12. Diego
twelve
Diego
T he next period goes by in a complete blur. I play with the kind of passion I haven’t had in ages, keenly aware that my girl’s in the stands.
Watching me skate.
Cringing for me when I take a hip check that sends me into the boards with a loud rattle.
Rooting her little heart out when I accept a perfect saucer pass from Eli, and blast a one-timer that deflects off a defender’s poorly placed stick and winds up finding the back of the net.
The goal lamp lights up as the horn blares. Fans jump to their feet while I pump my fist in the air, whooping.
I’m mid-celebration, getting congratulated by my linemates when I turn and catch her eye. She’s got the biggest smile on her face. Her clear brown eyes shine with joy and pride as she cheers for me and lets out a loud whistle. Then she trades high-fives with Grandma Grace next to her and the fans surrounding them.
Buoyed by her support and humbled by the way she’s bravely thrown herself in unfamiliar territory to keep her word, I smile back. Then my heart stutters and my stomach flips as I realize Angie’s exactly what I need.
I need her smart mouth. Her belief in me. Her quiet acceptance of all my quirks. Her soft kisses and side-eye.
Her.
I just need her.
My heart hammers in my chest as I point directly at her, lift my chin and mouth, “All for you, baby.”
Then I wink at her and skate toward the bench to fist bump the rest of the team. On the way, I glance up and see the Jumbotron feed cut from me over to the crowd.
The camera zooms right in on Angela’s blushing face. The second she realizes it, her eyes flare wide and she turns away, self-consciously yanking that deep purple A-Glazing Grace’s sweater up.
My jaw tightens. Fucking camera crew should know better.
As I step behind the gate and take a seat on the pine, the camera cuts away again. This time to the premium suites and the expressionless face of local hero and NHL legend — my dad.
I sigh as he forces a smile and raises a hand to thunderous applause.
And even though the boys and I put on a hell of a show for the rest of the game and secure a win, I know it won’t be enough to convince him that I take my job seriously.
Not when I’ve heard his work speech more times than I care to count.
When you come to this rink, you come to work, Diego. Respect the game, respect your coach, respect your teammates. Don’t fuck around. Don’t act a fool. And, above all, don’t embarrass me.
It’s only a matter of time before I’m going to have to answer to Coach Tony.
“You owe me, D. Big time,” Cassie murmurs under her breath as she ushers me past the press room and up a set of stairs usually reserved for staff.
“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite sibling?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Naya’s the favorite. You and I spent our youth trying not to come to blows.”
“Good thing we outgrew that, eh? You’d never be able to take me now.”
“Bet I could still knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”
I glower at her. She’d done it a few times when we’d been kids and has never let me forget it.
She’d been a gritty power forward back then, and wasn’t ever one to back down from a challenge. Smaller than me, but mighty as fuck.
Plus, a little scary.
“So what do I owe you?” I ask as I hold open the door and follow her onto the concourse. Thankfully, the arena has mostly emptied of fans and I won’t get mobbed walking through the empty hallway. Half the time, people didn’t recognize us because they’re used to seeing us look larger than life with all our gear on.
Right now, I could be any suited-up member of staff.
Except that my hair’s still a little damp.
“The Ferrari for a weekend.”
I splutter. The Ferrari’s like my baby. “You want my car?”
“You want me to help you avoid Dad and make sure no one walks in on you while you… whatever it is you did in the equipment room today?” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t need details.”
“Fine,” I take my keys out and toss it at her. “She’s all yours. Anything else?”
“Yeah. I want to know more about this secret girlfriend. Who is she and why didn’t you tell us about her?”
“I don’t need to tell you everything,” I snort.
“Thought you’d say that,” she says, grinning wickedly. She’s moving backwards, putting distance between us and making sure she’s out of reach.
Suspicious, I stop short and narrow my eyes at her. “Why? What’d you do?”
“I called a courtesy taxi to take her grandma home, explained you’d be late dealing with the press, and that she ought to go on ahead. You’d meet her at Siren’s just as soon as you can.”
“You sent her there on her own?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, focusing on breathing and not throttling my sister for sending Angela to the team post-game hang out without me by her side.
Cassie keeps stepping, unable to stop grinning. “Nope. I sent her with Naya and Eli. We’re going to get the scoop!”
And then she takes off, screaming with laugher and jingling my car keys in the air while I give chase futilely.
Shit.
“Hold up. Where do you think you’re going?” Q, the biggest bouncer on God’s green earth, blocks my path from getting into the popular bar, Siren’s Call. He’s former military and his arms are easily twice the size of my head. They’re even more intimidating when he crosses them across his chest the way he’s doing right now.
“Inside. Like any other post-game day.” I crane my neck, peering past the patio and trying to see inside the darkened interior.
Q shakes his head, making a show of looking all around me.
“You don’t have any girls with rolling with you tonight?”
I blink at him.
“Don’t fuck with me right now, Q,” I growl. Of all the nights he’s going to twist my arm for not bringing a crowd in! “My girl’s inside right now. So are my sisters, and half the team.”
His eyebrows raise. “You got a girl? Now I know you’re shitting me.”
I growl at him, my fingers curling into fists.
