Chapter 22
Saint
I’d always believed hockey was better than sex.
Then I’d had the best shower of my life with a woman who could light a man’s fuse from a hundred miles away.
Right before she either tossed kerosine onto the fire, or ice water. That’s how quickly Lily’s mood could change.
Touching her had been incredible.
Tasting her even better.
Fucking her? Sublime.
Then she’d knocked me on my ass and had forced me to sleep on the floor, even checking more than once to ensure I hadn’t crawled into bed with her.
She wasn’t any less cold when we’d gotten up and my mom had made breakfast. Lily had all but tossed ice cubes in my face.
Maybe I couldn’t blame her.
The truth was I was kicking myself for being such an ass.
“What exactly did you do to that girl?” Eric asked as I skated around him, moving the puck from side to side.
“What do you mean?” I knew exactly what he meant. Lily had insisted on coming with me to the informal practice, mentioning that watching me in action could provide more pertinent information to attempt to improve my sullied image.
She’d said it in words and phrases that had boggled my mind. She’d done so on purpose, trying to trip me up with her psychoanalytical mumbo-jumbo because she remained pissed at me.
Even worse, I’d seen hurt in her eyes. She’d tried to hide it the best she could, but I’d caught a brief indication between bites of my ham and cheese omelet. She’d barely eaten anything while doing her best not to strangle my mother.
Dad needed to talk with my mom about her exuberance for the wedding. Lily wouldn’t be able to tolerate going to the barbeque without having a meltdown. Hell, I might have the meltdown.
“Just look at her, man. She has flamethrowers for eyes.” He laughed and stole the puck, immediately taking a shot. We were cycling some shots, passing them back and forth to improve our techniques.
I shifted and turned, skating backward as I glanced in her direction. She’d been in the same position, glaring at me and I could swear she hadn’t blinked a single time. Not for two solid hours. She had to be freezing, but she’d barely moved.
“She’s pissed at me.”
“For you being you?” As the puck slammed into the net, he threw up his hands, grinning as if he’d just won the big game.
I slowed to a stop, planting my hand on my hip. “We don’t get along.”
“She’s your fiancée. Plus, she’s freaking gorgeous. What’s your issue?”
“She thinks I’m a jerk.” Why did I suddenly have a streak running through me the shade of spring grass after a rainstorm?
No matter the amount of pretending, she didn’t belong to me.
Lily had made that perfectly clear. To add insult to injury, she wore a braid.
One beautiful braid that swept back and forth across her shoulders as she walked.
One incredible thick plait that I was meant to wrap my hand around, using as a leash as I fucked her long and hard from behind.
My cock twitched in appreciation of the visual floating through my twisted mind. If I dared mention the idea to the woman sitting nearly cross-eyed, fuming because of my mere existence, she’d skip killing me in my sleep. She’d do so with an icepick at the playoffs.
“You are a jerk,” Eric said as he shifted the puck back and forth while skating around me in a wide arc.
What was this, pick on player of the year day?
I muttered under my breath. I’d always been extremely focused.
Some would say narrow minded, but hockey meant the world to me.
I’d never thought being fixated on the sport and my job was a bad thing.
I was the center and had to be aware of every aspect of the game, working with the wingers so ensure we won.
I’d been damn good at scoring, my success noteworthy.
Then the feisty blonde had entered my life like a wrecking ball. Now I was questioning everything including my talent both in and out of bed.
“I admit I was shocked to hear you two were engaged. You were just with that girl a few nights ago. What was her name? Margie? Mary? I can’t keep up with your love life.”
I pivoted on my skates, stealing the puck away from Eric and hitting it as hard as I could. It went sailing into the air, well over the top of the net and halfway into the stands.
There wasn’t a player on the ice who didn’t stop and stare. Including Lily. She’d even stood and I sensed without looking directly at her that she was furious I’d lost control.
Eric scratched his head and laughed. “Man. You should be a baseball player. I guess practice is over.”
“We can get another puck. I was just pissed off.”
“I’d hate to see when you really get angry.” He skated toward the side and off the ice.
Groaning, I ripped off my helmet, daring to glance in her direction before heading to the locker rooms. By that point, other team members were either headed in to get in some practice or off to shower and head home. I moved toward Eric’s locker, leaning against a row of them.
