Chapter 2
FISH
“Murphy’s?” Sully asks as I strip out of my gear, the locker room buzzing at its usual post-practice frequency.
The music is blasting. Nelly is doing his weird goalie stretches, while the boys all chirp at each other over something.
Murphy’s is our post practice meal, it’s post-game drinks as well, it’s post everything.
We practically live there and not because the food is amazing or the drinks are cheap but because no one bothers us there.
“Pierre, Felix, you coming, too?” Sully asks our newest teammates. Cap invited them over to his place before training camp so we could get to know them and they are good guys, even if I am slightly intimidated by them, especially Pierre, the man is a fricken legend.
“Sure,” Felix answers as Pierre nods, stripping off his gear.
Twenty minutes later, we’re sliding into our usual booth at the pub.
Katie doesn’t even ask anymore, she just starts bringing pitchers and baskets of wings.
Pierre and Felix slot in where they fit, the conversation flows easily, it’s always about hockey.
We talk about the last-minute trades that made the news and about the up-and-coming young guys.
There’s loads of laughter, and the guys are chirping each other like we always do.
I’m so fucking happy that I got traded to the Mavericks, these guys are the best. I’ve never been a part of such a solid team before, and I know we have a chance to win the cup this year, especially with the St. Pierre brothers.
We are going to be a fucking force, and I can’t wait to win.
Pierre and Felix last for a couple of beers before excusing themselves, something about their sister, before Pierre gives Katie a huge tip and they walk out the door. Bouch reaches for another wing while Sully signals Katie for another pitcher.
“Their sister is hot,” I blurt out. The table goes quiet. Every single head turns toward me. “Just making an observation.”
Bouch closes his eyes briefly like he’s asking for patience from a higher power. Evan puts his beer down very slowly. Nelly looks at the ceiling.
Sully puts his glass down with the careful precision of a man who needs a moment. “No,” Sully says.
“What?”
“Whatever you are thinking, stop it now,” he warns me.
“I’m not thinking anything. I literally just said she was hot. That’s it. That’s the whole observation.”
“Fish.” Emmett’s voice comes from the end of the table. That specific register he has. Not loud, never loud, just lands differently than everything else. “You heard Pierre this morning.”
“I heard Pierre but I also have eyes. The two things can both be true at the same time.”
“Not in this case,” Emmett says. “In this case, there is only one truth, and it is that she is completely off-limits. She works for this organization. Pierre and Felix are two of the most important players we have this season, and you are not going to be the reason that gets complicated.” He picks up his burger. “Are we clear?”
I look around the table. Sully is giving me a disappointed look. Bouch is shaking his head. Evan has picked up his beer again and is ignoring what is happening. Nelly concentrates on his wings.
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” I say.
Cap doesn’t look so sure. I know I have a reputation. I get it. But I’m also not stupid.
“Good,” Emmett says.
“I just said she was hot.”
“Fish.” Bouch says my name in warning.
“What? She is. That’s an objective fact. I’m not acting on it. I’m just stating it.”
“The fact doesn’t need to be stated,” Sully says. “Because every time you state a fact like that, it’s the beginning of a story that ends badly. We have watched this story start many times, but not this time. Not Pierre and Felix’s sister. Not someone who works here. Not this season.”
I open my mouth.
“No,” Sully says.
I close it, feeling completely scolded. I know I messed up last year with the whole dick-gate, but what was I supposed to do?
I wasn’t going to give that woman a hundred grand because she violated my private space and took a photo of my dick when I was asleep.
Let people see it, I’m not ashamed of it, even though my dick wasn’t looking his best because he was exhausted after a big night.
I get that my stupidity last season caused some tension in the locker room and took my focus off winning for a moment.
I may come off as a cocky little shit, and I am, but I do also have feelings.
I didn’t want the guys to see how rattled I was about it.
I pretended I didn’t care, but I did. It was embarrassing.
But I have this reputation of being a playboy, a bad boy hockey player, and I know I did it to myself for being young, dumb, and na?ve.
Now the brush has been tarred so I play into it.
People don’t expect much from me because all they see is the good looks and brilliant hockey player that I am.
And that’s better than letting people see the real me, because I don’t know if they will like that person as much as the fun-loving guy they know now.
“Fish, you know the rules.” Emmett glares at me.
“I do.”
“Good.” And that’s that, subject closed.
