Penalty Kill (Empire State Hockey #8)

Prologue - Stella

Eight Years Ago — New York City

“There are other fish in the sea; can’t we go find one of them?”

“I don’t want a fish!” I shout from the bathroom, popping my head out into my room, where Lacey still sits on my bed, dressed and ready to go out—even though I know she’ll complain the entire time.

She loves the party scene…although she acts like she hates it most of the time.

“What the fuck are you even talking about, Stella? Are you drunk already?” she quips, rolling her eyes at my ridiculousness.

“I might've snuck a shot or two before you got here…but I'm definitely not drunk.” I laugh, remembering the whole reason we’re even going out tonight. Good ol’ procrastination at its finest…my specialty. “Honestly, I’m just trying not to think about the meeting I have tomorrow. Or the fact that I still haven’t picked out a recipe for it.”

“So instead of staying here and baking me sweet treats to taste-test, you’d rather go to a party and find a hot guy to distract you, all while ensuring we both get Rex’s wrath?” Lacey says, raising an eyebrow.

“Why is everyone so concerned about his opinion, as if I’m supposed to care or treat it like the manuscript for my life? If I did that, I’d be a nun, and I like dick too much to be a nun .”

“Because anyone with a brain knows it’s easier not to deal with being on his bad side. I figured after a lifetime of experiencing it, you’d know. But more importantly, what the hell do dicks have to do with anything?”

“I'm saying that it doesn't matter to me that my brother has sworn me off from dating hockey players. Or at least he's sworn them off from dating me . I have a type—sue me. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, I'm probably going to start quacking and try to suck his dick,” I reply, waggling my eyebrows.

“For fuck’s sake, you need help,” she says, but I can hear the humor in her voice, a sly smile finally playing on her lips. She loves me.

“ Quack.”

She bursts out laughing in surprise. She loves me.

“I'm well aware, and the first thing I need help with is finding some hockey D for the night. After that, hopefully, I can figure out a recipe to knock their socks off tomorrow.”

“Let’s go,” Lacey says, linking her arm in mine.

Let’s fucking go.

The party is exactly what I hoped it would be—and then some. The music choice is top-notch, and there’s enough space for a dance floor where plenty of people have already paired up. The bass is loud and intense, vibrating through my chest as the pressure hits. It’s nice, almost cathartic, in the way that makes my body want to move. The lights are dimmed down throughout the place, but based on the cheering I hear coming from a back room, I can only guess they have their usual beer pong tournament going on—the type that usually takes up a couple of rooms.

Exactly what I’d expect at some hotshot NHL player’s house.

When my brother, Rex, and his best friend, Trevor, joined this team together two years ago, they quickly became favorites, both on and off the ice. Most people say they’re charismatic, but that just makes me gag.

Unfortunately, this just means all the players are respecting his wishes not to date me. I thought I had one of them convinced it would be a fun time, but that was until he saw Trevor watching him and got spooked.

Fucking asshole watchdogs.

They’ve been like this my entire life, and it’s annoying. Maybe that’s why I’m always so hellbent on hooking up with hockey players. Could it just be defiance? Probably. Will I change it even if I know that? Nope.

Moving through the crowd, Lacey and I immediately head for the kitchen to grab a drink. It’s always our go-to move whenever we’re out partying because this way, we can either make our own drinks or watch them get made right in front of us. It’s easier than trying to determine if you can trust someone when they offer to get you a drink.

We had one close call at a bar when I accepted a drink from a guy, but thankfully, a girl alerted the bartender, and they kicked him out before I could take a sip. After that, we made it a rule, and it’s always worked for us since.

“Vodka soda?” I ask, looking back at Lacey, who’s now looking over the alcohol they have to offer.

“I think I’ll do a margarita. The last time I had a vodka soda, it gave me a headache.”

“That’s true. I’ll do the same.”

