23. The Problems

TWENTY-THREE

THE PROBLEMS

CAM

"O

h, you're up? Good. I need your opinion about something." Kallie starts in when I enter the kitchen after Becca saunters off to the bathroom.

"You know the rule, Kallie. Coffee. Then talk." I'm a foot away from the machine with black gold that will bring me back to life, at least a little.

Everything aches, but this isn't the first morning after a fight for me; I'm experienced. Guess it all started with dear old Dad finding any excuse in his pathetic life to use me as his punching bag. Then later, high school fights. Of course, in hockey, intense games are prone to brawls breaking out any time.

So this pain is nothing new. At least we don't have Max to worry about anymore. After my teammates knocked him out, we found ways to take photos of him in compromising positions with street walkers we met on the strip. We dropped him off in the middle of nowhere outside of the city with a note pinned to his shirt. "Come at us again, and we'll release incriminating photos of you to the media."

It's the same way Hayes and I handled the asshole quarterback in high school when he tried to defile Becca. Only his parents didn't care what photos we had of him and went to the Brooks with their complaints. I took the fall for it so Hayes wouldn't get in trouble.

Bid D confided in me about similar things he did to Kallie's ex back in Austin to keep him away from her. Maybe it's all a little over the top, and we're a bunch of possessive idiots. But that's just how we roll as hockey teammates, like brothers in arms going to war for the people we care about most.

After last night, Max should be scared and worried about his Hollywood reputation enough to stay the hell away from me and Becca, or the next time he puts a hand on her, he won't be so lucky.

I can barely lift my arm for a mug out of the cabinet overhead without pain shooting through my ribs. Worth it, though, knowing I got rid of the scumbag.

Kallie grabs it for me. "I don't have time to wait for your coffee to kick in. First thing this morning, Mr. Jansen sends me an email. He wants twenty ideas by nine for how to put more excitement into the games. He's still not happy with our ticket sales." She's dressed for work and packing her laptop bag.

"Fuck. We're playing our asses off out there, and winning, by the way. What more does he want?" I spout off.

"You know it's all about marketing and dollars with these asswipes." Big D snorts, coming up for air from the plate of six eggs and sausages long enough to comment.

He believes in a hot breakfast to start the day. I believe in a cup of joe, black, to perk me up. Later, before practice or working out, I always have a protein shake with enough nutrients to power me through it. I eat a huge meal in the late afternoon. My nutritionist long ago set me on this routine, and my performance excelled because of it. I already texted him early this morning to start a plan for Becca.

I take my first sip, then another. "Ah. Hits the spot. Okay. Give me what you got."

"I'm thinking of games between periods with the crowds? T-shirt tossing to the upper tiers?" She checks a list on a pad of paper in her hands. "Maybe staged fights between team mascots? Oh, do you think we could get your teammates to do fun dances and post them on social media? Or how about a calendar with twelve of you modeling in it for each month of the year?"

"Shit. No. So, in other words, you have nothing on your list that screams: Our hockey games are exciting, but don't come to watch the players play. Come for this other thing instead? " I smirk.

"Hey, this is Vegas. Why don't you put some strippers on the ice? That'll bring in the men, at least." Big D laughs.

"But that's just it. We need something exciting that'll bring in families and singles, old and young, tourists and locals. I'm out of ideas." She throws her notepad into her bag.

"What'd I miss?" Becca enters the kitchen, her hair in a ponytail, her face pink and fresh like she splashed cold water on it. She's a breath of fresh air this morning. If I could have slept longer with her in my arms, I would have, but my cock ruined that. Wanting what he shouldn't.

Plus, she's a virgin? I've given little credence to prayer in my life, but I'd kneel at the altar now and pray to God for strength. I sin with every look at her.

I take a few more sips as Kallie fills her in, the liquid coursing through my veins fast. My eyes can't help but fall to Becca's bare legs under my shirt. Those long sexy limbs of hers—I admired them last night while she danced for me, because no one else mattered around us when our eyes connected.

After Kallie brings her up to speed, Becca asks, "You work for the team?"

