Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy (New Brunswick Wolverines)

1. CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

1

Oh, Charles Gagnon.

The biggest douchebag in the league since Maverick Austin, who had his team cheat a decade ago by sending some chick in to grab their defense strategies. They won the playoffs, but their dream was short-lived when security footage was discovered.

And, while Charles may not be a cheater strategically, he’s a cheap shot, a dickhead, and even one of the most talked-about players in the NHL.

But that’s not the entire reason I’m here in this bar.

You see, I knew tonight was going to be a bloodbath. It always is when we play our rivals—the Montreal Snowflakes, I mean Blizzard—and I was expecting some shit to go down.

I just didn’t expect him to take out my other defenseman and buddy, Cyrus, by breaking his damn leg.

And it wasn’t an accident, so let’s stop right there before we start going down that path. Charlie Gagnon isn’t a moron in the sense that he doesn’t know a thing about hockey or that he wasn’t aware of where to position Cyrus to make it happen. We’ve been putting heat on them all year and sending shots back and forth to kick them out of the playoffs.

They need every win against us.

And we technically don’t, even though we want them anyway.

Our rivalry is the worst in the league. It makes for great sales, is one of the highest-viewed games of the year, and our deep-seated hatred for each other is undeniable.

You either like us or you hate us.

There is no in-between.

The same goes for the Snowflakes.

Brawls start at games even when fans start running their mouths and taunting other fans.

It’s a shitshow.

Let’s just say a lot of security is present.

Yet, now, I’m going to break Charles’ ego and rile his ass up a little for tomorrow’s bloody battle. Because when I get my hands on him, he will be eating his teeth the whole night.

It was cute that he thought we were going to let this slide. I never took him as obvious before, so this shouldn’t be a surprise to him.

“We’re gonna get our asses kicked out of here, Wells.”

I take the bar stool next to Elliot, our team's right winger and the best forward on the East Coast.

I sit and take in what Elliot says but mainly try to allow my presence to reach Charles, wherever he is.

“As long as I don’t throw a punch, we should be fine,” I retort, noticing the neon signs flickering and flashing behind the bar and casting a kaleidoscopic pattern onto the polished wooden bar top. “Don’t worry about it.”

“We all know that you’re probably going to throw a punch, Wells,” he counters. “Just get me drunk enough for whatever is about to go down.”

I smirk because he knows me so well. “Why are you here then?”

I’m known to start a scene. There isn’t a place or a function where I can’t cause trouble somewhere or someway, and usually, it contains a female with a nice ass.

“Because Reid wasn’t going to leave Hollyn to go with you,” he replies evenly. “And Graham would’ve told you hell no. Byron would’ve brought his hockey stick and started breaking shit, and Cyrus—”

“Has a broken leg because that shithead Charles decided to play like a tool.” I crane my head over to my buddy of three years. “You wanna tell me you’re not mad?”

“I’m pissed,” he agrees. “However, I’m not lookin’ to get suspended either. Coach will have our asses if this makes the press.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I reply innocently, glancing around the bar. “I’m just orderin’ a beer after the game with my bestie.” I pinch his cheek for good measure.

“It’s a load of bullshit,” Elliot mutters. “And he’ll know it. However, I’m all about making Charles Gagnon pay for what he did to our boy, so let’s have a beer and see how long it takes him to make a move.”

I wave the bartender down, some young dude with gauged ears and spiky hair, when he brings over two pink martinis…and places them in front of us.

“I didn’t order this.”

“Came from the dude in the corner,” he says dismissively, grabbing the cloth over his shoulder and wiping down the bar top. “He said Cosmos for the two bitches. Don’t shoot the messenger,” he held his hands up in surrender.

Welp.

So much for having to wait.

“Two shots of tequila,” Elliot states with a leer. “Make them doubles.”

The bartender nods, promptly plucking two shot glasses from behind the bar and quickly filling them. He’s busy; the place is packed, and he doesn’t have time to soften the blow of the delivered insult.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” I vouch, sliding off my stool before Elliot reaches out to stop me.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Do not throw a fucking punch, Wells.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “However, if he tag teams me—”

“I’ll be watching. We’ll go down together on this, but we’re taking him with us.”

I smack his shoulder lightly. “Thatta boy. I’m gonna go say hello and thank him for the drinks.”

Grabbing both drinks that Charles so graciously bought for us, I make my way through the bustling hub of activity. Every inch of space is occupied as bartenders weave through the crowd with practiced ease, expertly balancing trays of drinks above their heads as they navigate through the sea of bodies.

I told Elliot I wasn’t going to throw a punch.

But I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to toss these drinks in his fucking face, either.

There’s only one corner that Charles could be in, and it’s all the way in the back, to the right—the left leads to the kitchen. I would’ve seen him while walking in because I’d been looking to throw down for over an hour.

My blood hasn’t stopped boiling.

Towering over bodies, I see him with a few familiar faces laughing like an asshole. I was already aware that this is where the Montreal Blizzard hangs out. My teammates and I have run into them a few times here, and since we're in Montreal, it makes sense they’d be here.

Clutching my drinks harder, I make a beeline for his table, and when I’m about to pass the threshold to a clearing where I’ll have full access to him, a small body shoots out in front of me and halts me right in my path.

I almost knock into her but catch myself quickly enough before I glance down to see the most stunning little piece of work I’ve seen in a long time.

And I mean a long time.

Shoulder-length cocoa hair with a perfectly edged jawline and the most exotic-looking, light green eyes I’ve ever fucking seen staring up at me.

