Faceoff, p.9
Faceoff, page 9
He said good night to the guys a short while later and headed up to his hotel room. He stripped down and climbed into bed and grabbed his phone. He no longer cared if texting wasn’t part of whatever the hell it was they were doing. He missed her, and he wanted her. Thinking about her made his cock stir under the thin sheet, and he swiped his phone on.
Sully: Want to meet up after the matinee game this weekend?
She answered within two minutes.
Sara: I can’t. I’m watching Aiden that night so my sister and Max can have a night away.
Damn. There went that plan.
Sully: Does Aiden like hockey?
Sara: Yep. Big fan. I thought about getting tickets because it’s one of your few matinee games. He’s only five. You guys need more matinees. You should get them to work on that schedule.
Sully: I’ll make sure to reach out to the scheduler. Do you want tickets? I can get you some. Maybe even glass seats.
Sara: Ooh, what do I have to do to get glass seats?
Sara: Don’t answer that, pervy.
Sully: Hey, you don’t know what I was going to say.
He chuckled. He could think of a long list of favors to ask for from her, but he’d keep that to himself for now. He was horny enough as it was whenever he thought about her, and there’d be no relief outside of his hand for a few more days.
But tonight…
Sully: What are you doing right now?
Sara: I’m not sexting with you, Sully.
Sully: Seriously, is your mind constantly in the gutter? Maybe I wanted to see how your day went.
Sara: ROTF.
Sully: Yep. Gutter. You’re thinking of rolling on the floor with me right now.
Sara: You know that’s not what that means.
She followed that up with a few eye-rolling emojis.
He leaned back against the headboard. When they weren’t arguing or ignoring each other, her humor perfectly matched his. It was another thing he’d missed after that night.
Chapter 9
“You ready for this?” Sara asked Aiden that Sunday as they headed to the arena.
Hell, she should’ve been asking herself that question. And she had. Since that flirty text chain the other night. He’d tried to get her to sext with him, and she’d honestly debated giving in. Now she was the worst aunt ever because she was currently wishing that she wasn’t watching Aiden—the nephew she helped raise, the little boy she loved as her own—so she could have her way with Sully after the game.
He was always so charged after a game, especially if they won.
Worst. Aunt. Ever.
“Yes. And can we have hot dogs and popcorn and cotton candy?” Aiden asked, his eyes lighting up when she peeked at him through the mirror. His legs kicked in his car seat. She probably shouldn’t give him any more sugar based on how hyper he already was.
She’d surprised him this morning when she’d picked him up. He’d asked to go to the Children’s Museum, but she’d asked if he’d rather go to the hockey game. She wasn’t sure her hearing was totally back after his shriek of happiness.
Callie had eyed her, asking where the tickets had come from, so she’d told her that Adam had asked one of the guys if they had empty seats. She’d hoped her response had come off nonchalant, but she had her doubts when her sister’s eyes had sparkled, very similar to Aiden’s right now.
Dammit.
Sara weaved through the parking garage and found a spot. Within minutes, she had Aiden out of the car, and she had to grab him as he tried to head toward the elevators.
“Whoa, buddy. You have to stay with me at all times. Hand in mine, okay? There are a lot of people here, and I need you to make sure I don’t get lost,” she said, crouching down to straighten his jacket. It was a warm October afternoon, but the temp in the arena would be much colder, so she made sure he would be bundled up.
“You won’t get lost, Auntie Sara. You’re an adult,” Aiden said, tugging on his Strikers shirt.
“Adults get lost all the time. Even Max.”
“No,” Aiden said in shock.
“He does. I’ve seen it.”
“Okay, well, hold my hand, Auntie, and we’ll not get lost,” he said, his tone adorably serious.
He liked to be in charge of things, so she’d give him this. Hopefully, it would make him stay at her side. He’d been a bolter for as long as she could remember. He had gotten better with age, but she still planned to watch him like a hawk.
They headed to will call, where Sully said the tickets would be waiting, and she gave the woman behind the glass her name and ID.
“Ready?” Sara asked Aiden once her ID was back in her wallet and she had the tickets. They were in the second row in section 103.
“Yep,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Hold on tight, Auntie.”
Sara laughed as he tugged her along. Of course he had no idea where he was going, so she rerouted them and headed for the escalators. She missed her unlimited time with Aiden. The first four years of his life, he’d spent in her house. It’d been just the three of them, and Sara missed those moments when Aiden would cuddle up to her on the couch or swing his feet at her breakfast bar as she made him pancakes. It’s why she never hesitated when Callie asked her to babysit.
As they passed through security and headed for their section, she asked, “How about we pick out our lunch and eat up here and then go to our seats with a snack?” She guided him toward the hot dog vendor.
“Okay. I’m so hungry,” he said, his eyes wide as he took in all the sights and sounds. They’d taken him to maybe one or two other games, and he was always mesmerized by everything going on around him.
She settled her cross-body bag, which should have everything she needed for today in it, and guided him to the end of the concession stand line. Within a few minutes, they were loading up their hot dogs with ketchup and Sara was grabbing an extra handful of napkins. She found a ledge for Aiden to sit, and they dove into their lunch.
