Chapter 1
REID
The sound of my blades cutting the ice is the only thing I can hear right now. The rest of the noise has drowned out, or maybe it’s just my natural instinct that makes everything else around me completely fade away.
Except for two things.
My blades and the ice.
This is my shot.
My chance to prove that I belong here, on this team, in this rink, on this ice.
Me.
My time.
This is my dream come true and my chance to make everything I’ve worked for become a reality. I have worked my entire life for this moment, and I will succeed. I’ve never needed to triumph more than I do tonight.
I’ve perfected my wrist shot. It’s what I’m fucking famous for. I will prove my worth and that I’m essential to the team. Now it’s time to put my money where my mouth is. I’ve said the words and signed the deals, but I have to prove myself tonight and every day from here on to keep my position.
The puck comes reeling toward me. I can feel a rumbling beneath my feet. My body vibrates, but I’m not sure if it’s from the outside in or the inside out. I’m nervous, excited, and filled with anxiousness like I’ve never experienced before.
My senses are shot.
Holding my breath, I’m hoping that I don’t pass out here on the ice. Then I go for it. This is the tiebreaker. There are only seconds left on the clock, and if I want this game to be over now, I need to make this.
This is for the glory, at least until the next game.
I suck in a breath, sweat dripping down my face as I watch the little black disk fly through the air, straight for the goal. Before I know what’s happening, before it’s completely registered, I hear the final buzzer.
The end of the game.
The breaking of the tie.
I did it.
I’m instantly surrounded by my team. Sticks are in the air, mouths are wide open, and there is screaming. My hearing returns, and with it, a roar that rumbles the entire rink. I feel slaps on my back as we skate off the ice toward the locker rooms.
Carolina Fury
We won.
Holy shit.
My first time playing in a big game, and I made the tiebreaking winning shot.
This is what dreams are made of right here. I don’t think I could have played any better than I did tonight. I did exactly what I came here to do. I showed out and showed up.
The locker room is insane.
It’s always fairly loud and wild in any locker room after a winning game, but tonight, it’s electric—alive—vibrating. I’m here for it. This is why I do what I do. This is why I play the game—not just because I love it but because it’s the most exciting thing on earth.
“Are we going out to celebrate tonight?” Otto asks, slapping his hand against my bare back.
Looking at him, I grin and shake my head once before I remind him about our plans. “Yes, but we’re moving tomorrow.”
Four teammates and I have bought a house together. We all signed contracts and started looking for a place about two weeks into our move here. We all believe that we’ll be here for a while.
So, a group of us went in together and purchased a two-story, five-bedroom home. It’s in what appears to be a quiet, newer neighborhood. I don’t know if we messed up or not by buying in a quiet place because I don’t think we’re going to be very quiet neighbors to have.
We have early practices, late practices, and then we also will likely have gatherings of some kind eventually. We’re all in our early to midtwenties. I’m under no illusion that we’re going to be quiet in any way.
“We’ll just go to the bar,” Lev calls out.
Jerking my chin, I finish getting dressed, which doesn’t take long since I’ve already showered the sweat of the game off me.
Together, my new roommates and I make our way out of the back of the arena and into Lev’s SUV before he drives us just a few blocks away to our recently discovered favorite dinner place.
It’s a bar called The Tipsy Tavern.
We have been coming here since practices started, and they know us here now.
They have pool, darts, beer, and, most importantly, great food.
We don’t even have to order anymore. We’ve been here so many times that the bartender knows our drinks, the waitress our food, and the owner has a reserved sign at our table.
Slowly, I sink down into a chair at our saved table with a long groan. I’m beat, my body coming down from the adrenaline spike of winning, of playing hard. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I let out a long sigh.
“That sounds heavy,” Otto states.
Jerking my chin, I look up at my Canadian brother, shrugging. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“Crash, you’ve been running on straight adrenaline for a couple hours,” Lev says, his Russian accent thicker when he’s tired.
The waitress sets down her tray and hands each of us a beer. Then she places a small bottle of tequila, five shot glasses, and a small bowl of limes in the middle before she takes a step backward.
“Food’ll be out in a minute. Do you need anything else?” she asks.
Each of us mutters a no and a thanks. She turns and walks away to wait on her other patrons. She knows we can fend for ourselves. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even care if we served ourselves at this point.
This has become our second home.
Lev and Alexei take a shot, then pick up their beers before standing and heading over to play darts, speaking Russian to one another as they do. Shifting my attention from them, I flick my gaze between Otto and Forrest, unsure of what to say but also too exhausted to even think.
Forrest pours himself a shot, and I watch as he hisses when he swallows. He chases it with his beer, his eyes finding mine, his lips curved up into a grin. He’s got something to say, and I wait, watching him. My smile matches his almost instantly. He’s infectious.
“That shot was amazing today. If Coach doesn’t say anything about that, then I don’t know what the fuck is going on in his head.”
Coach Burns is a tough son of a bitch, but he’s an amazing coach. I feel like my game has leveled up tremendously since the Carolina Fury signed me. But I’m still the new guy. We all are here, and I still have a lot of work ahead of me, but tonight, I’m going to enjoy my victory.
Our food arrives. Lev and Alexei must smell it because we don’t even have to call them over before they’re headed in our direction. A lettuce wrap burger, a double order of sweet potato fries, and fried cheese curds are set down in front of me.
