beyond mingled, which surprised Jordan a little. His team, Pucks Deep, had no problem sharing beers with C-Biscuit, but they circled the wagons when the Snowballs were around.

He didn’t get why Sean still hated his ass. Well, that wasn’t true. Sean held grudges better than a raccoon held onto garbage. He’d seen that back when they were friends. Before the whole thing with Lisa. Now, here they were in their mid-thirties, and Sean still acted like he’d kicked his dog last weekend.

Jordan leaned back as their waitress slid a fresh pitcher of beer in front of them.

“Boys.” Nate grabbed the pitcher and poured himself a pint. “Tell me we didn’t just play like a bag of rusty wrenches out there tonight.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Nate grunted.

Cam exhaled. “We got lucky.”

Steele snorted, clinking his glass with Nate’s. “It wasn’t pretty, but we put ‘em in the woodchipper, bud. They’ll be coughing up splinters till Tuesday.”

“The woodchipper, eh?” Chubs piped up, shoving a fry in his mouth. “Seemed like you barely chipped the ice with that twiggy shot of yours.”

“I chuffed one , asshat. More than you can say,” Steele grumbled.

Nate poured from the pitcher. “You see how those Rocky View boys looked at us tonight?”

Jordan grabbed a wing. “They had their wheels greased in game one, for sure.”

Cam raised an eyebrow. “Plenty of stink eye from the bench.”

“They’ll do more than that after tomorrow.” Jordan stripped the meat from the wing and set it down, wiping the buffalo sauce from his fingers with his napkin.

Steele snickered. “Passed their goalie in the hall. He asked if I was ever going to get a haircut. I told him, ‘Only if you buy me one, bud.’”

Chubs nearly spat his beer. “If he can afford to pay for that, he must be pulling oil money.”

“Weren’t you a rig pig back in the day?” Cam asked.

Chubs balked. “I don’t have the hands for it, bud.” He held up his fingers. “Too delicate. These are built for finesse.”

“Not what Ellie says,” Nate quipped, then jumped out of his seat to avoid Chubs’ shoulder.

The table erupted in laughter, and a few people across the room turned their heads. Jordan reached for the pitcher, and that’s when his insides rearranged themselves.

She was there. Copper skin. Black, curly hair. Sitting at the end of the Snowballs’ table, leaning in, laughing at something the petite blond woman beside her was saying. But she wasn’t paying attention because her eyes were locked on his.

Jordan’s heart rate kicked up. He hadn’t seen her since that night in Medicine Hat. He hadn’t known enough about her to even think about trying to track her down. Well, at least not specifics he’d want to type into a Google search.

Now she was right in front of him, and he was instantly back in that hotel room. He knew what was under that cream sweater that offset her bronze skin perfectly. Or how her mouth looked when she was breathing hard.

A thought splashed cold water over his memories. She was with the Snowballs. Did that mean she lived in Calgary? Or was she an out-of-town friend? A puck bunny that followed them to tourneys?

Jordan's lips parted in a slow smile. How much would it piss off Sean if he knew what had happened between them? He was a bad person for thinking it, but Sean made it easy to be the worst version of himself.

It only took seconds for any thoughts of their Elite League rivalry to dissolve as his body remembered that night. Her laugh, her breathy moans, the way she arched her back when he pressed her against the wall of that hotel room. Jordan's blood pulsed harder in his veins, and he shifted uncomfortably on his stool.

He filled his glass and did a double take to ensure his memory wasn't playing tricks on him. It wasn't. It was her. She remembered him, too, since she was still flicking her eyes in his direction every half a second.

Her hair was a little different. Shorter. Hell, from across the room, he already knew her lips were a slightly lighter colour. He barely remembered what he had for breakfast, but he remembered that exact shade of coral. How it looked on his sweatpants the next morning.

He took a swig of his beer to hide his fixation while his teammates still jabbered around him. She continued to laugh at her friend's jokes, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She brushed her hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on her earlobe, then picked up her drink.

Her lips wrapped around her straw, and Jordan's muscles tensed. She still looked at her friends, but invisible energy sliced toward him. This was for him. Heat shot between his thighs as she idly played with the straw, using her tongue to tease and twirl it.

So. She was an asshole.

It was a good thing people like that created his natural habitat. Jordan leaned back in his chair, glancing down as if he’d just spotted something on his T-shirt. He pulled up the sleeve, exposing more of his tattoos and twisting his arm, flexing his triceps.