“Who’s your favorite player?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Aiden laughed, his mouth covered with ketchup. “Baz. He’s missing all his teeth like me, and he’s so funny. Do you think the tooth fairy still visits him?”
Sara chuckled. “I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Ready?” she asked after throwing away their trash and grabbing their bottles of water.
“Yep,” he said when she helped him hop down.
“Potty break first, okay?”
“But I don’t have to go,” he said.
Sara led him to the bathroom. She’d played this game many times before, and it was going to be a long walk up and down the stairs to the second row, so she was relieved when he actually went.
“We’re going all the way to the ice?” Aiden asked as he held onto the railing and walked down the stairs.
She’d offered to carry him, but he’d been determined to do it himself. Luckily, warm-ups hadn’t started, so the seats were mostly empty and there weren’t a lot of people walking up and down the stairs.
“Not all the way. Second row,” she said. These seats were amazing. Not that she’d expected anything else since they were from Sully, but holy crap. The closest she’d ever sat was at least halfway up the lower section when she got tickets on her own. The guys had offered her better seats, and she sometimes took them up on their offers, but they’d never been second-row seats. She wondered how Sully had these seats.
She guided Aiden to their aisle, and she helped him into his seat, his legs kicking back and forth as he sat on the edge, watching the lights on the ice. The music started, and she pointed up at the jumbotron that showed the Strikers coming down the tunnel.
“Look, there they are. We made it in time for warm-ups,” she said, and Aiden clapped his hands in excitement.
The players poured onto the ice, one of the guys knocking the stack of pucks off the boards as the rest of them grabbed a puck with their sticks to aim for the goalie or practice their stick handling. She didn’t know where to look. She could admit that she was looking for that red beard, and she was secretly sad that he practiced with a helmet on.
It was safer, of course, but it was harder to see him with that helmet on.
Aiden popped up from his seat and grinned at her. “Can we go down there?” he asked, pointing to the glass.
They were on the end of the aisle and it wasn’t super crowded, so she agreed. He walked up to the glass just as a puck hit it. He jumped, but the short scream of shock had come from her mouth, not his. He laughed and pointed while she willed her heart to stop racing. Holy shit, that had been unexpected. She panicked a little since they weren’t in a spot with the extra tall netting.
“Auntie Sara, it’s so fast,” he said, his wide grin in place.
“I know.” She rested her hand lightly on Aiden’s shoulder and scanned the ice, finally spotting Sully. He stretched his hips, his legs shuffling back and forth as he rolled his lower body. Heat flared in her stomach. Shit. That was not supposed to be sexual. But the way he was moving…
Dammit. She was at a freaking hockey game. With her five-year-old nephew. She should not be thinking about how well Sully moved his hips when they were in bed together. Or on the couch. Or against the wall.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
And at that exact moment, he looked up. His hips stopped moving, and he pushed up on his skates. She swore she could see his smile from across the ice, and her cheeks flamed. So inappropriate, and he’d caught her.
He skated over to the line in the center and fired a puck toward the goalie before he continued moving toward them. Was that determination in his eyes? Faintly banked need? This is why he shouldn’t warm up with a helmet on, dammit.
He shot her a grin and then tapped on the glass near Aiden.
“Hope you have fun, Aiden,” he said before he flipped a puck over the glass to Aiden.
Aiden’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning, and Sara tamped down the warmth spreading to her chest, which threatened to burst at seeing how happy Aiden was. He gave her a wink and headed back to his teammates.
She was too young to have a hot flash.
“Auntie Sara, I got a puck,” Aiden said, holding it up in the air.
“Yes. That was so nice of Sully, right?”
“Yes. How does he know me?”
“A lot of the players come to the bar where I work. I guess I talk about how I have an awesome nephew too much,” she teased.
He gasped. “You could never talk about me too much.” He giggled.
“And modest, too,” she said, leading him back to their seats as warm-ups winded down. A few of the other guys had skated by and waved or said hello, but none of them had left flutters in her belly. That was all Sully.
He would not get distracted by her, but he loved seeing her in the stands. It was like a weight was off his shoulders that he didn’t even realize was there, and that made absolutely no sense.
He bounced his leg, his skate tapping on the floor in front of the bench as he waited for the puck to drop. The second line was out on the ice, and Westie was at the center dot ready for the first faceoff against Vancouver. There was a lot of pressure on the team to bring home a win today, especially after their OT loss in Vegas the other night. The Strikers usually had a good at-home record, and they fully intended to keep that going this year.
“Let’s go kick Vancouver’s ass,” Harty said, nudging Sully in the arm.
Sully grinned at his teammate as they rested at the end of the bench, ready to hop on the ice. He hit the ice and caught sight of the puck. Dom had dumped it into Vancouver’s side so they could get the line change. Sully skated toward the corner behind Vancouver’s net where Baz and Crow were trying to free the puck from between the skates of one of Vancouver’s forwards. The puck shot free, and Cheesy easily stopped it with his stick, shooting it blocker side high. It hit the pipes, and Vancouver’s goalie covered it.
