by V. L. Locey
“Nope, we all get mad at family. And what she did was pretty shitty, but maybe someday down the road, you and she can find your way back to each other.”
“Hmph. Maybe. But for the foreseeable future, my son, his mother, and my new boyfriend are coming first.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I said then sighed, pulling my nose from his chest to gaze up at him. The night looked good on him. Hell, day did too. “Want to go somewhere and canoodle?”
“I want to go home and canoodle with no more skulking around on your part.” My eyes flared in shock. “I know, but I’m tired of lies and hidden agendas. It might be rough for a bit, lots of dirty rumors and salacious sex scandal type stories all over the papers. Think you’d be willing to face the music?”
“If it’s Mel Tormé and you’re at my side, you bet.”
“Always with the perfect words,” he whispered before his mouth covered mine. Rising to my toes, I opened for him, clung to him, and then fell totally in love with him.
Epilogue
One year later
My phone buzzed for the tenth time. I was trying to ignore it so that I could spend more time lying in this giant hotel bed watching my fiancé take a shower. Truly the sight of his wet naked ass never got old. Still a tight bubble, still tasty, still as round and tempting as—
“Ugh, okay fine!” I swiped the cell off the nightstand, eyes on Layne lathering his hair, and slapped the phone to my ear. “Yes, Paul, I am fully aware that we need this story wrapped by Sunday night. I’ll be home tomorrow morning, which will give me all day to touch base with the team. No, it’s not happening today. I’m taking personal time. Well, I am sorry but it’s going to have to wait. They’re not going anywhere, honestly. Fine, see if Gina can swing past the township office, but I promise you the assistant mayor is holed up somewhere with a team of lawyers and a…what? No, I’m in Minnesota, remember?”
The water shut off and the man of my dreams slid the shower door open and stepped out. Our eyes met and Layne gave me a wink that went right to my balls.
“Paul, just double check the copy that we have. It’s not just a stupid hockey game. It’s the All-Star Game, and Layne has been asked to skate in an alumni event at a nearby rink.” I rolled my eyes then collapsed back onto the bed, Layne’s soft chuckles made me smile despite how much I wanted to throttle Paul. Working on a team sucks. It’s not at all what I dreamed of doing. But as a recent college grad with only the school paper and a glowing recommendation from my very cool professor, getting this job as an entry-level investigative reporter for The Capitol Caucus was a foot in the door. Online news sites were growing by leaps and bounds, but the management philosophy of trendy news served in an upbeat sound bite way by a team of top reporters was just horseshit. Clickbait news I called it when I was in a mood. Which was most of the time. The Post it was not, but we all have to start on beginner skates as Layne reminds me. And we were living in D.C. so that part of the dream had come true. Baby steps and all that.
He then padded past me, still naked, his skin pink from the shower, his hair recently finger-combed. God he looked good in the morning light. Or any light.
“Okay yes, do that, but don’t press the family. Paul, no. No tailing kids or spouses. Paul? Oh well, that’s highly professional.” I flung the phone to the bed in a pique. “He hung up. Have I ever mentioned what a moron Paul is, and how much I hate new-age journalism?”
“At least one time a day, twice on the weekends,” Layne answered. I grumbled made-up angry words ala Yosemite Sam. “Are you planning on getting out of bed sometime this morning? We’re supposed to meet Garrett, Kyle, Slater, and Ash for breakfast.”
Right yes, the guys who Layne had buddied up with last year at the bachelor bid auction that had gone so horribly awry. They had been awfully nice, calling and texting Layne during and after the brouhaha, offering help or just an ear to bend. It had been a hard go for Layne, opening up to the public about Dillon, and then flinging the bedroom doors wide open to let the world gawk and gape at the old man with the young lover who just happens to be really good friends with the old man’s newly found son. One sports blogger termed the whole fiasco ‘As the Puck Rolls’ and yes, it had felt like a living soap opera for a good two months or so. Thankfully, things had quieted down, and the press had found a new salacious bone to chew on quickly. And I had learned a valuable lesson about being an aggressive but empathic reporter. To that end, I’d given the story about Dillon, Layne, and Katie North to Nina Cabot to write as I’d not felt comfortable exploiting people that I cared about in that manner. Professor Willis had been highly impressed with my journalistic integrity as well as my senior thesis, which was a lengthy paper about distinguishing the rights of the press to report the news versus the rights of the American citizenry to privacy. It was a topic that I’d become familiar with during those stressful times. I still had no clear answer, but I did have firm lines in the sand that I did not cross now.