She’s absolutely gorgeous.

No, she’s a goddess.

Her face comes right below my shoulders, which checks off one box of mine because I have a thing for short girls. I love how easy they are to move around and how they fit flawlessly in my arms.

And this one…I immediately want her and will do anything to get her there.

“Hi,” she breathes before her lips coil into an even sexier smile. “Sorry. Someone shouldn’t have let me out of the house tonight in heels.”

“I beg to differ,” I retort mindlessly, giving myself the briefest glances down her body.

She’s tight, curvy, and sexy as hell.

I have something else to do, but I found someone better for whom I could expend all my energy.

Charles isn’t my type.

If he wants a date with me, we already have one set up for the ice tomorrow night.

“I hope I didn’t spill your…” Her eyes fall to one of the pink drinks in my hand. “Oh, crap, do I need to buy you another drink? I didn’t mean to spill your girlfriend’s—”

“I’m good,” I retort calmly, not bothering to see how much I spilled because the last thing on my mind is the pink drinks in my hand and how they were going to be thrown at the man she just saved.

No, my attention span is way too short-lived now that fate has thrown a dime piece that could be on the cover of every magazine in the world.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I solicit. “Your hands look a little empty, and I could use the company.”

Her brows knit a bit. “You mean…those are for you?”

“They were,” I commit. “But I was about to dispose of them until you almost knocked me on my ass.”

She blanches a bit, and it wrinkles her nose. “I am sorry.”

“I’m not.”

She hands me over another smile and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, I should let you get back to your party.”

“I’m not with anybody.”

“You’re not?” I shake my head before she perks a brow.

“Handsome guy like you alone at a bar?”

“I think that’s my line.”

She laughs, and I hear it a bit over the music. “Right, well, I’m bad at this.”

“You’re doin’ alright to me. If you wanna keep me company, I know a place we can go.”

Her smile widens, but she takes a step back.

“Oh, no. You’re not about to do that to me.”

I cock my head innocently to the side because she’s not that bad at this. She knows exactly what I’m hinting at. “Why not?” By giving up some space, I’m allowed more of a view of her body, and she doesn’t disappoint me at all. In fact, I’m ready to tell Elliot that I don’t need his help anymore. The mission has been officially aborted. “Every woman likes ice cream, don’t they?”

“Ice cream?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Right.”

“Baby, I passed a place on the way here.” I jerk my thumb guilelessly over my shoulder. “However, if you’re about to tell me you’re a mint chocolate chip kinda girl, I’m gonna kindly withdraw that invitation.”

Her lips heave upward. “Cookie dough.”

“A woman after my own heart. Me too.”

“Really?”

I bob my head because it has always been my favorite, no bullshit.

“Just ice cream?”

“In a well-lit area with other people around. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“You don’t have to do all that,” she retorts softly. “However, I will go grab that ice cream with you.”

“Good.” She doesn’t move, prompting me to ask, “Did you need to tell whoever you’re with that you’re leaving?”

“He isn’t worth my time,” she says easily enough, showing no remorse on her face.

“I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

“Am I about to get my ass kicked for stealing you away?”

“If you do, I’ll make it up to you by the end of the night.”

Fuck me.

She is a woman after my own heart.

“Where is he?” I look over her head and pretend to scan the area. “I think I might risk it and take that chance.”

She chuckles again, and I like the easy sound of it. “C’mon—what’s your name?”

“Judson.” I place one of the glasses down along a table currently occupied by several people and reach out a hand for her to shake. “And you are?”

“Aurora.” She slips her tiny hand into mine before I possessively lace our fingers together and give her a slight tug forward until our chests are almost brushing. “Is this where you kiss me?”

Her voice is a ghost of sweetness that floats between us, full of innocence and curiosity. I don’t know if I should feel guilty for wanting to sleep with her or feel honored that she’d possibly want to.

“I’m not kissing you here,” I say, but the thought of it has my gaze descending to her lips. “I think I’ll make you wait a bit longer—second date and all.”

“So, this just turned into a date?”

“I’d really like to think so.” I shrug. “Or maybe the making of one. We’ll see. I might not like you after a few minutes when I start asking questions, and you answer and don’t shut up.”

“You’re right,” she replies. “I might blurt out how much I love Jimmy Choos and my ungodly amount of skin products.”

“Sounds like I might want to ask the dude at the ice cream counter to drown me in a quart of vanilla.”

“Wait until you hear about the spa treatment I just had.”

“Unless you’re about to tell me that you were naked, I’ll ask you to skip that subject.”

“Noted. I won’t mention the oil treatment.”

I slowly shake my head as my dick twitches eagerly. “You’re a tease.”

“And you’re such a gentleman. My father always says I need to calm down and not be so wild and reckless. It’s so refreshing to find a man that won’t take advantage of that.”

“How wild and reckless?”

She beams at me, trying to appear guiltless in all the things she’s ever done, and I instantly want to know what those are. “Oh, I don’t like to live in the past. Ice cream sounds so innocent and sweet. I love it.”

“I’m suddenly under the impression you might be a bad influence on me.”

“Did you want to cancel?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Alright, Judson,” she muses. “Escort me out of here then.”

I do what she asks, keeping her hand locked within mine as I start for the exit.

Elliot and I make eye contact, and he rolls his eyes at me because he sees Aurora following behind me, looking hot as fuck.

He should be grateful.

Because if I had thrown those drinks at Charles, we’d both be suspended for several games afterward for starting a public scene.

You’re welcome, bestie.