Then he tilts his head and the overhead streetlights glint off his bald head while he looks me over.
“Is that why you’re dressed like you’re going to a fancy fundraiser or some shit?”
My cheek pulses with irritation as I grind my teeth. “I have to dress up for work, Q. Normally I change into my street clothes before I go out, but like I said, my girl’s here. So, are you gonna let me pass or what?”
Q’s lips twitch before he lets out a loud chuckle then grabs me by the shoulder with a heavy hand. He gives me a hearty shake, signaling that he’s just messing with me.
“Shit, I didn’t believe it when Cassie said that lady was your girlfriend, but you should see your face right now.” He steps aside, unhooking the red velvet rope so I can walk into the underwater cave themed bar. “Now I’m a believer in miracles. Never thought I’d see the day you’d be hooked on one chick, but it’s all over your face. Priceless. Well worth the fifty she slipped me.”
I stalk past him and make a beeline for the roped-off VIP section, pushing past the drunken dancers crowding the minuscule floor. The second I’m through, the guys take one look at my face and scramble to get out of my way.
I ignore the stares and comments on how I didn’t even bother changing out of my suit before heading over. That’s what happens when I lose precious time trying to get an Uber to fight the post-game parking lot exodus just to pick me up at the arena.
“Where is she?” I glare at Cassie and Naya.
“Who?” Naya asks, blinking innocently as Eli slips his arm around her shoulders and tips the last of his beer down the hatch.
“Angie. Where’s Angie?”
“Your secret girlfriend?” Cassie asks, smirking as she sips her beer and nudges a folded up jersey and purple sweatshirt across the small table.
“Yes,” I grit out. “My girlfriend.”
My sisters exchange a look, communicating an entire conversation I can’t even begin to interpret using just their eyes.
So I glare at Elias, who keeps his mouth shut but raises his brows in a way I know means Behind you, bro.
And I turn slowly to see Angie climbing atop the bar and taking hold of the wireless microphone. She’s still wearing my name and on her back and fuck , she makes it look damn good.
My sisters sidle up on either side of me, watching.
“We like her,” Naya says.
“So don’t mess it up,” Cassie adds.
“I won’t.” All my previous annoyance melts away now that I know they probably didn’t talk too much shit about me while I made my way over.
Then the opening strain of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” starts, and it seems all the women in the place rush forward to the dance floor, screaming. Angie offers them all an encouraging smile as she beckons for them all to join in.
Then for the next four heart-stopping minutes, I watch her belt it out under the strobing lights.
In the crowded neighborhood bar, she’s all I see. Her warm, pink cheeks. Her dark, wavy hair whipping around her as she dances. Her shapely hips shaking side to side. Her skin-tight jeans making it impossible to ignore how she moves her body, making me think about all the ways I want to move with her.
As if feeling my gaze on her, she lifts her head and locks eyes with me as she sings the chorus. With every booty shake and hair toss, my cock grows harder. The need to touch her, caress her, and claim her rises up in me.
Before I know it, I’ve made my way down to the bar. I don’t glance at any of the fuckers lined up beside me, catcalling and trying to get her attention because she’s got her big, brown eyes locked on me.
When the song’s over, she takes a bow to the cheers of all the ladies in the house and makes her way over to me. She bends low to balance her hands on my shoulders and beams at me. Her smile’s like the light of the sun filling me up, basking me in its warmth.
“Hey, baby,” I say, gripping her hips and lifting her from the table.
“Hi,” she answers breathlessly.
“Feeling brave tonight, hey?”
“I feel incredible right now,” she admits. “It’s been quite the day. And you had a great game. I get it now. The sports thing. You’re pretty good at it.”
I grin. “Thanks, Trouble. You’re pretty good at putting on a show, too.”
Her body slides against mine as I lower her. But before her feet touch the floor, she hooks her legs around my hips and twines her arms around my neck.
Well, this is new.
“As it happens, I think you might be pretty good at some other things, too,” she says, her eyes dropping to my mouth.
“Yeah?” I breathe, my cock straining tightly against my trousers, seeking the heat emanating between her thighs.
Then she grips my face in her hands and leans down. Her lips find mine, and I kiss her softly, shifting my hold to support her and palming her generous ass. She runs one hand along my jawline and slides her tongue along mine, tasting of pretzels and beer. My hands squeeze her generous ass, not caring that I’m grinding my hard shaft against her core in the middle of the rowdy bar now singing along to “I Love This Bar.”
Nothing and no one else around me registers except Angie. Her taste. Her sugar-dusted scent. And those sexy little moans she makes.
When the kiss breaks, her eyes are clouded with desire. She presses her forehead to mine, and I fight to regain control of my senses. Of myself.
“I know you just got here, and your family’s really nice,” she murmurs, leaning close to whisper-shout in my ear. “But do you maybe want to go home?”
“Hell yes.”
She jumps off me and I take her by the hand and start leading her away from the team and toward the exit.
“Wait!” Naya calls out. “You guys aren’t leaving, are you?”
“What about these?” Cassie holds up the neatly folded jersey and sweater.
“Bring it to me when you return my car,” I shout back, not stopping as I steer Angie past Q and into the night.