Backcheck Heart: An L.A. Crush Hockey Novella (Nashvellas & Novels)

Chapter 6

Despite my staunch refusal,the guys convinced me we needed to get dinner before going to the club. Dinner turned into ‘pre-drinks,’ which turned into us getting to Two-One-Oh over an hour after we were supposed to. Our tardiness meant we were given the last available booth and Cherri as a server.

I asked her several times to tell Morgan we were here, but she either didn’t relay the message or Morgan was mad at me for being late and ignoring us. I’m not sure which I would prefer.

“Oh my God,” Mikelson groans. “If you sigh one more time, I am going to assume a thirteen-year-old girl has replaced the great Radek Nokavik.” I glare at him over my beer.

“Leave the man alone,” Connor defends. “His girl hasn’t come over yet.”

“She’s not my girl,” Danvers corrects.

“She will be. She broke up with the Tanger Outlet Twit, right?”

“Yes,” I confirm. Thoughts of Morgan’s ex fill me with rage when I remember the marks he left on her delicate skin.

“Then you’re halfway there. You just have to make your move in a way that is classy and not creepy.”

“Why would it come off creepy?” I ask.

“Because she recently ended a relationship,” Danvers chimes in. “She might think you’re hoping to be her rebound and fuck her through the sadness.”

“Not helpful, D,” Connor comments as I scowl at our teammate.

“Come on, man. Let’s make the rounds and see if we can spot her in the crowd. I think our server is too preoccupied trying to catch Mikelson’s eye to risk Morgan taking our table away.”

The two of us get up and move toward the center of the VIP area.

“I don’t want to be a rebound,” I assert as I search the crowd.

“Then show her you’re more than rebound material.”

“How?”

“How do you feel about playing knight in shining armor?” he asks, full of concern. I shift my gaze to see what caught his attention. Across the room stands Morgan, dripping in amber liquid, while her soon-to-be-dead ex laughs, bottle in hand.

I sense Connor speaking beside me, but all I can hear is the blood rushing between my ears. Pushing through the crowd, I stomp over to the douche who dared fuck with such a sweet soul. It will be the last time he does if I have anything to say about it.

Brushing past his friends, I grab Chet by his throat and pin him against the wall. His uncalloused hands slap at mine, but my grip is firm. I’m not a fighter. My specialty is busting through coverage and leaving it behind, not confronting it. Almost every punch I’ve thrown has been in defense of myself or a teammate. My ability to stay composed is well-known and hated throughout the league. Tonight, though, I’m ready to throw it all away. Something about Morgan has all that control going out the window.

Tightening my grasp on his neck, I watch the panic flare in Chet’s eyes with satisfaction and wonder if this is how he felt when he was tormenting Morgan. Doubt it. The pain I’m causing is for noble reasons. His was to assuage his overgrown ego. I’m not holding tight enough to make him pass out, but it is enough to make taking in air a challenge.

I don’t know how long I stand there watching him struggle when I hear Morgan’s melodic voice beside me.

“Ralphie,” she calls. She doesn’t know this, but I love that her mouth isn’t sullied by using my real name. A name given to me by a deadbeat who doesn’t deserve to be considered a father after he deserted my mother with four young kids. I much prefer her to know me as Ralphie, the hockey player, than Radek, the boy hustling to make it out while watching out for my mom and sisters.

She pleads with me to release the scumbag, but I’m not ready yet. I’m still struggling to reign in my rage. It isn’t until I hear her say she needs me that I give in and let him drop onto the couch.

The heat of her hand on my back sears me, but I have a message to deliver. Looming over Chet, I make sure this never happens again.

“Listen closely, you sniveling swine. If you ever touch, call, or even breathe in the same zip code as Morgan again, you’re going to wish you hadn’t. I didn’t live through the dissolution of my country without learning how to make someone disappear without a trace. If you don’t want your family plastering your face on a milk carton, you will never cross my path or hers again. Understand?”

It’s a bluff. I may have lived in poverty, but I didn’t do anything dangerous growing up. In fact, I mostly worked my ass off to be good enough to play hockey overseas. He doesn’t know that, though. And my posturing works as he pales in front of me. Slowly, he nods his head. With his confirmation, I turn my back to him and usher Morgan out of the booth and away from the waste of space.

I didn’t notice my teammates joining the fray, but it explains why none of the jerkwad”s friends stepped in to help him. They post up beside me as the club’s bouncers arrive to assess the situation. I almost snap when one of them touches Morgan, but she diffuses the situation, and they head off to deal with Chet.