“Any chance I can lure you back into bed?” I wheedled and writhed, trying my best to be a sex kitten. His blue eyes grew all smoky hot, but he continued pulling on clothes. I huffed. Not that I needed more loving by any stretch of the imagination. We’d tumbled into bed upon our arrival at the hotel last night and had not left it until forty minutes ago. Actually, only one had left it. I was still in it, sated and tender and only slightly miffed at Paul my asshole workmate.
“Don’t forget that I’m old and decrepit. I require at least two hours or more between carnal acts,” he teased then tugged a thick royal blue sweater down over his head.
“That’s just an out-and-out lie. You bounce back in an hour and forty-five minutes easily.”
He chucked a pair of socks at me. I grabbed them and hid them under the covers. He dove on the bed, and we battled over the socks until he emerged victorious, waving the socks in the air like a giddy house elf. I did lure him into a short but nice cuddle complete with soft kisses along my hip bone that could have led to something hot and oral, but his phone rang killing any chance of a quick blow job.
“It’s Dillon,” he announced even though I knew all his various ringtones. Sighing when he left the bed, I forced myself up and into the bathroom to shower. “He said Borg hasn’t chewed up any of our stuff in retaliation for us leaving him.”
“What a good boy he is!” I replied then stuck my head out of the bathroom. “Borg not Dillon.”
“Yeah, I assumed,” Layne said then went back to telling his son, yet again, the feeding and walking schedule of our new black lab mix puppy, Borg. A shelter rescue, the bouncy pup was keeping Layne busy as he enjoyed his retirement in Glover Park. Between the dog, his work on his memoirs, and me, he was as contented a man as I’d ever seen. Dillon lived about twenty minutes away, his job as a social media consultant for the Washington Hawks hockey team—a job his father was instrumental in helping him get—meant he was around a good deal of the time. Layne was ecstatic to be that close to his son. Their relationship was good, there were memories that Layne would never have, and that made him sad at times, then he’d get angry with his mother all over again. That mother and son relationship was strained. My mother, and father, had met and fallen in love with Layne. She’d cried when I’d called after our Hanukkah/Christmas celebration at home to tell her Layne had popped the question, and I had said “Yes, yes, oh good Lord yes!” a few dozen times. Mrs. North, or Katie as I now called her because she insisted, visited all the time as well, or as often as she could with her new role as assistant manager at work.
“Oh, hey, ask him if he can take Borg when we’re honeymooning,” I shouted over my shoulder while adjusting the hot/cold ratio of the water streaming out of the showerhead.
“Don’t want to deal with a rowdy dog while we’re seeing Jerusalem?” he asked, filling the doorway, phone to his ear.
“Not really, no. I doubt we’d be able to pass him off as a service animal of any kind since his manners are atrocious.” I stepped under the water then slid the
door shut. Layne’s soft laughter floated along the ceiling with the steam then disappeared. Soaping up my chest and belly, eyes closed, the pleasure of hot water working the sore muscles our lovemaking had caused. I jumped a foot when the shower door slid open. The soap flew into the air. A newly naked Layne sucked up all the room and most of the oxygen. “You scared me half to death!”
He reached down, found the soap, placed it back into my hands, and then pressed his big, hard body against mine, flattening me to the slick tiles as he wrapped his arms around me. My body began to hum as he tasted my throat then the shell of my ear.
“I thought you were in a hurry to get to the guys,” I purred like a cat full of sardines and cream.
“They can order another cup of coffee while they wait. I have to make sure I keep my intended happy and content.”
I slid my fingers into his soaking wet hair. “I am as happy and content as a person is legally able to be.”
“Any chance of making you illegally happy as well?”
“There is but I’d have to write an exposé about it,” I teased then led his mouth to mine.
