Chapter Four
JENNA
Irarely let anyone talk me into doing something I don’t want to.
Apart from when it comes to my girlfriends. They say jump, and I’ll ask them how high. And tonight, they wanted me to go to the game and then come out, just like old times.
Standing at the bar with Darcy, Collins, and Kendra, I check over my shoulder once more, wishing I were anywhere but here.
Any second now, the entire Blades team is going to waltz into the private area of Lloyd’s—their usual postgame hideout—and at least three of their players will descend onto our group, reuniting with their wives and licking the wounds from their first game of the regular season, which ended in a humiliating loss.
My issue tonight isn’t with the team or even their woeful performance.
It’s with one player who I wish would vanish from existence.
And by the way he carried on tonight in the game, I’m positive I’m not the only one praying Tommy Schneider will put in for a trade, preferably to the Outer Hebrides or somewhere equally as remote.
I turn back to my friends just as the first set of players starts arriving and Collins and Darcy break off to join their husbands.
“You need to relax.” Kendra hands me a drink just as a thick forearm wraps around her neck.
Automatically, she smiles and looks up at Jack Morgan.
“Hey, Kitten.” Jack rests his chin on top of Kendra’s head, closing his eyes as he does.
What I wouldn’t give to feel a love like that.
“I need a beer and a double lobotomy after that game.” Jack shakes his head slowly, now looping both arms around my best friend’s waist. “Nothing came off. We felt sluggish and clueless out there. I’m hoping it was a onetime thing.
Way to kick off my captaincy.” He groans in his British American accent.
Kendra swivels in his arms, setting a chaste kiss against his lips.
“You have nothing to feel guilty over.” She points behind her, motioning in the rough direction of the hockey arena, her blonde hair sparkling beneath the twinkling lights.
She’s absolutely stunning. “Bad games happen, and you and the guys left it all out there tonight. We could see that, couldn’t we, Jen? ”
Kendra invites me into the conversation, and I nod a couple of times, taking a sip of soda. She isn’t wrong. The Blades were a length behind, but their work ethic was never in doubt.
“I’ve had games where everything I touched turned to gold and other times where all I wanted was for the ninety minutes to end so I could take a shower, head home, and search for a new day job.”
Kendra snorts a laugh, burying her face into Jack’s dress shirt.
“The only place where fingers need to be pointed,” I continue, taking another sip of sweet soda until it turns sour at the thought of him, “is at number fifty-five. He needs to go.”
I expect Kendra and Jack to instantly agree with me, like they always do over Tommy. Literally no one likes him. Instead, Kendra looks up at Jack, and he stares straight ahead.
“Well, that’s super disappointing to hear.” Tommy’s unmistakably gruff voice shifts the fine hairs atop of my head, and a tall, shadowy figure looms over me. “And here I was, thinking you were my biggest fan.”
I’d roll my eyes if that wouldn’t grant this guy way too much of my effort, especially given that my back is to him and my disdain would go to waste.
“Fuck off, Tommy,” I grind out, swirling what’s left of the ice cubes in my drink.
The shadow doesn’t disappear, not that it’s necessary for me to sense his presence.
Unfortunately for me, Tommy Schneider is exactly my type.
The classic tall, dark, and handsome meets tattoos look has always been my downfall, especially when they extend to his neck and knuckles.
I’ve never seen him topless since he declined participation in the annual Blades charity calendar—unsurprising, given his mean nature—but I’d like to bet his torso is inked too.
He might think I’m keeping my back to him because I can’t stand the sight of his face, and for the most part, he’d be right. But hiding my physical attraction to this guy is a challenge, even though I hate the person lurking beneath his delicious exterior.
“No can do, I’m afraid. I only just got here, and I’m not even halfway through my beer,” he eventually replies.
I look across at Kendra when she turns back to me. Without words, we share the same thought: Why can’t this guy take a hint?
I spin around on my heel, practically spilling my soda in the process.
“Literally no one wants you here.” I motion around the private bar, pointing at the various booths, which are now full of Blades players and their partners.
“Archer doesn’t want you here, Sawyer doesn’t want you here, their wives don’t want you here.
” I move on to Kendra and Jack. “Not even your own captain welcomes your presence.”
He just continues to smirk down at me like I’m talking in a foreign language he doesn’t understand. Maybe he doesn’t since he seems pretty fucking dumb.