“I wasn’t trying to be a jerk with her.” I wasn’t. The words had flowed out of my big, fat mouth before I’d been able to stop them. I hadn’t been intentionally trying to hurt her. The truth was my sarcastic comments were a regular defense. Not that I would admit my foibles to anyone.
I was a rockstar on the ice. That’s what everyone in the news had called me just that morning.
Right under the headline that the playboy bachelor was off the market.
That along with my mother planning a fake wedding had pulled me onto an irrational edge.
“What’s the real deal with her?” he asked.
Shrugging, I smacked my head against the metal. “She’s a public relations expert hired to make me look better. I just met her a few days ago.”
Eric slowly turned his head, both eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“No shit.”
“No shit.”
“Does Carl know?” Carl Winters, the team’s captain, hated me.
“I’m sure he knows. Since he doesn’t talk to me unless he’s forced to, I can’t be certain.”
Eric chuckled as he hung his head, shaking it back and forth. “Man, oh, man. All because of the werewolf shit or because you’re a man-whore?”
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?”
“Because you are. You’ve fucked more puck bunnies that all the guys combined. I’m surprised your dick isn’t falling off by now.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, really.” He grabbed his clothes. “About your dick or the chicks?”
I gave him a hateful look. “I’ve had a few experiences, but most of what you read is a lie.”
“So this is about the werewolf thing.”
“Yeah.”
Eric’s snort turned into a full-blown laugh. “Oh, I’m terrified you’ll shift into a big, bad wolf and eat me alive.”
“You can’t kid about it, man. The shit could ruin my career.”
“Only if it’s true. What’s eating you today? I’ve never seen you concerned about anything. Except winning a game.” He closed his locker door and grinned.
“What?”
“You like that girl.”
“You mean Lily? She’s a ballbuster. She drives me crazy.
I can’t say this, I can’t say that. I’m not allowed to post on my own social media.
Not a single thing. She controls everything I say to reporters.
She doesn’t want me going out with the guys and we need to go on dates.
Who goes on dates any longer? Shit, man. She’s a pain in my ass.”
“But you blurted out you were engaged on national television.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“It’s official. You like her or you wouldn’t be worried you hurt her feelings. I heard a rumor you’re living together.”
“Her shit’s in my car.”
His laugh was boisterous. “You got big problems if you don’t like her and it shows. That’ll kill your career. If anyone finds out you’re pretending, you’ll be crucified. You won’t need to worry about turning all furry and shit if someone pisses you off.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“But here’s the thing. You do like her. It’s written all over your face.
My suggestion is if you want to keep harmony in the house you tell her you’re sorry for whatever you did and might do in the future.
Bring her some flowers or buy her some candy.
Whatever it takes so she can tolerate you in public until the playoffs are over.
I assume that’s when the great breakup can happen. ”
“Yep. The coach thinks reporters and everyone else will move on to someone else.”
“Then you can be a free man.” He backed his way toward the showers. “If that’s what you really want. Somehow, I don’t think you do.”
“Get out of here.” We both laughed, but as soon as he was out of the room, I frowned. I’d had an ache in my gut all day. Now I knew why.
Lily.
Eric was right. I liked the girl. Maybe a little too much.
The moment she stepped out of her car, her mouth dropped open. Lily shielded her eyes from the sun, scrunching up that cute little nose of hers while glaring at my house.
I closed the door on my Jeep, grinning with amusement as her expression changed every few seconds.
“If you’re wondering if I stole it, you’re wrong,” I tossed out for fun. She’d insisted on driving her car because she didn’t want to be stuck with the likes of me for the rest of her life. A direct quote.
I hadn’t argued. She didn’t need to be saddled with me twenty-four/seven.
“You can’t steal a house. Who died and left you this in the will?”
My laugh was gregarious enough, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Let me help you with your things.”
“I don’t need any help from you.”
“Come on. Don’t be that way. I said I’m sorry.”
She slammed the door to her tiny car and lifted her sunglasses. “Yeah, you did. Whoopty-do. What you said was ‘hey, Lil. I didn’t mean nuthin’ by what I said.’”
I scratched my head and watched as she threw open the back door, dragging out a suitcase and a duffle bag. I had no idea what she’d brought with her because she hadn’t allowed me into her bedroom. She’d had me stand in the small foyer while she’d grabbed a few things.