5. Hunter
5
Hunter
M y thighs burned as I skated as fast as I could to the puck that had just been knocked out of my possession. I almost ran into Gomez, growling when he got between me and the puck. Webber got the puck, shot it to me, but it was taken away when Gomez and defenseman from the other team got in the way.
The Bulldogs took control of the puck and Gomez hit the player against the board, taking the puck and passing it to me, except he overshot and the puck went flying past me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, as we headed back for a line change.
Gomez was in front of me and I was ready to bash his head in the boards, tired of his shit. The Coach said something to Gomez, but I knew he was coddling him, everyone did. It was the third period and we were down by one. All we needed were two goals, but I’d settle for going into overtime.
With one minute on the clock, we switched lines, and I raced towards the puck, stealing it from one of the defensemen. I passed it to Webber, and he raced towards the goal, out-maneuvering the other defenseman. Gomez was open, but I was praying he didn’t pass it to him; unfortunately, Webber still had faith in Gomez. He slapshot it and missed, but he was clipped by one of the other guys. The goalie blocked it and he tried to shoot it again. He blocked it again as the buzzer sounded.
I slapped my stick against the ice as fury burned through me. Another fucking loss, and at this point, I didn’t think we were going to get any better. I begrudgingly told the other team, “good game”, exchanging some pleasantries with a few guys I had played with. I was about to get off the ice when Gomez ran into me.
“Watch where you’re fucking going,” I snarled, pushing him. “Maybe if you actually paid attention, we might have gone into overtime.”
I knew I shouldn’t have said that, but I was tired of losing, Gomez got on my nerves and I was grouchy as hell.
“Fuck you, Riggs,” he snapped, pushing me back. “I’d like to see you make that goal.”
“I would have,” I sneered, pushing him again. “I can at least make a pass without fucking it up.”
“Whatever, grandpa,” he clipped, pushing me even harder. “If you are so good, why do you keep getting passed around like bad leftovers?”
“Whatever, rookie, you won’t last a few years playing as shitty as you do.” I dropped my stick ready to punch him when someone caught my arm getting in between us.
“Not on the fucking ice,” Cap growled.
My stick was shoved against my chest as I watched Cap dragging Gomez to the locker room. A few guys walked by me, shaking their heads, and even though I knew I was being an asshole, Gomez deserved it.
I followed the last guy, and caught Valencia looking at me with disappointment. Clenching my jaw, I didn’t know why her expression made me feel guilty.
“Hey, Hunter,” she said, walking in front of me.
“Valencia,” I said, trying to seem unphased.
“I have a reporter who would like a quick interview,” she said, looking up at me with her big hazel eyes. “Six questions max, but don’t be surprised if she asks about your little stunt there.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew that it was my turn for an interview. Of course I picked this day to start shit with Gomez.
“Ok,” I said, resigning myself to a brutal interview. “Where is Monica from PR?”
“Come on, big guy,” she said, pushing me towards the press area. “She had to leave early so right now, I’m stepping in for her.”
A woman stood there with a cameraman looking annoyed and bored. As soon as she heard us coming, she quickly put a smile on her face, looked between Valencia and me before landing her gaze back on me. It was an expression I knew all too well and I wasn’t in the mood to flirt during a quick interview.
“Hello, Hunter Riggs,” she said, a little too seductively.
“Good evening—” I said, giving her a chance to tell me her name.
“Oh,” she blushed a little. “Rhonda Masters.”
She held out her hand for me to shake and my hockey stick was taken from me by Valencia. Rhonda gave Valencia a sneer that quickly went away. I shook her hand, not liking the look she gave Valencia who wasn’t even paying attention, messing around with her camera.
“Ok, so I was going to start with a few lighter questions and then hit with the heavier questions.” She grabbed her microphone.
“Remember, six questions,” Valencia said, looking through her camera while taking a shot.
“I was told there was no limit,” she said with a fake smile.
“The memo I have here says six,” Valencia said, pulling out a piece of paper.
“I think she is right, I remember hearing six?—”
“Ok, I got it,” she clipped, interrupting her cameraman before plastering on her fakest smile, but not before she rolled her eyes, still glaring at Valencia.
Her attitude was getting on my nerves, and I was so close to saying fuck it if she was going to keep disrespecting Valencia.