"Yes. My father owns a team in a different league in Austin. When the announcement came in about the expansion teams in this league, I started applying for jobs. I got the job as Marketing Director for the Gamblers, then Cody and his agent went to work on a trade for him to get here, too. We just needed a fresh start, to get out of Austin, away from my ex, away from my father."

"I can totally relate. I came here to get out from under my parents' thumbs. Only I've had to start over with nothing, literally. It's been rough." While Becca and Kallie talk, I'm glad they're connecting. Becca could use more friends and Kallie really is a gem.

It suddenly occurs to me how we all took chances to come to Vegas for a new beginning. Like some cosmic fuckery has had a hand in guiding us all here.

I certainly wanted a change of pace once I stepped foot on desert soil. But I never expected Becca, or for my bachelor playboy ways to be challenged because of her. Since the moment I tried to save her from Max's evil clutches, she's invaded my every thought, every second of the day.

I've written it off as merely concern for a friend, as fulfilling a half-baked promise to her brother. Denied how I long to see her body dance for me; dressed or naked, either way. Ignored the constant pain in my groin, because my cock needs to be buried deep inside of her pussy.

Why, if not for Max's interruption, I'd have been perfectly happy and entertained watching Becca on the dance floor all night. Then tempted to take her home and remove the virgin label from her for good.

Then an idea hits me out of the blue.

I finish the rest of my coffee with a huge gulp and mull it over, letting it percolate. Yes. This idea could work on so many levels. For the team. For Becca.

"I got it. A dance team, complete with musical numbers and singers," I proudly announce.

All eyes on me, Kallie shakes her head. "We opened the first game with fanfare, including dancers and celebrity singers."

"Right. But since then, nothing. Like we teased our audience, then let them down."

Kallie takes in a sharp breath, and I can tell her wheels are moving.

"This is Vegas, baby," I go on. "Tourism is a major industry, and why do people visit here?"

"To lose their savings on the crap tables?" Big D quips.

"Exactly, but before they fly out of town, they take in a show or two. They watch the fountains at Bellagio. They walk the strip for the thrill of the lights and action. People want to be entertained. They come to Vegas to escape life for a while. Becca, you're a dancer. Help me out here." I point at her, then hobble to the sink to rinse my mug.

"Um, why yes. Dance and music are sure crowd-pleasers. For a couple of semesters in college, I was on the hip-top team and we'd perform at halftime of the basketball games and rouse up the crowd. Many sports teams have cheerleaders and dance squads to get the crowds energized. Look how popular the Dallas football cheerleaders are with their international fame." I like the way she thinks fast on her feet.

I rub my chin at the stubble there. "How about this? Dancers, but on ice. Before the games, in between each period, they dazzle the crowd. Some even cheer in the stands as the games are played. Hey, Las Vegas is known as the entertainment capital of the world, right? I like to think we players are highly entertaining with our hockey skills, but I think the organization can do one better with an incredible dance team. You could call them the Gamblerettes."

"Well, I only have one thing to say." Kallie stows away her notepad then confidently shoulders her bag. "I don't need twenty ideas for Mr. Jenson. I need just this one. It's perfect. And if he doesn't agree, then he's a—what'd you call it, Cody?"

"An asswipe, baby." Before she leaves, he picks her straight up to meet his mouth with hers.

"If he goes for it, Becca can be available to advise you on how to run auditions and such. Even choreograph the first few ice dances for you." I'm feeling so good now a second cup of coffee might be in order. As I pour, she comes to my side.

"What are you doing?" Becca's eyes bulge. "I haven't been on skates in years."

"Then we better go buy you a pair today. I have a feeling you're going to need them." I wink and gloat. Maybe my Zamboni idea was shit, but this one is perfect for her. "Now we need to find you a place to live."

Kallie finally tears her lips away from Big D. "Your place is slated to be finished with the remodel next door this week, Cam. So Becca can take over the guest room when you vacate. Look at us. All our problems solved today over coffee, and it's not even eight o'clock yet."

As much as I appreciate Kallie's idea and enthusiasm, there are still a few things I'd like to fix in Becca's life before I consider my promise to her brother fulfilled. But her virginity? I still don't know how I feel about that.