She loved his arms. Especially his ink. He’d known that the second she looked up at him outside his hotel room door.

He glanced up to find her eyes wider than a cat at midnight, the straw caught between her teeth. Damn straight. Two could play this game.

She rocked in her seat, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Jordan exhaled. There was no way that was an accident.

He waited two slow seconds, then leaned forward to grab his beer. He held up his hand, showing five fingers, then pointed to the door. Her cheeks flushed, and her nostrils flared.

Jordan's lips curled into a smile. He lifted his beer and took a long drink, then turned his attention back to his teammates as if he hadn’t just made a plan to hook up in the parking lot. One that he was ninety percent sure she would participate in based on the way she started searching for her purse.

Jordan cleared his throat and set his beer on the table.

“Wiped out, bud?” Nate nudged him.

Jordan chuckled. “Not more than you. How’s the knee?”

“Like a bag of gravel.”

He winced. “Want me to tape it up tomorrow?”

Nate nodded, and Jordan glanced at the clock on the wall above the bar. He'd told her five minutes. It had been forty-five seconds, and it felt like a half-hour. He picked up his beer and took another gulp. His leg bounced under the table.

“Hey, Nurse Betty. I have a serious question.” Chubs glanced around, pretending to make sure no one else was listening. “Hypothetically speaking, if a guy had a rash?—”

Cam stifled a laugh. “Pick something up in your extracurriculars, bud?”

Steele exhaled. “Is it in the crease?” He mimicked a goalie stretch, and Chubs shot them both a glare.

Jordan smirked, stopping his fingers from tapping impatiently on the table. Chubs was a high school teacher. He deserved all the extracurriculars he could get. “Can’t be out there giving the boards a lap dance every game and not expect a little burn.” Chubs grinned at that, and Jordan slid off his stool, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’ve got some cream at home. I can bring it tomorrow. You know, theoretically.”

“You leaving then?” Nate asked.

Jordan nodded. “See you at ten thirty. South locker rooms.”

Steele picked up his beer. “We play on rink five?”

Jordan nodded, trying his damndest to look relaxed when every cell in his body was buzzing like a hive of bees. He hugged and fist-bumped his way around the table, then didn't look back as he pushed through the door and stepped into the evening chill. The sun had already set, and the parking lot was dimly lit by a few garish post lights.

He walked past the first row of vehicles, his breath visible in the cool night air, until he reached his truck parked in the back corner. He’d never been more grateful to have chosen a spot far from the main entrance. In the dark.

He leaned against the hood of his truck, the metal cold against his palms, then turned to look at the front of the sports bar. His pulse quickened.

There she stood, framed in the doorway.

She glanced up, and her posture shifted like all the air in her body had left in a single rush. She wrapped her arms around herself and started toward him. His hands were trembling. They’d already slept together once, so he shouldn’t have been nervous, but something about this girl made him feel like he was back in grade ten getting to second base for the first time.

Jordan turned and leaned into his truck, shoving his gym bag and a box of extra pucks into the front seat. He barely had time to straighten before Rhonda was in front of him, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looked up at him with those dark, curious eyes, and he decided right then that he wouldn’t give himself a chance to open his mouth and ruin this.

He reached out, and his hands found her waist, pulling her forward. He twisted and flipped her between him and the side of his truck, and she let out a surprised gasp. The scent of her perfume wrapped around him, and he breathed her in for a split second before her hands ran up his arms, slipping under the sleeves of his shirt.

“I knew you were watching,” he murmured, dropping his head. He hovered there, feeling her quickening breath. And then her lips were on his, and he was lapping up her lip gloss like a damn kitten. Sweet, with a hint of berries. He swept his tongue into her mouth.

Her fingernails trailed over his neck as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss and rolling her hips against his. The cold metal of the truck must've been seeping through her thin jacket, but she didn't push away. Instead, she twined a leg around his, pulling him flush against her.

Jordan's pulse pounded in his ears as he shuffled them toward the truck bed, then reached for the door handle. He fumbled for a moment but finally yanked it open. He lifted her off the ground, put a hand up to duck her head, then dropped her on the backseat. She laughed in surprise, her eyes glittering in the street light. Then she fisted her hand in his shirt and shimmied back on the bench seat, tugging him in after her.