Heaven.
I love food. Unfortunately, I love all the food that a top athlete should probably not be eating, hence the lettuce wrap. I figure it’s better than nothing, and tomorrow, I’ll have some chicken, broccoli, and rice in an effort to keep it healthy.
It’s all about balance.
While eating, the men talk, but I observe the room around me, taking in the patrons.
This bar doesn’t have many women hanging around, which is why we choose it for eating and relaxing after a game or practice.
But tonight, I feel like maybe we should truly celebrate.
I’m full of great food, a little buzzed, and want to dance.
Thankfully, I’m not the only one who feels that way. Otto suggests hitting one of the nearby clubs, and the rest of us quickly agree. A few moments later, our tab is paid, and we’re in an Uber, leaving Lev’s SUV at The Tipsy Tavern and heading for a club.
LORELAI
Chewing on my bottom lip, I shift the blinds up slightly with my fingers so I can peer through them and watch the five sexiest men I’ve ever seen in my life carry boxes and furniture into the house across the street.
One of them stops in the middle of the walkway. I watch his head slowly turn and swear his eyes find mine and look directly into them. And they cause my entire body to freeze for a moment. When I’m able to move again, I gasp, release the blinds, and jump backward.
I don’t know if he could really see my eyes from that distance, but I’m not going to chance it. It felt like he could see into me. I don’t know if it’s even possible, but it was enough to cause me to panic.
He was beautiful, though. He didn’t look as big as a couple of the other guys. His muscles seemed lean, bulging out from his tight T-shirt, but not overly stacked. He’s got to be a moving man, right? These guys certainly cannot be our new neighbors.
Turning to the side, I lean against the wall, let out a shaky sigh, and sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
Wow.
Wow, oh, wow.
If they aren’t the moving men, then how am I supposed to live across the street from all that hotness?
I’m going to have to find a new place to live.
There’s just no other option. Aside from my own beautiful roommates, I’m not a girl who can be comfortable around beautiful people like that.
But I’ve known them since I was eighteen.
I’m used to them and their amazing looks.
“What are you doing?” a voice asks from the doorway.
When I jerk my head, it bounces off the wall behind me before I turn to look in the direction of the voice. It’s my roommate Karlie. She arches a brow in my direction, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes on mine as she waits for my response.
I manage to mutter my next words, and when I do, her eyes widen. “Hot guys moving in across the street.”
Without an ounce of shame, she marches toward the window, and I watch as she opens the blinds completely and unabashedly. She tugs on the string and practically presses her face against the glass to watch the movement across the street.
“Wow,” she breathes, her breath fogging up the glass. “They are hot. The girls are going to go wild.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I push away from the wall and take a few steps forward—the girls. I hadn’t thought about them… much. They will absolutely love those guys. And those guys will absolutely love the girls.
They’ll love them so much that even if that guy was actually looking at me, if he could see me from across the street and through the slats in the window, he wouldn’t notice my existence any longer.
Not even if I were standing right in front of him. Not with the other girls within ten feet. They’re all legs, tits, and ass. They could all be models if they wanted to be. I don’t know how I ended up living with five girls who look like supermodels.
And I do not look like a supermodel. For starters, I’m only five foot five. And I’m definitely not all tits and ass. I’m no slouch, but my breasts aren’t filling out D cups anytime soon, not unless I pay for it, and since I can barely make my portion of rent, I doubt that will be happening ever.
“Yeah, they will,” I mutter, leaving the room.
Karlie doesn’t say anything else that I know of.
If she does, I don’t hear her because I move down the stairs and toward the living room.
I try to push the hot new neighbors out of my mind.
I already know that nothing would ever become of anything with them anyway.
I need to focus on the exam I have in a few hours.
Picking my book up off the coffee table, I stare at the words, not reading them but seeing them. At this point, they are just words on a page and completely incomprehensible. I need to study, though.
If all goes well and I pass this course, I will be on my way to my certificate in accounting. It’s not the fancy career path I dreamed of as a child, but it’s a solid one, and I need a solid career and life.
The front door swings open, interrupting my attempt at studying. I watch as three of my supermodel-looking roommates sashay into the room. They don’t walk. They either saunter or sashay. There is nothing in between. I’m always enamored by them, even after all these years of knowing them.
“Hey, girl, did you see those guys?” Brooklynn hisses, but before she allows me to answer, she continues. “Hot. We need to have a welcome party for them.”
The thought of that sends anxiety throughout my entire body. Not because I don’t want to have anyone here, but because I don’t think I could stand in the corner of my own house and watch those five hot guys drool over my equally attractive roommates while I just… watch… alone.
And I know that’s what would happen because that’s what happens every single time I go out with them. I mean, I still go because my roommates are the nicest girls in the world, and they love me and want me to hang out with them.
They truly do.
It’s clear that I’m not seen, though, when we do go out. And in a crowded club, I don’t mind too much, but in my own home? I think I would have an issue.
I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged before, but I do when it’s just the six of us in this house. They are all sweet, and I know that sounds crazy. You would think that a group of women that beautiful would be catty bitches, but they aren’t at all.
They are genuinely good humans, and I love them. However, when it comes to men, they get all the attention. Since I’m shy, I typically don’t mind much, but seeing that guy, laying eyes on him… I want his attention.