Killian
We'd hit the road for Alabama at four am, and it was a long trip. The sun wasn't up yet and the bus was quiet, but I still wasn't able to fall sleep in my small bunk. I could hear a few guys talking quietly up near the front of the bus, but I wasn't feeling social, so I stayed in bed.
I scrolled through messages on my phone. I'd gotten several last night from Tara, a woman I'd met on a road trip to Louisiana. We'd hooked up one time and now she texted me constantly. Her boob shots and messages about how bad she wanted to suck me off weren't doing anything for me. I deleted all of the messages after skimming the first one.
A sense of restlessness had been with me since the year I graduated college, but it had gotten worse lately. The things that had amused and entertained me for the four years I'd been with the Flyers didn't interest me anymore. I'd begun to re-think my decision to blow off my chance at the big leagues. I'd made that choice right before I'd joined the Fenway Flyers, and now I wondered if I'd made the right decision.
Women like Sidney weren't interested in minor league hockey players. I made shit money and traveled all the time. None of that had mattered to me before. But seeing Lance Holt looking so smug with his hands all over Sidney in those photos was nagging at me.
I didn't even have to look him up – I knew he was rich and successful just by looking at his photo. And he was what rich, successful women like Sidney Stahl wanted in a man. I had no doubt that I could seduce her, but I knew it would only be physical. And she'd probably regret it afterwards.
But I only wanted a physical relationship, so I couldn't figure out why I'd turned into a whiny bitch all of a sudden. For most of the trip, I spent my time thinking about the mistakes I'd made in my career. By the time we reached Alabama all the guys knew I was in a mood. I was usually moody on game days, so they didn't think anything was different and they just left me alone. I didn't talk to anyone all afternoon. My playlist ran through my earphones and I spent the trip getting into game mode.
By ice time, I'd shaken off my funk. We were playing the Oilers, a team we had a longstanding rivalry with. I wanted to come out fast and strong. Scoring early was important against this team.
Once the formalities were over and the anthem was sung I got ready for the opening puck drop. I had to face off against Adam Brotz, an asshole I wanted to fight with every time we played his team. The ref stood between us, holding the puck in the air, looking at the announcer's box for the okay to drop it.
"Heard the Ice Queen bought your team," Brotz said to me. "She must have a thing for losers."
"Go fuck yourself."
Brotz laughed. "She's fuckin' hot, man. I'd like to melt the ice between her legs."
I shoved his shoulder and he slid backwards, losing his balance.
"Have some fuckin' class, asshole," I said as his back hit the ice.
He scrambled up and barreled into me, grabbing a fistful of my sweater. It was on then, and the puck hadn't even dropped. The crowd roared to life as Brotz and I traded blows.
"Come on, man," Liam said from beside me. "Get the puck on the ice."
One of Brotz's guys had a hold on his shoulder and we both glared at each other, silently agreeing to delay this altercation for a few seconds.
When the puck finally dropped, he hooked it and shoved into me. We threw down our gloves at the same time and traded a few more hits. By the time I got to my penalty box, I was breathing hard and tasted blood. I slumped onto the bench, drowning out the comments from the Oilers fans seated in the row behind my box.
"You wouldn't know a winning record if it walked up and bit you in the ass, Bosch!" Brotz yelled from his box.
"You all pissy 'cause you can't get any, Brotz?" I hollered back. "You find out that size actually does matter?"
He gave me a murderous look. "You ready? You ready for more?"
I put my hand up to my ear. "Can't hear you. What?"
"I'm gonna fuck up that pretty face, Bosch."
"You say something? I can't hear you. You've got such a soft little voice, man." And so we passed two minutes of penalty time.
As the final seconds ticked past the timer's hand was on the lock to my box, and as soon as the timer hit zero, he threw the lock and I bolted out. Brotz was on me, and I shoved him off and raced down the ice.
His comments about Sidney and our losing record had pissed me off more than he realized. We'd win this game and then I'd rub his shit-talking nose in it.
Our goalie Shuck was made of lead tonight. He was slow and didn't seem to care. The Oilers scored when the puck slid right past him. It was as if there had been no one in goal.
By the time we got to the locker room at the end of the first period we were down 3-2, and I didn't know if I was more pissed at Brotz or our shitty defense.
"The fuck is your problem, Shuck?" I demanded. "Wake the fuck up. You're killin' us."
"I know, man. My knee's bothering me," he said.
"This ain't the fuckin' Ice Capades. Get your shit together."
Orion took over, riding Shuck's ass for several minutes. I took the ice pack our trainer Eric held out to me and put it on my shoulder.
"We need to pull this one out of the toilet," I said to Bennett, who sat beside me on the locker room bench.
He nodded silently, looking as if he was a million miles away.
"You alright, man?" I asked.
"Huh?" He turned to me. "Oh, yeah. I'm okay."
I got my mind back into the game as soon as we returned to the ice. It was a battle. My body ached all over by the time we hit the locker room at the end of the third period, having won 6-5.
Pissed as I was at our defense, the second line had scored two goals. That was encouraging. Without their contribution, we'd have lost. The new guys Orion and Sidney had brought to the team were hungry and they'd proved themselves tonight.
As I stepped into the locker room Orion was laying into the defense and every other word was fuck. Not that they didn't deserve it. I stripped off my gear and lowered myself into a tub of ice, my bruises and sore muscles making me wince. When I put my headphones back on, thoughts of Sidney snuck back into my mind. Had she watched the game tonight online? I had a sudden urge to call her and talk about it. But I didn't even have her number, so that was out.
