Snapping the Ice (The Games We Play – Season 2)

Chapter 1

LUCAS

“How’s my flow?” I strutted to a heavy metal door tucked inside a brick building through the midday sunshine and swung it open, my gaze landing on Evan, my new partner on the defensive line with the Phoenix Firebirds. He was fast becoming a good friend.

“Jesus, Lucas, it’s great as always.” With a tsk, he strolled into the building. “How’s mine?” He stopped just inside a small studio with a concrete floor.

“Good enough.” I chuckled, taking in his brown eyes and dirty-blond hair, cut to frame his face, but shorter on the sides and longer in back.

Was he sporting a mullet? Almost. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to try something like that.

“Maybe a hair dresser can fix it?” The team was coming here all week in between practices to take photos for a charity calendar.

I ran my fingers through my long, curly bangs, moving them off my forehead, and scanned the space.

Bright lights glowed around mirrors set up in front of desks with make-up brushes laid out and bottles of hair product. I pointed to the stations, a set of two. “Looks like they’re going to fix us up before the shoot.”

“Good, but they better not put too much makeup on me.” He scoffed. “Like no girly eyeliner.” Planting a hand on his hip, he took in the room.

“If they make you pretty enough, I might want to kiss you.” I wagged my brows at him. Let the teasing begin. We walked further into the room. Off to the right stood a wooden divider with a dragon painted on it. Cool…

“Stop it.” He backhanded my shoulder as he strode in front of me. “Look, White is showing off his biceps.” He freed a sharp laugh. “Idiot.”

I rounded the divider and stared. Not at White, but at the photographer, back to me, dark hair falling over her shoulders in waves…

nice round ass in her skinny jeans. Even through her loose black blouse, I could tell she was lean but had an athletic build, because her shoulders were wider than her hips.

The way she moved with the camera in her hands…

fluid and graceful, turning sideways, falling to a knee.

My dick twitched. Yeah, I’d like to tap that. “I didn’t know we had a female—”

“That’s it. I think we’re done for today.” Her deep voice said as she…fuck no. He turned around. “You can get dressed.”

“Thanks, man.” White strode from the lights and the backdrop, wearing only his lower pads, breezers and socks, his muscled chest shining with oil.

Holy fuck. I swallowed hard, my breath catching. I had been about to tap a guy. A fucking guy. My pulse pattered into my throat. How the hell had I mistaken—

“Hi. You must be Lucas and Evan?” He stepped toward us, arm outstretched, his dark eyes sultry in a way, focused on me.

A silver hoop piercing glinted in his eyebrow.

The top of his shirt, not a blouse, was unbuttoned halfway to his navel, showing off a smooth, lean chest and a smattering of necklaces, some beaded and some dark metal chains.

He looked to be mid-twenties, maybe? Not much older than me.

I glanced at the textured background behind the lights with those umbrellas on them.

As my gaze flicked to the photographer’s, I forced my hand out.

He had plump lips. They looked soft. No smile though.

What the fuck was I thinking? I shook his hand, my gaze meeting his, and my stomach tumbled. What the fuck?

“My name’s Ezra and I’m the photographer for the shoot. It’s nice to meet you both.” As his tongue slid along his lower lip, he gave Evan’s hand a firm shake.

“Dudes, it’ll take some time. Just warning you.” With a soft snort, White strolled to a long clothing rack, resting next to the makeup stations.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Ezra clapped his hands over his chest, his teeth scraping his lower lip as his gaze darted over me from head to toe. “How about you, Lucas?”

“Sure.” My pulse raged inside me. I was nervous. I’d never done something like this. Promo shots in full gear? Yes. But showing off my body for a calendar? No. Who the hell’s idea was this, anyway? Had to be our new PR lady.

“How long before you think you’ll get to me?” Evan shifted his weight.

“Uh, maybe an hour or two? You can stick around and watch so you know what to expect, or there’s a nice coffee shop around the corner.” He peered at me. “I assume you have Evan’s number, so we can text him if he leaves?”

“Y-yeah.” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and shifted my attention to Evan. “You don’t want to stick around so you can chirp on me?” I lifted the corner of my lips.

“I’m sorta hungry. I think I’ll head to the coffee shop.” His gaze wound to White. “Hey, want to grab a bite with me after you’re dressed?”

White pulled his jeans up his legs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, we’ll text you when we’re ready for you.” Ezra held his hand toward the makeup stations. “First, we’ll get your hair and makeup done.”