The End
Linked books in the bachelor bid series
Hot hockey players on the auction block
Win a date with a professional hockey player during All-Star weekend in Chicago. From leading scorers to fan favorites to guys you love to hate, watch the players strut their stuff in support of the Hockey Allies charity. Place a bid. You just might find someone to keep you warm.
One night. One bid. One hockey bachelor auction...could change everything.
Don’t miss the other stories in
The Hockey Allies Bachelor Bid Series:
Guarding Garrett - RJ Scott
Keeping Kyle - Jeff Adams
Scoring Slater - Susan Scott Shelley
Absolving Ash - Chantal Mer
A note from the author…
If you enjoyed Loving Layne, A Hockey Allies Bachelor Bid Romance, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could leave a review on a major retailer site, BookBub, Goodreads, or on your personal social media platforms.
Reviews are the reason someone else might decide to give this book a try!
Deepest thanks,
*squishy hugs*
V.L.
Other books by V.L. Locey
LGBTQ Releases
Holly & Hockey Boots
Life is a Stevie Wonder Song
Blue Line Collection #1
Improper Fraction
Playmaker – A Venom Novella
The New York Nightwings Collection
An Erie Collection
Nightside—An Erie Vampire Tale
Love is a Walk in the Park
Shake the Stars
Tales of Bryant
Nine Small Sips – A Tales of Bryant Wedding
Fade In – A Tales of Bryant Romance
Reserved – A Tales of Bryant Romance #2 (Coming 4/8/20)
Cayuga Cougars Series
Point Shot Trilogy Boxed Set
Snap Shot—Cayuga Cougars #1
Open Net – Cayuga Cougars #2
Coach’s Challenge – Cayuga Cougars #3
Overtime – Cayuga Cougars #4
One-on-One – Cayuga Cougars #5
A Star-Crossed Christmas – A Cayuga Cougars Short
Overtime – The Trilogy
Rebound – Overtime #1
Final Shot – Overtime #2 (Coming 13 May, 2020)
Draw – Overtime #3 (Coming 14 October, 2020)
Harrisburg Railers Series
Coauthored with RJ Scott
Changing Lines—Harrisburg Railers #1
First Season—Harrisburg Railers #2
Deep Edge—Harrisburg Railers #3
Poke Check – Harrisburg Railers #4
Last Defense – Harrisburg Railers #5
Goal Line – Harrisburg Railers #6
Harrisburg Novellas
Neutral Zone – A Holiday Novella
Hat Trick
Save The Date
Owatonna Eagles Series:
Coauthored with RJ Scott
Ryker - Owatonna Eagles #1
Scott – Owatonna Eagles #2
Benoit – Owatonna Eagles #3
Christmas Lights - a Christmas Novella
Arizona Raptors Series:
Coauthored with RJ Scott
Coast to Coast—Arizona Raptors #1
Across the Pond—Arizona Raptors #2
Shadows and Light – Arizona Raptors #3
Sugar and Ice - Arizona Raptors #4 (Coming 12 July 2020)
Colors of Love Series
Lost in Indigo – Colors of Love #1
Touch of a Yellow Sun – Colors of Love #2
The Good Green Earth – Colors of Love #3
Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon– Colors of Love #3
A Brush of Blue – Colors of Love #5 (Coming 12 August, 2020)
Laurel Holidays
The Christmas Oaks - Laurel Holidays #1
The Christmas Pundit – Laurel Holidays #2 (Coming 9 December 2020)
The Christmas Tenor – Laurel Holidays #3 (Coming December 2021)
M/F Releases
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (To Love a Wildcat #1)
A Most Unlikely Countess (To Love a Wildcat #2)
O Captain! My Captain! (To Love a Wildcat #3)
Reality Check (To Love a Wildcat #4)
Language of Love (To Love a Wildcat #5)
Final Shifts (To Love a Wildcat #6)
Clean Sweep (Venom #1)
Twirly Girl (Venom #2)
Tape to Tape (Venom #3)
Angle Play (Venom #4)
Flow (Venom #5)
Blueline (Venom #6)
Roster Addition (A To Love a Wildcat novella)
Meet V.L. Locey
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
vllocey.com
[email protected]