“You ready?” she asked sweetly.
“Ready whenever you are,” I said, hoping to speed this along.
She asked the basic questions of, how was I liking Denver? Did I like being back in my home state, how did I like my coaches and then the question I knew was coming, but dreading.
“How is it working with a completely new team?” She put the mic before me.
“It’s been great meeting new guys, making friendships and working hard together,” I said, keeping it short and to the point.
“You and Gomez on the ice don’t seem like you’re friends,” she said, and I really hated that I had put myself in this position.
The click of a camera gave me a little comfort that Valencia was here with me.
“As teammates, we can’t ever get along a hundred percent and as most people know, we are sometimes hot-headed,” I said, hoping I wasn’t shooting myself in the foot. “And losing a game is never great, but each loss shows us what we need to work on and come next practice, I will work on being better.”
“Would you consider you and Gomez to be friends? You are the seasoned player and he is the rookie, don’t you think your job would be to help him instead of berating him?” She put the mic in front of me when I felt Valencia move.
“That's seven questions, either ask one question from those two or come up with an entirely new question,” Valencia said.
“Oh, come it’s just one more question, you don’t have to get your panties in a wad.” Rhonda rolled her eyes.
“I’m not wearing any to get into a wad and that is what your network and our PR team agreed on,” she said, looking at Rhonda with a cool expression. “If you keep pushing, we can end it now and you can use your five questions for your interview.”
I clenched my jaw to keep myself from laughing, but damn, Valencia was sexy as hell when she was bossy. The fire in her eyes made me wonder what she might look like restrained on her knees.
“I don’t need to know about your underwear,” Rhonda stuttered.
“Well, you brought them up,” Valencia said, checking her watch. “You have thirty seconds to decide what you want to ask before I take Mr. Riggs back to the locker room. He’s had a long game. I’m sure he is exhausted and would like to eat and get home as soon as possible.”
Rhonda glared at Valencia, who still looked unbothered.
“So, since you are the seasoned player and Gomez is the rookie, shouldn’t you be easier on him?” Rhonda asked with a smile.
“He plays opposite of me and while I would like to be easy on him, we are at the start of the season and we are long past being easy,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “If we want to win, we gotta keep pushing ourselves so we can work out the kinks and get better.”
In my head it sounded good, but god knows what the fuck I really sounded like.
“Thank you for your time, Hunter.” Rhonda smiled, biting her lip a little bit.
“Anytime, thank you,” I said, giving my best smile at the camera before turning away to Valencia who was on her phone.
“Come on, big guy, let's get you to the locker room and you can go home,” she said, handing my stick back to me.
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” I said, trying to slow down because I was walking too fast.
“I really wasn’t, just being petty,” she said, smirking at me.
“Well, your pettiness was great, but thanks for standing by,” I said, as we rounded the corner to the hallway close to our locker rooms.
“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t just for you,” she said, looking up at me. “I did it for both of you. I can’t say I know what you're going through or tell you how you should behave, but I do know if you guys don’t get your shit together the media is going to have a field day with you. While any press is good press, I know the coaches won’t be happy and it will make everyone's job twice as hard.”
“He just?—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Hunter,” she said quickly, as we stopped outside of the locker room. “Just at least don't argue on the ice with reporters and TV cameras around.”
“Good advice,” I said, feeling like I was getting scolded, but I really wasn’t. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Good boy,” she said, turning around and walking away. “Enjoy your day off and get some rest. Try to be tolerant!”
My body shivered with pleasure at being called a good boy.
“You too!” I yelled.
I don’t know why those two words lit a fire in me. I didn’t have a praise kink, but I could have one for her. God, what would she look like sprawled out on my bed?
Heading into the locker room it was quiet as everyone was getting ready to leave, and of course, I had to run into Gomez who was only in a towel. He pushed me aside, water sliding down his expansive back and trim hips. A snarky comment was on the tip of my tongue but instead, the image of me spanking Gomez flooded my mind.
That's what Gomez needed, ten spankings to get an attitude adjustment and I would be more than happy to see them carried out. Dammit, now I was hard for the rookie and our social media manager. At this rate I would be in a constant state of arousal since I was stuck with them for the foreseeable future, but nothing was worse than getting hard for the thorn in your side.