The conversation moves on to Nelly’s ongoing one-man campaign to get us interested in a Swedish band none of us have heard of.
Evan and Sully are relitigating some argument from last season that apparently still has feelings attached to it.
Katie brings another pitcher. Bouch orders more wings.
Someone says something that makes the whole table lose it, and I laugh along, and everything is normal and fine.
Collette St. Pierre is hot. This time, I keep those thoughts private. Those hazel eyes, the body that is all curves and sin. She is one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen, and it’s a shame she is off-limits because I think she and I could have fun, so much fun.
The next morning I’m on the ice early. I like early practice.
The rink is quiet, the ice is fresh, and there’s nobody around to chirp me when I’m working on my edges.
It’s just me, the sound of my skates, and the kind of focus that’s harder to find once the full circus gets going.
I’m halfway through a drill when I see her.
She’s at the tunnel entrance, a cue card in one hand, coffee in the other, talking to Zara.
She’s wearing a Mavericks hoodie today, her hair pulled back, laughing at something Zara said, head tipped back, completely unaware that I’ve lost count of what lap I’m on.
Don’t. The boys' voices say in my head simultaneously.
I do another lap, then another.
Zara walks off, leaving Collette by herself. She moves to the boards with her cue card. I think I need a break, my water bottle is right beside where she is setting up, perfect timing.
“Morning,” I say, slowing as I reach the boards and my water bottle.
She looks up from her phone, clocks me, and something in her expression adjusts, almost imperceptibly. “Justin.”
“You know my actual name.” I grin as I squirt the water into my mouth.
“I know everyone’s name. It’s my job,” she says with a little bit of sass.
Spicy. I like it. “Well, everyone calls me Fish, but I think I kind of like you calling me Justin.”
Those hazel eyes land on me. “I’m not interested in whatever this is,” she says.
Huh. “Whatever what is?” I ask, the picture of innocence.
“The flirting.” She looks up, arching a brow at me.
“I’m not flirting, I’m being friendly,” I argue back. I’m so totally flirting.
“You’re very friendly for someone who has drills to finish,” she shoots right back.
“I’m a people person.”
“Mm.” She scrolls her phone. “Oh, I’ve heard.”
I still. “What does that mean? Heard what exactly?”
“About your reputation.”
Dammit, of course she has, and now she has that idea of me. “You of all people should know that not everything you read online is real.”
“There was a lot.”
“So, you looked me up, did you? Needed to know more about me.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s my job to know about the team.”
“I’m an open book. Anything you need to know about me, just come straight to the source if you have questions,” I tell her.
“Noted.”
“So …”
“So … what?” she fires back.
“Do you have questions?”
“No.”
Bullshit. “Isn’t that your job to ask me questions?”
She lets out a sigh. “Not those kinds of questions.”
“Oh, what kind of questions do you want to ask but can’t?” I push.
She gives me her full attention as she crosses her arms. The action pushes her tits up, and I can see the swell of them poking out the top of her collared shirt. “Is the blackmailing puck bunny story true?”
I take a sip of my water. “Yes.” Her brows raise, surprised that I answered. “She tried to blackmail me for a hundred grand.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Wasn’t my finest moment,” I confess. Talking about that time makes my stomach turn.
“You must have known she would leak your picture.”
“I didn’t know she took the photo.”
“Wait, you didn’t know?” She seems genuinely surprised.
I nod. “She took it while I was asleep. Wasn’t the most flattering,” I joke.
Her brows pull together. “That’s messed up.” I wasn’t expecting her to say that. “It’s stupid for sleeping with bunnies, but I get it, the temptation is hard to resist sometimes, and many are beautiful.”
Her comments surprise me. “I’m only human,” I tell her.
“No, you’re a male.” She chuckles.
“If the roles were reversed and you were a revered sports star, and you had all these handsome men begging you to fuck them, are you telling me you wouldn’t?” I ask her.
She looks surprised at my question but gives it some thought. “It would be hard to say no.” I wasn’t expecting an honest answer out of her. “But that would never happen to me.”
“What, men begging to fuck you?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said.
She raises a brow at me. “This feels like we have steered into a conversation that doesn’t seem work-related.”
She’s right, but I am also intrigued. “You’re probably right.”
“Oh, I’m most certainly right,” she tells me.
“Catch you around.” I grin, skating off.
“I’m sure you will,” she throws back, but there is laughter in her voice.