Pulling my girl in the other direction, I search for the employee lounge where she can clean up before we leave. She fights me at first, but when I point out she can’t keep working covered in whiskey, she leads me inside a room in the back. The way she stomped her foot in protest was so fucking adorable that I had to stop myself from kissing her right then.

When I follow her into a dressing room, she appears surprised before a stern expression crosses her face.

“Just because you played hero doesn’t mean you get to boss me around. This is my workplace. I can’t leave. I appreciate what you did for me. It was sweet and, honestly, hella hot. Chet deserved what he got, but I have tables. Martina isn’t going to be cool with me disappearing in the middle of my shift. I’ll clean up as best I can and finish the night.”

“No,” I say.

“No?”

“No.”

“You can’t tell me ‘no.’ Unless you became the owner of this club in the last hour, you don’t have a say over my schedule.”

For a brief second, I wonder how much it would cost to buy Two-One-Oh. My accountant has been nagging me to diversify. My agent would love the publicity of it and cut of the profits.

“Hey,” she snaps. “Are you listening to me?”

My sweet girl is riled up. Her system is processing multiple emotions after everything that’s happened, which is all the more reason for her to go home.

“Zlatí?ko,” I croon. “You were assaulted. I’m sure your boss doesn’t expect you to finish out the night.”

“You’ve never met Martina.”

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I slide it out and read the message. “I have not, but Connor has.”

“What?” Her head tilts in confusion, causing a drop of whiskey to fall onto the top of her chest. What I wouldn’t give to follow it with my tongue.

Now isn’t the time to be thinking sexy thoughts. I need to focus on taking care of Morgan, not objectifying her.

“Connor—the guy who planned Fitz’s bachelor party —talked to your boss, and she said it would be fine if you went home. In fact, she insists.”

“Why?” The puzzled expression on her face beckons for my kiss. Still, I hold off.

“Is she firing me?!”

“Of course not. Connor can be very persuasive. And as the team’s unofficial event planner, he probably mentioned the team stopping by here more often.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” I smirk.

Instead of moving, Morgan closes her eyes and inhales deeply. I silently watch her collect herself.

“I’m afraid to look in the mirror,” she whispers. My chest tightens at the admission, and I pull her into my arms.

She melts into my hold until she suddenly pushes against my chest. “You’re going to ruin your shirt. I’m all sticky and wet.”

“I like you sticky and wet,” I reply as I let her go. She shakes her head at me, but a smile graces her lips for the first time since the Chet ordeal.

“Thank you again for what you did out there. You didn’t have to.”

I grunt at that. Of course, I did. I would have stepped into the situation regardless of what woman was being harrassed. I probably wouldn’t have choked and threatened to disappear the offender had it been someone else, but I would have done something.

“I should change,” she notes. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you guys much tonight. You’ll have to come back another day.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I don’t work tomorrow.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow when I take you to dinner.”

“To dinner?” She repeats, puzzled. “You mean a late-night bite?”

“You said you don’t work tomorrow.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you busy at seven?”

“No.”

“Then why would we eat dinner later?”

Morgan flushes, and her hands pick at the sequins on her dress. “I don’t know. That is usually when people go out.”

“People?” I muse out loud. Then it clicks. Morgan is used to dating assholes like the one who harassed her earlier. Guys that aren’t interested in getting to know a woman—at least not clothed. They grab drinks or quick bites to get to the ‘fun’ part of the evening as fast as possible. I wonder when she was last taken on a proper date.

“‘People’ may eat dinner late, but I don’t. I eat at the normal time, and I want you to join me. Is that something you want, too?”

Blinking at me, she nods.

“Good,” I reply. Finally giving into the urge I’ve been fighting all night, I run my hand against her cheek down to her chin. Tilting her head up, I lean down and meet her for a kiss. It’s not a passionate, life-changing kiss. But the chaste meeting of our lips is powerful nonetheless. With a quick peck to her forehead, I back out of the room and leave her to change.

When I return to the main area, Danvers and Mikelson chat with Cherri and another server. Connor passes me a fresh beer. “She okay?”

“She will be,” I answer.

“Did you ask her out?”

Taking a sip from my beer, I don’t reply. But the tip of my lips must tell him everything he needs to know because he shakes his head and grins. Downing the rest of his drink, he slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m going to go save Mikelson’s chances of scoring. I assume you want to leave now that she’s gone?”

He chuckles when I nod. As he grabs Danvers and checks that our other teammate can find his own way home, I rack my brain for the perfect place to take Morgan tomorrow.