5. The Hero

FIVE

THE HERO

CAM

I don't have a particular proclivity for playing the hero. There was only one other time when I defended someone of the female persuasion, and it happened to be Becca. So twice now, I've had to get her out of something when she was in over her head.

Technically, my best friend, her brother, Hayes, and I got her out of a sticky situation back in high school. He might have fooled his folks, but he was just as much of a bad boy as I was. Whereas Becca…she was an honest to God good girl. A very naive, innocent, and often snarky one, but someone who didn't deserve to get pulled down into crap she had no business being in.

I can't stand to think about that night. Neither of them wanted to get in trouble, but me taking the heat was easy since trouble was my middle name. I took all the blame for what happened in front of their parents, adding to a long list of reasons why they hated me hanging around their kids.

As an adult, hockey and fucking are the two things I'm great at now. I know how to be the best in either scenario. Okay, and maybe playing cards. That's why I don't have a long list of hobbies like golf or fishing. I'm not one of those hockey players who gets in as many rounds of golf as they can in the off-season trying to improve their handicap.

I'm great at a few things, keep my life simple, focus on my body and workout and keep healthy, and that's enough.

And I don't do relationships. Women are too needy. Inevitably, at some point, I'll always let them down. So why the hell do I jump and cross the club in a heartbeat the second Max lays a finger on Becca?

I don't fucking know. Something snapped inside of me because damn—Becca Brooks. What the fuck is she doing here? Behind her attempt to look like an overly made up Vegas chick, I recognize her in an instant, right down to the fragile ballerina she hides inside.

" Your woman?" Max stands and gets in my face, waving off his bodyguard, while in one swift move I push Becca behind me. I don't flinch, keeping my steely eyes trained upon him.

"You heard me. She's off-limits. Got that?" I sneer and see the bouncers heading our way out of the corner of my eye.

"You think you're hot shit?" He seethes.

"Obviously, you're still upset about me kicking your ass in poker recently."

"Fuck you. Hockey here means nothing but another thing for pathetic people to gamble on."

"Like you?"

He shoves his chest into mine. "The only thing pathetic here is the way you defend your woman. I was only trying to bolster her confidence by giving her a night with a celeb like me because clearly she needs it. Come on, sweetheart, I'll show you a better time than this piece of crap ever will."

He grabs my lapel and attempts shoving me away, but his bodyguard and the bouncers pull us apart before I can retaliate. I could have taken both of him, easily; I've handled worse fights on the ice.

"All of you, out." The largest bouncer says, a bald man with a ginger beard and a name tag that reads Bernie.

Max straightens his shirt then pulls at his cuffs, and his guard retreats back into the shadow behind him. "You must be new here—Bernie—because clearly you don't recognize me. I'm?—"

"I don't give a fuck who you are. You start a fight, you're out. You too. Let's go." He points at me. Bernie's beet red face and fists the size of cinder blocks say loud and clear don't mess with him. I like him. Only I'm not ready to leave yet.

"He pulled my girl onto his lap. All I did was tell him to leave her alone," I argue. "Isn't there a rule here about not touching the staff?"

He stops and looks at Becca; we all do. "Is that true? Did this guy touch you?"

She's still in the same spot where I put her when this all started, her mouth agape, her eyelids wide, and pupils darting back and forth between us all.

I figure there's only one way this'll go. She'll come to her senses and point out the obvious that she's not my woman and there's no way in hell she'd ever be my woman. My ass will get kicked out, and that'll be the end of me trying to do something heroic again.

She clears her throat and blinks in rapid succession, coming to. "That's right. This man has been creeping on me for several nights now, and when he pulled me to him my—my very sweet boyfriend came to my rescue."

Wow. She lays it on thick, complete with her hand tucking into the crook of my elbow. To cap it off, she smiles so sweetly up at me. "Thank you," she whispers, and licks her lips like a sultry promise she'll find a way to thank me later.

I'm momentarily befuddled, like the touch of her and nearness of her have scrambled my brain. Has she changed? Or am I fooled?

"Okay then. You, out." Bernie points to Max, and we watch as the actor protests all the way to the door with his hired man trailing behind him.