Quickly, we throw together our drinks, grab a lid, and snap it onto our cups before making our way to the back of the party. It’s where most of the guys end up hanging out because they love playing beer pong, and they’re all competitive as fuck. I can’t lie and say I don’t end up back here for the same reasons.

Most guys don’t assume that, though, which is obvious based on the conversation we’re having right now. The second we walked in, two guys immediately made their way over to us like pigs to mud. It was exciting at first, until I realized they were both football players.

Unfortunately, football players just don’t do it for me, much to Lacey’s dismay as she makes heart-eyes at one of the guys while they tell us about playing down in Nashville. Interesting. She’s usually a tough nut to crack, especially when it comes to guys, but for some reason, this one is turning her into a pile of mush.

Looking around, I make casual conversation with the other guy—I think his name is Billy—as I scan the crowd, looking for anyone I know. Thankfully, I haven’t seen my brother yet, although I know he’ll be making his rounds; he always does shortly after I get here.

I’m not sure if he has a sixth sense of my whereabouts or if the entire team is just one big group of spies who alert him the second I arrive. Either way, it’s sort of eerie. But at this point, I’ve just grown to accept it.

“Would you like to try some of this?” Billy asks, lifting his flask that he keeps dumping into his Solo cup. It smells like whiskey, which is delicious, but unfortunately, I don’t know him, so I’m not willing to risk it.

“No, thank you,” I say, lifting my cup with a smile. “I’m sticking with this for now.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, looking annoyed as he pours a bit more into his cup, which used to have Coke in it, but by now, I’m sure it’s mostly diluted down with the ice and whiskey.

I glance over at Lacey and the other guy, Keith, who are both smiling as she starts giggling while he tells a story. That’s the kind of conversation I want. Not one where the guy pouts when I don’t want his drink or only wants to talk to me about his football stats. It’s boring.

I want stories that’ll make me laugh.

“Are you looking for someone?” Billy asks as I scan the crowd for the tenth time.

“Yeah, my friend was supposed to show up, and I was just seeing if he’s here yet,” I lie, figuring I can let him down easier this way. Hopefully, he’ll move on to someone else when he hears I’m meeting up with someone later.

I mean, it’s not a complete lie; it definitely is my plan. It’s just not a preplanned meeting, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Maybe he bailed on you and just didn’t tell you,” Billy says out of nowhere with a sneer. Purposefully trying to hurt my feelings.

All because I wasn’t impressed. What a jerk.

“Or maybe…” a low, sexy voice interjects from behind Billy, and my eyes instantly snap to his, as if they're magnetic and I don't have a choice in the matter. “He got caught up and couldn’t find her. And she wasn't answering her phone because she was too busy being bored to death by hearing how many sacks you had last season…or whatever stat you decided to spout off this time.”

Billy starts talking, but I don't hear a thing he says because I'm too focused on this man's smile, how his lips move as he responds, and the sexy-as-hell smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It's soft yet somehow sharp. His eyes are the same, a warm golden color that feels both safe and comforting, but there’s a darkness around the edges that feels daring—almost dangerous—and I want to leap into them.

A complete contradiction, so hot and cold, but it’s so enticing, almost seductive, without doing a goddamn thing but existing.

“Wanna dance?” Mystery Man asks, and I can't help myself. I smile immediately, nodding enthusiastically as I take his hand. He pulls me along with him, leading the way toward the dance floor. Just the simple touch of his hand in mine is exciting, sparking feelings I thought only lived in romance books, and it feels like my crush is paying attention to me for the first time.

Looking back at Lacey, who’s still chatting away, I smile and give her a thumbs-up, which she quickly returns. I'm happy for her. She deserves a night of fun, some time to let loose and just relax—and every once in a while, that fun might be in the shape of a six-foot-tall, hot guy who looks capable of putting you in many different positions.

And dammit, I’d like that night of fun to happen for myself too, please.

I think after a couple of orgasms from a good banging, I’d be able to come up with a banging good recipe before my interview tomorrow.

At least a girl can dream, right?