Sticking a Second Chance (The Hockey USA Romance Collection #3)

Chapter 1

FROM NOTHING

ELLIOTT “ELI” LEWIS

“I can’t believe you got me here to watch a ballet.” I tug at the bow tie around my neck. “In a tuxedo even. And Shakespeare?”

“Shut the fuck up, Eli,” Cam whispers in the seat to my left, his knee jiggling.

We’re at the Gamblers’ ice arena in Vegas, and his girlfriend Becca’s show is about to start.

“Besides, this is a ballet on ice, and I didn’t twist your arm to get dressed up in a suit like me.

” His voice is harsh, but I’ve known him far too long and chalk it up to nerves.

When he said he planned to wear a tux for the opening night of Becca’s debut in Romeo and Juliet, I figured I would dust off my custom made one from the back of my closet. The last time I wore it was on my wedding day, which ended in a very expensive divorce. Thank you very much.

Oh shit. Hopefully it’s not a bad sign to wear this tux now considering what Cam has planned for Becca tonight.

I should have burned this tux, but it cost me so much, I hated for it to be a waste of money in the end. Although I could afford to buy myself a dozen more at any time.

“How long is this performance?” I check my watch—a Rolex I bought myself several years back, the day after I received my first lottery payout. I don’t wear it very often either.

The tux feels more like a costume. I’d rather be in sweats and a hoodie, legs kicked up, pretending I don’t have more money than I know what to do with.

I may be worth millions, as the single highest lottery winner ever in history, as far as I know, and right in the middle of a lucrative multi-year multi-million dollar hockey contract with the Denver Aspens, but I rarely look the part.

More comfortable in jeans or shorts or sweats and hoodies, I’m a casual guy.

Some might call me a slacker if they don’t know me. Not on the ice, though. On skates with a stick in my hand, chasing a biscuit around the arena, I’m on fire.

I play hockey because I love it.

Off the ice, I waste time doing nothing much, just waiting for the next chance to practice or play, itching to tie up my skate strings.

My fancy cars sit untouched in a garage the size of a small airport, and my custom-built house only feels livable when it’s loud with teammates who don’t care how much I’m worth.

I have an accountant and personal assistant who keep track of my life—and my banking because I can’t stand to look at the amount of money I have.

I grew up with nothing, the product of parents with nothing.

Sure, at first, I went a little crazy after winning the lottery, buying all these things, taking care of my parents, too, although I do not regret any of it, especially my purchase of a hot rod motorcycle.

But after my divorce, I realized there are things that mean more to me than money.

Sometimes the money weighs heavy, more of a burden than anything.

“Sit back and relax. You could use a bit of culture, don’t you think?” Cam chides me with a sideways glance.

“What I could use is a night of debauchery in Las Vegas with my old college teammate,” I retort. “But nope. I come to visit you here, and all you offer me is a night of ballet on ice. Of course, you’re so whipped by Becca now, it isn’t even funny.”

“Shut it. Here we go,” Cam warns as the music swells and the curtains rise. He pats his pocket for the hundredth time.

There’s his woman, Becca, dancing in the role of Juliet for the new Vegas Ballet on Ice Company. She and Cam started it up themselves. I’m also a silent partner in the venture, and with a sell-out crowd like this, it’ll be a tremendous success with four major shows planned per year.

We’re sitting right on the edge of the ice. Cam’s eyes are constantly on the lookout for Becca. I have to admit, it’s a beautiful performance. But what do I know about ballet on ice?

At one point, she skates up to us, pausing there.

Her arms stretch out in a graceful line, her fingertips almost touching Cam’s cheek.

Their eyes meet and hold. Sitting this close to them, the love and desire and heat drip off of them.

I’m nothing more than an intruder on their intimate moment in all of space and time.

Fuck me. Cam’s a lucky bastard.

No woman has ever looked at me like that—not without seeing dollar signs somewhere in the reflection.