The guys were wound up after such a close win, so we went out to celebrate. I'd thrown back a hamburger and a couple of beers when I saw Adam Brotz walk into the bar.
"Fuck me," I mumbled.
Liam and Bennett both followed my gaze and saw Brotz and several of his team members heading our way.
"Celebrating your lucky break?" Brotz asked me. He slurred his words, already wasted.
"Fuck off," I said.
"Some bullshit calls won you that game, and you know it." He wavered on his feet like he was about to fall over. "You guys couldn't win a fair game if the other team was a bunch of blind, one-armed...people...guys."
"Profound, Brotz. Go sleep it off."
"Tell your Ice Queen I've got a hot rod for her." He grinned and grabbed his crotch.
I'd given him two chances to avoid a fight. He'd refused both of them and now he'd insulted Sidney. Before I'd even processed his words, I was standing over him, gripping his shirt as I held his back against our table.
Things happened fast after that. My guys jumped up to hold off Brotz's guys and Brotz and I picked up our fight where we'd left it on the ice. The bar erupted with shouts and cheers as I knocked him into a table. He got up and barreled into me and we both landed on the floor, rolling and punching and cursing.
I was a little winded but still had plenty of fight left in me when powerful arms pulled me off of Brotz. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Bennett, but it wasn't him. A uniformed cop held back my arms and another one moved in front of my chest, blocking the space between me and Brotz.
Fuck. Sidney would hear about this.
Sidney
Killian was waiting outside my office, and I was killing time because I was pissed at him. I was also trying to banish the giddy sensation that was making my stomach churn nervously.
I'm pissed at him. I'm pissed at him. I'm more pissed than excited.
I repeated the words to myself, closing my eyes so they could sink in. As the Flyers owner, it was my job to reform this team, not get starry-eyed over its captain.
I pushed a button on my phone. "Barb, I'm ready for Bosch."
"I'll send him in."
When the door to my office opened, I told my heart to stop pounding like a jackhammer. So his blond hair had recently been cut into the super short style I loved. So his shirt was full of muscled chest and bicep muscles. So he had a black eye which, on him, was sexy. So what? I was pissed at him.
"Mr. Bosch," I said, my tone icy. "Please sit down."
He sighed as he sank into a leather chair in front of my desk.
"Listen, Sid—"
I cut him off. "Don't start with me. I had hoped we were past this BS. Another citation for disorderly conduct? How low do I have to set my standards before you can conform to them? Is this just so you can show me how much of a pain you can be?"
He stood and leaned on the front of my desk, his big hands spread out on the dark wood surface.
"It was a misunderstanding," he said. "I wasn't looking for trouble."
I sighed with aggravation and glared at him. "You're just going to keep ramping it up, aren't you? I'm betting that eventually you'll be showing up to games drunk and then screwing groupies in the arena."
"I don't do shit like that, Sid. But since you have such a low opinion of me, maybe I should show you just how bad I can be."
I pressed my fingers to my temples. A headache was brewing. "Look, what do I have to do? I have so many other things to sort out with this team, and a big deal at one of my other companies is about to fall apart. Would you be open to a cash bonus for not being a jerk? The contract allows me to pay my captain more than the other players, and I believe in incentivizing."
His gaze traveled down my body. "I believe in it, too."
"Awesome," I said, blowing out a relieved breath. "So, how much?"
"I have no interest in money," he said, standing upright and shrugging.
"Yeah, right. Everyone's interested in money."
"I'm not." His cool blue eyes met mine and I knew he was telling the truth.
"How else can I incentivize you? It can't be something like better housing, because I don't want the rest of the players to know."
"You can just owe me one," he said, walking over to the bookcase and scanning the titles.
"If you think I'm going to screw you, think again." My tone was the harsh, pissed-off one usually reserved for dressing down business associates. "That's not the kind of incentive I'm talking about. I've got a hell of a lot more self-respect than the groupies you're used to."
His expression turned dark. "I'd never want an unwilling woman. Even willing's not good enough. I don't know if we'll ever fuck, Sidney, because you'd have to beg for it and you don't strike me as the begging sort."
"That's an understatement."
He pointed at his chest and then back at me. "This isn't gonna work if you don't trust me. When I fuck up, I'll admit it. But this time, I was defending someone on my team and things got out of hand. Then Brotz wanted more when I ran into him later, so I obliged."
My anger drained away. I couldn't deny the sincerity on his face. "Alright," I said softly. "I apologize for jumping you before letting you explain."
"You haven't jumped me yet, Sidney. But you will."
A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach as his eyes held mine. His gaze was intense, sexy and sincere. Instinct told me to fight back – stand up for myself. But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.
"You intrigue me like no one ever has," he said, looking down at me. "So I'm trying."
I nodded, my skin heating under his inspection. I needed to take control of this conversation but Killian saved me the trouble.
"I have to get to practice," he said, taking a step back. The spell was broken, and I rose from my chair.
I followed him to the door and he paused with his hand over the handle. I wanted to reach out and touch him. Any part of him would do. I just wanted to lay my hand on his arm and feel the warmth of his skin and the strength of the muscle beneath. It would relax and incite me at the same time.
But one touch would only make me want more, so I stepped back.
"Have a good practice," I said.
He met my eyes one more time and then turned the handle, opened the door and left. I went back to my desk and flopped into the chair with a sigh, wondering how the hell I was supposed to focus on work now.