I decide to make the message even clearer, pointing to my chest.
He drops his eyes, an appreciative glaze forming at my low-cut black sweater, which only ignites my anger further.
“And I definitely don’t want you here. Of all the people in this bar, you couldn’t have picked a bigger hater.”
His face doesn’t change, and neither does the position of his eyes.
“Stop staring at my fucking tits!” I yell, garnering attention from a number of people standing around us.
Tommy only finds my outburst amusing, a small tip of his top lip confirming his glee.
He doesn’t move, eventually lifting his glass and eyes in perfect synchronization before he takes a large pull of his beer, downing the whole lot in one go.
I know there are people all around us, bearing witness to the way I can’t help but watch the column of his tattooed throat work.
He’s styled his sleek, dark hair to the side, like he always does, and he left a short scruff along his jawline.
I shouldn’t be watching; I should still be yelling at him to get away from me.
Better still, I should return the favor on behalf of my brother and punch him straight in the face.
Instead, I do nothing.
On a deep swallow, Tommy peers down into his glass. “I guess I’m ready for another beer.” His deep brown eyes find mine. “Can I buy you a drink, Jenna?”
With the way I grind my molars, I’m mentally dialing my dentist to ask for an emergency appointment.
“No.”
He casually shrugs and reaches across to the bar top, setting his empty down. “That’s a shame because I need to talk to you. Alone.” He casts a brief glance at Kendra and Jack.
“I’m not leaving my friend alone with you.” Kendra quickly comes to my aid, not that I need her to. I can handle Tommy.
“Not going to happen,” I reply to Tommy.
Before I get a chance to protest further, Tommy snatches my glass and quickly sets it down next to his.
“What the fu—”
“That wasn’t a request,” he cuts me off, expression turning more serious.
“Do you really think I want to be within a hundred feet of you either?” He scoffs, and for the first time, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a little intimidated by his dominance.
“You know exactly why I’m here, enjoying the pleasure of your charming company. ”
My eyes flick to Kendra’s, and I offer her a reassuring nod. I hoped the fight that broke out between the Philly center, Patrick Gentry, and Tommy was because of the game and nothing to do with me running my mouth on an away series, but Tommy’s glare tells me it wasn’t.
I owe this guy nothing, least of all my respect, after what he did to my brother.
Still, curiosity gets the better of me as I ask Kendra and Jack to give us a minute, and they make for the booths behind us.
If Tommy thinks I’m about to apologize for what I told Patrick, he’s in for a nasty surprise.
When we’re left alone, Tommy takes a couple of steps back into a quieter—and darker—part of the bar, and I reluctantly follow.
The throbbing music does nothing to alleviate the tension as it builds between us, not that it affects Tommy, his sharp gaze cutting straight through me.
“You’ve got sixty seconds,” I tell him. “And then I’m retrieving my drink and joining my friends.”
He ignores my comment—or at least doesn’t acknowledge it. “Tell me something, Jenna.”
My thighs shouldn’t clench each time he says my name.
“Tell me something, Jenna …” he repeats, casting his gaze down my body and pausing on my thighs. “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”
I balk. “Excuse me?”
He taps his temple twice, smugness oozing from every pore. “Your mental comprehension must be affected. That’s the only explanation I can reach when I try and figure out why you told Patrick Gentry that I made a pass at you the first night we met.”
My cheeks flame so red that even the dim lighting offers zero camouflage. “Ah, now it’s all starting to make sense.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I’m fully aware what I just did to my bust, and I dare him to take another look.
Annoyingly, he doesn’t.
“What’s making sense, Jenna?” His tone drips with sarcasm.
“English isn’t your first language, is it?” I smile sweetly. “Schneider is a German last name, right?”
Tommy shifts from one foot to the next, and for the first time, I see a seed of uncertainty, the faintest chink in his otherwise steely armor.
I seize the moment and dig the knife a little deeper.
“Did Daddy not explain to you that asking a girl to leave and head to another bar alone amounts to flirting on this side of the Atlantic Ocean? Or is this just a case of your ego being too bruised to accept the truth that I did, in fact, turn you down last season?”
Tommy looks off to the side, pinning his plump lip between his teeth.
“I don’t get with immature little boys.” I add, “Particularly ones who act like the world owes them something.”
He hates what I said—that much is obvious as he refuses to give me eye contact.