Maybe they look at my bank account that way and fall in love with it, for sure.

Like my ex did. My divorce from Bunny—yeah, I should have known with a name like that—turned me into a skeptic about love.

The thing is, I want love though. I imagine a house that’s filled with kids, not teammates. My wife waits there for me after every game, in a home where our lives are full of everything I didn’t have growing up.

I want that dream. Just not at the price of being used.

The constant loving eyes between Cam and Becca that pass during the performance only brings me down. Before the first intermission, I slip away, hands shoved in my pockets. The noise of the crowd drowns out thoughts I don’t want to hear.

I wander around the mezzanine level until I spot a table of T-shirts and souvenirs on sale, so I have a look.

The logo on everything is of a star with hockey skates in front of it.

Then something catches my eye. A sign reads, “All proceeds go to the Wish Foundation’s Skate with a Hockey Player Program. ”

“What’s this wish program?” I ask the attendant, a college-age looking kid with the name Reggie on his tag.

“Cam Castillo, one of the hockey players here, started this up as a nonprofit foundation. We give underserved kids a chance to skate with hockey players, along with all the gear they need. Some players teach a few classes to get them started. It really helps give the kids confidence and a chance to do something their families would not otherwise be able to afford,” he says, and points to his chest. “I wish this had been around when I was growing up.”

I can’t believe Cam didn’t tell me he’d started this. I know a little of his background, so it makes sense he’d give back now that he’s a famous hockey player. It makes me feel even more like shit that I do nothing.

Sure, I donate every time I see those sad animal commercials on TV. Or during those times of the year when they have the telethons for children’s hospitals. But I know my money could do so much more for people.

I whip out my Black Card so fast. “I’ll take everything you have.”

Reggie’s jaw drops. “Everything?”

“Yep. Can you ship to Denver?” As I watch the guy ring things up, I couldn’t care less what the total will be. For once, my money feels lighter. Like it finally went toward something that mattered.

Only it fires off something in me to do more.

I’ll have to ask Cam about it, maybe expand the program into Denver with the Aspens.

The PR department is always after me to do things like this.

Maybe I’ll even expand it across the states.

Yeah, that’s it. Something useful to do with myself when I’m not playing hockey.

Eventually, I return to my seat and settle in. Becca is a beautiful woman twirling around the ice. And the performance by the entire company is so good, they get a standing ovation at the end.

Cam finally gets to set his plan in motion. The one he called me about a few weeks ago, and the whole reason I’m here. I’m the official videographer for this life-changing event.

“Ready, big guy? This is your moment. Don’t blow it.” I chuckle. But he’s so suave; he’s got this.

He takes the covers off of his skates, then picks up the bouquet of two dozen red roses that’s so huge he had to buy the seat next to him for it. The crowd is clapping and on their feet, the performers still taking their bows, when he steps onto the ice.

In his tuxedo on skates, he’s one slick guy, gliding over to Becca.

Her face freezes in shock at seeing him skate up to her with the flowers.

Obviously she has no clue what he’s up to, given she breaks out into a smile that splits her face.

He takes her in one arm and twirls her around, away from the other performers.

I film it; he’s had this all perfectly arranged with the arena staff. The guy manning the spotlight follows them until they stop near me.

Cam takes a knee in front of Becca, and the crowd goes insane. The noise level is through the roof.

Her hands fly to her mouth as he pulls a velvet box from his pocket and holds it up to her. No one can hear what’s being said, what he’s asking her, but everyone can guess.

Judging by her reaction, flinging her arms around his neck, it’s clear what her answer is as well.

Looks like I’ll have another reason to wear this tuxedo—to their wedding. Although maybe I won’t jinx it and will buy a new one.

Jealousy spikes within me like a green monster on steroids as I catch the entire thing on video. My throat works; I am happy for them, but I want what Cam has found. I want true love.

Too bad that’s something my money cannot buy.