The first period continued in much the same way, with both teams having equal possession time, a lot of scrums in the corner, and no goals. Both had been close, but with one minute left in the period, they were still notched at zero.
“Let’s go to the locker room with a goal, boys,” Bugsy called out when Sully, Harty, and Cheesy hit the ice for another shift.
Harty skated across, shooting a quick glance to Baz, who currently had the puck on his stick. Vancouver spotted the look, and two of their forwards narrowed in on Harty. Sully kept his gaze focused on the goalie, but he’d caught Baz’s eye right before, and in seconds, Sully had the puck in the middle of his tape and was headed toward Vancouver’s goalie. The cool air from the arena washed over him, there was nothing he loved more than being on the ice in the middle of a game.
Vancouver’s goalie was weak on his glove side. Sully had watched the last few games and wondered if the goalie was having shoulder issues this season. But everyone else had caught on to that potential injury, so the goalie always had that side up. Sully faked like he was aiming for that side, and in a split second, he shot it between the goalie’s legs. The goal horn blared through the arena and the music pumped louder as the crowd surged to their feet, cheering.
He pumped his fist in the air and spotted Sara and her nephew screaming their heads off. She looked right at him, her smile wide, her cheeks flushed even though the arena was cold. He shot her a wink, and he swore her cheeks flamed brighter.
Heat bloomed in his chest as adrenaline and want burst through him. Then his teammates were crashing into him against the boards and he was caught up in the celebration. He felt lighter than he had in years as the period ended and they headed down the tunnel for intermission.
Maybe she needed to come to all of his games.
***
The following day, when he walked into his building’s gym and headed for the stationary bike, Harty and Baz, who were already working out, shouted out a greeting to him. They had a late practice today, and he wanted to get warmed up after last night’s game. He was always a little stiff in the morning after a game. He refused to believe it had anything to do with his advanced age. Well, advanced in hockey years.
He hated thinking about how many years he might have left and what the hell he was supposed to do with himself when that dreaded day happened. He only had two years left on his contract with the team, and he wanted to finish his career as a Striker. Preferably having held the Cup over his head before that happened.
When his brother brought the Cup home after his win with Boston, Sully had refused to touch it. That was a tradition and superstition that every hockey player he knew stuck to. Don’t hold the Cup until your team has won it. He’d refused to even drink out of it. His brothers had ribbed him about that, but he was used to their jabs.
“Here to work the kinks out with us?” Baz asked, and Sully nodded. Maybe he wasn’t the only player who felt so stiff in the mornings. “Hey, what’s the deal with Sara?” Baz’s unexpected subject change caused Sully to almost trip over the bike pedal as he tried to get on. As smoothly as possible, he recovered and settled on the bike, punching in the resistance. He turned to look at his teammate. “Sara? We’re friends. Why?”
Baz’s eyes narrowed. Shrewd bastard.
“She was at the game in your seats,” Baz said.
“Yeah, what’s up with that? I thought you weren’t speaking to each other. You still won’t tell us what that was about, by the way,” Harty said.
“It’s nothing. She had her nephew and mentioned to Adam that Aiden wanted to go to a game. I offered her tickets because we’re friends,” he replied calmly. He was going to have to brainstorm with Sara about possible explanations for what they were doing. Questions were bound to come up, and they needed a plan if they were going to keep quiet. His teammates were nosy fuckers.
“Yeah, looked like more than that. But at least you aren’t being a douche around her anymore,” Harty said, his head tilted like he was waiting for more of an explanation.
“We’re friends. That’s it. She mentioned that we didn’t have a lot of matinee games, and her nephew likes hockey, so I gave her tickets. Nothing else is going on.”
Shit. How defensive had that sounded?
“You’re hiding something, Sully,” Baz said, eyes narrowing again. “But we’ll figure it out. I’m good at flushing out secrets.”
Yes, the man was. On creepy levels.
He focused back on his bike, refusing to say anything else for them to latch on to.
***
At midnight, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he pulled up to Sara’s house. He’d texted her before practice to see if she wanted company now that Aiden had gone home. He’d waited over an hour for her to reply and had barely stopped himself from texting her again.
Sara: We should celebrate your two goals yesterday. That’s what friends do, right?
Later, she’d texted to tell him she was heading home a little early if he wanted to meet her sooner. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that she’d asked Adam if she could leave early because she wanted to see him.
Scratch that. He was fine with thinking that was a possibility. He wasn’t fine with what that thought did to him. Just friends that fuck. That’s what this was, and he needed to remember that.
Of course, all thoughts of that flew out the window when she opened the door in his jersey. He’d sent one to her earlier that day with a note that she had to wear it when she came to games.
His eyes traveled down the length of her body, taking in her bare legs where the jersey hit her just above mid-thigh.
He groaned. “Is there anything going on under that jersey?”
She hooked her fingers into his waistband and dragged him into the house. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
His hands traveled down her spine, and he cupped her ass—her bare ass—lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heated center pressing against his jeans, and she shifted in his hold.