With a nod, I ambled toward the stations. “Does it matter which one?” I looked them over. Who would do my hair and makeup? Him?

“It doesn’t matter. Pick one.” Ezra stepped close behind me, his body heat shivering up my spine.

“Let’s go.” After pulling his t-shirt on, White met Evan at the entrance.

“See you later, Lucas.” Evan waved at me. “And try to look sexy, will ya? We’ll sell more calendars that way.” He and White cackled as they strode out the door.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” Ezra’s dark gaze snagged on mine in the mirror and he looked away.

Was he joking? If he was, why wasn’t he smiling?

I dropped into the chair on the left and peered at myself, my almost black curls cradling my face and falling past the collar of my shirt in back.

My blue eyes stared back at me, the same shade as my brother Mason’s.

We had the same coloring, but Mason had straighter hair.

“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” Ezra combed his fingers through the sides of my hair, pulling at the locks.

My scalp tingled, and heat burned in my belly. I peeked at him from under my bangs. What was it about him that made me so nervous? Was it because he never smiled? He was otherwise friendly…

“We could tame these curls a little, but I like the wild look they have.” He dragged my bangs to the side, giving them a messy part. “Yes, like that.” He tilted his head. “You have great hair.”

“Uh, thanks.” I squirmed in the chair, heat prickling from my scalp to my back. This was weird, having a guy touching me like this. But then he probably did this all the time. I should make conversation to get my mind off him touching me. “So, uh, how long have you been a photographer?”

He picked up a bottle and spritzed my hair, holding it in place with one hand. “Professionally, almost three years. As a hobby, my whole life.” He primped my hair. “How long have you played for the Phoenix Firebirds?”

“This is my first year. I played in college for a few years, then decided college wasn’t for me.” I peered at him as he focused on my hair. He was obviously a creative type. I’d never hung out with artistic people. I’d only hung around jocks and hockey players specifically.

“What college did you go to?” He twisted the chair to the side, and he faced me, brushing his fingers along my temples and down to my jaw.

“Uh, University of Minnesota.” As my gaze crept to his face, I breathed in deeply.

My heart thumped against my ribcage. I had to calm the fuck down.

The guy was only doing his job, nothing more.

But we were alone in here…Jesus fuck. Like I couldn’t take him if he tried something?

Heat crept into my balls. What did I think he’d do to me?

“I’ll put some foundation on, then maybe a little eyeliner, blush, and some powder.” He stepped back. “Are you okay with that?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I have a problem with gay shit.” I popped my eyes open. That didn’t come out right. “I mean…” Fuck.

His eyes narrowed. “I should hope not.” He pressed his generous lips together. “Wearing makeup does not make you gay. A lot more men should try it.” With a huff, he picked up a bottle.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. My brother’s gay, actually. He has a husband and everything. They play for the Cardinals. He’s a center and his husband is a winger.”

“Oh, really?” He squirted beige cream onto his finger and tapped it on my cheeks, forehead and chin and then rubbed it in.

“Yeah, it’s one reason I’m out here. He helped me sign the with Cardinals and now if this season goes well, I’m hoping to move up next year and play with them.

” I blew out a ragged breath. How much did he know about hockey?

I bet he didn’t care. Taking our photos was just a job for him.

“My position with the Firebirds is just to hone my skills.”

“You’re not talking about Mason Hopkins and Jett Jarvis, are you?” He stepped back, inspecting his work.

“I am.” My fingers dug into the padding on the chair’s armrest. “Do you watch hockey?”

“No, but most gay men know about them. They’re helping to bring about change for queer men in sports.” The edges of his lips twitched in an almost grin.

Was he gay? I didn’t want to stereotype, but…“Are you um, are you gay?” I forced my gaze to his and my heart fluttered.

“I am.” He lifted his chin and pouted. “It’s not always easy.” He twisted and plucked a pencil from the table.

“I know. Jett didn’t feel like he could come out to his family, and his old team bullied him.” Did Ezra know much about it? Fuck, did he even care? I studied him.

He halted, setting a palm on the table and dipping his head. “I know how that is.” With a sigh, he faced me and set his fingers on my cheek. “Look up.”

I tipped my head back. He must have had problems with his family, too.

“I said, look up, with your eyes, not your head.” He freed a barely there chuckle.

“Oh, sorry.” With a smirk, I peeked at him, and warmth floated through my chest. He’d almost smiled and damn, it did something to me.